#dianite kikoku

[transandor]

I’d even go as far to say that blood magic stuff was wholeheartedly Jeriah’s and Jeriah isn’t Mianite’s champion or anything. I cannot remember an instance where it was ever stated that he was into that type of magic, like he was he even into magic at all? To my memory and understanding he was into machinery but the factory and machines itself are Dianite’s/ Gaine’s.

Dagrun was Ianite’s before it was his…

And the Kikoku! That’s his MOMS sword! Like I for the life of me rn can’t think of one thing originally his…

the blood magic was jeriah's, and i think he started as the champion but he definitely broke off at some point. that's absolutely on him and not mianite's. he's very- yeah no it's all just not his shit lmao. not even his realm

[daretobeking]

Mianite Arcane au. Is this anything.

also I'm using silly silly things from league of legends lore. because i want to. and fuck you (I'm linking to the wiki for sillies) (also i havent gotten around to s2 of arcane yet this would take place in a time similar to arcane s1)

Mianite and Dianite are masquerading as the Elite of Piltover, people with a lot of money but incredibly private lives. Nobody knows what they look like or even what exactly they do, just that they're powerful. Ianite was previously the same, though she vanished without a trace and nobody seemed to notice.

Tom is based in Zaun, he's a Revenant whose object is his own body, which is unfortunately still very dead even if it isn't rotting anymore. He takes on a more chaotic and almost robin-hood role, causing chaos wherever he goes and leaving a trail of destruction to distract from his true motives. He loves to push at Tucker, pressing his buttons and teasing him for being Piltover's golden boy. My my how far we've fallen, hm? Is it still falling if you're moving up, Jericho?

They have quite a lot of history, but I'll get into the nitty gritty of that later. The short of it is that Tucker was there when Tom died, he tried to save him and failed, and now Tom's desperately trying to return the favor.

Sonja is based in Piltover, she's a Vesani who met Tucker after she was shot out of a Hexgate and chased down by Piltover law enforcement. She met Tucker through him hiding her from prying eyes after she got lost in Piltover's maze of back streets. They've become quite close, especially with how most other Piltover residents are to those they perceive as "other" and her first introduction to the city. This negative view of her has led Sonja to investigate matters outside of the public eye more while Tucker takes the limelight. Zaun is much more interesting than she was first led to believe, after all.

She has a sibling, Aeon. There's silly things going on in that direction.

Tucker is, as previously implied, a Human based in Piltover and the main face of Mianite's business and visible interactions with the world. He's Tom's opposite, and they're always at odds. It's almost a dance, their interactions, pushing and pulling each other right up to that line but never quite crossing it. He and Sonja are very close, with him having found and brought her back to safety after seeing her shot out of a hexgate.

The Kikoku is

His main weapon is a sword given to him by his Patron. He never goes anywhere without it anymore, and seems ill at ease if it's too far from him.

His hair is turning black at the roots, and he seems both more and less fidgety than before.

Jordan is a traveler who arrived by ship, a Human with distant Strig ancestry awarding him with scales and horns along with a tail. He's well on his way to being classified as Ascended, though he's lost a significant portion of his memory. He's called "The Captain" by most who know him and seems more interested in the Arcane than any conflicts between Piltover and Zaun, as if he hears something calling him.

All he knows for sure is that there's something misaligned here, and it's slowly poisoning the well -- so to speak.

[syn4k]

[setting: the kikoku-screziato household. in this instance mianite and dianite are both alive at the same time and alyssa is also here. my brain forwarded me this scene and im writing it down dont ask me how this works because i dont fucking know dude im just the messenger]

dianite, hanging up on somebody (probably Mianite) with a disgusted sigh and calling across the house: baaaaabe

mot (from across house): yes?

dianite: where's my blade

mot: i don't know. alyssa

alyssa (from opposite end of house): what

mot: do you know where dia's sword is

alyssa: yeah i left it in the kitchen

dianite: what the hell is my sword doing in the kitchen??

alyssa: i wanted a snack but there weren't any clean knives so i used it to cut myself a slice of cake, sorry

dianite: you used MY SWORD, the LEVELER OF NATIONS, to cut CAKE??

alyssa: i made sure to get most of the frosting off the blade!

dianite:

alyssa: i think it's on the counter

dianite, sighing: thanks

mot: have fun killing whoever it is you need to kill honey

dianite: thanks

i have a very specific vision of s2 dianite in my head

[lord-hermod]

Someone on the Mianite Discord requested this, so I obliged

Feel free to request more!

[conwayfamilytree]

AKEMI KIKOKU BADASS MOTHER OF THE GOS FORGER OF THE KIKOKU BLADE LOVE OF MY LIFE

[fandomstuckportal]

((OOC: WHY ARE FAMILY TREES NEVER FUCKING SIMPLE

edit: horny mode))

[patronsaintsofnothing]

still upset that theyre replacing akemi kikoku (?? thats her name right, the gods' mom) with angrec or thats what you guys are saying bc NOT TO BE THAT GUY but its a very obviously japanese name and angrec is. white. do you guys see what im getting at here.

anyway i interpreted it that angrec was their mentor and not their mom but again i was half paying attention to the vod

[syndianites]

In season 2 instead of sticking with the other heroes, Sonja joins forces with the darkness. And instead of world historian killing mianite she kills him instead.

Sparklez still kills world historian but all the other heroes die due to sonja assistance. The final battle is between sparklez and sonja as the world starts to fall apart. Sonja expresses her frustration with the gods playing with their lives and making the champions slaves to there will. Sparklez tells her she's just become a tool for the shadows now instead.

Against the kikoku the only weapon he has that can actually match it is the bow of balance. It's a hard fought battle but sparklez manages to get a shot off and mortally wounds sonja. He's heavily wounded as well but manages to limp away. He doesn't have to time to revive dianite and has to jump through the portal alone. He turns to look back at the land of ruxomar falling apart. He started his journey her with all hish closest allies but is leaving alone. He falls back into the portal. The last thing he sees of that world is world historian reforming from the shadows a smug smile on his face. He's won

God,,,,,,

A) that would be an AWESOME storyline

B) Could you imagine the agony of seeing one of your closest friends turn on you? What would Sonja feel, causing the death of her friends? She turned against the gods because she felt they were using her and her friends and throwing them into danger with no remorse, yet her actions ended up being their demise. Sure, she willingly helped the Shadows and World Historian, but did the others ever really have a choice with the gods?

And Jordan being the only survivor, the only one to make it out of the treachery, floating alone in the void? That would rip him to pieces.

I can only imagine World Historian bringing Sonja back or making sure she doesn't die to help him get to her world- just so he can ruin it all again- with the promise of getting her friends back.

@ainelane

[mukuharakazui]

also because "botan" is an english surname (whereas akemi kikoku is japanese) world historian (mortal and/or thereafter) is of a completely ambiguous race. all we know is that mianite and dianite both have noticably dark skin while ianite has light skin, but we're not sure of their actual ethnicities outside of them being (likely mixed) japanese.

i think that's kind of cool because it lets fans interpret stuff, especially given how many black and s asian artists have gotten to interpret the gods with no backlash AND even had their art appear in the isles series.

[kheprrison-arts]

Tis Botan’s design for Perfect.

his eyes resemble onyx stones when there’s some amount of light, even just a little. But if there is no light present (and it’s dark enough to where you can’t even see your hand in front of your face), his eyes turn into what looks like a starry night sky. In fact, they turn opalescent which is a gene mutation in introduced in Dianite. His hair seems to take on a similar look in the same environment.

Botan isn’t entirely someone you want to mess with because he has the tendency to make murderous and psychotic advances. He’s known for capturing people who’s wronged him in the past and making them part of his experiments, then when the experiment is considered a failure he will completely mutilate them.

He’s not the best person.

The books he owns are written from his own life experiences, but most of them are completely filled with research notes he’s done. He writes very small and in a scribble-like fashion, this is mainly because he’s adapted his handwriting to save space in his books so he can write even more. He also seems to write in a completely dead language, a language that not even the gods speak. Either that or his scribbling makes the language harder to understand. Though people do seem to understand that in any of his books Botan is World Historian and will always be called that and nothing else.

Because his handwriting is so tiny, research that could take days or months could sometimes fit on one page which is pretty helpful in Botan’s eyes since he’s tired of stamping three or four pages as “failures” that are full of notes from one project.

His new technique on adapting his handwriting makes it easier for him to disguise himself as other people and forge their signatures. He does this a lot.

[lockoutkey]

Hnnnnnngggg Mianite brainrot

(Ignore if there are some boundaries the cast set that make this undoable, I think you may have said something about Captain Sparklez having something like that but I don't remember what)

I keep having thoughts of how the cast could be in the but the most recent one and also the most hilarious one I just came up with is just the doppelgangers of the heroes working different shifts at the Starbucks.

Other than that, uh, the idea of the Kikoku family all being incredibly powerful sorcerers of varying skill, with Ianite being the only one to become a full fledge deity but the other two siblings being very close -comparable but not quite on Drista's level- possibly having a mix of personality traits from both seasons (Mianite being generally benevolent but also having a god and inferiority complex, Dianite being very self centered and wealth driven but showing genuine care for those he does)

Joey your ask made me go on youtube and search up Sparkles series IS IT STILL GOING??? MIANITE WAS MY THING IN 2015/2016 IT WAS ONE OF MY WEITING INSPIRATIONS AMD GOT ME INTO FICTION AMD FANTASY WRITING

If Sparkles has some boundaries idk about then i def won’t add him into my au but i’m not getting braunrotere and hhhhhh i’m busy going through ethos let’s play already theres only so much time one can have I haven’t been keeping up with the captain i would have 100% if i knew

this makes me want to write all about mianite again amd mind my old fanfictions about the world. lol i remember writing one where sparkles and tom were like sent on a quest by their respective gods to steal from the other or something it was wild. One of the first “good” pieces ive ever written

[mianite-3-unofficial]

Penciling the Past

In the morning, Ladia showed Tom and Lev to the attic. Two beds were set up there, the dust in the air catching sunlight from the window. It was almost magical, like glow stone dust floating in the air, or lingering on clothes. Then Ladia shut the purple curtains, and the air was only dusty. Dusty and still.

That was three weeks ago.

Wait— No, that didn’t sound right…Tom looked at the calendar Ladia had given them. It told the days passing when the curtain-filtered sun couldn’t. Ah, he was wrong! Three weeks and two days had passed. Three whole weeks and two days where nothing could be done, and they couldn’t go to Kuljät and save Dianite, like they were supposed to do.

Three weeks and two days without Jordan visiting, or sending a letter, or anything.

Tucker, Wag and Sonja visited them almost every day, either climbing up the ladder to the attic, or teleporting in with a bunch of flower petals flying around. Tom couldn’t help but smile like an idiot when they came to visit. Sonja alive, Tucker salty as usual, Waglington smiling at him (and not even yawning anymore!) His Dianite and Mot brought him fudge one day.

And even Dianite (not Mot’s Dianite, the new Dianite. This worlds Dianite) came to visit and talked to him through the knife, and send warm, red magic to his knee. Healing went slow, and it ached when it rained. Martha and Ladia checked on his knee and his chest almost every day, making sure no infection was present, which there never was. And Lev was fine, too, just a tad bit overgrown.

But even then, Jordan was nowhere to be seen.

So Tom had tried to get his mind off of things. Get a hobby or something. Ladia gave him paper the first day in the attic so he could write notes and requests, but he found himself more interested in drawing. Simple doodles, little plans. Honestly, he wasn’t that good, but it still was fun. Then as time went on and release seemed less and less unlikely, he tried to complicate the drawings. Draw people, or cities, his dreams and hopes. Memories.

He’d drawn Gijsbert’s illusion of Kuljät. A shitty, shaky sketch, but it was one of his first. Then he drew Celia’s sword. The smoke over the wall. Then Mot, Urulu, the Kikoku, the Ianitas. Jordan’s bow, World Historian, Inertia, the Flyanite.

The North Star of his first home. A single piece of glow stone, hovering in the air.

A pathetic amount of those drawings were of Jordan. Jordan, wide eyed and covered in salt water, washed up on the beach. Jordan, sweaty and cursing as he tinkered with his reactor. Jordan, dirty winged and frightened as he carried him, as he held him, as he protected him.

Tom interrupted his own train of thought to ask Lev if they thought Jordan would ever visit. Lev, who had overgrown themself today in order to sit in front of the window as a houseplant, said nothing from behind the curtains. Tom almost wanted to check on them, but they’d probably just replaced their ears with plants or something stupid and magical. Maybe they were moping about Kuljät too. Tom looked at his knife, then his piles of papers.

While there were many drawings of Jordan, even more drawings were of Dianite. Not this world’s Dianite, but the first Dianite. But he never got far in them. He could remember the horns. The merciless hands. The voice that burned…

He drew a simple line. A cheek. No. He erased it. Were they…

You really shouldn’t dwell on the past, this worlds Dianite chided, I don’t know if you know this, but nostalgia means nothing. You have better things to do than draw a self-portrait. Again.

“Not a self portrait,” Tom growled. The curtain shifted as Lev shrunk down, back into their mostly human form. They peaked out from behind the curtain. Without the bandages, Tom could clearly see the sunken, broken bones of their face, flowers and vines bursting from where their eyes should have been.

“Drawing again?” Lev asked.

Tom grunted, desperately scribbling and erasing.

“It does no good, being trapped in the mind. The man, er, God you are drawing is dead. Or you are him. Our lord was never clear to me on that.”

“Piss off, plant bitch,” Tom snapped. Lev raised an eyebrow at him. Tom ignored him and continued to draw. The hands of Dianite. His Dianite. He erased them. They were too small, they almost looked like his hands.

He is dead. You should know, you killed him. Nostalgia is a saccharine killer. Stop this, let go. This is only a self portrait. This is only an outlet for your guilt. Nature has no room for guilt. Chaos has no room for guilt. Once I am free I will show you.

“Get out of my head,” Tom growled. He glared daggers at the, uh, dagger, and continued drawing. Dianite, his Dianite, that temple in the flames of the Nether—

You should see my prison. It’s flowers. Beauty. Nature. And you are a part of me too, a part of chaos and nature— another version of myself. You can feel it, can’t you?

“Tom,” Lev said, “are you okay? You’re uh. You’re. You don’t look good.”

The pencil scratched across the page. Desperate, messy lines in a shape that was supposed to be familiar. Tom huffed in frustration. Come on, come on. Red skin. Horns. Red. Red…

You poor thing.

Tom wiped his face.

He’s gone! But you know that.

Red skin, horns, strong voice—

You were the one who killed him. And now you are him. You can’t hold on, it’s not healthy. Thomas, you know I worry for you.

All he could hear was the sound of his own breathing, and the songbird coo of Dianite’s voice. Not his Dia’s voice—

Look at your drawing!

Tom hiccuped, face wet. When had he started crying?

Can’t you see it?

The drawing. The body was there. The chest, the place where an arrow would go, the hands that looked too small, but—

No eyes. No mouth. Ha.

Tom stared emptily at the drawing.

You don’t remember his face, do you?

With a choked scream, Tom crumpled the paper. Hands shaking. He tore it in half, then quarters, eighths. No face. The face was missing. Missing from his memories. Missing. Gone. Gone. Gone—

“Thomas. Tom? Are you okay?”

Lev’s hands were on his shoulders, plants wrapped around his torso. They smelled like the earth.

Tom shoved them off, and grabbed his dagger. He wiped his face with his sleeve.

“I’m gonna. Uh. Sit by the window.” He sniffled.

“Ladia said—“

“Look, I don’t care!” He snapped. Lev flinched.

Tom stood, shouting in agony when he leaned on his bad knee. Grabbing the bed frame as support, he slowly limped towards the window. He lowered himself to the ground slowly. He pushed the curtain aside, and stared out at the city.

Out there, Celia was searching for him. To kill him, probably. Were there trials here? Or just killing? Honestly, just being killed sounded… better. No more dealing with argument or law, just running.

But how did he not remember his face? Dianite’s face. He knew the heat of his eyes, but not the shape of them. He knew the biting words, but not his teeth, his lips, his tongue. The memories were there, but faceless.

Tom touched the brand on his side, the lotus and the knife. And through the dirty glass of their sanctuary, their prison, everyone looked faceless. Maybe someone had forgotten all of their faces.

Tom inhaled— slow, and shaking— and drew a smiley face in the window’s grime.

[the-moon-pal]

Tom might even have 3 last names if you count ‘Syndicate’ as his last name. Bois got a lot of names

You Right!!!

Tom "Mecha Dianite" Syndicate Kikoku Screziato

[ainelane]

In season 2 ianite straight up says that they arent super different from normal mortals and the difference comes in the power they wield (or something along that line when discussing the being she made arrangements with) ianite also spread her power between her followers sparklez martha andor and the ianita's. What we also know is that there has to be different means by which the power has to be taken some sorta special circumstances that allows the power to be asorbed that tom meets at that moment that allows him to absorb dianites quintessence. Because 1. When mianite killed dianite at the start of the series he didnt asorb dianites power instead dianite had to bid his time to regenerate his body and come back to the overworld to continue his plot. 2. When world historian killed dianite in s2 he didnt asorb dianite's quintessence and was forced to flee. The gods took this information as "a god cant kill another god" but kikoku clearly said he's killed other versions of the trio and absorbed them and left their worlds in ruin before which means it's possible but gods dont meat the requirements to actually absorb their quintessence.

Which is why i think there has to be some sorta calibration to a god to absorb their power. For athar there is a defined ritual, kikoku knows the general method that'll work on any god, and the champions are automatically tuned into their gods so if things go down they can absorbed them.

Or at keast that's how i view it

more mianite posting:

regarding athar; he was the god of the aether, and for residents of the aether, the only god they really knew. he's older than ianite/mianite/dianite, too, and outside of the aether he wasn't really worshiped as anything. wasn't really known.

which is why the wizards killing him (and then subsequently having his power split between them, and being some sort of god themselves) wasn't really known. it was Something in the aether, but outside of it no one really knew or felt much change

[fandomstuckportal]

((OOC: my mianite-based tarot deck is finished! i made two copies of these, one for me and the other for my friend caroline

cards beneath the cut

the fool: andor

the magician: waglington

the high priestess: freya

the empress: alva

the emperor: helgrind

the hierophant: gaines (with jordan, sonja, and tom)

the lovers: ianite, jordan, capsize

the chariot: mianite, ianite, dianite

strength: alyssa

the hermit: the clear sky hermit

wheel of fortune: ianite’s heart, nether quartz, prismarine shard

justice: ianite

the hanged man: andor

death: botan/world historian

temperance: martha

the devil: dianite

the tower: amniosis

the star: martha

the moon: ianita

the sun: mianite

judgement: akemi (with mianite and dianite)

the world: the heroes

pentacles: weak blood orb

wands: wand of the adept

swords: price of betrayal

cups: brew of misfortune

the prince and the princess: andor and alva’s crowns))

[mianite-3-unofficial]

Wine

Mot had to take a moment to ponder divinity after Dianite’s second glass of wine. It seemed to have left him when they fell, and he was without magic, super strength, or any other protection godhood offered. Just a week ago they’d made stew, and Dianite cut his finger while chopping carrots. Mot had to calm him, wipe away his tears— ‘No, Dia darling, you won’t bleed out from that little scratch, hey, hey, don’t worry…’

So he could be injured with something besides a Kikoku. Which meant godhood could be stripped away. Which meant he could be stabbed. Which meant he could be crushed. Which meant—

“Mot, darling, another glass?”

—Which meant he could get drunk, apparently.

Andor had had two glasses, yet seemed unaffected, and Anya hadn’t touched her glass. Mot hadn’t, either. The wine of Vatredas was nothing like Urulu. In Urulu, they actually grew the grapes, water pumped out of rivers and ancient caves, the sun ripening the grapes wonderfully. This wine, however, he could almost taste the magic used to make the grapes overgrow, the fermentation to speed. Sure, it might not have required any chemical agents, but half of a good wine (in Mot’s opinion at least) was how ancient it was.

This wine, though? Bitter and strange tasting, with a strange metallic aftertaste. He dipped his finger into the wine, able to see a few golden specks on his hands. Magic, most certainly. Hell, it almost tasted spoiled, somehow, even though he had bought it just a week before.

Andor, however, certainly didn’t seem to mind. He poured himself a third glass, all the way to the top. Good gods.

“As I was saying,” Andor said, “I don’t know how the multiverse works. I think only Ianite does, but I come from another land. A place called Ruxomar, and a place that was once known as the kingdom of Dagrun. I was a prince there.”

“And I a god,” Dianite slurred.

“Yes,” Andor said, “he was Dianite. But. The multiverse is vast and never ending, I can understand if you’re confused— honestly. I still am. I like to think of it as a table covered with grains of rice, and each grain is like another universe— there is some space between, though… I’m not making sense.”

Anya looked awkwardly at her glass of wine.

“It does make… some sense.” She looks at the wine. “You know, I had a friend that worked in the vineyards. Making the grapes overgrow. Said that every day, deer came to the fields, shrouded in mist… nevermind. That makes some sense. Why you act so different, reference things that aren’t here…”

Mot looks at Andor. His wings are still up, stretched high and proud.

“Yeah.”

Anya leans forward, wiping some dirt from her face.

“So inertia. That’s a prison somewhere else. In this other universe… did your revolution work?”

Oh boy. Mot took a long drink of the shitty, shitty wine. Andor sighs, deep and heavy. He emptied the glass, then held it in his hands. He ran his hands over it. Behind him, his wings wriggled restlessly.

“No. It didn’t. I was imprisoned and the city was razed. I wanted to establish a democratic government, be rid of the monarchy once and for all!” He seemed triumphant for a second, then he softened, slumping forward a little. “Then I left. And nothing happened.”

One could have cut the silence at the table with a knife. Anya stared at him, confusion and worry on her face, and yet, she stayed silent. Mot was honestly expecting her to start talking, scathing him. Poor Andor. Sure, he had words, but what good were they if he had no clue what to do? Now he was all restless, and—

Anya shrieked. Mot whirled around, drawing his knife. There, right by the table, was an amorphous cloud of flower petals. It swirled violently around itself, a maelstrom of color. Pink, blue, purple, white. Then, it took form with a snap.

Tucker stood before them. He shook a few petals from his hair. Mot stood in shock, staring at Tucker.

“Tucker?”

“Tom’s hurt.”

Dianite stood, then stumbled back, spilling his wine on himself. Hurriedly, he stumbled over to Tucker.

“What happened?” He slurred, “what happened? What happened?”

Tucker looked at the floor, fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

“He fucked up, and got the Champion of Ianite to stab him.”

Dianite’s jaw dropped, brows furrowed, and Mot could see tears falling from his eyes. With a pained cry, he fell to his knees, burying his head in his hands. Mot rushed to his side, Andor shock still at the table.

“Tucker,” Andor said, stunned, “what the fuck is going on?”

Dianite looked up from his hands, sniffling.

“Since when do you curse?”

“Is that important? I’m a grown man. Come on. Tom’s hurt…” Andor looked small and helpless, wrapping himself in his wings.

Mot slowly sunk down by Dianite, softly trying to console him. Being human must’ve done something, made him more… sensitive emotionally. Or it was the wine. Drunk and crying on the floor. Oh, so much had changed.

“I have to go see him,” Dianite cried.

“You can’t walk like this—“

“I have to! I— I gotta go…”

Mot stared helplessly at Tucker, who just sort of stared at him, looking ashamed. He deserved it. Blindly followed a tyrant, dragged them from hell and back, and now look at them. A god, crying drunk on the ground. His god, his lord, his love.

“Tucker, can you teleport more than one person?”

Tucker shrugged, looking a little self conscious.

“I don’t know. I’m not that strong yet, I could try. Yeah, I’ll try.”

The petals on the ground started to swirl again.

“I’ll stay,” Andor said.

The petals rose in a tremendous gust, spiraling around Tucker. He reached out with both hands. Mot took one, Dianite took the other.

And the three of them disappeared in a fury of color.