#general: amethyst empire

[monsterdramahub]

*music number pauses*

...

"I don't sing."

[bardic-inspo]

aeterna nostalgia

chapter six: leftovers

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x Vampire Bride Tav

🩸Chapter Five |🩸 Chapter Seven (Coming Soon)

🩸Full Chapter List |🩸BG3 Fic Masterlist

Series Summary:

Astarion’s carefully crafted empire is thrown into upheaval when his bride falls victim to a modify memory spell. Without any memory of her lover or her own vampirism, his dark consort is a threat to both herself and her sire. 

Astarion must win back her trust and affections, all while hunting down whoever sought to break the most powerful bond in Faerûn.

Chapter Summary: Naomi recalls what brought her to Baldur's Gate

Click here if you prefer to read on AO3

“No one will remember the dead queen in a few short generations, but a great lament might be sung a thousand years hence.”

-Libris Mortis

Wake up.

Wake up.

Wake up.

The mantra in Naomi's mind works as well as Astarion’s compulsion to remember. No matter how many times she repeats it, she can’t shed the raised-hair awareness tingling through her every inch. She can’t shake the realization settling stony in her stomach.

This isn’t a nightmare at all. All her life before must’ve been a slumber. This is as awake as she’s ever been. 

The very air of the room feathers over her arms, cool like the marble pressing against her back. She never realized, before, even having grown up in the Underdark, how many soft-crushed hues the shadows have. In the moonlight slanting in from the tall arched windows, Naomi sees at least a dozen glittering colors she doesn’t have names for.

She licks her wet lips, the lush taste of life bursting succulent on her tongue. Even her unbeating heart seems bathed in this sudden flood of feeling. She could run for miles without tiring, such is the vitality throbbing through her limbs. 

But instead, she cowers, tucking her knees tightly to her chest, too aware of the sticky coating on her skin. Of the sweat, tears, and blood painted there. She blinks feverishly, but the room is still scintillating in its saturation. There’s still vivid, crimson stains in the plush ivory rug blanketing the vestibule. And the pitcher is still painfully empty. It rolls to stillness nearby, not one drop left to leak from it.

Despite the dizzy state of her senses, cutting beneath the heady nature of them all is an ache. Longing. It’s not what she should feel, staring at the bloody mess she made, void of her husband’s company for the first time since this nightmare started. And yet, her gums pang with it. 

Will it always hurt? she wonders, grazing her new fangs with trembling fingers. The answer comes from an instinct within, but it feels entirely foreign to her -- like the snarl that slipped from her lips when Astarion tried to take the pitcher away.

No, it won’t. It didn’t hurt when she drank. For those few spellbound seconds, she didn’t feel anything but divine.

Now, she feels nothing but nauseous. With a sigh, Naomi peers down the narrow hall shrouded in steam. Astarion said there was a bath. 

Her senses tell her she could reach her destination in an instant -- power throbs within her bones. But the idea of moving at more than a snail’s pace makes her stomach lurch. So instead, she crawls down the corridor.

It feels like hours before she finally reaches the chamber at the hall’s other end. A vast monster of a tub awaits her there. The golden claws propping the tub above the floor belong to an ornately carved dragon clinging to the underside. At one end of the tub, a hissing plume of magic steams from the dragon’s maw, billowing against the porcelain. Naomi catches her own reflection in the pearly white sheen as she heaves herself upwards.

Experimentally she dips a toe. Heat prickles pleasantly across her skin. Hot, but not scalding. She casts a wary glance back at the empty vestibule and the bedroom beyond, then sheds her robe and the sheer nightgown beneath it. The bulky amethyst on her left ring finger won’t budge one bit. Resigned, she slips below the surface with it stuck stubbornly in place.

For mere seconds, the water clouds red. She frowns as it clears again. No trace of blood is left behind. It’s only her, stewing in the steam, peppered in freckles she recognizes, but a few stray, decidedly aged scars she doesn’t. If that wasn’t disconcerting enough, her head swirls with a semi-sweet, familiar scent cloying in the air. Astarion’s cologne mills in it, but it’s softened with floral notes -- lavender -- that inexplicably soothe her.

Once she’s scrubbed clean, she lets her head loll back against the tub’s edge. Gods above, the whole ceiling’s a mirror. For a vampire, Astarion’s awfully fond of them. But then, Astarion doesn’t seem bound by the same rules as the vampires she’s heard tales of before. And by association, it seems, neither does she. A familiar stranger with cherry-red eyes scowls down at her.

It’s then that she hears it: the faintest echo of a song, played on some far-away piano, close and far all at once like a teasing breeze. She can nearly taste the lyrics dancing, bittersweet, on the tip of her tongue.

The song carries her mind away to a world where her eyes were still violet, down the path of the scar that curls across her nose. Her fingertips find it now, skimming its thin trail as if she could so easily retrace the path that led her here. Her mind tries to, like following faded pencil marks on aged paper. Memories that should have been recent, but now wear the dust of three years she can’t account for.

A hairline slice of sunlight used to cut across the hot springs near her Underdark home for no more than a few minutes each day. What a mighty blade the sun must be, to delve to such depths. Someday, Naomi would think, each time she saw that searing razor appear and then vanish again. Someday, she would see the surface.

Someday, the waterfalls by the temple seem to whisper.

There was no lightning strike moment marking the day where ‘someday’ became ‘now, or never’. It wasn’t the twentieth funeral she sang for or some other macabre milestone. It wasn’t the first or last time the temple would lose members to the Lolth-sworn. They weren’t the closest friends she had lost. The color of their blood on the stone wasn’t what sent her away from the Eilistraeean temple that raised her. 

It felt cumulative; every drop of blood her kin shed at the hands of Lolth-sworn, the duergar, and all the Underdark’s other dangers weighed down the scales over time. Nearing her one hundred and twentieth year, Naomi began to see her life from the bottom side of the hour glass.

Drow can live just as long as any other elves, in theory. Down in the Underdark, they hardly ever do. She didn’t want to die for something righteous, like her parents and their cult did, like her brother would have wanted her to. Like so many of the temple’s residents had and would. 

And in a way, wouldn’t ascending like the birds tattooed on her cheek be honoring her parents, after all? Sure, she didn’t manage to ‘pray the drow away’ like they’d hoped. But wouldn’t seeing the surface they made such a fuss about be the next best thing?

Naomi wanted to live, out in the light, singing songs bathed in it. So, she left while she still could.

The surface greeted her with the glare of the sun setting her skin alight, branding it with a shade she’d never seen herself in. And so many freckles, she was sure it had to be death pox. Sure her adventure to the surface had ended before it had truly begun. Sure she would die in the bed of the first inn she could find, shivering in scratchy, flea-bitten blankets with only the sound of her own retching for company.

Except, the inn she happened upon happened to have a bard. On the day when Naomi’s fever reached its apex, that bard played the flute.

The tune crept beneath her door, curious and lilting. The song caressed Naomi gently, like a hand stroking her back and wicking the sweat from her forehead. Soothing, in its sweetness. She can’t remember for the life of her how that song goes, only that it saved her from certain death.

The sun sickness burned fiercely, and then faded. When, finally, her legs could bear to wobble from the room, she learned her bardic savior was another drow. Her name was Melle. She’d never seen the Underdark before. Naomi had never seen anyone half as pretty in her entire life.

“I’ve never known anyone who plays like that,” Melle told her, after their first performance together.

“Like what?” Naomi asked.

“Like you’re trying to haunt everyone here. It’s a tavern, love, not a fucking funeral.”

So Naomi practiced her fingering. Her vocals. She refined all of her arts with precision and care until even her harshest critic would cry for her. 

Please, please.

And when she stroked her fiddle, night after night, the coin fell into her cups and Melle fell into her bed.

“How about now?” Naomi asked when they’d finished one evening, and sent the last barfly staggering home. “Am I still haunting you?”

Melle shrugged with a coy smile. “I think you’d fare fine with one of those acting troupes in the Gate.”

“Why’s that?”

“You’re great at playing a part.”

“You think I’m faking?” Naomi laughed. “I know you didn’t, love.”

“I think,” Melle said, twining her wrists behind Naomi’s neck, “you should play something that’s really you.”

Naomi doesn’t remember what song they played their last night together. But she knows the melody that patters through the palace by heart. It came from hers, after all. 

And Astarion knows it, too. She sinks deeper into the tub with a growing unease. If he knows that song… Perhaps he had something to do with what happened next.

Naomi was always shit at the lute, but it’s easier to sing with than a fiddle. So she strummed a few quiet chords, and let her lips pour with the song she wrote for her summertime lover. 

And when her song was over, it was all over. The look Melle gave her wasn’t just unaffected. It was unfeeling. Cold. Callous. Indifferent. She left that way, without so much as a word.

For a tenday, Naomi was the inn’s sole player. The proprietor was furious at first, but came around when they saw the coin that came in droves for Naomi on her own. More than she and Melle ever made together. 

Naomi danced. She played. She drank. She laughed. She was over it, of course. Melle was just the first pretty person she saw on the surface. She’d seen precious little of it, even after all her plans and anticipation. There would be prettier people. Better sights and songs. Come summer’s end, she'd set out to see it all herself.

Maybe she’d fare fine with one of those theater troupes in Baldur’s Gate.

But then--

Melle’s face in the late night crowd.

“You came back!” Naomi gasped. Melle’s arms were rigid as swords, but she swooned into them anyway. She didn’t see her lover’s eyes glinting with steel while hers were blurred.

She didn’t feel the chill until Melle spoke, her words flat. Lifeless.

“You stole from me.”

The dagger  flashed across Naomi’s face. Her scream tore from her throat like a page ripped from its binding. All the color, the laughter, the light of the tavern sloughed away with that sound. Torn off like a mask. 

Gone were the inn’s patrons, its hearth, its warmth. In an instant, all of it was snuffed to gray, permeating silence. Naomi stood at the heart of the husk that remained in its stead. Thick dust coated the vacant tables, as if no one had stood there in a century.

But it was real. Naomi staggered to the cracked mirror nailed to the wall, swiping it clean with her sleeve. The new scar on her nose still glistened, red and raw. Fresh from Melle’s dagger, lying discarded with her flute among the other leftovers. Here and there, such trinkets rested, faded or rusted like ill-tended antiques. Yet she couldn’t find a single body. Not one other soul. 

Her eyes dropped to her quivering hands. There wasn’t one speck of blood on them, but still they were stained. Black marks crawled from her fingertips to her wrists, like ink filling her veins. 

When she stumbled out into the night, the crickets still hummed. Little flickers of candlelight still quivered in the windows of the nearby village. She whirled around, and the dark windows of the empty inn glared back at her like empty sockets in a skull. In that numb moment of disbelief, Naomi thought of Calaerys, of the way her brother’s very skin seemed to dissolve in the wake of her shriek, of the moment he became nothing but bone before her.

She fled back beneath the ground, back to the Underdark, where she never meant to leave again. Except when she arrived, she found her temple buried. A rockfall. All that was left of her home was rocks, bones, and…her.

She’s not sure how many eulogies she’s given. How many friends she buried. But she remembers her last lament keenly. It was the last song she ever sang. She laid her kin to rest, and surfaced again with a solemn swear: no soul left alive had ever heard her sing, and she’d never sing for another. Not again. Not ever.

She set off for the Gate. To play a different part. To start a different story. One she’s apparently missing many chapters of. Naomi swirls a finger in the water as the last notes of her song slip fluidly into some moody melody she doesn’t recognize. 

Did she sing for Astarion? Did she break her promise for him? For her…husband? Does she haunt him, too? 

Does the devil she met along the way to the Gate have anything to do with her broken recollection? His name is scalded in the back of her mind: Raphael.

She can’t be sure how much time passes, soaking and dwelling. Maybe it’s the nature of eternity, to lose track of hours as if only minutes have passed. The water never cools, and her skin never seems to prune, either. 

The distant music from elsewhere in the palace is a welcome sort of company. Less so is the second sussur bloom humming in the far corner. She briefly contemplates ripping it out, root and stem, but she isn’t certain the sudden flow of the weave back into the room won’t cause Astarion to be immediately alerted. Instead, she lets the music lull her, even if her connection to it feels muted.

Birdsong breaks through her fogged mind. Sunrise bleeds scarlet over the marble floor. She jerks up abruptly, water sloshing over the sides as she stands and clenches the edge of the tub. Astarion said he’d return in the morning. She’d rather he not find her waiting naked. Not in a bath clearly big enough for two.

Her stomach flips as she looks up. Nothing and no one stares back at her from the mirror overhead. Even her reflection has left her. Naomi’s legs wobble, slipping on the slick marble. She flops from the bath like an overcooked noodle.

Grimacing, she pulls herself upright with limbs like jelly. All the strength surging through her before seems entirely sapped from her body. A strange, gnawing feeling wakes in her stomach, a familiar dryness prickling at the back of her throat.

It wasn’t enough; Astarion will bid her to drink blood again when he returns. Something more fitting for her palate, he said. He was hardly keen on bargaining to begin with. He’s even less likely to entertain the idea, this time.

And she’s not keen on fighting him anymore -- on that matter, at least. She can pretend it’s wine. Be civilized.

Once it’s in her mouth, it puts anything else to shame, anyway. If it means being strong enough, or sharp enough, to seize an opportunity to slip from the room, or the palace altogether, then it’s necessary.

Still, her stomach twists as the sight of the bloody handprints, drying dark in the vestibule’s fur rug. She finds her robe, and a plush black towel, and surveys the macabre scene she left behind.

Nobody died. Here. Either Astarion keeps his supply captive, or, someone did die. In a different room.

She’s not precious about death. Or a stranger to it. No child of the Underdark is. But she’s not exactly keen on slaughter or slavery, either. Those are the hobbies of the Lolth-sworn, not Eilistraee’s followers. She eyes the empty pitcher warily. That…couldn’t have been a whole person, could it?

It’s not an answer she’s likely to find staring at it. She turns her attention to finding clothes instead. There’s a shut door on either side of the short hallway leading from the vestibule to the bathing chamber. Experimentally, she pushes one. It opens readily. Warily, she steps inside.

She’s not sure what she expected to find, exactly, but it wasn’t a sewing closet. Well, ‘closet’ is a significant understatement. Studio would be more apt. Naomi paces the bolts of fabric that line the wall on one side of the room, her fingertips periodically grazing over silk and satin. The opposite wall is comprised entirely of dark polished drawers. She peers inside of one to find dozens of glinting needles. Another is filled with nothing but spools of black thread. Others hold more thread, along with ribbons and pins, in all manner of colors.

There’s a heavy, ornate desk at the heart of the room with a mess of sketches strewn across it. A mannequin poses in front of the desk, a half-finished skirt of midnight velvet clinging to its waist. Hesitantly, she drifts closer, picking up the parchment at the top of the stack.

The nausea rears its head again. The back of her throat burns. She drops the pages, as if burnt by them, and leaves the room briskly. She shoves into the door on the other side of the hall.

Well, she won’t be spoiled for choice. Inside the closet -- which is the same size as the vestibule itself -- hang dozens upon dozens of glittering gowns, slinky shifts, and low-cut garments of every shade and sheen. Those that resemble anything modest are adorned in swirling, shimmering embellishments. Her fingers graze several gowns as she passes, sure all that lace has to itch something awful. But everything she touches practically melts into her fingers. 

She frowns, her mind racing. Surely he doesn’t…make all these himself? He hardly seems the sort to be bothered with labor.

The hairs on the back of her neck prickle with unease. A figure lurks in her periphery. She spins about to face the intruder, stomach lurching. 

It’s…only another mannequin. The groan of relief she lets out sounds more like a growl. Her glare gradually softens as she studies the rather imposing figure poised at the center of the room. The wood is painted -- she recognizes the shade of bluish lilac. The mannequin wears a pristine set of scale mail and leather armor. She recognizes the colors of the dyed leather, too: deep burgundy, and bright turquoise. Just like the bedding in the other chamber. There’s even an ivory wig atop its head, braided back into a bun. Sheepishly, she tucks her own damp hair behind her ears.

This is supposed to be her. Unless it isn’t, and her vampire just has a fetish for a particular look of drow. Vaguely, she recalls stories of another vampire -- Strahd -- with a similar obsession. That might explain all the sketches of her in his sewing room.

But then, Astarion hasn’t called her by any other name. And those colors happen to be her favorite. They remind her of home. Of simmering hot springs, colorful stalactites, and bright mushrooms. They’re the most frequent colors among the many garments surrounding her.

There’s a second mannequin, clad in decorative leathers. They’re not as ostentatious as what Astarion, apparently, wears on most days. Practical, but still pretty, with a ruffled collar and sleeves. The other side of the room seems to house Astarion’s clothes. It’s hard to say which side has more.

She finds smallclothes in a polished dresser near the mannequins. Though, there seem to be sparingly few to choose from. And what choices she has leave sparingly little to be desired. Strangely, in her search for underwear, she encountered drawer after drawer filled with evening gloves. The vampire has strange priorities.

Sighing, she shifts through several selections on the racks, relieved to see they’re not all ball gowns. There’s a few outfits that seem suited for travel -- fine black leathers and fanned lace collars. All very vampiric. There’s a spattering of doublets and trousers, too. Similar to what Astarion wore before, but tailored for a different figure. 

The rather simple dress shirt hanging between two backless numbers sticks out like a sore thumb. She pulls it from the hanger, rubbing the cream-colored fabric between her fingertips. There's a storied nature to it, written in the subtle stitches outside the seams. It must’ve been mended a time or two. The ruffled collar isn’t out of fashion per se, but seeing it among such pristine, ostentatious ensembles, it looks to be from another life entirely. 

Someone else’s. Not a vampire lord, ruling from his castle. Naomi can empathize. She doesn't belong here, either. Or, maybe it's simply her bardic nature drawing her to the only garment here that seems to have any history besides hanging in wait.

The once-fine shirt is big on her, but she finds a strange sense of solidarity, of comfort, in tucking it into a pair of too-long, belted leather trousers, and tightening the criss-crossing strings across the breast for some semblance of modesty.

And not a moment too soon. She feels the quiet knock on the door like it's pounding against her own ribs. Naomi staggers hastily into the narrow hall, a sudden flurry of nerves leaving her lightheaded.

Astarion surveys her from the open archway into the bedroom, her own bloody handprints paving a path across the rug between them. It shouldn’t surprise her that he’s already entered the room soundlessly. That he’s already there, awaiting her. Still, her stomach flips as their eyes meet. His wide ones match the carmine color of the stains she left.

And, somehow, he looks to be the one startled by the sight of her.

“You--”

His eyes scan her up and down, his jaw slack for a moment before he collects it from the floor.

“You sweet, sweet thing.”

His smirk blooms into a full, sharp-toothed smile. Naomi blinks feverishly. It’s like the clothes she chose dissolve altogether beneath his hooded gaze. She crosses her arms over her chest, abruptly uncrossing them as she realizes the motion only offered him better view of her breasts and why did she pick this thing to wear anyways, it doesn’t even fit, it--

She freezes. His stomach quivers with a chuckle she can only surmise is at her expense. 

Oh no.

A/N: So, more backstory. But maybe more questions than answers for now. 👀

I am so sorry this one took me so long! I switched gears for a while to work on another fic, Dhampir Dreams (go check it out if you need a fix of breeding smut!), and then life got hectic. This chapter ended up splitting in half on me so the good news is, I already have a bit of the next one written!

More time with Astarion coming next chapter. And then an Astarion POV chapter after that. 👀 HUGE thank you to my beloved @amoremagnificentbastard for doing a final read-through, being just a fountain of support, and an overall stellar human who I am blessed to call friend.

Thanks for reading, I hope life is being kind to you!

[primarilymedievalish]

Hawk in the Heights (200 words) by Medievalish Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Empires SMP, Skyblock Kingdoms SMP Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: GeminiTay & Marma1ade Characters: Marma1ade, Geminitay Additional Tags: Not RPF, Empires SMP Season 1, Double Drabble, The Crystal Cliffs (Empires SMP), First Meetings, Friendship Series: Part 11 of MCYT Drabble Fest Summary: “Dragons!” Marmalade said, happy as a hawk in the heights.

Two amethyst-wielding magic-users with epic towers get to meet. The rest is history.

[amethystfairy1]

✨Hello hello!✨

I'm Amethyst (she/her), and I'm your local fanfic gremlin. I've written a lot for a lot of fandoms, right now I am caught in the Hermit/Traffic/Empires brainrot, and if that's how you've ended up here, welcome welcome!

The tag for my random blog stuff is: #amethyst rambles

And I also always post here whenever I post on A03, be it with a new chapter or an entirely new story!

Right now, I have two WIP AUs!

Through the Sky-Blue Cracks 🌤️

My Hot Guy/Cute Guy, Over-City/Under-City AU that has a lot more going on in it now, it's grown pretty big and is organized in chronological order, not by publishing order, so I write up and down on the timeline filling in parts and pieces as I go!

TTSBC takes place in a modern/slightly sci-fi AU with superheroes, biotech, secrets to hide, trauma to unpack, and as much humor as I can attempt to fit in as well!

Features the local superheroes crushing on each other, anxious writer meets intrepid reporter, the drama professors who can't keep their hands to themselves, penpals gone wild, resident middle-aged married couple who happen to be a mobster and a mad genius, the local cottagecore lesbians, bad boy butterfly and cat lady, protective big sister, Zom-Mom and Sentient Glowstick, a very tired Guy-in-the-Chair with a permanent headache, and more yet to be added! I've got lots of plans left for this AU, so if you're interested, please come check it out!

For FAQs or general info about the AU, for example character heights, descriptions, ages, series of events, etc, please check out the absolutely amazing Unofficial Official TTSBC wiki which is run by the absolutely amazing-er @silver-sunray!

Tags for the AU are:

#through the sky blue cracks

#ttsbc au

#ttsbc ficlets

Traveling Thieves 🪽

My dark fantasy AU! This one has some heavy themes going on, so I'd encourage reading the tags carefully before jumping in! I'm very proud of how it is turning out, dealing with breaking out conditioned headspaces, survival in a sick system, negotiating power imbalance, the power of friendship (no, really), and of course we've got elves, mercenaries, magic, swords, sorcery, rogues, redstone, and lots more fun stuff like that! Also lots of adorable birbs, one traumatized fiery boy, a mer with an attitude, a good doggo, and hurt/comfort galore! Giving everyone a chance to believe that they've all got a shot at getting lucky.

Tags for the AU are:

#traveling thieves au

#traveling thieves ficlets

I think that's all that going on with me right now...so yeah! I love getting the chance to ramble about my worldbuilding, so by all means, give me an excuse and I will make entire posts about that sort of thing!

My DMs are open and I promise I'm not scary! I love rambling and making fandom friends, so feel free to reach out if you wanna chat!

I allow and encourage fanart, fanfic, bookbinding, poetry, songwriting, music, OCs, and any other creative pursuits inspired by my work! All I ask if that, if you post it anywhere, PLEASE make sure to @ me so I can see it! I absolutely LOVE seeing what people create!

Thanks for coming by! 💖

[horizon-verizon]

Do you have any personal theories regarding the Maiden Made of Light, Great Empire of the Dawn, House Dayne, and Daenerys?

I just found out Daenerys’ name means “Lady of Light” and I fell down a rabbit hole of Azor Ahai/ Nissa Nissa/Maiden Made of Light/Amethyst Empress all being connected to Dany.

I don't know if this is a "theory" so much as a feeling, but I have suspected for a while that Daenerys will become a sort of god or at least a spiritual figure of nature people will worship in Essos for generations after her eventual death. not just become legend, I mean actual WORSHIP in at least a couple of areas and for some diff ethnic groups. Under a different but a similar-sounding name to her original. No "Maiden of Light" but any of her titles could become her god-name. She wouldn't like it, but her impact ran away from her, I'm afraid.

Make of that what you will. 😏

nothing about House Dayne, I'm void on them.

[conscious-naivete]

other works i podded for @mcytrecursive 2025

[Podfic] Rome wasn't built in a day (but it was burned in one) Fandom: Empires SMP Teen And Up Audiences, Graphic Depictions Of Violence Characters: Katherine Elizabeth (Video Blogging RPF) Additional Tags: Empires SMP Setting, Mentioned Xornoth (Empires SMP), Angst, Whump, Hurt No Comfort, Slavery, Curses, Evil Wins, Body Horror, Poisoning, Podfic, Podfic Length: 0-10 Minutes, (7m) Summary:

The emperors can't stop Xornoth. They win, and now the rulers must face the price of standing up to the demon.

Podfic of the first chapter of Rome wasn't built in a day (but it was burned in one) by PawPunk

[Podfic] Shattered Amethyst Fandom: Dream SMP General Audiences,Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Additional Tags: omitted for spoilers lol.

Podfic Length: 10 Minutes Summary:

"Of course,” Schlatt said, his voice almost too casual, “It’d be such a shame if I couldn’t supply your brother’s medicine anymore. You know how it is—villain fights destroy infrastructure, resources get tight. And I’ve got to prioritize the people who actually help this city.”

He didn’t look up, pretending to be absorbed in the last sip of his drink. The glass hit the desk with a quiet clink, but the sound was drowned out by the crash of Aether slamming Schlatt into the wall."

podfic of Shattered Amethyst by R3DLEMONADE

[sleepingdeath-light]

relationship hcs ; yellow diamond

requested by ; anonymous (24/04/23)

fandom(s) ; steven universe

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; yellow diamond

outline ; “hey since you did relationship hcs for white diamond could you do some for yellow and blue too :D? (separately) love your works!^^”

warning(s) ; none, just fluff!

as far as being in an equal relationship goes, yellow diamond is extremely out of her element — she’s used to being in a position of distinct hierarchical authority, and only having one person who she truly sees is on an equal level to herself, and that mentality does cause a lot of conflict early on in your relationship

she takes care of you, of course, and always makes sure that you’re well tended to and have everything you could possibly want or need — making use of her countless colonies and underlings to ensure that this is the case, making sure that you’re worshipped and respected as an authority figure in the same way that she is

but yellow diamond is also quite emotionally distant and dismissive at times because of how busy she is, and unless you express a need for intimacy and affection to her then she’s not going to realise that you feel neglected — but even then it’s incredibly forced and stiff as she’s just not used to being physically or verbally affectionate with you, or anyone, quite yet (just give her some time, she’ll grow to love it)

if anyone dares to disrespect you or offend you in anyway then yellow will be swift to punish them for it — either poofing or outright cracking their gem, or sending them to trial to find a ‘better’ punishment if you’re less fond of execution

she doesn’t use any pet names with you and generally just calls you by your first name (or, maybe, a slightly shortened version of it), but if you insist on calling her a term of endearment then she’d probably prefer something that sounds more formal — think ‘my diamond’ but more affectionate, like ‘my dear’ or ‘my beloved’

she’s terrified of losing you as she did pink, which makes her extremely protective over you — refusing to let you leave her sight (whether that’s in her room on home world, in her palanquin when she’s on a colony, in her ship, etc) and having you accompanied by a large collection of amethyst and jasper guards wherever you go if she’s too busy to physically accompany you herself (she cannot lose another person she cares about; losing you would destroy her)

whenever you’re making a public appearance she makes sure that your outfit is spotless — having her servants dress you in her colours and in clothes that are as practical as they are formal — and that you’re mentally prepared for everything that is expected of you well in advance (memorising dances, practising posture and poses, mastering the perfect acknowledging smile and polite nod, etc.) so that there’s no chance of either of you being looked down upon

you’re the only person aside from pink diamond who has ever been able to make her laugh — and you’re also the only one who gets to see the ‘imperfections’ that she hides from the other diamonds and their subjects, such as her sense of humour and her insecurities about her place in the gem empire

no matter how busy she is, she refuses to move whenever you fall asleep on her — taking her calls wherever she is and working around you, instructing whoever she’s talking with to stay quiet as she doesn’t want to wake you (she thinks you’re so very adorable like that and she doesn’t have the heart to disturb your sleep)

she’d get you your own pearl, or an entire gem entourage, if you asked — making sure that you got only the best cut of each because you deserve only the best — but in the meantime yellow pearl is more than happy to entertain you when her diamond is working, and in fact you’ll likely end up getting along quite well as your relationship with yellow diamond progresses

[the-demigod-project]

The Cast

• Name: Morrisa

Gender: Female

Age: 18

Pronouns: she/her

Code Name: Subject–Crimson

Demi Form: A Giant Golem Goddess of Cold Fire, Steam & Stone.

Powers: Fire & Ice Generation; Morrisa can generate near infinite amounts of both ice and fire. She can unfortunately not control this power and only destruction and death await those who confront her. Whether that be an icy prison of despair or through the fires of agony that not many wish to be near made by The Broken Witch of America.

Physical Appearance: Height (168cm), slim body build, extra light beige skin tone, deep red wavy hip length hair, and bright lonely amethyst eyes.

Personality: Reserved, Gentle, Pessimistic, Insecure, Timid.

Relationship: Best Friends??? More???

Mini-Sum: Morrisa’s existence is both a testament to humanity’s ambition and a reflection of its cruelty. She was born not of nature, but of science—a child of war forged through desperation and experimentation. As the first successful homunculus, she was created to serve as raw material for the creation of America’s Demigods under the ambitious but morally questionable Project Demi-God. However, the homunculi were missing one critical component: a soul. Without it, their bodies deteriorated rapidly, and thousands of them perished in the name of progress. Morrisa was the sole survivor of these harrowing experiments, but her survival came at a terrible cost. Though she could wield the coveted powers of fire and ice, she was deemed a failed Demigod. Her transformation into her Demi Form—a state of heightened power and divinity—came with a devastating limit. She could only sustain this form for thirty minutes before her own powers began to consume her body, tearing her apart from the inside out. For years, Morrisa lived in solitude, branded as both a failure and a monster. Her fragile body and unstable abilities earned her the moniker "The Crimson Witch," a name that inspired fear and pity in equal measure. Yet, behind this fearsome title was a girl yearning for purpose, plagued by insecurity, and burdened by the weight of her existence. She had been created to serve a cause greater than herself, but all she had found was suffering and rejection. Despite her desolate life, a flicker of hope emerged when she encountered [MC], another product of experimentation. Like her, [MC] bore the scars of a life shaped by cruelty and despondency. In their shared pain, they found a unique connection. Through [MC]'s unwavering kindness and understanding, Morrisa experienced something she had thought impossible: affection, acceptance, and a reason to keep moving forward. Over time, [MC] became her guiding light in the darkness—her everlight—and a bond deeper than mere friendship began to grow between them. Though Morrisa’s body may be fragile and her powers unstable, her resolve is fierce when protecting the one person who gave her hope. In a world dominated by war and power-hungry empires, she stands as a quiet yet unyielding testament to resilience, the enduring strength of the human spirit, and the transformative power of compassion.

• Name: Lucifer

Gender: Male

Age: 23

Pronouns: he/him

Code Name: Subject–Radiance

Demi Form: A Striking resemblance to modern day Angels, Clad in armor and rags. And massive wings and an orb nimbus of light.

Powers: Umbra-Photokinesis; Lucifer can manipulate light with darkness properties, giving him full control over both light and darkness as a result. So only dread awaits all who oppose The Falling Star of Destruction.

Physical Appearance: Height (193 cm), slim athletic body build, rosy beige skin tone, glossy silky straight hot red chest length hair, and dark hypnotic crimson eyes. (Black sclera)

Personality: Honest, Charming, Friendly, Easygoing, Cunning.

Relationship: Colleagues???

Mini-Sum: Lucifer is the embodiment of a survivor—a man forged in the fires of tragedy and reshaped by the ruthless hand of fate. His earliest memories are fragments of a nightmare: a cold winter afternoon, his home invaded by faceless monsters, his mother’s desperate screams, and the booming echoes of gunfire. At just four years old, Lucifer’s world was shattered. He doesn’t remember his parents' faces anymore, but the emotions remain vivid: his mother’s love and the iron-clad embrace of his father, shielding him from the bullets that ended their lives. For five days, the boy clung to his father’s lifeless body, half-starved and teetering on the brink of death, until a Freedom Federation Corporation (FFC) patrol discovered him. But salvation was a fleeting illusion. Instead of being given a chance at a normal life, Lucifer was thrown into the cold, sterile halls of the FFC's experimentation facilities, where countless other orphaned children awaited the same horrific fate. Years of inhumane trials and experiments dulled Lucifer’s senses, pushing him into a state of numb resignation. That was until one day, when a girl’s piercing scream shattered his daze—a cry so hauntingly familiar, it awakened something primal within him. Her voice carried the same desperate plea for help his mother had once screamed before being dragged away. In that moment, memories of his parents' love—his mother’s warmth and his father’s sacrifice—flooded back to him. Something deep within Lucifer snapped, and the endless experiments finally bore fruit. A power unlike anything the scientists had ever seen erupted from him, a blinding fusion of light and shadow, both beautiful and terrifying in its intensity. Lucifer’s awakening marked the beginning of a new chapter. The CEO of the FFC, intrigued and impressed by his potential, took him under his wing. Groomed to be both a weapon and a leader, Lucifer was molded into a man of charisma and cunning, a beacon of hope to some and a harbinger of despair to others. Beneath his friendly and easygoing demeanor lies a sharp mind, always calculating, always prepared.Though he wears a mask of charm, the scars of his past run deep. Lucifer carries the weight of his parents’ sacrifice and the countless lives lost in the FFC's relentless pursuit of power. He walks a fine line between light and shadow, striving to reclaim the humanity stolen from him while wielding the very powers that were born from his suffering. To those who meet him, he is captivating yet enigmatic—a man shaped by tragedy, determined to rise above it, and destined to leave his mark on a fractured world.

• Name: Ace

Gender: Male

Age: 19

Pronouns: he/him

Code Name: Subject–054-A6-006/ Subject 5

Demi Form: A monster from myth, a cross between a Leviathan & a Kraken, a beast straight out of Lovecraft Horror story.

Powers: Water Empowerment; As long as Ace is near a body of water he is near invincible. Water gives him strength beyond comparison. The more water he has at his behest, the stronger he is. As such none wish to meet this Demigod out at sea, for all know to fear Enesidaon.

Physical Appearance: Height (182 cm), athletic body build, fair skin tone, emo styled sandy messy medium length hair, and empty amethyst eye (left), and an obsidian eye (right) that draws one into an abyss.

Personality: Stoic, Blunt, Impulsive, Ambitious, Stubborn.

Relationship: Best Friends???

Mini-Sum: Ace’s life has been defined by abandonment, betrayal, and resilience. Born as the illegitimate son of America’s wealthiest billionaire, Ace was a secret that his father’s wife refused to tolerate. His mother, coerced by a hefty payout and a veiled threat, disappeared from his life before he could form lasting memories of her. Left behind, Ace was raised by nannies and butlers in a world of wealth and cold detachment, never knowing the warmth of a true family. At the age of five, Ace’s life took an even darker turn. His father, eager to capitalize on a lucrative business deal, saw an opportunity to rid himself of the “problem child.” Without hesitation, he offered Ace to the Demi-God Project—a clandestine government program known for its ruthless experiments on children. Ace was thrust into a world of cruelty and suffering, his days and nights consumed by relentless testing that sought to unlock the dormant power within him.By the time he was nine, the pain had finally borne fruit. Ace awakened as a Demigod, his powers over water surging to life. Fueled by newfound strength and sheer determination, Ace launched an escape from the facility, managing to stay ahead of his captors for sixteen harrowing hours. But his bid for freedom was cut short by another Demigod—a boy not much older than him named Lucifer. The encounter ended with Ace’s capture and transfer to a highly secured lab in Nevada, where his rebellious spirit was met with even tighter controls. Despite the suffocating conditions, Nevada became the place where Ace found his first glimmers of hope. There, he met two other Demigods: Morrisa and [MC]. Bonded by shared pain and loss, the trio became inseparable, their friendship a beacon in the darkness. Ace, despite his stoic and blunt nature, emerged as the glue that held them together. His impulsive optimism and unyielding stubbornness became the group’s driving force, inspiring them to endure even the worst of the project’s horrors. Ace’s story is one of contradictions—a boy hardened by neglect and ambition yet softened by the bonds of friendship. Beneath his stoic exterior lies a relentless fire, a refusal to give in to despair. While his powers may draw strength from water, his true strength comes from the unbreakable will to defy the fate others have imposed on him and the unwavering loyalty he holds for the friends who became his family.

• Name: Fáfnir/Scott

Gender: Male

Age: 17

Pronouns: he/him

Code Name: Subject–E.N.D (Equilibrium of Nihility & Death)

Demi Form: A Massive Wolf the size of a bus, brimming with power and arcane beauty.

Powers: Oblivion Manipulation; Scott can control the essence of oblivion, allowing them to delete an entity, removing targets from all timelines in every dimension, alter, reverse, or negate energy; etc. But unfortunately, Fáfnir refuses to allow Scott to utilise the full extent of this power. But everyone including America's top brass know not to mess with The Spirit of Death.

Physical Appearance: Height (168 cm), lean athletic body build, light beige skin tone, glossy salamander green messy wild medium length hair, and piercing light hunt club green eyes.

Personality: (Scott)Bold, Intuitive, Fiery, Empathy, Competitive. / (Fáfnir)Cautious, Instinctive, Calm, Apathetic, Lazy.

Relationship: Colleagues???

Mini-Sum: Scott’s life was forever altered by a single reckless decision. At the age of ten, he accepted a dare from a friend to explore a Forbidden Zone—a dangerous area abandoned and marked off by authorities. The thrill of the challenge led him to an abandoned military facility, where he stumbled upon what appeared to be a trapped, helpless wolf pup. Acting on his kind and impulsive instincts, Scott attempted to rescue the creature, only for it to sink its sharp teeth into him.In that instant, an event beyond comprehension occurred. Scott and the wolf began to fuse in a grotesque and excruciating process that tore through his very being. When the torment subsided, Scott awoke in a cold, sterile lab with an IV drip in his arm and a splitting headache. He soon learned the truth—the “wolf pup” was not a natural creature but an artificial being, a bioweapon created in the same lab he now found himself in. It had escaped just a day before and, by some cruel twist of fate, had found him. Their fusion was deemed a miraculous anomaly, a perfect bond between human and artificial life.This fusion awakened an entirely new consciousness within Scott: Fáfnir. The once-mindless wolf had developed self-awareness, becoming a part of Scott yet distinct from him. While Scott retained his fiery and empathetic nature, Fáfnir was the opposite—calm, apathetic, and perpetually indifferent to the world around them. Despite their differences, they were inseparably bound, two halves of a single being. Deemed a groundbreaking success by the scientists, Scott and Fáfnir were transferred to the infamous Demi-God Project. There, they were subjected to relentless experiments designed to unlock the full potential of their fusion. As the years passed, Scott learned to live with the constant presence of Fáfnir in his mind, though their relationship was far from harmonious. Scott named the wolf “Fáfnir” after the destroyer of his dreams, a bitter acknowledgment of how the fusion had cost him his innocence and freedom. Yet, amidst the chaos and torment of the Demi-God Project, Scott’s fiery determination refused to be extinguished. While Fáfnir remained a reminder of his lost childhood, he also became an unlikely source of strength, a partner in survival as they navigated the harrowing trials of their new reality. Together, they stand as a living paradox—creation and destruction, empathy and apathy, life and oblivion—forever straddling the line between humanity and something far greater.

• Name: Helena Sanders

Gender: Female

Age: 30

Pronouns: she/her

Physical Appearance: Height (160 cm), petite slim body build, soft rosy skin tone, striking medium wavy blonde hair, and bright captivating emerald eyes.

Personality: Bold, Resolute, Kind, Innocent, Protective.

Relationship: Boss???

Mini-Sum: Helena Sanders was born into a family steeped in military tradition, where duty and discipline overshadowed personal freedom. Her father, a decorated General in the U.S. military, set rigorous expectations for his children, molding them to carry on the family legacy. Despite the pressure, Helena's mother provided a sanctuary of warmth and encouragement, fostering a kindness in Helena that stood in stark contrast to the cold world around her. Tragedy struck when Helena was just a teenager. Her mother and younger brother were killed in a bombing attack during a business trip overseas. The loss shattered the family, leaving her father hardened and emotionally distant. The warmth that once balanced their lives was replaced by an unyielding strictness. Desperate to bridge the growing chasm between herself and her father, Helena poured her heart and soul into her training. She rose through the ranks with unwavering determination, earning the rank of First Lieutenant through sheer grit and skill. Despite the trials, Helena never let go of the light her mother instilled in her. Her unwavering compassion and sense of justice earned her the nickname “Angel of Kindness” among her peers. While others were hardened by the brutality of military life, Helena became a beacon of hope, offering guidance and protection to those under her command. Her efforts did not go unnoticed. For the first time, her father acknowledged her accomplishments and presented her with a daunting yet critical opportunity: to lead Project Demi-God. The task was monumental—to train a group of young, artificially enhanced beings into weapons capable of turning the tide in humanity’s battle against despair and devastation. Helena accepted without hesitation, seeing the project as both a chance to earn her father’s respect and a way to make a meaningful difference in the world. But beneath her resolve lies a deeper purpose—to guide the Demi-Gods not as tools of war, but as individuals capable of reclaiming their humanity and shaping a brighter future. Helena stands as an enigma within the harsh military machine: a symbol of hope in a world teetering on the brink of despair.

• Name: Momoko

Gender: Female

Age: 22 (95)

Pronouns: she/her

Code Name: Subject–01

Demi Form: A beauty that seems to resemble a cross between yokai and demon from myth.

Powers: Corrupted Energy Absorption; Momoko can absorb any form of energy. And in doing so she can distort and destroy atoms and all forms of energy with said absorbed power tho the more energy provided the more damage she can cause. As such she is every energy Demigods Achilles heel. Her only downside is she must expel all absorbed energy before it corrupts her and her surroundings. And because of infamy and power she is The Goddess of Japan, or Queen of Despair.

Physical Appearance: Height (170 cm), frail lean athletic body build, pale porcelain skin tone, glossy long wavy ultramarine purple hair, and sad bright jade green eyes. (Black sclera)

Personality: Kind, Caring, Timid, Idealistic, Decisive.

Relationship: Enemies???

Mini-Sum: Momoko was born in 1922 in a quiet farming village on the outskirts of Kyoto. Raised in a loving, close-knit family, she spent her early years tending the fields and dreaming of a peaceful future. Her elder brother, Hiroshi, was her role model, a kind-hearted and idealistic young man who often spoke of protecting their homeland and creating a world where no one would suffer as their family had during the Great Depression. In 1945, as Japan’s situation in World War II grew increasingly desperate, the government sought radical measures to secure victory. Thus, Project God Fall was initiated, an experiment in creating superhuman beings capable of turning the tide of war. Volunteers were promised glory, honor, and rewards for their families. Hiroshi, eager to serve and protect, stepped forward, but his aspirations ended in tragedy. Two weeks later, a government official delivered his ashes to their doorstep, citing “unforeseen complications” during the experiment.Hiroshi’s death shattered their family, but instead of succumbing to grief, Momoko channeled her sorrow into resolve. Stricken with grief yet determined to honor her brother’s dream of protecting their homeland, Momoko volunteered for the same project. Her naivety and selflessness led her into the heart of a brutal experiment. Thousands of volunteers perished in the program’s early stages, subjected to inhumane trials in the name of progress. Against all odds, Momoko survived. Through pain and suffering beyond imagination, she emerged as the first successful Demigod, a being of immense power capable of absorbing and wielding energy itself. Though hailed as Japan’s first line of defense, she became a living weapon, bound to her duty for over seven decades. While her body remained youthful, her soul carried the weight of decades of conflict, loss, and sacrifice. Momoko’s idealistic heart yearned for peace, yet she became a symbol of destruction. She still retains a deep sense of humility and often reflects on the cost of her actions. Her memories of her brother and her life before Project God Fall serve as her moral compass, reminding her of the values she strives to protect. That's why Momoko is fiercely loyal to the Sun Empire, but not out of blind nationalism, but because she believes in protecting her homeland and its people. However, she harbors doubts about the Empire’s aggressive policies and the suffering they inflict on others. These inner conflicts make her a nuanced character, torn between duty and conscience. Momoko’s primary goal is to ensure peace and stability for the Sun Empire. However, she dreams of a world where such power is no longer necessary, where individuals like herself are not created at the cost of others' lives. She secretly hopes for a resolution to the conflict between the Sun Empire and the Golden Federation, believing that unity, not conquest, is the key to humanity’s future. Despite her allegiance, Momoko quietly supports efforts to de-escalate the Sun Empire’s aggression. She often acts as a mediator during negotiations, using her reputation and wisdom to sway decisions toward peace.

Spoiler Character Ahead:

• Name: Cassandra Millers

Gender: Female

Age: 23 (????)

Pronouns: she/her

Code Name: Demon King

Demi Form: A being of power. But no Form.

Powers: Transcendent Strength; Cass' only power was an ability nearly all Demigods are granted, but if you compared her Physical strength with another Demi, she would always win. As such she had a Physical strength that could shake continents. The Walking Calamity.

Physical Appearance: Height (186 cm), toned curvy body build, fair skin tone, long straight midnight blue hair, and kind light maroon eyes.

Personality: Caring, Bold, Protective, Playful, Truthful.

Relationship: Adoptive Older Sister.

Mini-Sum: Cassandra is the [MC's] sister. She has always looked out for them and helped guide them along the most optimal path in life. But she only ever appears when the [MC] is in need of her help the most.

[15-lizards]

hii, what do you think that the people of the great empire of the dawn wore? especially the amethyst empress. love your account 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Okay I have a mix. I like both Mesopotamian and early Judaean clothing for the Empire of the dawn

The ancient near East in general has some very great stuff for imagining a mythical empire. Complex drapings, bright dyes, geometric patterns, large and heavy headpieces etc etc it all just seems very full of tradition and history. Perfect for a dynasty of magical god emperors who may or may not have existed

Early Christian/Judaean clothing is nice too bc it’s also ripe with tradition and just feels very rich. I feel like the Jewish queens of the Old Testament are kinda perf for the Amethyst Empress due to the sheer volume of what they wear, clearly very wealthy. Compared to a common person, they look almost ethereal and god like, which is the whole point

[monsterdramahub]

uh oh, boss monster time

[athzhowakar]

The Betrayal of Blood: The New Heir

❇️ Place: Yi Ti

❇️ Period: The Great Empire of the Dawn

❇️ ‘The Betrayal of Blood’ is a Tumblr series on the Amethyst Empress, the Bloodstone Emperor and the First Long Night.

❇️ Summary:

Chapter 1 : The New Heir

The Opal Emperor has declared the name of his heir.

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown.”

The crown princess was standing in the palace garden and plucking a flower when she heard some footsteps.

“Brother,” she said to the man who had just arrived.

“It is quite unusual to find you here. Generally, you stay in your manor and write scriptures or read books. Why are you here today?” the man asked.

The crown princess said, “It felt like the flowers called out to me. Tell me Brother, what brings you here?”

The prince replied, “I came to congratulate you, Sister.”

“Thank you, Brother,” she replied. “You lifted the burden off my shoulders with your words," she added.

The prince asked, “What kind of burden do you talk about?”

“The burden of loneliness,” she replied. She wore the flower that she had plucked, on her hair and continued, “When Royal Father declared me as his heir, I had thought that you would harbour sour feelings towards me. I had assumed that you would leave me alone among my friends and foes to fend for myself.”

“You speak of friends and foes, and then you speak of loneliness,” he said. “But Sister, how would my departure make you lonely if you have friends?”

The crown princess sighed.

She said, “Brother, in the court, it takes very little time for friends to turn into foes. You however, are my brother. We came from the same womb.”

She approached the prince and caressed his face. “We belong together. That is why, you must stay with me. You must protect me from the backstabbers and help me to rule,” she said.

The prince smiled and said to her, “I will. What good will come of a brother's sword if it cannot be wielded in his sister's service?”

“I am glad that you think so,” the crown princess replied.

The eyes of the crown princess went to a nearby tree. “Look! Mistletoe is covering that tree,” she said.

The prince replied, “I see. The tree was kind enough to let mistletoe grow on it. Now, it is only a matter of time before it is killed by the mistletoe.”

The crown princess said, “I will ask the gardener to remove the mistletoe.”

“Let it be, Sister,” the prince said, holding her hand. “The stronger being feeds on the weaker being. Let us not interfere with the laws of nature. Let the mistletoe grow and feed on the tree as it desires.”

“You want me to let the mistletoe kill the tree?” the crown princess asked.

“Every tree has to die one day,” the prince replied.

“If you insist, I will let it be this way,” the crown princess said.

The prince looked at her and said, “Men and trees are alike. Some die of old age, some die of plagues, some die of hunger and some by sword. There are also others who die just like that tree because they were too blind to see that they had sheltered a mistletoe.”

“You are right,” the crown princess replied.

[reflection-s-of-stars]

[ID: A reply on a post from the original poster, @/katakaluptastrophy, reading “@/sunshine-fruit-of-the-vine Ooh, your point in the tags about Corona’s comment to Judith is really interesting! Though I suppose it could also be interpreted as the Second being the ones doing the business contracts? Also please tell me more about your political headcanons…” /End ID.]

@katakaluptastrophy this is old but you absolutely do not have to ask me twice oh my god. This is where I reveal exactly how much of a history dork I am so be warned. I have also indicated Vibes in case that is helpful to anybody

So the common denominator among the Houses (as well as among societies as a whole, I spent like half a unit in my sociology class on this last year) is that there’s always a small upper class/nobility/etc and the population gets larger as you go down the ladder. That manifests in different ways within the different Houses, but it’s the same principle: The rich are few, and the poor are many.

That being said…

SECOND: The military leaders of the Nine, the Second are the ones who do the actual conquering of planets. However, Corona’s comment about how “as a Second, [Judith] should be willing to sell her birthright for economics” suggests they might not be getting their share of the profits. A huge portion of the Second lives in poverty, especially the capital city of Trentham, and pretty much the only way to escape it is to join the Cohort. The wealthy and powerful (generals, admirals and war heroes) vehemently deny there ever being a problem. For vibes, think New York City or Chicago but A Little Worse.

THIRD: The economic center of the Nine, the Third is a trade powerhouse and a hub for merchants and artisans. But they also export something a little less palatable: Propaganda for the Empire. The capital, Ida, is an enormous massive palace very similar to Versailles, where the best of the best workers (and the friends of the royal family) are privileged to live. Unlike the Second, where hard work actually can bring you up in the world, success in Ida comes out of bribes, flattery and sex. For vibes, think Paris but even less subtle, and crazy on the amethysts.

FOURTH: Supposedly a backup to the Second. In actuality, the lack of any real leadership has left the small and vulnerable population (veterans, the sick and disabled) to the mercy of the Fourth’s criminal underbelly. The capital city of Tisis is functionally a ghost town, mostly full of impotent, sheltered nobles and extensions of the mafia collecting bribes, and the other cities aren’t much better. For vibes, think Piltover (I don’t play league of legends but I LOVE Arcane), but the upper city is way more depressing and abandoned and the whole thing has kind of an ancient Roman feel as well.

FIFTH: The administration of the Nine, the Fifth works closely with the Emperor himself to keep the internal workings of His Empire running smoothly. Koniortos Court is a complex and many-armed bureaucracy, managed by its Lords or Ladies (and Seneschals, who do most of the actual diplomacy) like clockwork. It lies nestled in the capital of Rhax, where the majority of the Fifth’s population lives and works. There are frequent rebellions, but they’re snuffed out with alarming ease. For vibes, think combination of Victorian London and the city from Ulysses Dies At Dawn.

SIXTH: Less of its own independent state and more of the Emperor’s House of Wisdom, the Sixth House is the center of learning in the Nine Houses. Almost all the Houses send the best of their best to study there, so there’s a lot of people, but its native population is incredibly small- the size of a single city on the Third. Most of the Sixth is a single huge, labyrinthine library, surrounded by dormitories and a few spaceship ports for trade with the Seventh. Rank is decided not by birth, but by ability and age (in theory, anyway; in practice, they’ve strayed a bit from Cassiopeia’s vision). It’s still very communal, and everyone considers each other family on some level. For vibes, think a walled city combined with a super old university.

SEVENTH: The Seventh is responsible for most of the beautiful things made in the Empire. They export and import a lot of art, from pottery to poetry, and are considered superior craftsmen to the Third (which is why Ianthe thinks so poorly of their cloud formation poems). Outside this, they’re largely self-sufficient and very insular, doing their own farming making regular contact with only the Sixth. The lower classes are mostly farmers, while the aristocracy is just a few families, which is how Heptanary cancer happened. For vibes, think the romanticized version of the antebellum South from old books that like to gloss over the slavery thing, but a little bit sickly and weird-looking.

EIGHTH: The religious center of the Nine, the Eighth is in control of the worship of the Emperor and his Saints, as well as the Nine’s religious traditions. They’re also responsible for a chunk of Imperial propaganda- less than the Third, though, and directed less to the shepherd worlds and more within the Nine Houses. They live similarly to the Ninth House, with religious decadence, everyday asceticism and very little social mobility. The population of the Eighth House is actually very diverse, full of pilgrims from all over the Empire. For vibes, think medieval Italy but it’s all minimalist white and it ruins the whole thing.

NINTH: We know about the Ninth. We got like ten chapters about the Ninth. For vibes, think the Ninth.

[luckyduckwrites]

A Diamond In All But Name Chapter 0: Creation

Fandom: Steven Universe (Cartoon)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: White Diamond & Original Gem Character(s) (Steven Universe), Yellow Diamond & Original Gem Character(s) (Steven Universe), Blue Diamond & Original Gem Character(s) (Steven Universe), Pink Diamond & Original Gem Character(s) (Steven Universe), Rose Quartz & Original Gem Character(s) (Steven Universe), Pearl & Original Gem Character(s) (Steven Universe), Garnet & Original Gem Character(s) (Steven Universe), Amethyst & Original Gem Character(s) (Steven Universe), Steven Universe & Original Gem Character(s)

Characters: White Diamond (Steven Universe), Yellow Diamond (Steven Universe), Blue Diamond (Steven Universe), Pink Diamond (Steven Universe), Rose Quartz | Pink Diamond, Rose Quartz (Steven Universe), Pearl (Steven Universe), Garnet (Steven Universe), Amethyst (Steven Universe), Steven Universe, Original Gem Character(s) (Steven Universe)

Additional Tags: POV Original Character, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Homeworld (Steven Universe), Homeworld Hierarchy (Steven Universe), Homeworld is Horrible (Steven Universe), Homeworld Gem(s) (Steven Universe), The Crystal Gems (Steven Universe), Crystal Gems as Family (Steven Universe), Parent White Diamond (Steven Universe), Aromantic Asexual Garnet (Steven Universe)

Summary:

Meet Novaculite, a unique Gem. Nova is a powerful Gem, second only to the Diamonds. She was one of the earliest Gems created by White Diamond, and was granted authority and power by White as long as she stayed loyal and helped grow their empire. After a few millennium, Yellow and Blue Diamond were created, further expanding their authority. Novaculite, as Homeworld's premier weapons-maker and head of technological advances, helped them to spread even further, expanding their power past multiple star systems. Eventually, Pink Diamond was created, the smallest of the Diamonds.

After centuries of boredom and monotony, Nova decided she needed to observe her court from within, but in disguise. Whenever she has a moment to spare, Novaculite turns into a Pearl, going unnoticed as she moves among her Gems and learns about them. When Pink Diamond gets her own colony after eons of begging, Nova finds herself captivated by the Crystal Gems, becoming inspired by their message. Gems wanting to be more than what they were made to do? That's right up Nova's alley.

As Novaculite, she's against the war, as it threatens her authority. But as Pearl... Well, that's a different story.

**AO3 & Wattpad links in masterpost pinned to the top of the blog**

"It's time to come out."

What was that? Everything is dark, but I can hear a voice. It sounds like it's echoing in my mind, yet at the same time feels far away. It's strange, yet familiar. It feels cold and dangerous, yet also king and forgiving.

I try to open my eyes, but only darkness surrounds me. But as I look around, I can feel but not see a presence. I reach out toward the presence, my skin getting warmer, and my eyes being forced to close as it gets brighter and brighter until-

"It's time to take form, Novaculite."

My eyes open once again, and I feel like I'm coming to being, my consciousness slowly hitting me, and the glow around me subsiding as I open my eyes again. I look down, finding red arms and darker poofy red hair draping over my shoulder. An outfit appears last, a skin-tight bodysuit under a very dark, almost black, red dress.

"Ah, there you are."

I look up at the voice, sensing the presence I felt when everything was dark. The owner of the voice is more than twice my height, and is completely white, an upside down diamond on her forehead. Even at a glance, I can tell that she is perfect, free of even a tiny twinge of a color outside of white and grey.

I ask, "Where am I?"

My voice is louder than I thought it would be, and I cover my mouth as my words reverberate around the deep chasm the two of us seem to be stuck in.

The tall white individual simply chuckles warmly, responding, "You're on Homeworld, Novaculite. Out of all the Gems I've made thus far, you are by far the tallest. And your uniform? I've never seen one quite like it!"

She seems amazed by my mere presence, and I find myself laughing along with her.

After a moment, she clears her throat, saying, "I am White Diamond, leader of all of Gem kind."

I absentmindedly ask, "All of Gemkind?"

I look down toward the ground and see a couple dozen assorted tiny Gems running below, some barely reaching above my ankle in height. I notice a few stopping in their tracks to look up at White Diamond and I in admiration before a Gem I can only recognize to be an Agate muttering something I can't hear at them before they all rush back to what they were supposed to be doing.

I scratch the back of my head, adding, "Seems like a big responsibility."

White Diamond nods, saying, "It is, which is why I was hoping to create a Gem to help rule them. I was hoping it would be another Diamond like myself, but it seems the others still have quite a while in the ground yet. The Peridots say it may take centuries before they are ready, and I don't have that kind of time."

I ask, "So you're picking me, my Diamond?"

White Diamond smiles wide, responding, "Precisely, little one. You catch on quick. I like that about you, Novaculite." I smile at the compliment, and she continues, "You are only to take over some of my responsibilities and serve as my second in command until the others are ready."

I form a diamond shape with my forearms and wrists, almost as if on instinct, saying, "I will do my best to aide you in whatever way I can for as long as I live, my Diamond."

She holds up a hand to me, saying, "Ah ah, I wasn't finished." I drop my hands back down to my sides, and she adds, "If you do well, your position may become permanent, though you will also be below the other Diamonds when they do take form. Diamonds are perfection, after all. We must be atop Gemkind to rule them, as we are the only ones strong enough to protect them."

I take a moment to make sure she's done talking this time, saying, "Thank you, my Diamond. I am most appreciative of the power you have so generously bestowed upon me."

White Diamond smiles, turning around and gesturing for me to follow her. She leads me out of the chasm that she's named the Prôtos Kindergarten. I'm taken to a large building that is able to accommodate even White Diamond's grand height quite easily, and we end up outside of what seems to be a large laboratory.

"This will be where you will be spending a majority of your time when you are not delegating the Gems below you. This lab is used to make advanced weaponry and technology, like what the Peridots have been developing to check on the Gems incubating in the Kindergarten. Many Gems come with their own weapons, and it will be your job to make weapons for the ones who don't come with their own. The Peridots have also been working on trying to invent ships capable of leaving our planet to expand our power. Homeworld is already running out of resources to make new Gems rather quickly."

She starts walking away, and as I step into the doorway to my new headquarters, White adds, "Oh, and Novaculite?" I pop my head back into the hallway to see her eyes narrow slightly, her smile not wavering as she adds, "Don't disappoint me."

[sparklingandtwinkling]

Villians

Lord Diabolos (Hedgehog) - Ruler of Black Crystal Empire. Trapped in a mirror.

Doctor Ivo "Eggman" Robotnik (Human) - Right hand of Diabolos. Is trying to find a way to free him. Can summon Gemniks from people's failures. Negative Stone is a Topaz.

Orbot (Tech Armadillo) - Doctor Ivo's assistant.

Cubot (Tech Golden Retriever) - Doctor Ivo's assistant.

Dr. Starline (Platypus) - Diabolo's general. Wants to take Ivo's spot, he has the tendency to copy him quite a lot. Can summon Gemniks from people's pains in life. Negative Stone is an Emerald.

Surge (Tenrec) - A mysterious Tenrec who works for Starline. Surge has the ability to control lightning. Can summon Gemniks from people's want of revenge. Negative Stone is a Sapphire.

Kitsunami (Fennec Fox) - A mysterious Fennec Fox who works for Starline. Kit has the ability to manipulate water. Can summon Gemniks from people's regrets. Negative Stone is an Amethyst.

Infinite (Jackal) - Diabolo's general. Can summon Gemniks from people's greed. Negative Stone is a Peridot.

Lien-Da (Echidna) - Diabolo's general. Is very loyal to Ivo and as a result clashes with Starline and is questioned on her loyalty to Diabolos. Can summon Gemniks from people's sadness. Negative Stone is a Rudy.

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Previously | Next: ❌

[megabuild]

i was already struggling with my adie design because i kept accidentally leaning into stuff i already had for pixelle (eg. he's a steampunk guy, i'm swithering on giving him a cane/leg brace because. smiles) but now im realising that if he comes to season 10 through a amethyst rift then that's. just like the empires crossover. which in aoyuer/my general lore ive already established is time travel not dimension/worldhopping. i could make him a little 1910s victorian boy...

[horizon-verizon]

As a Yi Ti stan it pains me to say this, but the Blood Betrayal isn't the definitive story of how the Long Night began. It's the YiTish legend. It centers around YiTish gods (the Lion of Night and the Maiden-made-of-Light) and the mythical predecessors to the Rainbow Emperors of the Golden Empire. The Gemstone Emperors and the Great Empire of the Dawn might not have existed. So unless GRRM confirmed it, there'd be no reason for HotD to include an Amethyst Empress ref :(

("AWoIaF -- Bones and Beyond -- Yi Ti")

Why do you think that bc it's from Yi Ti, it has no bearing, thematically or magically, on Rhaenyra-Aegon-the loss of magical defenders against the Others and therefore Dany? A character who's story begins and develops in the East part of Planetos unlike evry other character we know and have read from?

Another thing: ancient greek myths are not "originally" "Greek" or from the Greek isles. they came from Mesopotamia, Anatolia/Turkey, etc. Just bc these are myths and legends, doesn't mean real events or people didn't inspire them just as some do in real life. You can't say these emperors didn't exist at all when we know the traditions could have been many emperors adopt titles from past one for the image of longevity. And those god you mention? Those names for those gods are very general, evocative, and metaphorical, which means that they easily could have been figures/deities of many different names to different peoples/those names passed down from other cultures that the Yi Ti-ish adopt. In fact, it's pretty rare you get mythical figures/gods totally and proven to be original form just one culture.

Aphrodite? She comes from the Phoenician goddess Astarte, from the Semitic goddess Ishtar, based on the Sumerian cult of Inanna. If you look to Jesus, he's developed from Dionysus and the mythic tale of a self sacrificed, sometimes cannabalized, male figure who replenishes the earth. Myths are not direct copies...nor are they "original".

Just bc these tales/myths are recorded last as coming last from Yi Ti and they form specifically Yi Tish gods, doesn't mean they do not have cultural significance and history and influence (or even developed from another people) in Esso's past. These people are connected by land after all. That's simply not how human societies work, and GRRM knows that.