#he sacrifices his life for you and his son! how noble. his son takes over as Keeper. He's not as wise yet but he is powerful and SMART

[attractthecrows]

making myself moody by contemplating the clan Revallen left behind

[evilminji]

You know all those Cults in Gotham?

Bet at least ONE of them could spring for both a Legit Magic User and a Cloning pod.

Because The Wayne's? Hearts of Gold. Long standing pains in the asses. Probably the only thing standing between this gods forsaken wasteland of a city and Their Dark Lord. For GENERATIONS no less!

It's sooooo obnoxious!

So they want to Curse Um dead. Just a good ol fashioned bloodline curse. Destroy um from within, etc. BUT! To do THAT? You kinda need a blood relative to sacrifice!

And Bruce is... well... rather infamously An Orphan With No Biological Kids (at that point).

So? What do you do? Make one, obviously. You send in some of your own on a Holy Mission. Honeypot that playboy! Get us a kid to sacrifice! Our God will reward you etc! But... FFS! What? Are brunettes not your TYPE or something?! Pretty lady! Throwing herself at you!!

TAKE THE BAIT!

But he DOESN'T. Because he's both really used to that behavior, as The Wayne Heir and a False Playboy, AND because? He's fuckin Batman. He can see through your schemes.

Okay.

Okay!

Plan B!

Get us some DNA. We'll CLONE the sucker. That should be doable, right?

........OH COME ON! How?!

Batman: [REDACTED] / Cultists: 0

Fuck it! This is impossible! How are we supposed too... *eyes drift over to the Wayne Family Private Graveyard* .......Idea? Ideeeeaaaa~! Someone get us a shovel!

So they, cultist bastards that they are? Fuckin rob a grave for some DNA.

OBVIOUSLY though, it can't be one of the more RECENT graves! He probably VISITS those! Watches them! No we gotta be SNEAKY! Get one a bit further back! Mwahahahaha! We're so brilliant! Our God is gonna give us SUCH a Good Grade in follower!

A thing that is both REAL and possible to achieve!

So, while a Weirdly FURIOUS Batman? Is just... VIOLENTLY breaking ALL of their bones? Cultist 17 is furiously digging like his life depends on it. Either somebody snitched or Batman was hunting them down! Either way?

Gotta! Get! That! DNA!!! *digs faster*

Ah HA! Got it!

Fucking SCATTER! Run you fools, RUN!!! *everyone bolts*

And AT LAST! They have it! Wayne DNA! Now? Pop that sucker into the machine and make us a baby! Too sacrifice! *relieved noises* Man, that was hard work you guys. But we DID it!

Except??

Theoretical Babies? And "Real, slowly forming in front of me and becoming a human child" type babies? VERY DIFFERENT psychologically. It's ONE thing to sacrifice a HYPOTHETICAL baby... but when you're the guy running and monitoring the Cloning machine? Watching it slowly form and come together into... into a CHILD?

You start asking questions of yourself. Of God.

Of what, EXACTLY, you are willing to do.

What lines you find yourself unwilling to cross.

And yeah, your life was SHIT before the cult. Yeah, you were alone. Adrift. Without purpose. Angry at the world for all of its ugliness and failings. But... sitting, alone, in a dark room? Nothing but the steady hum of machines and the cool light of that pod? You are left with nothing but time... and your thoughts.

And the baby.

The one... the one YOU made.

Almost... he's almost like a son, in a way. Your son. Floating there, innocent and unknowing. Destined to be born, only to die painfully, for a cause he could not even begin to understand. Because he's too young. Too small. Just... just a baby.

The baby YOU made.

Doubt seeps in like mist. Creeping into the cracks forming in your faith. Surely there's another way, right? Why not save up for a better magician? Or... or hire a hitman? Why involve a child? Surely... surely your God would not WANT this, right? Or if He did! Surely, he would want the boy to be able to CHOOSE, right? A noble sacrifice, for the cause?

The pressure builds. Batman is tearing the city APART looking for your fellow Believers. Leadership is pressuring you to get "It" ready all ready.

He's not an "it".

They are dismissing your questions. Threatening and posturing, as you grapple with your faith. Where? Where is the COMMUNITY that you joined? The camaraderie? Every day, Believers are being torn down. The faith has lost so many!

How can this be WORTH it?

Your faith is slowly, cruelly, strangled in your chest. A death, by ten thousand silences, and ten thousand more cruelties.

Your son is ready.

You do not tell them.

The Clone of Bruce Wayne's great-grandfather is small, but healthy, in your arms. A tiny warm body, with a strong beating little heart. You call the police. Leave your phone, call running, on the desk. No one thinks to stop you, as you calmly walk out the back door.

Why would they doubt?

You are Faithful.

You drive. Pray to a God you have lost faith in, beg forgiveness for what you do now. Your beat up old junker of a car makes decent time, as you leave Gotham. Your son, asleep in a carefully made nest of blankets, on the seat next to you. You drive. You keep driving.

Past towns.

Past cities.

Out of the state.

Stopping only to feed your son and fuel your car. You... you can not bring yourself to care about what will happen to you now. You know they will find you. Know this is the end. But something ancient burns in your chest. A caring you never thought was REAL.

You are afraid.

But you will not let them harm your son.

Finally, a town. Far from Gotham. Quite and cheerful. It calls to you.

Here. It... it has to be here.

You find the hospital. Tears choking you. There is a place to drop of children. You've seen them before. How strange, that now you stand before it and HURT. Your arms not listening to your command. You... you have to do this. You HAVE too.

He is just a baby.

He is your son.

You have to keep him safe. And... and that can not be with you.

You gently put your baby boy into the drop off. Press the buzzer. And then? You make yourself walk away.

Get back in your car, and drive. The gun in your glove box will insure they can never pry from you, what you have done. Where he is. He is safe now. He has to be. You... you did your job. As his father. You made sure he was safe.

You can barely see the road, through your tears.

You take your secrets to the grave.

And Danny? He grows up. Is adopted young and never knows different. Both a Fenton and a Wayne. Knowing only one of these, to be his. But... that Wayne? Was a damn fine man. A pillar of his community and a champion of the people.

Got tossed more then a few blessings, in his life.

They weren't the STRONGEST. But they added up. And more importantly? Were hardly the refined magics of the more powerful. They were cast onto "Him". By blood and bone, more often then not. Which was all well and good!

When there was only ONE of "Him".

Cloning technology did not exsist. So why would you word carefully against it? Danny becomes a VERY lucky boy. Survives many things he should not. In fact, the kindness and hard work of his original? Gifted back in magically powered well wishes? By this, he survives something NO ONE could possibly expect him too.

It saves his life.

His template would be quite pleased, knowing that. That his life of good deeds, saved the life of the child he never got a chance to meet. That it protected his children, from even beyond death.

And in Gotham? At long, long last. The program Bruce made in his helplessness and despair, to search EVERY child until the child made of his bloodline was found? Spits out a match.

A Watchtower engineer.

Daniel J. Fenton.

@hdgnj @hypewinter @lolottes @babbling-babull @nerdpoe @mutable-manifestation

[howi99]

Prince of Vale part 1

Yang: *sigh* Why are we in detention... Again?

Weiss: *side eying Blake* Because someone decided to run head-first into a major heist!

Blake: *rolling her eyes* How was i supposed to know they wouldn't surrender on the spot?

Weiss: *bewildered* You.... You are joking, i hope? Or else, i'd think even Jaune would be brighter than you.

Blake: *sigh* Yes, i am. *Crossing her arms behind her head, looking up* But i wasn't expecting it to go south that badly.

Ruby: *reading the newspaper, at first out of boredom but now completely focused* Speaking of Jaune, did any of you knew that he's basically a prince?

Weiss: *looking at Yang, not believing her* What are you on about? That baffoon can't even speak properly and has no manners. You can't seriously believe- *get shoved the newspaper in her face* Hey!

Ruby: *point at the article* I'm not joking. Page 21, "the only son of the Valois, a branch of the old royal family, returned to Vale as a huntsman-in-training". It even says that they still own a majority of the lands south and east of Vale.

Weiss: *taking the newspaper, beginning to read aloud* Yesterday, the only remaining branch of the royal family with a claim on the throne announced that... *Blink* that... *Put the newspaper down, goes to her end table to pick up reading glasses then take back the journal* ... IS THIS SOME KIND OF JOKE!?

Yang: *looking over her shoulder, reading* Oh? Oh! *Devious smile* Oh oh oh damn! *Look at Ruby* that's for real!?

Ruby: *nods* Hm!

Blake: ... What's going on?

Weiss: *not calm at all* What's going on? WHAT'S GOING ON!? THAT DULL IMBECILE IS THE NEXT IN LANE TO THE THRONE! HE'S GOING TO BE KING NEXT YEAR!

Blake: *takes the newspaper from her* That can't be right... *Read in silence* ... Hm. *Look up* Well, congratulations Weiss, you insulted and spate on the kindness of the soon-to-be king of Vale.

Yang: *crossing her arms with a grin* So, remember all these times you said he was just after your name?

Weiss: That doesn't change anything! And how was i supposed to know he was a Vallois!?

Blake: Well, the article does say he was hidden and sheltered almost all his life, due to the family not wanting him to be distracted from his noble duties.

Weiss: *blanching* Oh god... That's why he's so inept with social interaction!?

Yang: *nods* Yep. *Place her hand on Weiss shoulder* Ice queen, you insulted and denigrated someone who basically just began learning about socialising.

Blake: *look surprised, then worried*

Ruby: *looking at Blake* What's wrong?

Blake: ... Ruby, Did you read the end of the article?

Ruby: *shaking her head* No. I was to excited to share the news, why?

Blake: The reason Jaune is getting the throne... His mother... *She stop talking*

Ruby: *realising what Blake was going to say, hurriedly rush out of the room*

Yang: *Knowing full well the look on Blake's face* Shit. *Goes after Ruby*

Weiss: *clueless, take the newspaper* What's wrong with her? *Read, then freeze up* Oh god... That's... That's horrible...

Blake: *nod* Yeah...

Meanwhile, in the cafeteria

Jaune: *reading the newspaper* ...

Nora: *stuffed with pancakes* Ah~ *sees Jaune getting up* Jaune Jaune? Where are you going?

Jaune: *stop for a second, then smile at Nora* Oh nothing, i just... Want to go for a walk. I shouldn't be long.

Pyrrha: *looking at him, perplexed* Really? But, you said you couldn't feel your legs because of training. You sure you will be fine?

Jaune: *laughing* I was just exaggerating, Pyrrha. Beside, it's not like i can slack off, right.

Pyrrha: Do you want some company? I just finished and i could for a little run

Jaune: *shaking his head* Nah, i'll be fine. I won't ask you to sacrifice your morning for me.

Pyrrha: *sigh* As if spending time with my partner would be a sacrifice. You really should work on your self esteem, you know?

Jaune: Eh eh, sorry. *Takes the newspaper with him* see you both later! *Leave*

Nora: *seeing him go* Something is off.

Pyrrha: *nod* Yeah. I know what i made him do yesterday and he should be crying in pain at every step. Heck, i'm still sore myself.

Nora: You know, you really sounds like you are fucking.

Pyrrha: *sigh* Nora, we both know i wished it was the case.

Nora: *chuckle* Eh, true... But seriously, he looked... Sad.

Pyrrha: I know... Should we follow him?

???: I wouldn't do that if i were you.

Pyrrha: *turning to see Ren* Why's that?

Ren: *sit down with them* He asked to be left alone. The best we can do is to follow his wish.

Nora: If you say so.

___________________________________________

Jaune: *sigh, tired, as he is sitting next to the fountain* ... *See two black boots with red laces* ... *Looks up, seeing a familiar pair of silver eyes reflecting his own eyes* ... Leave me alone...

Ruby: *silently sit next to him, not saying anything* ...

Jaune: ... *Looking at the horizon* ...

Ruby: *doing the same* ...

Jaune: ... *Close his eyes* I've always wanted to be a hero. Be there for others, always with a smile... *Chuckle* my mom thought it was stupid, that i would better serve the kingdom as a ruler. *His fist clench* I never wanted to be a prince. I wanted to be like my dad, an Arc... That's the last thing i said to her, when i left. *Shaking his head* Can you imagine? I spat on everything she ever did for me, even though i know she loved me and my sisters more than anything. And all of this for what? I'm no hero, no huntsman, no nothing.

Ruby: *looking at Jaune, seeing tears running down his face* ... *She gets closer to him, now shoulder to shoulder*

Jaune: ... She was sick when i left. And i didn't even saw it. I never asked why she was tired all the time, or why she looked so sad when she was with us... I... *Shaky breath* I even refused her parting gift. The one she made for me, even after all i had said and done.... I... *Tries to wipe away his tears with his hands, failing* I... *Sobbing* I should have been the one dying... *Cry* I'm so sorry....

Ruby: *hug him* Don't say that... *Hug him harder* Never say things like that...

Jaune: *trying to get out of the hug, still crying* I'm a monster! I said all those things, i refused to listen! How *sob* how could you understand!?

Ruby: I can't! *She looks at him, tears in her eyes* When my mom died, the last thing i said to her was goodnight, so i can't understand what you are feeling!

Jaune: *still trying to get rid of her hug* THEN WHY? WHY SHOULD I LIVE? I DIDN'T CARE FOR HER! SHE WAS DYING IN FRONT OF ME AND I DIDN'T EVEN SEE IT!

Ruby: *tightening her grip* BECAUSE YOU CARED! YOU CARED SO MUCH THAT YOU WOULD DIE FOR HER AND THAT, BOTH ME AND MY SISTER KNOW HOW IT FEELS!

Jaune: *weakening his attempts* B-but all i said... All these mean things-

Ruby: *now crying as much as him* YOU THINK I NEVER WAS MAD WITH MY FATHER? WITH MY SISTER? *Sobbing, her voice trembling* WE.... We are teens! We are stupid, brash and our mouths are full of... Of shit!

Jaune: Bu-

Ruby:NO! NO BUT! *Pleading look* Please! You know she wouldn't want that!

Jaune: *looking down, still sobbing* I... I know she wouldn't want that. *Sob* I know she would prefer that i laugh and smile but... It's so hard.

Ruby: *placing her forehead on his* I know it's hard... I know it will never be the same... But... *sobbing* You are my best friend... And... I won't let you go. Never ever.

Jaune: *hugging Ruby back* Ruby...

Ruby: *sob* So! I want you to promise me to never say that again!

Jaune: W-what? Why?

Ruby: *sad smile* You said an Arc never goes back on a promise. S-so...

Jaune: ... *Sigh* I can't promise you that Ruby...

Ruby: *hugging him harder* ...

Jaune: ... But i can try. *Shake his head* no... I will try.

Ruby: *looking into Jaune's eyes* Can you promise that?

Jaune: *calming down, weakly laughing* Yes, i promise i will try my best, Ruby.

Ruby: Arc promise?

Jaune: *nod* Arc promise.

???: *coughing* So... Should i call dad and tell him you two are finally dating or?

Ruby and Jaune: *both look up, seeing Yang and the rest of team JNPR*

Yang: *looking at them, smiling gently* Are you ok? Both of you?

Jaune: *nod* I'll manage... *Look at Ruby*

Ruby: yeah, *nod* i'm ok.

Yang: *nod* Ok good. *Grin* But my question still stands, since you both seem glued together.

Ruby and Jaune: *realising they are still hugging very close from one another, separate quickly*

Ruby: We are not dating!

Jaune: Y-yeah! We are just friends!

Yang: Aw~ you are both blushing! *Chuckle* I'm joking l, you two.

Pyrrha: *crossing her arms, looking both relieved and angry* You know you disappeared on us, right?

Jaune: *looking perplexed* what?

Nora: We were searching you for hours! We only found you because they both spotted you here!

Jaune: *looking at his scroll* It's already 5? *Shaking his head* Him sorry, i didn't think-

Ren: You don't need to be sorry. *Sigh* Honestly, we should be the ones asking for forgiveness. I... Honestly thought you were sad because Weiss rejected you again.

Jaune: ... Pfft, Ahahahahaha!

Pyrrha: Jaune?

Jaune: *still laughing*

Nora: *questioning look at Ren*

Ren: *shrug*

Jaune: *calming down* Oh gods, i needed that! *Gets up* I guess my etiquette and manners classes did teach me something, if all you three were fooled. *Weak smile* But still, i'm sorry for worrying you guys.

Nora: *nod* Good, you don't have the same sadness in your eyes.

Pyrrha: Next time, i'll be the one who will comfort you... Wait! I didn't mean i wanted you to be sad! I don't want this to happen again!

Jaune: *chuckle* Dont worry, i got the meaning.

Ruby: *getting back up* So... See you later?

Jaune: *turn around, nodding* Yeah, see you after detention.

Ruby: ...! Oh shoot! The detention!

Meanwhile

Blake: ... You think we will also get into trouble?

Weiss: Honestly? I would be surprised if we weren't. *Sigh* Why do everyone forget we have scrolls?

[rodanhoax]

Jaune: *Wielding the relic of destruction* It's over Pyrrha! Give me back my son!

Pyrrha: Don't you mean, "our" son?

Jaune: Pyrrha... y-you look so different.

Pyrrha: I did a little something with my hair. And my lips.

Jaune: Are those thigh highs?

Pyrrha: So you noticed those too?

Ironwood: Okay Jaune, take the shot.

Pyrrha: What do you think of them?

Jaune: I uh... um-

Ironwood: She's standing right there, Jaune. Take the shot.

Pyrrha: Do you like my open bust dress~?

Jaune: Oh god yeah.

Qrow: What the hell is wrong with you?!

Port: Blast this harpy!

Jaune: I'm sorry guys, b-but I cant.

Port: The shrew has been forged from brimstone.

Qrow: Translation?

Ironwood: He's saying she's an evil clone.

Jaune: I hear ya. Counterpoint:

Jaune: She's really hot.

Qrow: Damn it Arc!

Port: Reject women! Embrace huntsmanship!

Ironwood: Can't you see how evil she is?!

Pyrrha: I'm going for the goth girlfriend look.

Jaune: Okay guys, I know she's an evil clone... But, she is the mother of my child. To be honest, this situation is confusing as hell for me. I... I'm tapping out.

Qrow: Tapping out?

Ironwood: You're a huntsman, you can't tap out.

Jaune: Dude, I'm tapping out.

Port: What would Ozpin think of this treason?

Jaune: The professor?

-Flashback-

Ozpin: You're like a son to me Jaune, I trust you with my very life. I want you to know that I keep a gun in hidden inside my cane. It's always with me Jaune. I sleep with it. I dream of it. You can never be too careful around these students-

Jaune: It's not working, he... keeps talking about guns.

Ironwood: Guns?

Jaune: Yeah.

Qrow: That doesn't sound right.

Pyrrha: Are you sure this isn't his evil clone?

Jaune: He kind of hinted it was for... self defense?

Port: Guns are nothing before my axe!

Qrow: Isn't your axe also a gun?

Port: Silence!

Ironwood: You don't think the professor actually used it do you?

Jaune: Do I think the professor shot someone? No, of course not. That's like totally ridiculous. Besides, we would have heard about it.

Pyrrha: He could have just wiped your memories.

Jaune: What?

Pyrrha: He could have shot someone then wiped everyone's memories about the event. With his magic it would have been easy for him.

Jaune: This is a terrifying thought.

Ironwood: Don't listen to her Jaune!

Pyrrha: Join me Jaune. The Grimm Queen needs a king.

Jaune: Not gonna lie, Grimm Queen is kind of weird, but i'm in.

Port: Step away from her you fool!

Jaune: I'm kind of bricked up at the moment.

Qrow: Don't worry Arc, I know this ain't easy. That's why I offer myself... as a sacrifice. Do what you want to me Pyrrha, make me your freaky sex puppet for all I care. Just let Arc go!

Port: What a noble gesture!

Ironwood: He is truly the best of us.

Qrow: Tie me up. Slap me. Step on me! It's alright, my ego ain't that big. Just leave the kid out of this!

Jaune: I know what you're doing.

Qrow: You ain't gotta thank me Jaune. Y'know... I really shoulda said this sooner, but... but you're like a brother to me!

Jaune: You've always had a thing for her.

Qrow: Oz would've been proud of ya, kid. I know I sure as hell am.

Jaune: You can't just live out your sick fantasies with my fake goth girlfriend!

Port: Your words can no longer reach him... His heart is set.

Ironwood: We shall remember you, Qrow... We shall remember you.

Qrow: So Pyrrha... How ya wanna do this? Should I take off the cape now, or-

Pyrrha: Sorry, Qrow, but you're a little old for my taste. Not to mention a furry.

Qrow: Furries deserve love!

[limpfisted]

Something I think taken for granted for "good and heroic" characters like wyll is

How hard it is to be a hero in settings like this in gen. especially a solo hero.

And then u look at will especially at 17, especially after just losing half of your vision, and now being obligated to hunt devils for mizora, and not being able to tell people who you are or why you have magical powers

Wylls life has been extremely difficult.

Hes not "some rich boy." In fact, he tells you himself, he never really was. His father became grand Duke when he was 17. His father was a Duke before that, but his father was born to a poor blacksmith father and he was the youngest of six, so he worked his way up the ranks. Even as son of a Duke and grandduke---ulder was champion of the poorer "mythical middle class" lower city. All nobles and patriars are from the upper city. There's no way wyll wasn't looked down on by the upper city and then held to a certain untouchable standard as the flaming fist brat by the lower city/outer city people

And yet even at being some "rich boy" he excelled thru hard work and dedication, making things into a competition if nothing else, in which despite his Father's unsurpance to power, he still had PROOF he was the most charming, after all, he held the record for most sarabandes danced in a single evening, much to the exhaustion to the good lords and ladies of the courts.

But even so, with this "cushy life" (where he would get into trouble, mind you! Where his father would encourage him to get into fights, who would train him with a rapier, where he would drink in taverns in the lower city at 14 despite being "a noble rich boy" and hand deliver letters from his father to sharess's caress before he ever knew what went on with the pretty men and handsome ladies behind closed doors.)

Have you ever been camping, like experienced the holy shit, Outside of it all? I dont even like leaving the house without my phone. Wyll, 17, traveled all over the sword coast, with one eye, who knows how many supplies.

While wyll laughs off the trauma of it, losing an eye is a real ass disability that affects your motor skills. It can be difficult to do things like cut food at first, and it can take like 6 months WITH THERAPY for everything to feel "normal" again. Now imagine fending off goblins, and minotaurs, with no therapy, no physical therapy, no doctor. Having to navigate the cold of winter, cursed lands, mountains, all by yourself.

Having to learn to use you sword again, this time without your father. Remembering him every time you pick it up. Remembering the way he looked at you every time you face down a "devil." Spitting the words he would later say to you at them. They stink of avernus, they have brought ruin

Wyll dedicated his life to laboring for the people of the Sword Coast. It's not easy. He makes it look fun, because he's so proud of himself and happy to be helping people

But its actually hard and lonely. And it doesn't come easy, even to Wyll, I think. He had to train himself, it probably took him a long time to figure out what he was doing

I dont think wyll is really as inexperienced and naive as people think. Hes been to avernus, he's fought dragons and minotaurs. He's seen terrible things, he's STOPPED terrible things, and he's going to continue doing so, and choosing to do so, with the full knowledge of what that decision means, and the hard work and sacrifice it requires.

he's fully aware of who he is and what he's capable of, and he's extremely brave and strong and competent

Its good to be good for the sake of being good! And wyll does believe in fairy tales. But his dedication to the blade doesn't come because he's misinformed. Is he as experienced and powerful as he thinks he is? No, he's 24 LOL. But he's still done a lot! Has YOUR muse hunted devils thru avernus? Has ur muse even BEEN to avernus?

Wyll ravengard genuinely is improvising half the time---but more important than simply "being" good and wanting to do good----Wyll has the experience, practice and competence in serving a community to actually BETTER and protect communities.

In fandom spaces we often talk about how certain characters are "just so good" but we like. We forget about the effort it takes to actually commit to acts of doing good, the practice and perservance it takes to competently serve the community.

You can give the people the shirt off ur back but u run out of shirts eventually. Wyll has made himself an important resource on the Sword Coast for its safety. And I think we take that for granted bc its a genre staple, but like. He worked really hard. He dedicated himself to this.

He sold his soul, and he kept living and doing good anyway

[solspina]

Hello! I saw that your request box is open if this doesn’t suit your taste you can ignore this.

Could you write a hurt to comfort fic that involves a workaholic Guilliman and his politically married wife?

They knew they had being married to a primark would be rough but they didn’t think it would be so emotionally draining/lonely. Guilliman finally decides to do something and acknowledges his wife when one day she’s considering divorce and there are TOO many suitors waiting to have her hand.

Could you add how Robute pines for her but doesn’t know how to show how he loves her because he’s trying to manage a dying imperium and he doesn’t think he’s worth loving?

Never Again Will I be Gone

roboute guilliman ⋆˙⟡

i deeply apologize if this is rushed, i couldn’t figure out how to end it and it may be a little all over the place, but i hope it is enjoyed nonetheless!

why spill blood if things can be handled peacefully? guilliman is far too afraid of becoming attached or falling in love with his wife, and eventually she places the most dreaded option on the table for him. when tragedy befalls her, guilliman can hold his act of withdrawal no longer

warnings: blood, distant ass guilliman

how she had gone from being an incredibly privileged noblewoman to the wife of the last remaining primarch, she did not know.

there was a point in time she had believed she was a beacon of hope for her people. once her father’s reign was over, she would finally be able to restore peace to her planet, heal the sick and the dying, uplift the thousands that resided there from poverty. It was only when she stood on the altar and was encapsulated within the piercing blue gaze of roboute guilliman that she realized her people could not be saved.

the planet she resided on, the one she was supposed to rule, had an astonishing militia. the imperium did not wish extinction upon an innocent colony, nor did they want to challenge a planet that would undeniably put up a fight. teaching her father the ways of the emperor was far easier than trying to convince him that a woman could lead or be of any importance.

that ideal had been drilled in her head her entire life. she was to be married off from the day she was born. not a single suitor met her father’s standards, for none of them held enough power, until guilliman.

but it was fulgrim who convinced guilliman to take a wife in the first place. her planet was dangerous. if a peaceful negotiation was on the table, why sacrifice any lives?

fulgrim relaxed in his chair, pulling his wine glass away from his lips with a sly but genuine smile on his face. “you don’t have to love her guilliman. ive wed dozens of women. we do this out of necessity for peace, not out of love.” he said, his tone aloof and dismissive. guilliman hated to admit that his brother was right, thousands of his sons and innocent humans did not need to lose their lives when peace was on the table. “besides,” fulgrim added, his eyes gleaming with mischief and something akin to lust. “she is quite beautiful. i’d watch your back, i’ve heard others deeply desire an opportunity with her” guilliman’s expression remained stale and unmoving from the papers on his desk, though an unfamiliar feeling flickered through his eyes at the thought of someone else coveting his soon to be wife. was this possession?

“sure thing, brother.” guilliman replied, cold, unfeeling, and professional as usual.

he did not get to meet her until their wedding day, and quite beautiful she was. gorgeous fragile, and timid. her cowardice in his presence was something he was not anticipating of a noble, let alone the daughter of an incredibly cruel king. yet her eyes, glassy with tears, looked upon her people with great sympathy and sadness. they looked back at her the same way. she was not cruel, she was kind. these people were being ripped away of the only kindness they had been shown from their rulers.

when her father approached the two of them, she seemed to shrink into guilliman, clinging to his arm as if her father would rip her away the moment he got close enough. the king’s gaze shifted back and forth between guilliman and the girl, before her wrist was grabbed with such force guilliman swore he heard a crack. “i’d like to say goodbye to my dearest daughter” the man said, cooing as she whimpered at the pressure on her wrist, her hand turning blue.

guilliman’s eyes narrowed as he wrapped an arm around her. “release her, and say your goodbyes here, then.” he stood sternly, eyeing the girl’s hand. her father let go, not expecting such a protective tone from the primarch. “i will not depart from my wife.”

he protected her from her father, sure. but his words were a lie. for he did not have to love her.

throughout 6 months of marriage, he had only allowed himself to see her a dozen or so times, each meeting brief and rushed. his sons took great care of her in his absence, always sure to carefully to reply to every “where’s lord guilliman?” with a flat and prompt “he’s busy”.

the only time she remembered physical contact with him was the kiss they shared their wedding day, and the occasional brushing of hands when she handed him his paperwork. being allowed to sit in his office and watch him do his work was a rare and very awkward occurrence. she had her own room. her own space. she should spend time there instead. neither her or her belongings were allowed in guilliman’s personal quarters, anything to stop her sweet and intoxicating scent from getting on his sheets. anything to stop him from falling in love. he does this out of necessity, he has no time for love. he did not have to love her.

he’d admire her from a distance instead, or he’d submerge himself in papers and documents to avoid catching a glimpse of her. she’d sit in her room, contemplating the blank tear stained divorce papers that sat upon her dresser as she traced her fingers over the contours in her wedding ring. all the paper needed was guilliman’s signature.

her quarters were still close to his despite being separated. he heard her cries at night, incredibly often. comfort, she needs comfort. she needs warmth. he’s been in that room before, it’s so… so cold. he knew, and yet never once did he act on it. instead, he sat alone in his room doing paperwork by the warmth of his fireplace, the cracking flames helping drown out her sobs. he did his best to ignore them. he did not have to love her.

sometimes he couldn’t help but stop and listen, pressing his ear against the cold wall, knowing just how freezing and lonely it must be past the walls of his massive and elaborate quarters. his bed was more than big enough for the both of them, and he mulled over the thought many times. it didn’t matter, a little cold wouldn’t kill her, he did not have to love her.

one particular night, though, guilliman did not hear her crying as usual. her sobs and the sounds of the fire were replaced by heavy footsteps approaching his door. the heavy metal boots of cato sicarius were unmistakable as he made his way toward the primarch, a stern but panicked look across his features. Something about the look on cato’s face caused guilliman’s heart to quicken.

“my lord” cato’s voice was close to trembling, sweat pooling on his forehead “it’s lady guilliman… she’s hurt” cato’s voice echoed despite his panting. guilliman rose to his feet with an urgency he had never before felt toward his wife, his heart filled with a mix of panic, confusion, and anger.

“how badly?” he asked with a hint of controlled fury behind the question, every millisecond that passed causing him to dread every possible answer more and more until his heart felt as if it would beat out of his chest.

“she is in critical condition, my lord” the worst possible outcome rang through cato’s lips, but fell on deaf ears as the primarch plowed past him, walking directly to the medical unit and ignoring anything attempting to grab his attention along the way.

guilliman cursed to himself. to hear her cry was one thing, to long for her was one thing, but to be absent and allow her to become fatally injured?

when he arrived in the medical bay, multiple medicae surrounded the bloody and trembling body of lady guilliman. tears poured from her eyes despite her state of near-unconsciousness, the clear wound left by none other than the claws of the night haunter was swollen and crimson, it’s bright redness mixed with black screamed at guilliman. he should’ve been there. there was not an excuse in the universe that would satisfy the fact he was blind enough to let konrad curze get his filthy hands on his wife.

“where’s… guilliman…” she choked out, past her exhaustion and teary eyes.

one of the nurses seemed to tense up at her sad and confused expression. despite his constant absence, despite the papers for divorce he had found on his desk, she still cried out for him. “i apologize my lady, he’s busy” the nurse responded, watching her face twist into a look of defeat. he’d already signed the papers, had them prepared for her, and placed them on her nightstand in her quarters.

his heart could hold its true feelings no longer as he felt it begin to crumble. “i’m here.” his voice announced his presence as he approached her bedside, the nurse who cared for her widened her eyes in shock, swiftly stepping to the side to allow guilliman to see his wife. she reached up weakly with a single one of her tiny hands. her eyes were half lidded, confused and full of sorrow.

he stepped forward, reaching out his own hand to grab onto hers. “you’re really here…” she whispered, a small smile upon her features. “you found my papers, guilliman?”

his smile, once mirroring hers, faded into the slightest frown. “yes.” he responded. his voice cold and yet sorrowful. “they are signed but,” he paused, wanting a moment to consider the weight of the words on his tongue. “I cannot let you return home until you have recovered.”

she frowned. “i don’t want to go back home, roboute.” he tensed at her use of his first name, the only piece of his identity that was truly his own. “but there i had my people, and here i have nothing at all…” her voice broke as she cried, the pain of her wound overwhelming her as the machines stitching her wound together brought healing alongside pain. Exhausted and in something akin to agony, tears began to stream down her face.

“then i will give you everything” he replied with a solemn vow, turning to face the nurse as she nodded toward the primarch, the machine finishing its work and signaling to him that she was free to go as long as she did not walk or strain her body for a few days. he, for the first time, lifted his wife into his arms with more gentleness than that of which a primarch was capable.

he carried her into his room, past her own freezing cold quarters. he’d have her personal belongings moved within the next few days. Gently, he lay her on the soft rug next to his fireplace, not wanting to stain his bedsheets with her blood or hurt her as his period of scheduled rest passed. he removed his own armor, placing it to the side with ease before moving over to his bed. He did not lie down, instead grabbing a soft blanket and draping it over her body, ensuring she stayed warm. He sat next to her, placing her head on his thigh as she nestled into him for both comfort and warmth.

perhaps his scheduled rest meant nothing at all. damn the schedule. he had more important things to attend to now, and those marines of his were more than competent enough to handle it. his focus now was on nothing more than his wife, the girl who lay with her head in his lap as he stroked her head, memorizing every hair on her scalp like he should’ve long ago.

she shifted in her sleep, her body instinctively cuddling closer to her husband, thankful for the warmth she had always longed for. she did not cry on this night. he placed his hand over her shoulder and leaned back against the wall, his heart finally willing to admit the truth. he did not have to love her, but he did. by the emperor, he did.

[vigilskeep]

Why don't you think Cal's gonna do the ritual?

loves morrigan, but has long since learned not to necessarily trust the people he loves

has already damned one son just by being his father, and i mentioned recently that i think the stigma against harm to children in orzammar culture is profound, let alone the stigma against failing to protect your own children

has just gotten to grips with how much it fucked him up to be raised by a mother who cared more about the purpose he had been born for than about him as a person, which is exactly what morrigan’s intentions at the time seem to be for this child

will have zero interest in preserving an old god soul which, probably regardless of morrigan’s explanations, he would see as part and parcel of his people’s great enemy that must be destroyed

magic is something he has little experience with except as something to fight. he doesn’t fear it as a whole, but he knows he doesn’t know enough to understand what morrigan might be doing, and that makes him wary

my current expectations are that at this point he will have committed to being in a monogamous relationship for the first time in his life, and that his overpowering sense of honour and duty will not take well to the idea of breaking his word there merely to save his own life

accepted his death when he was exiled until duncan said come, take your punishment with me. the blight was his purpose. when he slays the archdemon, that purpose will be over; why, then, should he extend his life at such costs/risks? in his head, it wouldn’t be so terrible to have lived the very best months of his life and end them in the moment of victory; he has seen those who deserve far more receive far less

all he has ever wanted or been taught is to do his duty. noble sacrifice has an appeal to him, and value in his culture, so just the idea of trying to evade such a thing—of shirking his duty, of cowardice—makes him flinch

i can see a potential version of events where he does do the ritual but the, uh, scales are weighted one way. i did make him with the intention of this being a possibility because it’s a worldstate i want to explore. yes i will still be brokenhearted about it on your dash even though i chose this

[bigidiotenergytm]

Poseidon looked at the tiny human before him, his expression unreadable.

An offer of servitude, huh? That was quite a surprise. As much as he wanted the puny mortal to perish, perhaps this would truly be a better alternative.

After all, killing the king would be too quick and, as such, would bring him no satisfaction.

Servitude, on the other hand, seemed tempting. Especially with how humiliating and humbling it would be for the arrogant Greek.

After a couple of seconds of dead silence, the god's expression finally changed, no longer hiding his thoughts.

A sly smile spread across his lips, his sharp, shark-like teeth shining in the midday sun.

"Hm, that's quite an interesting offer, king of Ithaca. I hope you understand what you are getting yourself into."

The earth-shaker paused for a second, placing his index finger under his chin as if deep in thought. Then, he looked the captain in the eyes. A wide, toothy grin was plastered on his face.

"Very well, I will accept your offer. However, take heed: I will be the one to decide how long your punishment will last."

With those ominous words, the lord of the seas summoned a large wave before allowing it to wash over the ship.

The men aboard let out a few screams, once again worried for their lives. The wave, however, harmed none of them.

Instead, when their panic finally subsided and they looked around, now drenched in salt water, their hearts sank; their captain was no longer.

Where Odysseus stood now lay only his royal belongings, the ones he shed in order to save them all.

The god of tides was gone as well, leaving a tranquil sea in his wake. The king of Ithaca had been taken underwater to serve the lord of the ocean.

Realizing what had happened, the crew began to weep, already missing their loyal king and brother.

After a while, once they had ran out of tears, they looked at the second in command, their eyes hopeful and pleading.

Eurylochus sighed, already aware of what the men were asking. He would have to take on the role of a leader and, worst of all, he would have to tell Penelope that her husband had become Poseidon's servant.

"We'll make it home, Ody, I promise. And I will ensure your wife and son are protected and well taken care of. It's the least I can do for you, captain."

I see you on the brink of death.

Of course it was the BETTER ALTERNATIVE. Odysseus was still handing his life to Poseidon on a silver platter.

Death was easier. A captain joining his crew at the bottom of the ocean. Their souls all but BEGGED for him in the Underworld. He could have given his life to save these remaining 43. Only but to echo the NOBLE SACRIFICE amongst his kingdom. Odysseus would go down a hero. A martyr. A fitting end.

But he can feel her. Feel Penelope. Wrapping her arms around him. The embrace he remembers. The embrace he loves. The embrace he's getting back to.

It doesn't matter how.

Odysseus's head hangs. Peppered locks overshadowing his eyes. Not even looking up as Poseidon finally replies. Finally considers. He doesn't decide right away. No. The Sea God has to make his point. Has to leave that offer in the salty air of his ocean. It has to bury deep. It has to be mocked.

Even when Poseidon accepts it. Eyes meet the God of Storm's. There wasn't another word that's said. His tide becomes an all-powerful wave, its shadow overcasting the ship as it only reminds the mortals on it how tiny their lives truly are. And just how short they can become.

I see you draw your final breath.

Odysseus can only lift his head high, closing his eyes. Accepting what's to come.

The wave overcomes the entire ship. Its water crashing against his skin as its sweeping force forces him to succumb to its raging current. Its pull dragging him into its water and deep underneath the surface. And it hurts. The pressure, the sea's grip, the cold ocean quickly replacing the air in his lungs.

I see a man who gets to make it home alive-

Odysseus struggles. That mortal, indomitable will to survive. A hand reaching out as Helios's influence basking the ocean's surface begins to darken. The surface blurs into a familiar shape. A shape telling him that he can relax. That it can tell he's getting nervous. ... Polities. That shape only joined by another. One telling him she'll stay in his heart. His mother. Then Penelope. Then Telemachus.

Waiting. Waiting. Waiting-

But it's NO LONGER YOU.

Everything goes black.

[byfulcrums]

Something I love about Star Wars is how Luke didn't fix Anakin, he gave him the courage to save himself.

Anakin Skywalker is both a villain (and an abuser. I mean he tortured his own daughter and cut off his son's hand, come on) and a victim, that much is obvious. He is, most importantly, a slave. There has never been a single moment of his life where he wasn't/hasn't felt like he was a slave to something. Watto, the Republic, Palpatine, maybe even himself — you name it. He has never been free.

When Luke goes to the second Death Star, he is going to his father, to the suffering Palpatine is putting Anakin through (he is the main victim of Sidious's abuse and torture, something many people tend to forget). To the suffering Anakin is making himself go through, because, while it was heavily influenced by Palpatine, Anakin's choice to never leave was his own.

He Fell, and that wasn't his fault, but he chose to stay there. Many people — namely Padmé — gave him second chances. Padmé gave Anakin the chance to leave and stay together, but he didn't take it. He did all of it to save her, and it the end, he ends up believing he was the one who killed her (he 'destroys' his goal, because that's what the Dark Side does. You may begin as a noble person looking to save someone, but the Dark Side isn't good, and you will lose track of yourself along the way.)

And now here he is, inside a prison that is seen as his own suit. A prison he was put in, a prison he chose to stay in. By the time of ROTJ, he truly believes that it's over for him. That nothing can save him. That there's no hope. Anakin, the lifelong slave, is resigned to his fate. “It is too late for me, son,” he tells Luke, who willingly came to him wearing shackles.

And Luke, still believing that there is some humanity in Darth Vader's armor, doesn't deter. He doesn't let his father's words stop him. He shows that he's willing to give himself away, to die, just to save him.

Luke Skywalker, son of Padmé and Anakin and the last Jedi Master left, shows a man turned monster that he loves him unconditionally. He shows him that no, it's not too late for him, not now and not ever. And this — his selflessness, his compassion — is what finally gets through Anakin. Someone loves him, and he loves them back. And he would do anything to keep them alive, including killing his own Master and breaking his chains.

It's Luke's own sacrifice that inspires Anakin to give up his life. It's Luke's undying hope that motivates Anakin to finally break his own chains. It's Luke's trust in him that gives Anakin the courage to save himself, and in that single act, he saves the entire galaxy.

The light comes to him in the form of one Luke Skywalker, extending his hand for the last time — the light comes to him when he takes it.

The Prophecy is fulfilled when Anakin kills Palpatine and leaves the dark. The galaxy is saved when a father dies for his son.

[shellem15]

Anyways I'm still not over my devil boys. Thinking about all the parallels between them:

Because like, the road to Hell is paved with good intentions, right? Draws in and punishes people for trying to be good, trying to *help* those they care about. And whether they succeed or not is irrelevant because in the end they're damned either way. That's the lie, then, that their sacrifice would ever actually change their fate.

And its just: HELL IS LIKE THAT BECAUSE IT’S A REFLECTION OF ITS LORD AND THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED TO *HIM*. THAT’S WHAT MADE HIM REAL IN THE FIRST PLACE AND NOW HES STUCK LIKE IT FOREVER!!!

That's what happened to Asmodeus and then he did it to Vespin Chloras and Zerxus and then Zerxus tried to do it with Pike too (in tlovm). It's a never-ending cycle where the one who's burned then becomes the fire for the next person!!! UGHHH

And it all starts with that one act of good intent, that act of sacrifice! Imri throwing himself to the flames, knowing he would burn, to protect his family at the cost of himself. Luz saving him but in the end he chooses to burn anyways, this time out of hate. Zerxus selling his soul to save his son and his world, knowing that damnation would be the end result. Nydas giving him an out, killing him before dawn struck but Zerxus stubbornly, hubristically clinging to life, to his ideals and pride, anyways. Choosing to burn and losing himself entirely in the process.

(Ironically enough Vespin kind of breaks the cycle? Trying to replace a god to remove a great evil from the world and instead damning it in the process. But when given his mind back he takes this chance and stretches it as far as he can, choosing not to be the fire but to give his world a chance at survival. Doing it knowing he will be hated anyways. Learning from his mistake, humbled at the consequences of his hubris where Asmodeus and Zerxus grew proud. Burning for it anyways. I get the sense that if he was given an out he would take it, unlike the other two.)

Love becomes sacrifice becomes resentment becomes hatred. Hatred towards those they sacrificed for because why did it have to be them who burned? Why do they get to be whole while I am broken? How dare they get to have light and love and happiness while I burn in the dark. Why didn't they burn with me? If they really loved me they would burn too!

Hatred towards those who seek to help them, because how dare you pity me. I chose this, I chose to burn! I knew the costs! How dare you spit in the face of my sacrifice! Did it truly mean so little to you that you would wipe away all trace of it!? Trying to heal me, trying to fix me, trying to redeem me, I did this for you! I didn't do anything wrong!

Hatred towards their corrupter, towards their damnation because everything was fine before they came along. Before they ruined everything! It's their fault for breaking it and now I'm going to make them pay for it! It doesn't matter who I hurt because nothing else matters except making sure they regret ever touching me.

Hatred towards themselves because how could someone be so stupid as to try? Love is weakness and sacrifice is for fools and those who throw themselves to the pyre deserve to burn. I'll prove it, to anyone who thinks themselves good and noble and true. Come find out.

And how could they not become resentful, to not have their love turn to hate? It's one thing to choose to burn and another to burn *forever*. A martyr is not supposed to live through the martyrdom, they're supposed to die. Their sacrifice is meant to have an end. They never got to have an end. (Though I will say, its very interesting that Zerxus chose not to die while Asmodeus seemingly *didn't*. He was dying, and the Everlight healed him. Gave him life but took peace with her.)

And the horns too! The symbol of their damnation, of corruption. But they didn’t get it that way, the horns were protection first, before anything. A testament to their love and sacrifice scarred into their flesh, on display for all to see. But that love born of protection is forgotten, both by others and themselves. Twisted into something rotten.

(No wonder Asmodeus is so good at manipulating good. He knows how good people think because that's how he thought, once. He could be so good at being good.)

They're burning. Always. They hate the fire but also, also-- they want to burn. They choose it every time because the alternative is to sacrifice the one thing they cannot, will not--their pride. They would have to be honest to do that, wouldn't they? Honest about the hurt they've caused, honest about how broken they've become. That they do not deserve their fate (that no one does), that while they were burned once they do not need to burn forever. There is always a choice. They'd have to be honest to change and they never will because the Devil sometimes tells the truth he is never honest. He can't be. He won't let himself.

[writing-intheundercroft]

WIP Tag Game

Thank you for tagging me @slytherizz @kaidynsarell and @myokk!!

Sharing an Ominis draft under the cut - tagging @pluviowriting @kaviary-blog @ellivenollivander @sloanesallow @cuffmeinblack and anyone else who wishes to join in 🥰

“Do you fancy anyone, Ominis?”

The three of you were seated at the Slytherin table, Ominis in center; Sebastian to his right, chin perched in his palm, and you, the new fifth year, on his left. Sebastian had just been fawning over Samantha Dale, his flavor of the month, crooning about her shiny black hair and full, rosy cheeks.

“It’s not like that with Ominis,” Sebastian waves you off. “He’s going to be a brother of Merlin, they don’t have attachments.”

You raise your eyebrows. “What the hell is a brother of Merlin?”

Ominis swallows thickly. It had been so long since he’d thought about it–ages, really. Life had been so normal as of late (about as normal as it could be, with Sebastian getting in trouble every other day, Anne sick as a dog, and you, his new super-powered classmate, wedging yourself into his life).

“Well, you know how muggles have religion.” Ominis drums his fingers against the mahogany table. “The brotherhood of Merlin is somewhat akin to muggle faith. They’re…they’re sort of like clergy. They travel throughout the magical realm, studying and spreading the knowledge of Merlin.” he explains.

You pause for a moment, letting out a loud peal of laughter. “Ominis, you’re going to be a priest?”

“It’s actually a big deal,” Sebastian points out, his mouth full of oatmeal. “Not very many people actually go through with it, you see. It’s labor intensive, and the brotherhood decides on your assignment, so you never know where in the world you may end up.”

“Do you want to join the brotherhood, Ominis?” You ask, voice piqued with curiosity.

“No one has ever really asked,” he confesses, stiffening at the revelation. “My parents decided I would join when I was a child. They thought it would be a noble sacrifice. A son to carry on the family lineage, and a son to join the cloth.”

“That doesn’t answer my first question.” You remind him. “I asked if you fancied anyone.”

“I’m not supposed to–” Ominis began, quickly cut off with your impatient sigh.

“You’re not in the brotherhood yet, Ominis.”

Yet.

He’d never thought of it that way.

“I don’t.” Ominis says quickly, brushing his hair out of his face. “Fancy anyone, that is.”

Sebastian takes his time pointing out the obvious elephant in the room. Walking back to the dorms from the boys’ showers, he brings the topic from lunch to the forefront.

“She was asking if you like anyone because she likes you,” Sebastian scrunches his towel in his hair.

Ominis fiddles with his wand. “She wasn’t.” he insists. “She was just curious because you kept carrying on and on about Samantha Dale.”

Sebastian scoffs, whipping his damp towel at him. “She likes you, I swear. I always catch her staring at you during potions, and the two of you are always napping on one another during History of Magic. I must admit, I feel rather left out.” he pouts.

“Don’t,” Ominis says warningly. The last time Sebastian felt left out, they’d ended up locked in a dungeon with his Aunt Noctua’s bones littering the corridor. Nothing good can come from Sebastian Sallow feeling unincluded.

[courtofthrones]

Pairing:Eris Vanserra x reader

Summary:What happens when two people who are the opposite ends of a thread of fate try to get the other end of the thread to burn knowing they would burn too. Because he was the throne but she will see the throne burn.

A/N: reblogs and feedback are always appreciated. Do let me know of any mistakes. Thank you for reading.

---------------------------------------------------

Stage II:CHOICES OF A DEAD MAN

Despite your unwillingness you found yourself back in the great hall, back in your seat near your parents who did not seem happy about your momentary escape but before they could chastise you about your supposed insolence the High Lord clinked a golden spoon on his glass settling the room into silence.

"My subjects, it has been such a long time since we all gathered to enjoy our much earned celebration after all the hardwork in the previous wars" he bellowed into the hall with his usual air of entitlement.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his words. Hardwork in the war? More like enjoying the benefits from the misery of the less fortunate.

"So as your High Lord and as a father I am very elated to announce the betrothal of my eldest son and heir Eris Vanserra."

Giggles and excited shrieks erupted the air as noble ladies from all over the room for they were a step closer to becoming the princess of autumn court.

You could not be more indifferent to the matter if not furious for Eris Vanserra was the unfortunate and biggest contributor in the death of your brother and along with the downfall of your family.

But your attention was stolen by the high table as Beron beckoned his eldest son forward to the eyes of many. And a shiver ran down your spine as your eyes caught on to the red hair and smug smirk that had you mesmerized in the garden.

Rage and unexplainable sadness was all you could feel.

Parents moved closer to their daughters who were brought up their whole lives preparing for this single moment. You watched as in front of you Lady Alena's mother started fixing her daughter's dress. Lady Alena was from one of the oldest families of the court and the rumours were that she and Eris Vanserra have been quite close to each other .They claimed that Lady Alena’s beauty was unparalleled in the whole of Pyrthian. You'd wager all your gold on her if there was a bet on who was most likely bethroed to Eris.

But you could not help but feel pity for her. How couldn't you? She was to spend rest of her long fae life with someone as cruel and miserable as Eris Vanserra. A man who abandoned his previous bethroed to die on the borders just because she was not "pure" enough for him.

" The virtuous lady deserving of such honour is... " Beron let his words hang over the room for a minute.

Since the moment you had arrived you had one question on your mind. Why the sudden welcome of your family in the court after years of shunning you. But the next words from the high lord's mouth put all your questions to waste.

"Lady Y/n of the Family Tarsa"

The breathlessness you felt earlier was back with a renewed vigour. You turned to look at your parents and they looked like they expected this to happen. Proud even.

Betrayal.

"No" "No,you cannot make me do this" was all you could say as a sentry approached to take you near Eris and ultimately your doom.

"My dear calm down, this is for the best and your futur-"

"My future? or your greed ."

You could feel everyone's eyes on you as if asking why her? Her family is ruined right? Her brother was a traitor wasn't he?

But more than the questions, it was your parents’ betrayal that pained you the most.

"You would not have agreed if we told you" was all you got from your mother as she tried to calm you down.

You picked your skirts to escape because you would never bring shame on Elias' name, his sacrifice but your father's painful grip on your arm halted you on your track.

"Are you so weak that you would run at the first sight of things not going your way? "

" I am not weak" you gritted out.

"Yes you are and our family is suffering because of it. Sometimes I wish it was you who turned to ashes instead of Elias" your father yelled loud enough for everyone to avert their eyes from the scene.

And your mother was at his side soothing him as if he was the one who was hurt.

And the painful part was that you agreed with your father's words. You had wished upon every star that why Elias had to go for the likes of you .You recalled how the ladies avoided your mother as if she was some filth from the slums, how your father's trade lost all it had. Of how not one male thought you were worthy of even a small conversation. And how the ladies your age were ushered away by their mothers from you. Of how everyone would be happier if it was you who burned at the stake instead of your brother.

--

"Would you ever have an arranged marriage Elias?" you asked your brother as you cooled down from your sparring.

Elias chuckled as he ruffled your hair "What's with the sudden musings y/n?"

"Well my priestess said that it is an honour to marry someone your family has chosen."

"Is that so? But to answer your question yes dear sister I would because it is my duty and it is expected of me."

"But wouldn't you like to meet your mate and have love as beautiful as mother and father's?" was the question you let out because you could not believe the utter stupidity coming from your brother's mouth.

"What mother and father have is as rare as you beating me in horse riding" teased your brother."And you will know that when you are older"

"I will have you know I am going to be seventeen next month so be careful when calling me young"

Your brother let out a loud laugh at your angry words but then continued his earlier words.

"Listen y/n sometimes we have to choose between ourselves and family, and I would always choose family so that you can always choose yourself " came Elias's caring reply as always.

"Elias! " came a shout from near the gates.

"Looks like one of your choices is here brother." you said giggling as you ran back into the house .

You were pulled out of your thoughts with a sharp pain in your arm from your your father.

Was this what your brother would have done for the family? For you?Was getting married to the murderers of your brother truly your only choice?

Holding your head with your hands you released a strangled breath.

Arranged marriage. To the destroyer of your family.

You felt sick.

Felt like you could vomit whatever little food you had consumed all over the shiny marble floors as your father handed you off to the sentry taking you to your hell on earth.

As you walked towards the high family with all eyes on you, your eyes met Eris Vanserra's cold ones despite fire swirling beneath them, so different from earlier under the moonlight and you felt a sliver of cruel satisfaction when you realised that you weren't the only unhappy individual in this wretched arrangement.

Part 3

[maigo-san]

me: selling you a meta about how the Rengokus and Kamados are more connected than you think and how they, who are Yoriichi's closest friends and found family and are the only ones that pass the knowledge regarding Hinokami Kagura/Hino Kokyuu but seeing as two very different things (a dance vs a weapon) is an allegory to Yoriichi's inner turmoil, how despite hinted as the so-called Fire God, the Kamados' ancestral memory of him is of a tragic lonely, hard-working guy while the Rengokus who despite his comrade and the only other loyal hashira to defend him even after they found out koku turned into a demon, wrote him in their records as this godly legend who they will never find again because he's the originator, the Chosen One. Maybe there's a poetic justice behind Rengoku failing to catch the demon he's hunting to find Yoriichi's family dead already, meaning what they both seek are different, and despite how noble and virtuous it is, Yoriichi can never fulfill that, not alone at least, not taking all the responsibility himself

Sumiyoshi symbolizes his inner self, he longed for the quiet life like Sumiyoshi and Suyako's family, and he longed to hold his own baby, but he can only help them, accompany them, talk to them, have tea with them because he knows he's fated to not live a normal life unless Muzan is dead. On the other hand, Rengoku symbolizes the corps, he symbolizes the war, he symbolizes the self-sacrifice Yoriichi had to make to do what he's meant to do, for the sake of atoning his so-called failures and that is why I feel generally speaking, Yoriichi won't hide the Kamados from Rengoku's knowledge but him leaving the earrings to Sumiyoshi and walking away never to be known or seen is a way for him to say that if they are fated to meet then they will. If the war is over then Yoriichi's inner turmoil is over!

and I swear I'm not pushing anything but it's just so interesting seeing the many coincidences. The Kamados hold the knowledge of the whole twelve moves while the Rengokus hold the knowledge that there is a secret thirteenth move and it's just so ackkkk, like the hints are there and the ending is like that and you can't help but dig deep into it okay

also me: yo what if yoriichi met hikomomo and he'll be like...

"Sumire, look how big you've gotten," and

"Are you perhaps Rengoku's son?"

and "How did you two meet?"

and hikomomos are just like ...

he's gonna be so happy because wow, Rengoku joined the quiet life gang? lol no seriously just imagine him and Uta and their kid invited to the two families open houses. My heart 😭😭

[fuckyouozai]

the search was bad, full stop. but i keep thinking of the inherent violence in the flashback where ozai grabs ursa’s hand and says of COURSE he’s my son! you IDIOT! the violence is there on the page but as is the clear implication that every single thing ursa has does in the fire nation royal family household has been against her will, including conceiving and bearing her two children. of COURSE he’s my son! it just underlines the violence in how zuko and azula came into this world, and the total and complete control that ozai had over ursa. then weirdly the story bends over backwards to say that ozai being abusive towards zuko is somewhat related to ursa’s reaction here ( “wishful thinking” and ozai saying fine then i’ll treat him like he isn’t my son since that’s his mother’s wish) when it fact it has just demonstrated more clearly than anything else (barring the flashback in the storm) that ozai IS abusive to his own family.

i remember when the search came out and people were being so horrible to ursa for choosing to forget her children so even tho it’s a SHITTY STORY!!!!! i will die defending her choice. this woman was trapped married to a man who was emotionally physically and sexually abusive! her children - as much as she loves them and she LOVES them - are a product of that! she did not HAVE the option to a) take them with her or b) stay. ozai owned those children!! if he wanted them dead they would be dead!! ursa had no recourse but to do her best to save her child and then disappear forever

to me it’s very much like. fetishizing a woman’s suffering. suffering and anguishing over the knowledge she left her children makes her Noble, makes her sacrifice more Real. SUFFERING IS SIMPLY SUFFERING! LET THIS WOMAN LIVE HER LIFE!

[visxionaries]

ooc: Below we finally have the reveal of what truly went on regarding Cedric Tyrell’s family, his life, and his parents. It is the final journal entries written by Lady Eloise Tyrell, Lady of Highgarden during the Dance of Dragons.

TW: domestic abuse, mental abuse, suicide, murder, poison.

The hour was late, and whatever women had filled the space in the bed beside him had slinked back into the shadows of the night as the King of the Reach fixed his gaze upon the canopy above his head. Sleep evaded him this night, slipping in and out of his mind like a ghost; for he knew what day had dawned upon him when the sun rose. 

It felt as though the sun would never rise on this day; the one in which all memories of Brightwater’s pearl ended in an ivory and gold shroud being wrapped around her body. How was he supposed to make her laugh by attempting to speak the Brightwater old tongue now?

There were two shrouds, the Lord and Lady of Highgarden; and yet, there was only one Cedric was unable to look away from that day. The tombs of both his parents had remained unvisited since the day of the funeral, and Eloise Tyrell still did not see her beloved son, even in death. For their deaths were seen as utterly twisted, utterly strange; for the two of them to leave this world together, leaving behind their children. 

To deny themselves the heavens, for taking their own lives. The Gods did not deserve Eloise Tyrell. It would be she who denied them. “I don’t think mother killed herself...” Words that were sliced at the neck as the Pearl of Highgarden’s crimson blood spilled at her own wedding day, tainting a gown of white. His family was cursed. He was cursed, he knew this. 

The movement in which he rolled onto his feet from laying upon his bed was so quick it almost made him dizzy, but he knew in that moment, he needed to do this now. He needed to do this now, or he would toss it into the flames and stop letting it haunt him. Sacrifice it to something bigger than he cared to know.

And finally, the diary was in his hands and away from the bottom of his personal desk, beneath parchment on parchment, letters on letters, petitions on petitions. The man seemed to move and behave in a way that meant his body moved first, and his mind thought after; for if he allowed himself to think, then he would never be able to stop. Or he would stop. He could not stop, not now. 

And so, Cedric Tyrell read the thoughts of Brightwater’s pearl in her own unique, slightly scribbly hand. The dead had no privacy, didn’t they? Didn’t she want him to be able to read this? Why else would it have been hidden amongst the rows of books within the Tyrell’s personal library? 

BELOW IS A DIARY ENTRY BY LADY ELOISE TYRELL, DATED OCTOBER 10TH, 135AC. It is a draft of a letter to send to her brother, Lord Allun Florent of Brightwater, father of Lord Omer Florent and Lady Rhea Tarly.

My Lord Brother of Brightwater, I implore you to reconsider your rejection of wardship for your nephew. Cedric is sharp in his wit and sharper still with his tongue, and has been raised as a son of Brightwater in his own way. I wish for him to be safe within this world, especially now more than ever. There is none other I would trust with looking over my son but you, my gracious Lord. The concern and insult for Oldtown’s ambitions continuing beyond this war are shared; in this, I assure you, Highgarden and Brightwater remain the most steadfast of allies. No son of Brightwater would be sent to ward with Oldtown; as you have always taught me. Concerns are, very high. A constant priority. A constant thought. Tá amanna is cosúil m'fhear céile as a meabhair. Tá amanna ann is dóigh liom go ndéanfaidh s�� dochar dom. I wish for my son to see a piece of what it means to have Florent blood, my Lord - and if this were possible, you would have my utmost and undeniable gratitude. Perhaps my Lord can consider the strengths of having a Tyrell ward; it will give your own noble and virtuous son another to depend on. Má tharlaíonn aon rud dom, le do thoil a ghlacadh mo mhac. Please tell my nephew his aunt thinks of him. I have tried to send him some correspondence, however believe to have yet gotten a response; perhaps it is not getting through for I do not know where to reach him. Guím ort, a thiarna. Deartháir mór. Yours, Lady Eloise of Highgaren. Do dheirfiúr beag.

//

His kiss was one that was intimate and loving, as though they were once again the Pearl of Brightwater and the Lord of Highgarden within the many mazes that surrounded them. Watched them now, it felt like; as it felt like the whole realm watched and whispered of them. As it felt as though the Hightowers watched them, ready to turn their force upon Highgarden should they emerge victorious; to take everything from them. 

Her forehead remained against the one of her husband for a moment, and she reached her hand forward to gently rest it upon his beard; closing her eyes. She knew what they needed to discuss, and yet for a moment, she wished to hear of anything but news of the war; wished to feel anything but the sense of impending weight and doom. He still loved her, he still loved her and only her; the Tarly woman meant nothing, and the boy...the boy did not displace her or their three children. 

“It’ll all be over soon.” He whispered, moving to quietly stroke his thumb across her cheek; and perhaps if she were not so desperately wishing to feel nothing but his embrace, she would have noted the slight shake in his voice. Tasted something strange on his lips, that no doubt must be some new wine. They remained like that for some minutes, holding one another.

“For how long?” Her voice quietly muttered, her face turning into his gentle, loving touch; for how long could the Reach go without ripping themselves apart? “Until the Gods put another mad Targaryen on the throne?” 

She feared she saw the disunity of the realm reflecting within her sons now. Saw how distant they were. How they were strangers within their own homes. She did not want them to think it were something light, something easy, to turn family against family; blade at the throat of brother. 

“Forever, sweet angel.” Hector Tyrell’s voice sounded different now. He felt her still in his hands, still in the quiet realisation that something was terribly wrong; and when she looked up and saw blood trickling from his nose, it felt as though all the blood had drained from her own face. There was such intense guilt within his eyes, within broken eyes carrying the weight of a broken realm and a broken man; who decided he did not want to do this anymore.

Who decided she would not remain within the realm of the living without him. How could she? 

“Hector-” She muttered, raising a shaking hand to wipe at the lips he had just kissed her with, and her voice broke into a small noise of fear upon realising what stained her dainty porcelain hand. Crimson, crimson blood; her own. Not his. Her own. “No-” 

“Shh. Shh now.” His grip on her tightened as she struggled, and tightened more as her slurred sobs echoed and bounced around their chambers, and her body only fell limper and limper until it moved no more. 

And as she slipped into eternal darkness, as she begged the Stranger and spoke in the Brightwater tongue to explain could not yet travel upon the river of death; her candle blew out forever. There were dried tears upon her face when the maids found her, still wrapped within the arms of her loving husband, who too had passed to face the Gods. And fresh tears. 

[emeraldlupin]

Breaking Down Naruto: Blood Prison Part 4

Part 3

Mui and Glossing Over the Bad

Here, I'm going to talk about Mui and the final fight. So, Mui decided ten years prior to sacrifice his son to the box for the sake of his country/hidden village/whatever. He soon regretted that horrible decision and has been trying to get the stupid box to open ever since.

Getting his son back was the entire reason he framed Naruto and all that. During the movie, Mui asks Naruto if he has ever killed an innocent person for the sake of his village. Naruto calls that sort of thing BS. Later in the movie, after Mui fed Naruto's chakra to the box, Mui asks the question, Naruto gives the same answer, and Mui says he agrees.

Now, when Muku, possessed by Satori, comes out of the box, he kills his father. This is seen as an act of evil, and it sort of is. But on the other hand, considering what we learn about what it's like inside the box, it would be perfectly reasonable for Muku to have been angry or reluctant to forgive his father.

Naruto does says "Maybe his [Mui's] methods were bad...," so at least the movie is acknowledging Mui being a person who was still doing bad things. But then Ryuzetsu has the line "Your father never betrayed you."

Uh, yes. Yes, he did. That's kinda the reason this movie is here. And yes, he wanted to redeem himself. But change and forgiveness can be a long road and sometimes, the people you hurt may not forgive what you've done.

I get it, Mui was a bad person who gained a noble goal. I just worry that the movie might be sort of glossing over the terrible things Mui did. He framed Naruto for a crime he didn't commit. And yes, Naruto didn't get swallowed by the box, but he could have been for all Mui knew, so presumably, he was willing to kill Naruto, an innocent person.

The movie talks about taking an innocent life for your village, but what about taking innocent lives for your son? What's the difference? Some of those prisoners were vile, but how many do you wonder were like Naruto? That's what I have to wonder.

And if Mui is still willing to sacrifice innocent lives...then has he really changed from the man that gave up his son? That's a rather important question.

Sage Mode Equals Super Strength?

When Naruto goes back into Sage Mode near the end of the movie, he punches Satori a few times. I'm not exactly super familiar with Sage Mode, but tell me...is it supposed to give him super strength? Because it did.

Random Tape Deck

Here's one little extra bit of weird. One of the prisoners is seen multiple times having a tape deck or boom box like this was the 1980s. The thing even breaks during a prison riot.

The series has always been strange when it comes to technology or in just throwing something like this in. So I suppose the inclusion of this piece of technology isn't that surprising by now. But considering the other bizarre design choices in this movie, from the unnecessary rifles to the German helmets to the Western uniforms and sculptures, the tape deck is just the cherry on top.

Part 5