#because he will reach out to his rogues because he recognizes that they are people who are hurting in their own right

[angstandhappiness]

INTERESTING ADDITION

Lukewarm take, because there's already technically a comic run about it:

Thomas and Martha Wayne would've hated Bruce becoming Batman. Not just because they would hate him putting himself in danger every night, but because they were strong advocates of reform, and helping the people of Gotham in non-violent ways. They used their money for reform-- they were trying to fix up Park Row before they died-- and Thomas helped anyone and everyone he could, despite their backgrounds.

They would've hated that Bruce runs around punching people and then causing some of the worst villains to appear, and then doing the bare minimum to stop them.

They would hate it even more that He did it in their name.

and they would absolutely be horrified that he brought children into his war, and that he needs children to stop him from going too far.

TLDR: When Bruce meets Thomas and Martha in the afterlife, Martha slaps Bruce in the face, and Thomas just sighs and goes, "You remembered all of us wrong after we died."

[crow-aeris]

Part 1 is here!

More content from my brainworms 🤭

=====

Jason sneaks out in the dead of night with the pendant in his right hand, three fives in his hoodie pocket that he’d picked from Willis, and determination in his chest. He wasn’t sure how he was going to do this, but he’ll manage.

He walks to the nearest bus station, hyper-aware of all the people around him, some of which he recognizes as his future goons, and others as the people who've been pushed to the brink and resorted to working with the rougher rogues to survive and make ends meet. Jason wants to desperately help- to talk to them and warn them about their future- but it wouldn't do anything. As he was currently- a kid- he wouldn't be able to get anything done. No one would listen to him.

Jason sits down on the bus's perpetually sticky seats, trying not to grimace as he waited for the stop.

He mentally plans the route he'll be taking.

He could've gone for Dick first, but Jason doesn't think it would've worked. It's been a few days already, and if Dickface had retained his memory, then he would have already came knocking on Jason's door. Tim too, knowing that little genius stalker brain of his, nothing could've stopped him from accomplishing anything he set his mind to. Damian probably could too, but the brat’s barely concieved, and Jason doubts the league would let a literal infant out of their sight.

So, that’s why he was on his way to Timmy’s manor. Not only is Tim most definitely alone, he’s the easiest to reach.

As the bus halts at the stop closest to Bristol, Jason ignores the driver’s suspicious gaze and rushes off. He brushes his hand against his pocket knife (He’s not stupid, even in Bristol, Gotham was Gotham and the chance of death will never be less than 20%) and he begins walking.

He’s almost forgotten how- peaceful wasn’t quite the word- less terrible Gotham was earlier on in Bruce’s tenure as the Bat. Not only can he make out a few constellations, the sounds police sirens didn’t constantly fill the night… It moght’ve been after his death when everything started to go to shit.

Jason takes a deep breath, marveling at the cleanliness of the air. Sure, it wasn’t as clean as the country, but compare to Gotham when Damian became Robin, the atmosphere might as well be pure oxygen!

Halfway to the Drake Manor, Jason feels his legs grow sore and cramped. God, now more than ever he wished for his Robin training and post-death stamina. Was he ever this… weak?

Distantly, Jason hears the sound of the Batmobile rushing through the streets and shakes his head.

He was almost there. Tim’s bedroom lights were on and a shape was moving around.

Jason groans and breaks into a sprint despite his legs aching in complaint. Tim was, as he said, a creepy little stalker, and even at the ripe old age of six, he was already stalking the bats. Which, props to him, but Jason would rather not follow that weaselly little bastard through the roofs of Gotham.

“SHIT!” Jason curses, misjudging his momentum and slamming into the Drakes’ front door.

God, it hurt so fucking much, and- shit, his nose was bleeding…

But, silver lining and all that, because the door swings open to reveal a harried and panicked-looking Timothy Jackson Drake dressed head-to-toe black, with his hundred-dollar camera hanging around his neck.

God, Jason hates rich people.

“Are you okay?!” the six year old squeaks, lurching forward to stare uncertainly at him.

Well, that proves Jason’s theory. If Tim had all his memories, he would’ve pointed and laughed at him for being an idiot, and Jason would’ve tackled him, dick would get involved, they’d break a few things, and the cass would work with alfred to get them back in line…

(God, Jason wished they’d never gone on that stupid trip.)

“Do you think i’m fine?” Jason huffed, guilt filling his chest as he watched Tim’s face fall. God, sometimes he forgets that then younger Tim was still so… bright. He hadn’t grown into all his sass yet. “I didn’t mean that, kid-”

But it was in the small moments where he’s reminded of his little brother’s spirit.

Tim puffs up in offense, almost like a little cat of sorts, and narrows his eyes, “I’m not a kid! I’m six, and you’re not that old either!”

“Sure, buddy,” Jason rolls his eyes before reaching up with a bloodied hand and pinching his nose, careful to stick the pendant in his pocket where Tim couldn’t see it. “Can I get a little help now?”

“Oh!” just like that, the Tim Jason was used to dissipates, and the kid was back to his shy little self, “Right, sorry. Come in! I’ll go grab you some napkins- are you hungry? It’s really late, and- oh, we have some juice too! We have passion fruit, dragonfruit, starfruit, strawberry-”

“I’ll take passionfruit,” Jason interrupted with an amused smile, “if you have the time, add a dash of lemon juice, ice, and honey.”

He watches as the kid freezes before nodding. Passionfruit with lemon and honey… that was one of Tim’s favorite drinks as an adult, and he’d constantly bugged Jason to make him some. Honestly, rich people shit.

“Okay! Uhm, do you want to shower first? You- you’re covered in blood, and i don’t think that’s too comfortable…”

“Yeah, sure,” he shrugs, “Lead the way, Timbo.”

“Timbo?” the kid faltered and blinks in confusion, but continued to lead Jason toward the bathroom before handing him a change of clothes.

When he was alone, the sound of running water filling the room, Jason took out the pendant and stared at it… The urge to bash the stupid thing against the wall was near overpowering, but he didn’t know what would happen if he did, and Jason would rather not try his luck.

He quickly washes, scrubbing himself down and reveling with how the warm water soothed his aching muscles. While he was at it, Jason scrubs at his scalp and washes his hair with tim’s fancy-ass shampoo snd conditioner. God, he misses the good shit.

When he finished, jason picked dried himself and shoved the pendant into one of the pant pockets (batman themed. why wasn’t he surprised? wonder woman would be leagues better than bruce. Nightwing too, he’s kinda surprised- oh. yeah. shit, he forgot…)

He stretches, humming at how his back popped pleasantly before sauntering down the steps. Sometime during the shower, his nose had stopped bleeding. Thank god for that.

“Tim!” Jason called, yawning briefly as he saw the kid staring into the humming microwave. The kid startled before smiling, “Did you have a good shower?”

“Yeah, I did,” Jason nodded, “What are you making?”

“Food,” the kid replied easily, “they’re leftovers, do you want some?”

“Yeah sure, why not.”

As they ate, Jason wondered how the hell he was going to get the kid to remember. He hummed, feeling exhaustion pulling at his eyes as he finished with his portion of leftover spaghetti.

Tim looks over at him, “Are you tired?”

“Yeah,” Jasonsighs, “it’s been… a long couple of days.”

“Alright! We have a spare guestroom you can use, is that okay?”

Jason nodded. It’ll at least give him the time to think over how he’ll continue with his plan, “Yeah, sure. That’s fine. Lead the way, Tim.”

A few hours later, Jason was awaken by a shape pressing a knife to his throat.

He froze. His mind running through hundreds of different scenarios before he recognized the shape hovering over him.

“…Tim? What- what is this? Put the knife down, and we can-”

“How,” the kid interrupts with narrowed and blazing eyes, “do you know my name? I never told you who I am, and only the people who’ve worked with my parents know that I exist. Did someone send you to kidnap me?”

Jason blinked, running over the last few hours in his mind before realizing that yeah, oh shit, Tim was right. He never did tell Jason his name, did he?

“Okay, kid. I’m…” and then he sees a hint of golden scales peeking from the collar of the kid’s robin-themed sleep shirt, “My name is Jason Todd. You are Timothy Jackson Drake, the third Robin. I’m the second Robin, and… I come from the furture.”

Tim jolts away, taken aback by Jason’s words before becoming instantly suspicious, “You know my name, and you know I like Robin. Prove to me you’re from the future, and maybe i’ll trust you.”

Jason smiles despite the situation, because this was Tim. Tim wasn’t some scared and timid kid, he was an independent little narcoleptic gremlin who drank too much Monster, somehow caught the eye of Ra’s Al Ghul, lost his spleen, and could lie to Batman and get away with it.

“Here,” Jason said, gesturing for Tim to shuffle back before grabbing the pendant and tugging off his shirt. When Tim laid his eyes on the skeletal bird resting above Jason’s heart, his hand automatically drifts to the marking Jason was sure he had, “can i see your…”

Tim gave him an uncertain look, but Jason wasn’t too surprised. If some random creepy guy told him to take lf his shirt. Jason would’ve stabbed him and ran off.

“You have a knife, kid. If i tried doing anything, you could always stab me.”

“…Fine,” Tim bit out before shrugging off his shirt.

A golden snake stretched from the inside of Tim’s elbow, beautiful scales woven from gold coiled along the span of Tim’s arm before resting it’s head atop tim’s coller bone. Honestly? It was breathtaking, beautiful in a way that Jason envied, but it summarized Tim’s entire character pretty well.

The pendant in Jason’s hand glows as it nears Tim’s golden snake.

“I want to test something,” Jason says, “i’m gonna touch this to the head of thr snake, and we’ll see what happens.”

Tim narrows his eyes, his grip on the knife tightening before he nods.

The pendant presses agasinst Tim’s collar for a brief second, and then everything begins to glow.

Tim’s eyes, the snake’s outline, the fucking pendant- literally everything was fucking glowing.

Jason clenched his jaws, forcing himself to remain still as his brother gasps in pain. Tim’s hans twitched and jerked, but, it was as if some- some force was holding him still.

Eventually, after a few agonizing seconds, the gold fades and Jason hurriedly yanks it away. He surges forward, pulling the knife out of tim’s hand before tossing it to the side, off of the bed and out of the way.

“Jay…”

“Yeah, timmy?” Jason leaned back, pulling his brother up before carding a hand through his hair.

Tim was quiet for a few moments before finally speaking, “We need to get Dick, and then Damian.”

“So,” Jason allows the amusement to fill his tone, “are you gonna hold a knife to their throat, too?”

“I will grab that knife and actually stab you,” Tim huffed, “leave you with a scar that matched Red Hood’s.”

Jason scoffed, but he couldn’t help the smile rising onto his lips, “Language, kid. Who taught you to say these things, baby bird?”

“Fuck off,” Tim hissed, “i’m tired, and I miss the big bird…”

“Yeah,” he sighs, “i do too… It’s whatever though. Go to sleep, Tim. We’ll try and grab him tomorrow.”

“Okay… Goodnight, Jay.”

“Night, Tim.”

And sure, it may be lonely with the rest of his siblings at his side, but at least he no longer had to spend this new (old?) life all by himself.

-----

part 1, 3, 4

and the directory

[halfagone]

Let Gotham Be Terrifying

I've seen many different takes and versions of Gotham, but I would love to play into the fact that Gotham is the second most crime-ridden city in America. That's right- Gotham, for all its horrible cruelty, still does not compare to Blüdhaven. But that doesn't make it any less terrifying, especially to newcomers.

I know a lot of people say that Amity Parkers would be desensitized to the Rogue attacks, because of the ghosts that constantly haunt the streets. But I think they would actually be more horrified of Gotham because of the ghosts.

Because here's the thing about Danny's Rogues Gallery. For all intents and purposes, they don't actually want to hurt people. The ghosts might not be harmless, but neither are they expressly malicious.

The Box Ghost? Give him some of your leftover cardboard from when you were moving apartments, he'll appreciate them and leave you alone for a while as a thank you. If you catch him at the right time, he might even be willing to lend a helping hand. With the promise of the boxes afterwards, he doesn't do work for free after all.

Lunch Lady? You'll see her at the soup kitchens or the food banks lending a helping hand; sometimes she even gets invited to the soccer games to act as hostess and she makes the best main dishes. And her dessert? People have made remarks that they're to die for, which is more than a little insensitive but hey, still true.

Ember McLain? Phantom's made a deal with her: so long as she keeps her mind control out of her music, she can play however much she wants. They hold weekly concerts in the park, you just gotta make sure everyone scatters by the time the Fentons arrive, and don't say shit to the GIW when they come around asking, and everyone comes out of this happy.

Kitty and Johnny? Sure, their arguments always cause a ruckus, and it can be more than a little awkward to watch a couple scream at each other in public. But if you're willing to lend a kind ear to Kitty when she's upset, she's far less likely to lash out and hurt people as a result. As for Johnny, let him do a couple laps around town and he'll get his head on straight. If the Red Huntress doesn't do it for him, of course. And when they're on good terms, you'll sometimes see them walking about town, holding hands and just having fun. Sometimes they'll buy some ice cream or other treats from stores. No one really knows where they got the money, but it's legit and no one feels the need to turn them away, if they're respectful about private property.

Youngblood? He's a bit brash and immature, but sometimes you'll catch him hanging out with Phantom playing astronauts. Sometimes you'll even see him hanging out with that girl Phantom playing cowboys. He likes to play at the parks and playgrounds with the other kids his age. And yeah, sometimes he hogs the toys a little too long, but he's the best storyteller the kids on the yard have ever seen. He's a great playmate once you get the hang of it.

As for Skulker... eh, he and Phantom have their fights but honestly, it's the collateral damage that causes more problems than the ghosts themselves. The morning commute should not take this long.

Spectra got ran out of town forever ago and at this point, people can recognize her on sight. If your mental health has taken a startling downturn, contact one of the helplines and if worse comes to worst, reach out to Phantom to make sure she's not sticking her nose where no one wants her.

Desiree- watch your mouth and stop saying the word 'wish' and you're set for life. She can be petty sometimes, but again, that's why you watch your mouth.

For 7 out of the 9 cases here, the ghosts don't actually mean much harm. Other, more powerful ghosts like Vortex or Nocturn don't come around often. They might think Phantom is a little bitch, but they respect his territory. They would do the same if they were in his place. Predator acknowledging predator, as I like to say.

But that's the distinct difference. The ghosts can be bargained with, reasoned with. If you give them some other outlet, more often than not they're willing to take it and don't bother anyone first.

The Gotham Rogues on the other hand? There is no indulging the Joker or Black Mask or Scarecrow. In some cases, even when Mr. Freeze's wife is cured or he's finally let her go, he still keeps to his life of crime. What about Harvey Dent? Zsasz? Manbat? A lot of these Rogues cannot be reasoned with.

And this isn't even including the drug dealers and the muggers and the traffickers. This isn't even including the corrupt police and the even more corrupt local government. This isn't even including the likes of the Court of Owls and the rich and elite that run the show. This isn't even including the League of Assassins, who've always had a vested interest in the city.

And isn't that sad? Doesn't that say something when the living are crueler than the dead?

So give me a Danny or a Jazz or a Tucker or a Sam- any Amity Park citizen you want- that is disturbed by the thoughtless destruction and murders. Give me a Jazz that takes one look at the Arkham Asylum patients and is unnerved by their incapability to change. Give me a Danny that visits Gotham one time to lend a hand, and by the end of it, he turns to Batman and he says, "I don't know how you do it."

Because this is a family of vigilantes, who all besides one, do not have powers. They have to cover a city filled with millions of people, watch over them every night, and try to stop any possible terrible atrocities. Because even if every single member of Batman's Rogues Gallery suddenly dropped dead, Gotham has far deeper issues than just them. That is why Batman's crusade is endless. That's why it's not as simple as flicking a switch.

Gotham is terrifying. And what does it say when the Batman can put the fear of god into a city like that?

Batman is terrifying, and I think sometimes that can be a reminder to us all.

[delawaredetroit]

I mean did Ochako get a good resolution? She failed her goal in saving Toga (who killed herself for her) after she vowed she wanted to save people after Nighteye was dying in her arms. Her arc of suppressing her feelings basically goes unaddressed and her feelings for Midoriya are essentially dropped despite being tied to that heavily (for better or for worse, and whether people ship them together or not that was a big part of her character). She doesn’t even get a chance to help Izuku in the climax, which doesn’t fulfill her resolve to help heroes when they’re suffering. She was dying from being stabbed, while all the other heroes with worse injuries (Bakugou) kept fighting. I would argue that her arc is basically nonexistent, which is a shame.

I'm sorry, I stopped listening to what you were saying after you claimed Bakugou played a more meaningful role in the last arc because he had more fights in the final war arc.

Now, all jokes aside, yes, Ochako did get a better character arc resolution compared to other key characters in the story (maybe excluding All Might and All for One).

Ochako starts out as a girl who went in to heroics, a job she believed was a performance to make the public happy, in order to provide for her parents. She was always a caring person, but Ochako didn't think structurally and she didn't think about the severity of what she was walking into with heroics.

After a few arcs, she really came to admire Izuku, a character who embodies an altruistic heroic ideal of saving others. After confronting life and death situations during a work context for the first time during the Overhaul Arc, she realized heroics was more than a performance. And despite that revelation that there were lives at stake - she wanted to continue moving forward to save people.

But hero society neatly divides people into those who save (heroes), those who are saved (civilians), and those to be defeated (villains). Once Ochako determined she wanted to save people, she quickly ran up against the limits of their society's framework of who gets to be saved. It started in the Joint Training Arc when she saved Izuku when he lost control of his quirk. She started with well then who saves the heroes? After seeing Toga cry during the first war arc, her next question became are villains also people who can be saved? Ochako was also the one to confront the civilians about their own complacency and to take initiative to help save others themselves at the end of the Villain Hunt Arc.

She did not have to fight with Izuku in the final fight and Toga was not required to survive to resolve her arc. The point of the "who helps heroes when they are hurting" with Izuku and reaching out to Toga was for Ochako to break down hero society's narrow, dehumanizing roles. Izuku and Toga embody some of the most self-destructive aspects of heroes and villains respectively. She reached out and recognized the humanity of each of them in their darkest moments - the Rogue Arc for Izuku and for Toga in the final war arc while Toga was still mourning Twice's (and what she believed to be Touya's) death(s).

As for the crush/feeling suppression plotline, she wasn't required to confess to Izuku to resolve that plot point. That plotline is intrinsically linked to her relationship with Toga. Because as I have said before, Ochako actually took Toga's advice for how to approach her crush. Toga wanted to become just like her crush. Izuku suppressed all emotions he believed interfered with his hero persona. Ochako then responded in kind by suppressing her feelings after she realized she liked Izuku in the Second Act. But in the final arc, Ochako acted according to her own feelings. She reached out to connect to the villain instead of defeating her because she wanted to do so. Trying to suppress her feelings of wanting to save Toga by looking at the destruction she caused didn't work. She freely admitted to Toga and herself that she liked Izuku.

This was a high school crush. Most people don't get married and have kids with their high school sweetheart. The crush plotline at the end of the day wasn't about Izuku. It was about Ochako and Toga and at a thematic level it was about restrictive norms around love and connection with others, especially as teenage girls.

And honestly, the epilogue also resolved Ochako's arc well. She gets to vent to her friends and let out her suppressed emotions surrounding Toga's death. She was able to connect with Izuku again without running away in fear of her own feelings as she had throughout the Second Act. And there is evidence she put her ideas of rejecting these narrow roles of who can be saved into practice through spearheading these systematic quirk counseling reforms.

[altocat]

FFVII EC: THE FIRST SOLDIER CHAPTER 8

Here we are at what looks to maybe be the final chapter of the story! Or maybe not. We'll find out at the end, I guess. Either way, it's certainly been a wild ride.

TEN YEARS LATER TIMESKIP OH SHIT

Adult Seph and Glenn face off just like in the opening. But this time Refu jumps in to stop the fight. Turns out, they didn't hate each other after all. Glenn is clearly no longer with Shinra (or is he? It's still kind of unclear. Maybe he's a rogue?) but Sephiroth and he really aren't enemies despite this, despite not having seen each other in a long time.

Glenn has intel and alerts Sephiroth to the fact that Shinra is going to do a big airstrike on the defected soldiers, hitting the Shinra base in the process. He's letting Sephiroth know in advance because despite loyalty, Sephiroth still cares about his men. I'm still a little fuzzy on if this means if he's asking Sephiroth to protect SOLDIER forces or the defected group. I presume the former, since Glenn says he can't be the one to do it.

Also he apologizes for kicking Sephiroth's necklace. Aww.

Sephiroth has changed over the years. You can tell. He reflects nostalgically on his time with Glenn, reflecting that he's become a much more compassionate person. And this attitude reflects in him wanting to save his men.

This is actually really cool CC-esque stuff with Sephiroth's portrayal. Adult Seph is playable here btw. Sephiroth is shown to be very caring towards the safety of his fellow soldiers. He keeps telling himself that he can save everyone. He believes that you can defeat hate with compassion.

He's also repeatedly recognized as "the hero", even as he makes his way towards all the action. But Sephiroth muses that he can become a hero for REAL if he actually does heroic things. He has to keep pushing himself.

He reaches the soldiers getting swarmed by monsters on Mt. Tamblin. Sephiroth is clearly tired--maybe from worrying about Genesis? And then he fights a really huge behemoth.

Sunrise. Seph has defeated all the monsters. Everyone gushes over him for protecting everyone, flashing cameras in his face and everything while he sighs at being called a hero. Glenn watches him warmly from a distance.

As Sephiroth is walking through the crowd he has Jenova-esque flashes, where he flashes back to the scene with Rosen from before.

We all guessed it--Rosen begged Sephiroth to mercy kill him so he can be with his people in the afterlife. Miniroth had pled with Rosen to give life a chance, to find his place in the world. But Rosen tells Sephiroth to do it or else everyone is going to die. He asks Sephiroth whose life is important to him--it's Glenn. And we see Sephiroth reluctantly make his choice. So it was a misunderstanding this entire time.

A lonely adult Sephiroth stands in the Edge of Creation, staring pensively ahead at the cosmos.

So. Is the story over, you ask? Well...yes.

.......................but not completely. Because a very interesting teaser shows up at the end. One I think is going to blow your minds.

FIRST SOLDIER PART 2

[themotherofblood]

My dear author, I know your requests are closed, but I couldn't miss the opportunity so I'm going to try my luck… If you can make an exception, I can get an inspired imagine/oneshot Daemon x Dornish reader in "tabaah ho gaye" by Shreya Ghoshal, with a lot of anguish (breaks my heart) but with a happy ending, please? (feel free to ignore and if you can't accept it I completely understand)

yes!! i’m loving all the bollywood inspired chapters. I was hoping I could use this as a part of the dragon and the dancer since y/n is a dancer and she could be ripping a solo in the mirrored palace like madhuri. Also just for the sake of the story we are gonna pretend that these girls magically know the same choreo as Y/N because we are doing things old school bollywood

masterlist

Part 2 of The Dragon and The Dancer

Daemon Targaryen x Martell! Reader

There was much bustling around the Old Palace in the past fortnight, Qoren’s nameday was upon Dorne and the celebrations as usual were to be magnificent, the Mirrored Palace was brighter yet again, every candle burning anew as sweet jasmine filled the palace; coating its walls in the sweet aroma of the flowers. It had been ten years since this palace was used, there was no joy in using it other than when you spent your nights there.

Another reason to rejoice was thrust into your hands by the gods and you simply didn’t want to linger in the misery of your loss, you provided the Sand sisters with keys; under guise that they would be performing for Qoren, along with your younger cousins of nines and tens. You step daughter Rhaena amongst the little girls, you had gotten her ghungroos of her own, made of blue cloth and light gold bells of her ankles to adjust to. She had been running a muck in her chambers, the little bells jangling as she tested her newest trinket.

You had already been dressed for hours, dressing your little cousins as they could barely standstill for more than a few moments, Rhaena’s curls were put in a puff over her head with a stringlet of dahlias, in a beautiful gold ensemble that matched yours, Baela had gone out with her father to mingle with guests arriving from all over Westeros and Essos.

You had led her out, hand in hand as her eyes wandered over to the sea of guests, many ladies approached you; to greet the newly minted wife of the rogue dragon. Many wondered what you had that they didn’t, many frowned at your colour; scoffing at your exoticness. Your husband was rather easier to spot, his striking silver hair inviting you over from a crowded room of people. You shuffled your way to him, offering more polite greeting to whomever spoke to you.

Daemon had been scowling at an envoy, sent to sway your father about the fighting in Stepstones and side with Craghas Drahar; your father had another reason to remain neutral, he wouldn’t harm your husband’s prospects for your sake but refused to side with them for old time nemesis sake. You reached near him as you followed his path of vision to lay upon a much familiar man, a man you wished you would never see again when you left his court at six and ten.

“You are going to make my men and I very happy.” His grimy fingers held your cheeks as he presented you with your own ghungroos.

You immediately intertwined your hands with Daemon’s, almost slotting yourself behind him as the old master recognized your face and gave your a filthy once over before approaching you. Daemon hadn’t quite realized what the man was looking at until the old master stopped to greet them.

“Ah, sweet Y/N. Look at how you have grown,” He gestured at your body as you partially hid behind Daemon. Given where the man had come from, it didn’t take long until Daemon out the pieces together.

“Prince Daemon!,” The old man sneered “Are you here to entertain us with your dragon?” He japed, you could see a nerve bursting in Daemon’s head as he held your hand tighter.

“Here to celebrate with my wife actually, you know. The princess of Dorne.” He gestured at you.

“I wish- wish you good luck in convincing my father, old Ser.” You gave him a practised petty smile before letting Daemon drag you along to the main hall in the Old Palace. The old master’s eyes widened as he watched you embrace Qoren and he placed a fatherly kiss upon your forehead as you wished him a happy name day.

You had found yourself in the chambers were your sisters and cousins all lounged before the performance, you informed them of your withdrawal without any reasoning before stomping to your own personal chambers. Daemon had caught up to you as he found you angrily undoing the knots of ghungroos to free yourself of them. Daemon kneeled infront you, offering to replace his stable hand with your shaky one’s as he undid the knots as you ranted your reasoning.

“I re- refuse to dance for such perverse, his entire court has seen me much bare than I am.” You sighed angrily, “I really wanted to dance for Qoren.” You pouted. Daemon found your reasoning justified as he pulled you onto his lap.

“You have the world’s time to dance for him again, you should do it when you feel ready, not when the known world thinks you are.” He pressed a kiss to your temple.

That was weeks before Daemon Targaryen had decided to descend dragon fire into the Stepstones.

“Your niece’s husband has a dragon!” You reasoned in stress as Daemon prepared his dragon.

“This is the matter of my house, wife. I must fight.” He urged frustrated, hoping for you to see reason in his excursions but all you could picture was you being widowed.

“And what of me? Your daughters? Don’t you owe us your life too?” You bellowed, yanking his gloves from him. He now looked at you perturbed and the scene you were causing. He motioned you to return his gloves and you insolently refused.

“Perhaps if your father would have provided men, this wouldn’t have happened!” This time Daemon let his frustrations get the best of him as he yelled at you, yanking his gloves free from you hands.

“You know I tried!” You shook your head, hoping to fight the tears that threatened to spill.

“You should have tried harder! Or mayhaps your claim to his heart isn’t as meaningful as he poses it to be.” He snapped before existing the chambers. He too didn't want to fight this war and yet he wouldn't allow shame to loom over his brother’s name.

You followed the girls out to the beach mount, Caraxes remained idle as he waited for his rider to mount him. Baela began petting the red dragon, talking to it as if he understood every word. However Caraxes held an odd attention towards you as his giant nostrils flared as he kept sniffing at you. You couldn't quite place what he meant to do and yet pet his snout, hoping he would return your husband to unspoiled; regardless of how angry you were at him at the very moment.

Daemon embraced both his weeping girls, kneeling at their level as they pressed kisses on either side of his cheek before he kissed their foreheads. He looked at you with guilt, hoping to gorge his words from before down his stomach and hitting his head with a rock over how tactless he had been, he came to embrace you; leave you with a parting kiss and yet you pulled away. Pointing at his red dragon, demanding him to leave, he approached once more but you shook your head. Again aggressively point at his dragon.

Daemon’s guilt-ridden eyes gave the women of his life one more look as they embraced one another before Caraxes let out a shrieking whistle and whisked him to the orange clouds of dusk. Just like that he was gone.

Your anger simmered in the coming fortnight as letters began to arrive from the Stepstones, they were written in haste as stains of dirt adored the corners of the papers. He wrote for his daughters and you, making the war sound like an entertaining ballad for his daughters and yet you knew the truth of how ineffectual the dragons had been in this war. He was fighting by hand, starved and pained.

Perhaps the distance and stress for your husband began to claw at your health, you grew nauseous everytime you laid awake to brink of morning as you wondered what he would be doing, was he hurt; was he alright?

Then the universe japed at you as you sat with Maesters, your stomach could barely keep down anything you were eating and as of last fortnight, your handmaidens began behaving oddly up until when they dragged you to the Maester’s chambers.

“Mayhaps two moons princess,” He exclaimed as he washed his hands “Shall I call for your father?”

You shook your head as you rubbed your belly, shaking your head as you realized the night conception. Qoren’s nameday.

More letters were shared between Daemon and you, yet you hid your condition from him; you knew if you told him he would evade his sense of strategy and begin recklessly tearing through people to end the war, with no adhere consequence of his own mortality. The fighting turned dirty as more Velaryon men lost their lives.

You had confessed your pregnancy to your father as you lounged with him at the beach, he had been elated; far too ready to throw yet another extravagant feast and you refused. Urging for him to hold off until your husband returns and not to mention this to anyone else. Perhaps they would figure it out as your belly grew but for now you needed to tell Qoren just to alleviate the gnawing sense of doom in your heart.

Then the letters grew less frequent, muddier and rushed as he professed his love over and over again. Every time you would wish upon them and burn the letters, praying he be returned to you whole. Until a moon turned and his letters stopped entirely, within the three moons he had left, you had never felt the kind of dread you had felt in the moment when the Maester informed you of no letters.

You fought your hasty beating heart, quarrelling for it to stop, to let you breathe normally for just a moment. You rummaged through your chests, hoping to find your ghungroos. For just a while you needed to escape this fear, it was the only thing that would protect your child from yourself. You hurried towards the Mirrored Palace.

The doors had been wide open as echoes of girls giggling and talking were heard from within the main hall, you didn't care to usher them out. You just needed to dance. You had opened the palace for the girls to dance in, it was a shame to keep such a place locked away when it was built with much love for your mother.

Your sisters saw you approach looking troubled, they understood why and sympathized. Some of them caught onto your growing belly during the last turn of the moon. Others figured it out from how you refused to eat certain foods that were once your favourites. Many figured with the four months remaining of your pregnancy, any wife would grow paranoid about their husband’s absence.

“Care to join us, dear sister,” Aliandra spoke up, shushing all your Sand sisters in the process. You didn't say a word, just nodded as your handmaiden helped you tie the ribbons in your ghungroos. Your sisters, with Baela and Rhaena had spent a better part of an hour; arguing over which song to dance over. They knew a few pieces that your mother had taught them and yet everyone had their favourites.

You simply walked to the middle, shrugging your shawl off to not have it in your way, you needed to dance, free-hearted and unabashed. They all awaited, letting you pick the song out of courtesy in your distressed state. You let out a wavering sigh before tucking your right leg behind the left.

Your sweet voice let out the first line of the song, and the master of musical arts and his entourage immediately recognized the song. The strings played their part as a melancholic tune echoed the marble in the palace.

A war widow’s prayer, a macabre choice in tunes and yet far too fitting to portray what it is you were battling within. It called for the safe return of her husband, how she offered her life to the gods for the safe keeping of her husband. Your sisters looked at one another before joining you at the center, all of your ghungroos created a melodic jangle as you danced as one. Rhaena remained seated, still unaware of this piece.

The flute chimed in, calling for the joyous days between Daemon and you, you closed your eyes envisioning the afternoons you had lounged on a sailboat as his daughters swam in the sea. The second verse forces you to remember the sheer aura that drove you toward him, the adoration you held toward him that scared you to the core, praying that your own envy of his essence wouldn't reflect as ill will.

You turned, and so did your sisters; making your skirts flare out in unison. You had to stop for a moment, your singing choked in a sob, as the words whimpered out of your mouth. The colours of your sisters' dresses blurred within the tears pooling past your eyes, they kept dancing knowing better than to not let you feel the anguish you were in.

You recalled your arguement, you hadn't let him kiss you when he left. It couldn't be the last time you kissed him, it simply couldn't. You refused to let that fight be the last of your conversation; even if you had to travel to the Stepstones yourself. There was one thing evident in the last three moons is how incapable of pure joy you were without him. A piece of your heart, packaged in the belongings that he took with him.

Your feet began to ache, from the change in your body due to babe but also how hard you landed on the footwork. The last verse past the bridge echoed across the walls, the notes of your siren-like voice called for far more spectators as you laid your emotions out on the floor, he needed to be okay- he had to be okay. As the last beats of percussion led to the crescendo of footwork, a foot soldier stopped at the gates of the Mirrored Palace, whispering something in your hand maiden’s ear, Her eyes widened as she ran inside, looking toward your dancing figure.

You paused in the middle, everyone still finishing the piece around you, she whispered something to your daughters who ran out of the palace. The shock in her eyes filled your stomach with dread as you walked past your dancing sisters, the thud of ghungroos as you took hastily walked towards the main gates, rubbing at your swollen stomach; far too afraid that if you lost your husband your body would force you to lose this last part of him too.

“Please don't be dead.”

“Please don't be dead.”

You stopped right by the doors, far too afraid to witness what was behind them. You patted your tummy, taking deep breaths as the knights stationed by the door opened them at your approach. There kneeled Daemon, head buried between his daughters’ shoulders as he engulfed them in his giant arms, you stood atop the stairs as tears of relief replaced the ones of anguish from moments before.

You hurried down the stairs, stopping merely a few feet away from him, praying that he was real. He looked up, face still spotted with specks of soot and dirt; his hair chopped much shorter as he wore a crown made of bone. His lips widened in a smile, a soft smile as he took sympathy to your tears. You threw yourself at him, sobbing the moment his arms wrapped around your shaking body.

“I thought- I thought.” You stammered still sobbing as he held your face in his hands “Your letters stopped and there was no news Daemon.” He nodded, letting your emotions pour out of you “I thought you were dead.” You wailed. He lifted you hand to his thudding heart inside his chest

“See, not dead,” He wiped your tears “I’m here, I’m here.” He cooed as his daughters also wrapped themselves around you and him. You caressed Baela’s hair as you felt her rubbing your arm.

You finally calmed down enough to pull apart, most of your emotions were to be blamed on something Daemon was unaware of, until he pulled back to give you an adoring once-over. His eyes stopped at your middle, letting his hand trail to the soft yet firm swell of your belly. It was unapparent from the fullness of your skirt at first glance but his eyes shot to you, a thousand questions looming behind those purple eyes.

“Five moons now,” You informed him, still sniffling as you smiled wider at his shock.

“Healthy?” He asked, still unable to grasp that there was a child within you.

“Healthy.” You nodded, Daemon’s eyes remained fixated on your middle before he engulfed you once more, picking you off your feet and twirled you around. You shrieked.

Daemon had not only returned victorious despite his brother's shunning and misjudgements but also returned to become a father to three children. There was much preparation to be done since he planned to take his wife to the king's landing, and use the celebrations of his great victory as a momentous event to introduce his wife, and now oncoming child to the court. Just as he had his twin daughters.

That night a steaming bath was prepared for the prince to wash himself of the muck and grime from all the fighting. It has only been mere hours since he learned of your pregnancy and had already begun the chicken mothering, he insisted that you lay in bed until he was done, before that he scolded you for bending to untie your ghungroos and anklets, kneeling down himself to undo them. You, however, as little defiant as ever followed after him to the bath.

He dropped his robe, giving you a full view of his back and the newest burns coating his left side. You gasped making him turn and scowl at you. “What did I say about going to bed?”

You shrugged the subject entirely, frowning at the gashes and stabs of arrows on his body. Your feelings bubbled up to a precipice yet again as your bottom lip wobbled. This time you scowled at him, pushing him towards the bath before dropping your own sleep shift to the ground.

Whatever Daemon was mildly irked over just moments before absolutely abandoned his mind, his eyes took in your bare body, the swell of your breasts and your prominent belly. He had no choice but to cave as you joined him in the bath, shuffling to straddle his legs as you gently washed at his wounds. He hissed out loud making you flinch your hand away.

The frown on your face was all too adorable as he chuckled at your reaction, he had lost feeling to the burned side of his shoulder long before and yet the concern on your face for a devious man like him made him melt behind his demeanour. One thing he knew for sure, was that after this bath, with no mind to the injuries that still caused him discomfort, he was going to ravage your swelling body like a beast gone feral on a full moon.

[percheduphere]

How do you think Mobius will live his life in the timeline? Many theorize that something happens to Don and Mobius takes his identity so his sons live with a father. I prefer that Mobius reflects on his old life, realizes he can’t live it, and creates his own life.

Oh, boy, Anon. I have a lot of fanfic ideas for this, but let's get into the meta-analysis side of this before we get into the rabbit hole that is my washer-dryer machine of an imagination.

Mobius is not doing well. He is going through the stages of grief. I've written an extensive meta here regarding the darker aspects of his character and how he's at risk by the end of the series. I also wrote a brief meta here regarding how his grief might manifest.

With this in mind, I actively HATE the idea of Mobius spiraling to the point he becomes "corrupted". I don't what Michael Waldron did to Wanda. I guess you could make the argument that it would be interesting to see a man emotionally unravel in such a way, but I hold Mobius's unshakable kindness dear in my heart. I don't ever want him to lose it because it is essentially his superpower.

[Sidebar: comics canon House of M notwithstanding; Marvel and DC comics canon are consistently horrible in their characterization of exceptionally powerful women: Wanda Maximoff Jean Grey/Phoenix; Carol Danvers/then Ms. Marvel; Rogue; on and on; I'll throw Sylvie in here, too, because why not, it's true.]

I see Mobius mourning Loki for two years. Two years because, statistically, that is how long it takes for most people who've lost an intimate loved one to get out of clinical depression. During this period, I see him losing weight, wandering aimlessly between timelines, trying and failing to copy Don's life by taking a job that involves jet skis or aquatics more generally. B-15 would make a point to check-in on him and know he's not doing well, but Mobius, because he does not want anyone to worry about him, because he is used to being the person who keeps people together, insists he's fine.

MY FANFIC IDEA

I see Mobius eventually recognizing he needs a therapist, which he will find ironic and deeply troubling, but he's not about to give up on trying to live for Loki's sake.

And in his conversations with his therapist and B-15, Mobius will come to realize that he can still use his key strengths outside of the TVA: analyzing people, deconstructing what makes them tick, using that knowledge to help the other person, similar to a therapist but more active in support. Mobius is very well-suited to become a social worker of troubled and at-risk youth. I think he should pursue this and ...

Mobius will choose a branched timeline in the late 90s/early 2000s. There, he will meet a war-orphaned, thirteen year-old Wanda Maximoff, who is friendless and struggling to understand the nature of her powers (magic). Mobius is drawn to her right away. It takes time, but he eventually gains Wanda's trust.

Red. Red is Wanda's color. It's in her hair, her cheeks, her magic. Now that red reaches Wanda's eyes, filled with tears her anger stoppers. "You saw what I can do. What I did. The other kids call me a 'witch' 'cause that's what I am. A witch. A monster."

Mobius sits next to the young girl on the stoop. The sun winks at them through the green tree boughs, and he wonders, for a moment, what Loki might think of him now, finding solace in a child who needs solace.

"That's not true. You're not a monster, but I tell you what: witches are pretty cool." Mobius grins, knocking his knee against hers. The fabric of his slacks shakes, still too loose. "Y'know, my best friend has magic just like yours, except it's green instead of red."

Wanda peers at him, hopeful and dubious. "Really?"

"Yup. He had a tough time, too, being different." He leans closer to her, sharing a secret. "But things got better. You should've seen him. He was--is-- magnificent. You're magnificent."

Her lips purse into an embarrassed smile. She drops her head, thoughtful, and tucks her hands beneath the fold of her knees. "Where is he now? Do you still see him?"

The question is innocent, as all things are with a soul of thirteen. She doesn't mean to hurt him. Mobius knows this. So he takes the thorn of her words and presses it against his ribcage. His throat works. The ache comes and goes but never fully abates.

"Well," Mobius sighs. "He had to move on. Life is like that sometimes. People come and go. Things happen and ... there's not much you can do except hope they're okay. That they're happy and safe."

He can't look up. Not at the tree or the sun. He worries if he does, he'll start to cry, and that won't do when this girl who reminds him so much of his wily god has finally cracked a smile.

"C'mon," he says, rising to his feet. "Let's get you something to eat."

"McDonald's?" Wanda brightens.

Another thorn. He takes that one too and thinks of pretty roses.

"Whatever you want, kiddo."

[lordturkish-robomallcop]

Gimme 11, 7, 26, 27 and 28 (Drawing not required). For Ana and/or Marcel, but also for anyone whom you'd feel have interesting answers for these!

Taking that and and running with it straight under the fold!

11 for Marcel, Anatol and Roman because he's bundled in with the Ana package: Marcel was my first WoD pc, so he's largely a port of my main DnD guy (Dillup the Diviner) who also got blended with Midnight Gospel dissociative ennui and Mackgyver goofiness. Anatol... less fun and goofy, this one. Ana/Roman were originally built to be kinda a parable tackling my thoughts/feelings regarding to "trans widow/er" narratives and spiraled out from there. I haven't posted their full origin story outside of the snippets in Limits, but a lot dwelling in that uncomfortable zone of folks reaching for things they do not have language for, so they reach into the phantoms they construct of loved ones as mooring points and then freaking out when those points prove to be imagined/changed. Also just a general exploration of "toughing through" a relationship that perhaps has reached its sell-by date. Roman is married to an image of Ana that never was/will never be but has convinced himself that is a natural state that must be returned to. Ana is married to an image of Roman (the man who was disowned by his family to be with Ana, who despite being a bit of a patriarchal terror in his own right was one of the few folks who begrudgingly gave him space/grace outside of his own father) that Anatol has convinced himself is someone he needs to rebuild/is the touchstone he needs. This is also mirrored with Mihal/Kliment, except Mihal in a shocking twist is probably the only motherfucker in this generational pain cycle to recognize, in that one moment, that he was chasing a construction and just... letting go, letting that fixation die. Understanding it was making him and the person he claimed to do everything for worse. That he was unconsciously doing what his own sire did to him, and ooooh no if there's anything he hates more than being passe it's being reminded he's very similar to the Old Dragons. Also the fixation was immediately resurrected when Ana entered the picture, because pobody's nerfect but lil ruffly bugboi tried.

Wow I've already done a massive ramble anyhoot there's a healthy dose of Artemy Burrakh from Pathologic 2 in Ana as well bc I had Pathologic brainrot when I was first drafting him, lmao. He also got his last name Stamatin from that game.

7 for All Assortment of Lads: Marcel is a Divination Wizard, as was his Dillup Double! And like Dillup he'd def find a way to become a Hag. Ana would def be a Warlock of some stripe, likely a Great Old One patron. He'd be a human and be grumbly about it. Eliza is pretty straightforwardly a halfling Rogue. Roman starts as the lvl 1 Runescape farmer and ends up as a pretty bomb ass Ranger. Mihal would be the patron Ana's praying to, lol. 26 for All Assortment of Lads: Ana compulsively categorizes people he meets as different types of flora so this is the perfect question!! Ana- Venus fly trap Roman- Strawberry Blossum Mihal- Eidlewiess Kliment- Red Rose Eliza- Blue Hydrangea Marcel- Ivy/Kudzu 27 for Ana and Macel: Marcel is a Cuckoo Shrike bc he barrels in out of nowhere and completely wrecks other people's houses for his own ends. Like, look at this stupid son of a bitch, I hate him:

Ana is def some kind of weird lizard or stickbug. Part of me wants to say "do dragons count bc he's genuinely the type of kid who'd buy one of those Dragonology books growing up and also his grandfather was an Obertus Monk so Big Lizard Stanning is just a family tradition" but also another part of me feels like that's a cop out tzim answer lol.

28- Ana and Marcel: Marcel rolls with the skaters/burnouts smoking by the dumpsters after school before doing some light shoplifting at the Casey's down the street. Ana rolls with the theater kids to Perkins at 1am as the designated Butch Carabiner Haver of the department. Roman is the single jock at the end of the queer theater table struggling as the "Sure I Am An #Ally bc my S/O is queer but don't get it twisted I'm straight ha-ha" boyfriend. Maybe someday I will dig out the wacom tablet that I know to be existing in a desk drawer somewhere to do my own OC doodles but today is not that day lol.

[callmearcturus]

Gods damnit, Arc, I did _not_ need to be yeeted back into MI fandom!

But since you're doing it anyway ( :D ), care to ramble on Ethan's complicated relationship between sex between friends, sex in a relationship, and sex on a mission?

I don't know if I can delineate that much but it does dovetail into my reading of Ethan as ace. Because wow the self recognizes the self, that boy has intense vibes. Sex neutral ace is my read from him.

I'm finally watching MI1 tomorrow with some friends, but I've seen a lot of scenes from it and the vibe I get from Ethan is very unethical slut boy who then goes through a massively traumatic event that almost permanently damages the mechanism that lets him trust and rely on other people.

When we reach the McQuarrie Trilogy and catch up with Ethan, there's a lot of interesting stuff with gender and sex going on. Notably, in GP, Ethan does not get a love interest at all and while he's a joy to watch and the camera loves to frame him in compelling ways, it's not really sexy at all. We spend a lot of the movie thinking he got left by Julia, then we find out she's dead, then we learn she's alive and they still love each other but can't be together.

All of that is super compelling to me. In Hollywood Action Movies, I find the lack of sexual tension and love interest to be refreshingly weird. I'm trying to think of another action hero who gets treated like Ethan does, and the only thing that kind of came to mind was Cobb from Inception, but even then there's shipteasing with Arthur and Ariadne (and also Nolan's gender politic is a treacherous wasteland, so bad example anyway).

In Rogue Nation, the trend continues and honestly gets even more odd to me. Because on paper, Ilsa should be Ethan's love interest and there's small moments like escaping the opera and the body search int he car, but both of them are outliers. Hell, when they meet, Ethan COMPLIMENTS HER SHOES which is. About the least heterosexual thing ever.

Ilsa is extremely important to Ethan and I think he loves her, but after the big climax, their huge moment of intimacy is a hug. Which makes me go wild, it's so interesting that there's not even a goodbye kiss.

Pairing that with how Ethan treats Benji in RN and how structurally he's the love interest-- BUT EVEN THEN Ethan is so fucking careful and guarded with how he touches people. I keep thinking about Ilsa in Morocco, coming out of the pool and how its potentially a Bond Girl Moment but the camera doesn't linger on her much and Ethan keeps his eyes on her face. There's no leering, there's not even checking her out. IT'S JARRING. I LOVE IT.

And then in Fallout, there's the White Widow thing, which makes me want to scream. That moment when the White Widow kisses Ethan out of the blue and Ethan is fucking stone-faced, like the ace vibes are wild.

It's not just that he doesn't react so oooh he must be one of My People, but there's also how Fallout makes you feel Ethan's age. Ethan spends 90% of Fallout looking tired and sad, and it's almost like... on some level he's not even willing to put on the show anymore. He's not going to crank up the charisma and woo people to do what he wants, he can't be fucking bothered, and I feel the gravity of him so acutely every time I watch it. The only time he really has that big lovely smile is when he's talking to Benji and Luther in the beginning, which makes it a genuine charisma, a genuine urge to relax and grin and share a moment with people he loves.

But as soon as the job says he should maybe seduce the White Widow bc she's clearly into him, he's just. Not there for it.

Anyway the ace vibes are off the charts. Does Ethan Hunt fuck? Possibly, but it has to be with someone he trusts and they're probably going to have to be the one to suggest it. If you invite him to Netflix and Chill, he's going to be in the kitchen heating up popcorn kernels in a cast iron because you gotta have popcorn for movies. Then you say "actually how about sex" and there's a two second lag as he processes that and goes "Oh yeah sure that sounds like it could be fun too."

Ace as fuck.

[razzberrydazz]

📌Pinned post📌

Call me Razz! He/they, Mid-20s, American, BPD.

🔞This blog contains adult-themed content at times, viewer discretion advised 🔞

I am willing to do art requests for anyone who provides proof that they have donated to the fundraisers and charities I share.

Requests to share new fundraisers are currently closed due to the number of people reaching out to me - I will focus on the ones that I have already reached out to and shared previously.

My shared fundraisers use the tag #razz's fundraiser list

If I've unknowingly shared 'ai' (ie generative ai plagiarism software) art please let me know and I'll take it down! I'm very against the use of generative ai.

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Fandom, personal tag, and OC related miscellany under the cut.

Fandoms/media I enjoy include but are not limited to:

Dragon Age

Baldur's Gate 3

Dishonored

Elder Scrolls (Specifically Skyrim and ESO)

Dungeons and Dragons and other TTRPGs

Legend of Zelda

Splatoon

ATLA and Legend of Korra

Soul Eater

Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood

Black Butler (manga)

Gangsta (manga)

Hatsune Miku (Vocaloid)

Hades (1 & 2) by Supergiant Games

Persona series (specifically Persona 5)

Cyberpunk 2077

The Magnus Archives (podcast)

Wicked (musical)

Sweeney Todd (musical)

Natasha, Pierre & The Great Comet of 1812 (Musical)

Hadestown (musical)

Arcane (TV series)

Hannibal (TV series)

Saw (movie franchise)

DC Comics (Specifically Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, and Wonder Woman)

My Ao3 (some of it is Explicit🔞)

My Bluesky (also may be Explicit🔞)

My tags

My art - #razz's art, #razzdazz art, #razz draws

My writing - #razz writes, #razz's writing

My rambles - #razz rambles #razz's unsolicited additions

Main OCs (Original Characters)

Tiffany - originally a D&D NPC in my first homebrew campaign (Heart of Atlantis my beloved), then I grew to love her too much to leave her alone.

Tiffany Mereign, ie Tiff, ie Theophania Athaliah Wilhelmina Fen’U-darah Mereign the Third, Queen of Atlantis, formerly Empress of the Atlantean Empire. Sea elf royalty, born on December 27th, took the throne with her father as Regent after the assassination of her mother Larethire II. She fully took the crown and throne in 1139-1140ce after killing her father Elias for his numerous crimes including the discovery that he was responsible for her mother's death.

The D&D campaign Tiff first appeared in took place in 1139-40ce where the player character party helped Tiff revive a dead goddess and use her power to kill the usurper king Elias and end a war that threatened their people. Said goddess cursed Tiff to die a thousand deaths (not by her own hand) before she can finally rest, all because Tiff rejected the offer of ascension to godhood.

Tiff handled her immortality curse... badly, to say the least. At least she met and married her loving supportive wives Cassie and Anya who help her with her chronic pain and substance addictions. Tiff is addicted to a substance known as heartstone, which is magically radioactive, which means Tiff has to wear protective clothing so that she doesn't irradiate everyone around her.

Rana - Ranarox La'Rouge, originally started as a Haunted One Bard/Rogue in a Curse of Strahd campaign, then got repurposed and fleshed out as my Dark Urge/Durge OC for Baldur's Gate 3. Raised in a circus and wooed by every pretty face they see, Rana does everything in their power to fend off the Red that swirls around their vision that brings the Urge to kill. If their eyes turn red and you are within melee range, it is already too late for you to run away.

Rana's 'canon' storyline has them falling in love with Shadowheart and Lae'Zel, finding a way to spare Minthara despite being tortured by her, rediscovering their past as the leader of the Bhaalist cult, and saving their daughter Mala from being sacrificed by Orin the Red. They found Mala (instead of Yenna) wandering around Rivington. Jaheira recognized her first as she had been acting as Mala's foster mother, since Rana had smuggled Mala away years prior to protect her from the cult (Rana was a victim of familial abuse and SA and Mala is a result of said abuse whom Rana vowed to protect from repeating the cycle of abuse). Rediscovering their progeny put them both in danger as Orin stalked the party and stole that which Rana only just got back.

Rana resorted to killing Orin to protect their child, and renounced Bhaal within the heart of his temple. Bhaal stole back their very blood and life force, disowning them. Rana only lives on because Jergal claimed them as his champion, and while the Red is never fully gone, they finally see clearly for the first time. Before disowning their murder god father, Rana's blood was black deathly ichor of the unholy god, but after Jergal claimed them, their blood became red full of life and vigor.

Ina - (Belongs to my friend Poe, I just happen to be obsessed with her and am the leader of Ina's fanclub) Ina the Kobold is a chaos entity, a zealous oath of glory paladin devoted to a deified Hatsune Miku. She came into existence after my friend rolled up a completely randomized character for a D&D game, and quickly speared her way into my heart with her wacky antics and hilarious zeal for murder.

A little known tidbit about Ina is that she's a sleeper agent, Ina is not her full name. Her true name is Ignition, which is the trigger word to temporarily switch her from chaotic stupid kobold to calculated smart dragonborn. Her Ignition alter ego is scarily competent compared to Ina. She was created in a secret magical experiment and hatched from a magically irradiated dragonborn egg. Ignition voluntarily switches back into Ina the minute whatever mission or danger she was dealing with is complete, as Ina takes far less mental energy to exist.

She is made as a contingency plan for Tiffany, so that in the case she as the queen ever goes off the rails and goes against her own morals, Ina will be there to kill her and bring her back to her senses.

Erinyes - My demonsona as it were, a self insert that morphed kind of into their own entity. They're a cheese-loving fury demon called Erin-yes. I often use them as a chaotic mini-me, and a personification of my silliness and rage. Sometimes I'll shove them into things with varied success. In D&D they'd be a tiefling or cambion as a player character, but as an NPC they've appeared as a literal erinyes devil that tried to sell cheese to the players and tormented them at various points.

Claire - My rage-filled mixed-drow religiously traumatized pyromaniac death cleric. She was raised in a cult to a goddess that stole the name of other gods - Adrestia Andraste, the Lady in White, a homebrew drow goddess of death and war and motherly retribution. Claire's drow mother was the high priestess of the Lady, and in order to become the next high priestess, Claire had to kill her mother in a ritual battle.

Claire walked over enchanted coals, was baptized in holy fire, and slayed a dragon to become the next high priestess of the cult; doing so made her fireproof to everything but her own goddess's flames. On her back they etched an intricate tattoo that brands her as her goddess's chosen, which also allows her goddess to cause her searing pain when she does something she doesn't like. A proverbial shock collar.

Claire is bitter and jaded and tries to escape the cult many times, and eventually discovers the truth of her goddess's identity theft and devotes herself to the goddess's sister Lotte (the victim of the identity theft) instead. Lotte is a drow goddess of fate, death, craftsmanship, and magic, and gives Claire the power to mend and tear the weave of magic itself. Claire is a chosen of both goddesses, one willingly, one unwillingly, and her mission is to break her ties to the Lady in White for good.

Frownless - Ah my favorite eldritch edgelord. Frownless, also called The Frownless or Freddie the Frownless or even Thotarella/Thot by my dnd group (an inside joke), is a shapeshifter known as a shadowless - he doesn't cast a shadow on the ground. Shadowless are akin to eldritch changelings that are descendants of fey celestials exiled to a demiplane. They appear as orange-tinged red haired elven people with four yellow eyes.

Frownless in particular is a notable specimen as he got exiled for killing his cousin in a fit of rage, then made a name for himself as an assassin and overall nuisance. He was hired by Tiff's father to kill her but failed miserably and ended up working for her in a weird toxic relationship instead. He tried dropping a chandelier on her and missed. He loves catfishing people since he's a shapeshifter. I love using him as a punching bag. He ends up Tiff's drug dealer at various points and brings out the worst in her.

OT - My old self insert that morphed into their own entity. This one in particular is tied to their dragon age dalish elf iteration as my main Inquisitor Lavellan. OT is a dalish mage Inquisitor and lover of Josephine Montilyet. Originally named Overtaker as a funny play on Undertaker, and then shortened it to OT for brevity, and even made it stand for different names involving the initials O and T. I even used them the first time I ever played D&D in a oneshot where they ended up dying via magic item enchanted to cast power word kill!

I have a lot of OCs but only a few I routinely use, which as of making this post consist of the above. Other OCs include Lyn, Vrei'Dara, Billie, Domi, Inanna, Dela, Johanna, Jorster, Francis, Lotte, Minaeve, Jamboree, Riff, Kestrel, Grimshaw, Veronica, Atlantea, Styx, Judith, and many others.

Others TBA

[edit 11/13/2024] - {I have streamlined this pinned post slightly, added some stuff, removed a few things}

Anyways enjoy my blog I guess? I'm so wordy at times, I know this is a whole ass wall of text to scroll through. You get an appreciative pat on the shoulder for reading through all this.

[incomingalbatross]

Hey, I hope you're alright!!

I just thought of something: How do you think the Rogues react to Batman's faith?

Hey!

Honestly, I don't think I know the Rogues well enough to say... but also, I imagine his faith is considerably less evident under the cowl than it is in his civilian life. Which isn't to say he HIDES it, of course, but I don't think Batman's out here to evangelize. (And maybe also he doesn't want the Catholic Church associated with Batman, honestly? Considering his ambiguous and often dark reputation? That seems like something he'd think of.)

I'd guess there are probably indicators he's Christian, for sure, and some people have found out that Batman is Catholic because they are and he was empathizing with them, or they recognized Catholic Behavior like crossing himself as he passed a church, but it's fairly subtle and not something the average person could tell you about him. The Rogues only know if they have the knowledge and interest to pick up on it AND something has happened to reveal evidence during a fight with him. That's my gut response, at least.

Like...does Bruce try to be moral and virtuous and extend a hand even to his Rogues when he can? I think so. Does that take the form of specifically religious gestures? I'm inclined to say he leaves that to Bruce Wayne, unless he sees that that's specifically what the person in front of him (while he's Batman) is already reaching out for.

[autumnalwalker]

Find the Word Tag

Thank you for the tag, @writernopal.

My words were threshold, passion, empire, & serve.

Passing the tag to @talesofsorrowandofruin, @oh-no-another-idea, @ceph-the-ghost-writer, @monstrousfreedom, and, as always, an open tag for anyone else who may wish to join in.

Your words shall be spiral, selfish, wicked, & well

Threshold: Empty Names - 6 - Background Checks

He stops in the middle of the hallway in front of a blank spot on the wall between a four-armed suit of armor and a marble statue of a long-bearded wizard.  He reaches out and knocks a rhythm on the wall.  Once upon a time the passcode would change twice a year, but the teasing inside joke Carnette left it on last still causes the wall to slide open.  On the other side is a gilded spiral staircase descending down a long stone tube.  A good meter of empty space separates the edge of the stairs from the outer wall.  Room enough for the adventurous to slide the whole way down the banister or for the exceptionally durable to jump.

Sullivan puts a foot forward but hesitates on the threshold as memories rise unbidden.  Carnette showing off the false windows to other worlds spaced along the shaft to give the impression of descending from the heavens to deep beneath the sea during his first visit.  The ornate door at the bottom.  Being pushed over the edge of the banister.

Passion: The Archivist's Journal, Day 147

I told him that I think I made that story up.  Not in this life, but my old one.  I told myself I was “remembering more details” as I was preparing, when in fact I was newly adding them for the first time.  And really, I knew it even then, I just didn’t want to admit it.  Admit that I liked it because it was mine and not because it was good.  I don’t remember much of what I was before, but I know one thing I was not was a writer.  I never even wrote that story down before coming here.  It was just a fancy taking up space in my head.  A narrative extemporaneously woven and applied to a concert whose music I recall practically nothing of.  Never even mentioned to close friends (I think I had those).  Trying to tell it here was nothing more than an act of hubris.  Selfishness.  I wish to think of myself as creative, but I’m not capable of creating something good or worthwhile and that’s reflective of my own value.  And speaking the story aloud in a moment of self-delusion was flaunting the proof of that to the world.

And yes, I realize that is all nonsense.  No one is ever simply good at anything, especially creative arts.  Even discounting the fact that I’m probably (almost definitely) being harder on myself than is necessary or accurate, things take practice and work to make good.  And just because it felt like you put a whole lot of work and effort and passion into something, that doesn’t mean it was enough.  Or it was an adequate amount, but you’re still new so any early work is going to be rough.  That the apparent failure is something to learn from and grow moving forward.

But, you see, that’s the worst part.  The self-awareness.  The fact that I can recognize all those things and still not be able to recover and drag myself out of the emotional hole.  That I let it drive me to not want to even speak of it again.  That is the real proof of my weakness.  My laziness.  My cowardice.  My unworthiness.

Empire Kingdom: Empty Names side story - Once Upon A Time...

On those first few adventures the Rogue was quickly impressed by the Princess, who was even better at sneaking, running, and climbing than they were.  Almost as good at blending in too, even if he did always choose to be a boy every time.  And if the Princess was maybe a little bit more wicked than they were in the pranks he thought up to play on mean rich folks and thieves (the Rogue was not a Thief), at least it was people who deserved it and they were there to talk him back if it looked like the prank was going to go too far.

Yes, they had many fine times, the two youngsters with the run of the kingdom’s nighttime capital.  And if from time to time their adventures ran into complications that kept the Princess until morning, well, the Rogue may have been the better actor but the Princess was the better liar by far and kept the royal tutors and minders from suspecting aught was amiss.

Serve: The Archivist's Journal, Day 150

After a brief pause, Lin made a (forced?) chuckle and added that wouldn’t change the other of the two big reasons for not wanting to find a man to marry and have kids with.

I felt a twinge of a grin on one side of my mouth and said that I’m sure Maiko is thankful for that second reason.  Lin gave me a look.  I defended myself by stating that I possessed working eyes and ears.

From there we shifted to lighter topics.  Mostly dinner.  There are actually a handful of establishments in the Village that are something like restaurants.  No menus though, just whatever the cook is making that day.  Being mostly paid in food, I rarely patronize them, but this evening they served our purposes well enough.

[vaalaketh]

Moonsea Campaign Session 1

Date: 1/28/24

Location: Peldan’s Helm

IG Date: The 13th of Tarsakh

Session begins with Vaalaketh receiving a prophetic dream that is as follows:

You stride through the doors into the sanctuary of a temple. Black and green tapestries hang in tatters from the walls. A dais rises at the far end of the room, its black altar a monolith of shadow. A figure robed in black and violet stands behind it, facing away from you.  You cannot help but approach, as if pulled forward by an unbreakable line.  When you reach the dais, the robed figure turns. His face is in shadow, but his eyes are mad and staring. He holds in his hands a book bound in violet leather.  “Read, heretic,” he commands.  You want to stop.  You know you should stop.  You reach out and take the book from him, and it feels too heavy in your hands. On its front cover, a leering skull grins up from a black sunburst.  “Read,” he commands you. “The Dark Sun rises.”  The Dark Sun rises. The Dark Sun rises. The Dark Sun rises.  You open the book.  You fall into darkness.  . . You are standing somewhere else. A village, cast in moonlight, somewhere at the border of the woods. A path runs before you, and your feet take you down it, away from the man and the book and his orders. As you pass the last farmhouse leaving town, a name comes to you—Peldan’s Helm. You break the treeline at a run and hasten into the forest.  The path winds. As you walk, you sense other presences beside you: a small woman with dark hair, a black-skinned winged tiefling, a masked drow, all following the same trail.  You find yourself at the foot of a hill. A cave mouth yawns before you, broken by columns that glow silver in the moonlight. A red-haired man in the robes of a priest of the Black Lord waits for you between them.  “Seek the Chosen,” he says. “And come find me.”  You wake.

Vaalaketh (Dragonborn Paladin (He/Him)) travels from Darkhold to Peldan’s Helm, a small village in the Dalelands, and there, in the Burning Hands Inn, he finds the three people he saw in his vision. 

Drow Cleric Vierithia/Vienna (She/They)

Winged Tiefling Sorcerer Malachai (Ze/Zer)

Human Rogue Julian (She/Her)

All three have had similar visions with small detail differences, which Vaalaketh wastes no time in having the group share and compare. The information they decided to share is as follows:

Malachai: There were one, possibly two mages, one in an obsidian city, one in a room. The mage in the city had a staff. Ze very specifically asks if any of us saw the obsidian city, which none of us had. 

Julian: Her vision was like “coming home”, and she was lead to this location “by and old friend”. She saw a cavern with a mage, who raised his hand in greeting upon the groups arrival. 

Vienna: There were two separate mages, one with no notable features other than black gloves, and the other in black and violet robes who was overseeing the excavation of a fire scorched temple. 

Vaalaketh shares his vision last, and the group discuss for a bit the differences, comparing the mages and locations. Julian recognizes the symbol on the book in Vaalaketh’s vision, and he had previously learned from clerics in Darkhold that it was the symbol of the god Cyric. 

Vienna is able to give the group more information on Cyric.

He is younger than she is. He was made a god during the time of troubles during the 1350s. At that time, the gods got thrown out of heaven for being bastards and a bunch of them got killed, and at the end of them three mortals achieved godhood - Midnight (Mystra), Cyric (bastard), who is effectively the god of strife and fucking things up, and Kelemvor (the new god of the dead).

Vienna suspects Vaalaketh is a banite (a worshiper of the Bane, god of tyranny, terror, hate, and strife) but it’s not blatantly obvious and she says nothing. And we learn that the Dalelands are a bit tense about banites, mostly because the Moonsea is to the north and the banites to the north have been trying to impose their will on the Dalelands. Julian by contrast is an obvious banite, who has her holy symbol out not caring if it invites trouble or not. It’s a black hand of Bane but it’s clearly fire damaged and covered in scorch marks.

Vaalaketh doesn’t stay for the entire discussion not interested in all the historical and religious lore and the point of it all seeming cut and dry to him, go to the cave and find out what’s inside, then find and kill the mages of Cyric before they achieve whatever it is they’re trying to do. He goes instead to talk to the innkeeper, who is a middle aged human woman cooking breakfast in the back kitchen. He waits at the bar until she comes out with food, then asks her about the cave with the glowing pillars and if she’s ever heard of or seen it, and if she can give him directions to it, which she is able to do, telling him it’s about a half mile outside of town going north, and also that it’s haunted from whatever “the mages” did there. 

He asks about the mages as well, and about any other strange people or activity in the area, but only learns that “the mages” were from a hundred years ago, and there’s been nothing of note recently. 

With no more information able to be gathered, the group finish breakfast, grab their gear and armor, and head out in the direction we were pointed, finding the trail easily and making their way easily through the woods and to the mouth of the cave. 

Below is a completely explored map reference for the following series of events:

The pillars are just like what was seen in the visions, though not glowing on account of it being day instead of night, and there's a small stream running out from the mouth of the cave and around one of the pillars. Vaalaketh does not have darkvision, so cannot see inside, but the other party members can, Vienna in particular, and inside there are crates of some sort, and further in silver light and what might be a pool, but it’s impossible to tell from the outside. 

Vaalaketh doesn’t hesitate to light a torch and head inside to look at the crates, the rest of the party following behind. Malachai elects to fly, as there are 15ft ceilings, but ends up disturbing a group of Stirges (blood sucking bat like creatures), roosting on said ceiling, which attack zer and the rest of the party. Zer is the only one injured in the fight, and the stirges are killed with a mixture of arrows from Julian, rocks from Vienna and Vaalaketh, and a shocking grasp from Malachai without too much trouble. 

Once all the stirges are dead Vaalaketh instructs Vienna to use her darkvision to investigate the smaller entryway into the deeper part of the cave while he and Julian open the crates. 

Inside the crates they find:

20 torches

100ft of rope in two 50ft lengths

a bunch of rations

a climber’s kit

Miscellaneous gear someone might use for an expedition. 

Vaalaketh takes the climbers kit and both lengths of rope, leaving everything else to possibly bring back with them later. 

The entryway near the water is narrow and slippery, but the party make it across carefully, and inside is a large chamber with four pillars that glow a dim silver, and a vaulted ceiling that looks to have been shaped by magic. In the center there is a shallow, silver pool of water that is feeding the stream outside. To the left is a tucked away corner containing 3 small barrels. On the far side are an open passage way on the left, and a pile of rubble on the right, and to the right 15ft above the pool, is a set of slippery stairs going up and around a corner. 

Vaalaketh investigates the barrels, and finds that they are labeled in Draconic script, but not in Draconic itself, so he can’t read it. He pops the lid of one of the barrels and identifies the contents as smoke powder, which he has worked with and transported during his time as a caravan guard. The language is later identified as Lantanese, Lantan being an island nation southwest of the sword coast with many artificers affiliated with the Temple of Gond who specialize in complex machinery and weapons and are exporters of guns and smoke powder. He explains to Malachai what smoke powder is and its uses, informs the party to be mindful of the barrels there in the corner if there is any fighting, and reseals the barrel and puts it back into place, deciding to bring it with him later, like the contents of the crates outside, but not further into the cave, for fear of it detonating on accident and causing a cave in. 

Vienna and Julian investigate the pile of rubble on the far right, and find a small crawlspace. Julian is the smallest and thinnest member of the party, and is able to fit and make her way through with some difficulty. On the other side it opens into a large room with actual stonework instead of natural cave formations or magical shaping, containing four statues. The largest on the western wall on a dais, and three smaller ones on the opposite wall. The one on the dais is of a robed woman with her hands held out as if holding something, she is identified by Julian as Mystra, the Goddess of Magic. From north to south, the smaller statues are of a man holding an unrolled scroll and pen, who is identified as Oghma, Lord of Knowledge; in the center, a robed man holding a staff aloft in one hand and raising two fingers skyward with the other, identified as Azuth, Lord of Spells; and lastly, a hooded figure carrying a polished crystal sphere in their hands, identified as Savras, Lord of Divination.

At the base of the statue of Mystra is a small chest, and in her hands a silver necklace with a black pearl for a pendant. The pendant is identified by Vienna later as being an old arcane focus, with no other magical properties. The box is found to be shut with an arcane lock, which Julian is unable to open, so she leaves it for the time being to continue exploring through a door on the south side of the chamber. 

There is a long passageway with stairs leading up, and at the end, a featureless stone door that Julian is unable to open. It’s at this time that she is contacted by Malachai via message, who is asking about her status and asks that she come back, which, seeing as that she can’t open the door, Julian complies, briefly getting stuck in the narrow tunnel, but ultimately making it out with the help of Vienna. 

Meanwhile, Vaalaketh has moved on to investigate the far side left passage on his own, not going too far in alone, but enough to see that there is another large empty chamber, with what looks like a pit in the center that goes down about 10ft in 5ft increment steps. The bottom is not quite visible from where he’s standing with the amount of light the torch is casting, but he doesn't go in further and instead returns to inform the party. 

After examining and identifying the necklace, Malachai flies up to the stairway near the waterfall, avoiding the climb and slipperiness of the steps and finds the source of the stream in the southeast wall, beside the stream in a bend is a large stand of fungus, some standing as high as 5ft. On the eastern side, there are natural steps leading up to another dais with a featureless stone door, presumed to be the same door Julian saw from her previous exploration. 

Vaalaketh, upon hearing this, and having been told by Julian about the locked box that she left behind, tells Malachai to open the door and go get it, but ze is worried about the fungus, unable to identify it, and calls Vienna up to look at it to be safe. 

Vienna makes it to the top and doesn’t immediately see anything dangerous, until she spots what she thinks is violet fungus, which she explains is dangerous if one gets too close, as they are capable of chasing down their prey. Her movement at this time triggers some shrieker fungus growing in the center of the patch to start making noise, in turn activating the violet fungus, which advance toward her at a slow pace. Both she and Malachai are able to stay away from them though, Malachai in the air and Vienna casting dancing lights to keep them distracted and running up the dais steps to the door. 

At first, she’s unable to figure out how the door is supposed to open, but upon investigation finds a glyph of warding. Having cast detect magic tells her the spell inside of some form of enchantment that will go off if someone attempts to open the door, but decides to take the risk. She opens the door and the glyph goes off, being a sleep spell, which has no effect on her since she is a drow, and she is able to enter to go and get the box, Malachai following close behind. 

Vienna tries to open the box as well and fails, and after investigating the statues a bit, the pair head back to the main chamber with the box, helping each other avoid the violet fungus and Malachai helping Vienna back down the ledge. 

Meanwhile, Vaalaketh talks Julian into going to look in the last chamber with him. They head in and he uses his divine sense to search for ghosts or other undead, but there is nothing. The bottom of the pit has the remains of what looks like a campsite, whats left of a fire and abandoned camping gear, and filled with shallow scummy water. Seeing nothing dangerous, Vaalaketh hops down onto the first ledge to look around further, and as soon as he does the water starts to move, revealing itself to be an ooze, not water. 

Vaalaketh immediately retreats, climbing out of the hole and attacking the ooze with his heavy crossbow. Seeing that the arrow dissolves in the ooze, Julian retreats and does the same. The ooze chases them at a slower pace, and a second one follows as they back out of the room, firing arrows at it as they go. The oozes are killed after a few shots each, dealing no damage as they were unable to catch the pair. 

Looking in the acidic remains of the oozes, Vaalaketh spots a bag that isn’t damaged or dissolving. He uses the water in his waterskin to rinse it off and upon inspection it’s identified as a Bag of Holding, which he is very excited about finding. Inside is as follows:

A component pouch

A spell scroll (identified as a dispel magic spell scroll by Vienna)

A map of the Central Dalelands, too precise to be done by hand. On it Peldan’s Helm is marked with a blue x, and there is a note written in draconic script but again not a language any of them recognize, and also not Lantanese. Malachai struggles with it, but it seeming to have a similar root as Netherese, ze is able to partially translate as follows: 

Chalan—  ...S's journals....left a cache......If Aravilar is.........focus or one of his.....If you cannot break....return to.....tower for aid; one of the.....  —Sandrue

Malachai takes the map and note for further study. 

Vaalaketh in the background tries to get the box open on his own, first by breaking the lock with the end of his halberd, which fails, and then by melting it with the ooze acid, which also fails. He considers blowing it up with a bit of smoke powder, but is stopped, and now that the spell scroll has been identified, Malachai uses it to remove the arcane lock, and then Julian picks the physical lock. Inside is as follows:

2 diamonds

1 zircon, 1 moonstone, 1 jasper, and 1 chalcedony

4 unlabeled full potion bottles (to be identified by Malachai later)

A spell scroll (identified as Mordenkeinen’s Private Sanctum)

4 1lb gold trade bars stamped with the mint of an unfamiliar city

A smallish, slim bag of waxed canvas. Inside is as follows:

This waxed canvas bag contains a pair of slim volumes, each neatly bound in black leather. The first, slimmer volume was clearly rebound at some point; the parchment it’s written on is old, and feels fragile to the touch, but has clearly been enchanted to preserve it against the depredations of time. Its contents are written in Draconic script in a delicate hand, but the language they’re written in isn’t Draconic. A number of its pages contain what appear to be arcane diagrams of some sort. It is marked with a pair of mages runes, which are used by mages of significant power as a signature.

The second volume is thicker, newer, and written on paper. This one is written in Draconic, in two different hands— one elegant, almost calligraphic, the other a spidery scrawl— but much of the volume is dedicated to arcane diagrams and spell circles, highly complex ones, each rigorously annotated. A third set of handwriting, in Dethek script and identifiable as Damaran, appears on one page, after which significant areas of the diagrams have been altered.

No one in the group is able to make out much of anything in either book, only that it’s high level arcane experimentation and probably belonged to a wizard. 

Vaalaketh is happy with the finds, especially the valuable ones, but is also confused and disappointed, as it was not what he was expecting to find, as to him, they have a map with their own location marked, and a bunch of books and notes in a language none of them can read. Vienna reassures him that they’ll look into it further once they’re back at the inn, and figure it all out from there, but as it stands they have no resources, so they need to have patience. 

He does one more pass around the large chamber that had the oozes in the bottom of the pit, Vienna going with him, but they find nothing more of interest. From there, he packs the barrels of smoke powder into the crates outside the vaulted chamber for safety and stability during transport, and then packs everything into the bag of holding to carry back, stuffing it to near capacity. Intent on going through it all, cataloging it and getting an estimate of the cost of all items for potential sale. 

Lastly, Vienna takes a bit of the stone from one of the glowing pillars as a souvenir, and then the group head back to the village.

~ Session End ~

Final Loot: 

External Crates: 

20 torches 

climbing kit

100ft rope

unknown number of rations

unknown pieces of expedition gear

3 barrels of smoke powder

1 silver necklace with 1 black pearl pendant

1 bag of holding containing 

a map of the Central Dalelands and a note

a spell scroll of dispel magic (used)

a component pouch

1 locked chest containing: 

2 diamonds

1 zircon, 1 moonstone, 1 jasper, and 1 chalcedony 

4 unlabeled full potion bottles (unidentified)

A spell scroll (identified as Mordenkeinen’s Private Sanctum)

4 1lb gold trade bars 

1 waxed canvas bag containing 2 books on arcane experimentation and diagrams

[callmearcturus]

If PT!Benji met Canon!Benji, do you think that they'd recognize one another? What do you think they'd say to one another if they sat down and talked for a few hours?

Someone mentioned this in the comments of the latest chapter and now I am thinking about it. Not in the "what would they do" sense bc I don't know, I think they'd have tea and Dr. Benji would take a look at Agent Benji's injuries and try to help.

But as any longtime followers know, I really am fascinated by AUs and the tightrope walk of having aspects of a character that are constants, but also exploring how changes in the setting/circumstances create diversions in characterization.

To me, the primary difference between Agent Benji and Dr. Benji is a matter of dominion. Agent Benji is the supporting character in an action franchise, and what I love about him is his growth into competency. There is a reason Ethan reaches out to Benji and not Luther for Rogue Nation, and to me it's clear that while Luther is the best actual computer technician, Benji is a jack of all trades. Excellent marksman, has the initiative to throw himself into the fray without orders, is capable at tech-- he is not an unhinged tip of the spear like Ethan, but he is very inured to the lifestyle of being a spy and saving the world and all.

While Agent Benji is comfortable with all that, the travel and the missions and all, Dr. Benji's dominion is much smaller, but his confidence within it is much larger than Agent Benji's. Very early on in the timeline of the AU, Benji is handed a pretty significant sense of responsibility and control over a lot of really dangerous people. He's able to boss around all these agents and spies and shit, and when they are in his office, he's the boss.

I feel like all iterations of Benji have this capacity to run the show and issue commands, but for Dr. Benji it's very much heightened. By the time of Act Two, he is one of the only fixed elements of the IMF infrastructure, he has social capital with the agents, and he kind of knows it. He understands his position of authority and what it means. That sense of dominion and responsibility defines him. Which is part of why during the six months of RN, he's so lost, because he's separated from that dominion.

In short, Dr. Benji has a more collected, calmer sense of confidence than Agent Benji, but only in a specific arenas (taking care of people, getting laid, dealing with Ethan Hunt). Agent Benji, on the other hand, has grown into a world-weary person with a lot of broad confidence in his abilities and that he'll Get It Done, but it's not concentrated in the same way.

[headcanonthings]

Another Hob saves Dream from the basement AU

because I don’t think any of us or going to get tired of that scenario anytime soon

To kick it off the AU Dream and Hob don’t know each other

Death goes to the White Horse Inn on her own

there is an irony to hear a man boasting to his friends about living forever when she knows that he will be killed in just a few minutes

except when she goes to collect him she notices that he has been marked by her brother Destiny and that this mortal has yet to fulfill his destiny

it isn’t unusual for people to die before they can fulfill their destiny but it is rare to find someone so clearly marked by her brother and now she’s curious because what about this simple peasant is so important to warrant such a clear mark

Hob is far enough gone by the time this all registers to Death that he can actually see her and recognizes who she is. He begs her not to take him yet, he still has so much he wants to do, so much life left to live

Death thinking of his words from the Inn, the mark, and his begging and comes up with a deal for him. She will spare him her gift for as long as he wishes to continue living and in return he will tell her about the life he is leading.

Hob agrees immediately

Since the deal is made with Death there isn’t an agreed upon once-a-century meeting; instead they connect whenever Hob finds himself on her doorstep which happens quite a lot at the beginning thanks to the whole soldiering thing but spreads out a bit once Hob is able to find his way into other career positions

they create a unique friendship during these meetings, Death always interested to see how Destiny’s mark has yet to fade and curious about what Hob will say about why he would like to continue living

Dream, meanwhile, goes about business as usual. During on of his outings with Death she tells him about her curious immortal mortal friend and while small part of him is also curious about what makes this man special enough to be marked by their older brother he declines meeting the man

Time goes on - Desire conspires against Dream, the Corinthian goes rogue and Dream is captured by Roderick Burgess

Death does take small note that the number of people dying in their sleep is rising but does not immediately connect it to her brother as she does not know that he is missing

that is until she finds herself in the basement collecting the soul of Jessamy; the magic that keeps Dream contained also keeps him from seeing his sister; they all know that even if he could see her in that moment he would not request her help just as he hadn’t in the decade he’d already been imprisoned. Death worries that this also means that he’ll never reach out but the Rules keep her from directly helping without his request

At some point she realizes that even if she cannot directly help that does not mean she can’t influence someone else so she asks her dear friend Hob Gadling. She is unable to give him too much detail, basically only able to say that there is something going on at Wych Cross and she needs his help to figure it out

Hob doesn’t hesitate to agree to help, because that is what friends do for each other

Hob visits during one of the parties and immediately knows something fishy is going on. Everyone talks about the ‘Devil in the Basement’ like it’s one big joke but Hob gets the feeling its a bit more real than that.

Hob’s been through some shit, has seen some shit, and got that scolding from Death of slavery so while Hob’s peasant self shudders at the thought of the Devil, he already knows that if there is something imprisoned in the basement then he is going to release it because surely this is what Death sent him there for

Hob comes up with a plan, gets into the basement, and frees Dream and might even help him get his tools of office back

Dream becomes a bit fascinated by the man who helped him, especially after he learns that Hob basically had no idea about who Dream was or what he would be getting into when Death asked for help

This leads to Dream seeking Hob out between fixing his kingdom up and finding The Corinthian

They develop a friendship over these meetings and then that turns to a romantic relationship (because I’m ultimately a dreamling shipper)

Death visits Hob shortly after he frees Dream and sees that Destiny’s mark has faded meaning that she is now free to take him, but according to their own deal as long a Hob wishes to live she won’t offer her hand and he very much wants to continue to live (which she is very happy about between how fond she’s grown of him and his relationship with her brother)

Bonus Thoughts

Death and Hob have one very big fight and that’s when Eleanor and Robyn die; he does not understand why she won’t spare them her gift the way she has for him and she cannot explain that it is really Destiny’s mark that has held her off

They do no speak after this for a couple decades and Hob realizes after several instances where he should have died that he did not need to formally reject Death’s hand to continue living as he thought; She really had been showing up just to talk to him

Jessamy’s soul appears as a young woman and it’s Death thinking of how old she truly is compared to her appearance that makes her think of Hob and go to him for help

Dream doesn’t see Destiny’s mark because he can’t see his soul the way Death can or the binding circle keeps him from seeing and the mark fades as soon as Hob starts helping so Dream doesn’t connect the mark to himself

Death never tells them about Destiny’s mark but she does talk to Destiny about it after everything because she has so many questions but Destiny doesn’t answer any them (just talks about how he hopes because Hob is technically not a mortal anymore that means their brother’s relationship will be a happy one)

[saintqueer]

This is why I follow you Jordy. So tired of fandom dividing into the ‘crazy Larries’ and the ‘calm and cool Larries’. Like the entire premise of Larry is considered crazy— there’s literally no point in ignoring potential signs from them in favour of being liked by some anti. At this point we’re not gonna be different from the hets in a few years. So what if it was a reach and we were wrong? At least we’re receptive. Harry and Louis need people who are open to their messaging ffs. 1/2

hiiii anon, if you don't mind i'm gonna use your messages to make my thoughts on the crazy shit going on with promo and the leak a little clearer.

i said i'd make a longer post on exactly why i think harry is a loose cannon right now, why he is reminding me of aug-nov 2014 harry a bit.

i wanted to use your messages as a jumping off point because i think you are right when you say an album leaking more than a month before release date is strange as fuck. this fandom is not unfamiliar with leaks, even purposeful leaks, leaks for promo, etc. but an album leaking exactly one whole month before release breaks pattern and is a huge risk for sales and streaming numbers. a week before release wouldn't have too much impact and might just drum up excitement but a whole month before risks diminished numbers from hardcore fans once actual release comes around.

i'm gonna simply offer a few strange things i've noticed in the past few weeks and allow you to draw your own conclusions:

i've heard from multiple sources that sony was NOT behind the leak and they were scrambling to figure out the source.

the album was leaked on 4.20, the wednesday before coachella weekend 2. the exact same day that lizzo was contacted by harry to perform I Will Survive with him. incredibly last minute and unusual for a festival so big.

louis was in an excellent mood on his 4.20 concert and We Are the Champions was the post-show song.

a bunch of unreleased songs, most of us had accepted we might never hear, were piled on with the leak of hs3 which is a bit unusual.

harry's mood and demeanor at coachella weekend 2 was chaotic, to put it simply kdjfghkdj. he was a bit wild, strangely aggressive and intense.

he added medicine to his set only after the studio recording leaked. and he was fascinatingly explicit in his performance of it.

on saturday, harry is seen with the entire stunt crew and he looks entirely stoic and uncomfortable except when conversing with corden. the videos are legit painful to watch. he looks incredibly anxious and is constantly looking around. we've seen harry have fun at concerts and this was not that.

harry's magazine cover debuts along with an interview that is at the same time more revealing than usual and also filled with repeat quotes that are slighted altered. i couldn't help but get the feeling that harry offered an in-depth interview that was cut and spliced with chunks taken out and replaced with old quotes altered in the final revision and okay from his team. part of it felt like it didn't match with the rest. so i believe the sections where he talks about his cleanliness clause and celeb documentaries were representative of the whole interview he actually gave but big chunks were taken out after the fact by his team to be replaced with the bits we recognized from so many previous print interviews.

olivia was served on stage on the 4.27 and the next day, on the 28th, harry is papped driving in LA.

later that night, harry posts directly to his IG story (nothing on HSHQ) an extremely low quality pic that, according to an app, was only taken 10 minutes previously of the back of the album laid out on the grass.... (grass...the album was leaked on 4.20...weed....maryjane...dots connecting)

a whole hour later, a proper high quality picture of the tracklist is posted by hshq. almost as if harry went rogue, announced it early and hshq had to scramble to catch up.

on 4.30, we get 60+ pap pics and videos from backgrid of harry and jeff on a hike in LA. these are likely quite a bit older than the 30th. as it seems like harry might have been in london yesterday. however, things look tense. even worse than they have looked and harry has looked pissy pretty much every time he is papped or spotted with jeff since after the grammys in early 2021.

any and all articles that have been coming out this week about harry with either these pap pics with jeff or the ones in his car have revolved entirely around olivia without mention of his new upcoming album.

everything around this promo is odd and off. plus them not getting harry out of this messy legal situation with his beard is ugly. it seems they are doing the opposite, rather than using any pap pics for promoting his upcoming album they are using them to publicize her messy shitty legal situation for abandoning her own children.

i realize i just kind of messily threw out a bunch of random facts but all these feel like really important things that have taken place over the last few weeks. that if they were put together with the billion other strange things that have been going on around harry over the last two years might help to start make sense of what's happening behind the scenes.

all that to say: the low quality picture of the back of the cd on a patch of grass being posted on harry's ig only made me far more sure in my theory that harry leaking his own album is somehow related to harry's, what appears to me, ongoing beef with his own management team.

this is not by any means comprehensive but my groupchat buds are composing a huge masterpost of all the shady shit thats been going on surrounding harry over the past two years so that should be coming soon. it's a really long list kjfhgkj.