#his birth altered the worlds balance? his death should have too | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gingerwritess · 5 years ago

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Okay here me out tho. What if reader dies when the twins are given birth. Twins survive but mother’s gone

THIS IS AN AU. A FUCKING U. I JUST COULDNT HELP MYSELF.

ok this has birth, death, knives, mentions of suicide, overall angst

you’ve been warned

ps don’t let me write while i’m on my period oh my go s h was i craving pain or what

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You’re good at giving birth, by this point.

You don’t scream so much anymore, and by the fourth kid, it’s over in a heartbeat with little more than a good punch in the stomach.

The twins don’t cry.

That should’ve been the first sign that something was wrong.

Loki’s a bit more concerned with the fact that they were born blue—he hadn’t even touched them yet.

It’s too quiet in the grand bedroom. A couple healers clean up, washing the silent newborns and choosing to keep quiet about the fact that they’re clearly not aesir, and you sink back into your pillows.

Loki’s staring at his two baby boys.

“You look so surprised,” you whisper, but he doesn’t move—maybe he didn’t hear you. “Every time this happens, you act like you didn’t expect this.”

Still doesn’t move.

You feel empty. Something’s missing; certainly the two children that spent the past nine months in your stomach, but something more.

“Just hoping.”

Loki reaches around the healer washing the last of the two and gently presses his thumb to the ridges on the baby’s forehead.

“I had hoped, with these two.”

It’s a disembodied sensation, and you decide not to answer. There’s no point in answering; he doesn’t get any better. Each child, every time you reassure him of his uniqueness, it only lasts for a couple days.

The hatred is beaten, cut into him. You don’t blame him.

“Why aren’t they crying?”

“They seem to be extremely at peace,” one of the healers quietly answers, wrapping each baby in a snug blanket. “As I’m sure you already felt, your majesty.”

Loki nods and takes the first little bundle, tucking him in the crook of one arm. “I don’t know why. This should be immense stress on them, being thrown into a new world.”

“I can’t tell exactly why either,” the healer smiles, handing Loki the other baby. “But they seem to have found immediate peace with their surroundings.”

“Maybe it’s just...just ‘cause they’re born here,” you yawn, struggling to lift a hand to wave around the room. Your limbs are suddenly impossibly heavy—must just be the exhaustion.

Yes, it’s only the Asgardian air. Maybe your body still adjusting to a new realm—even though it’s been almost three years—or even the waves of divinity starting to be put into place.

Your body hadn’t taken well to the fruit in the first place, trying to vomit immortality right back out of your stomach. Such unnatural gifts, trying to change the course of human nature, trying to alter the cycle of your human life, you can’t reach it without some tribulation.

It’s still wrong, to try and make you live an extra five thousand years.

“I think the apples are working,” you grit out, struggling to sit up and reaching for your newborns. “I don’t feel so connected to my body anymore.”

Loki turns to blink at you, head tilting ever-so-slightly. “That’s...good.”

The healer doesn’t say anything, just keeps her head bowed and slips out the door.

“Does this feel weird to you?” Head suddenly filling with fog, you lower yourself back onto the pillows with a wince. “Why aren’t we ecstatic?”

“I’m overjoyed,” Loki smiles. It looks pained.

He presses a kiss to each of their blue foreheads and hands the twins to you, tucking them securely by your sides before leaning down to meld his lips into yours, a hand cradling your cheek.

They’re beautiful, two beautiful, blue babies, undoubtedly red eyes closed in a peaceful sleep as they breathe softly.

“We got our twins,” you whisper with a smile, gazing down at them before glancing back up at Loki. “We’ve got four kids, my king.”

“And a kingdom to rule.” He shakes his head with a quiet laugh. “I doubt I’ll even manage to have any power within the palace.”

Your laugh morphs into a yawn, throat cracking as your eyes drift shut.

“Wake me up when it’s time to feed them,” you mumble, cradling them closer to your chest. “Can’t keep my eyes open.”

“Sleep, my love.” He presses his lips to yours once more, a truer smile tugging at the corners. “You deserve a lifetime of rest, after all you’ve done.”

Two hours later the twins start squirming, red eyes opening and soft gurgles rousing Loki from his own rest.

“Darling.” He leans over and kisses you, thumb slowly stroking over your cheek. “You’re being summoned.”

You don’t move, and Loki tries again, feeling horrible for having to wake you in the first place. You haven’t slept this well in months.

The heavy wooden door creaks open and two tired pairs of eyes peek in, glittering with excitement.

“Dad?”

“Come meet your brothers,” Loki calls out quietly, a finger to his lips before pointing at your still form and waving his two other kids into the room.

Stumbling over each other to get to the bed first, Frigg prevails and clambers over you with an excited squeal, grinning down at the two little babies between you and Loki.

“Hello, babies,” she whispers in awe, brushing a finger along each of their tiny blue noses. “I’m Frigg. What’re their names, daddy?”

“We haven’t fully decided yet.” Loki picks one of them up with a grin, planting a soft kiss on his cheek before handing him to Elliot. “We’ll choose the names for certain once your mother wakes.”

“They’re blue,” Elliot points out in a hushed voice. “Are they always blue?”

“Born that way and stayed that way, so far.”

“Adorable,” he grins, hugging the baby tight against his chest.

“Can’t mommy wake up already? I want to name them!”

Shushing Frigg with a laugh, Loki places a hand on your shoulder and gently calls out to you.

No response.

Distracted by the babies, Frigg doesn’t see Elliot’s excited expression fall like a stone through water.

“Dad.”

Something is wrong. Something just spilled over, upset the balance in Elliot’s uneasy soul.

Something is very, very wrong, and Loki’s only cradling your cheek and gazing down at your sleeping form in pure adoration.

“Dad,” he repeats, panic starting to tinge the edges of his voice. “Dad, I don’t think she’s okay.”

“She’s just given birth,” Loki reassures his son, but his hand slips to your neck, thumb moving to find your pulse point. “She’s well beyond tired, after what these two did to h—”

His voice dies in his throat.

After what these two did to you? What exactly...did they do to you?

The world goes silent, dull, the golden lights in the room appearing to pulsate.

Elliot’s blinking, a deafening thud of skin on skin and drops clinging to his eyelashes, and Frigg says something he can’t hear.

“Get out.”

His lips moved, sound came out, but Loki can’t hear himself speak.

“Get out, both of you.”

Judging from the way Frigg flinched, he figures he shouted that time.

Loki’s kids scramble to their feet, set the babies back on your bed, and run out the door before he’s realised he’s standing.

You’re cold.

For the first time in the entirety of your life together, you are cold.

“Say something,” he snaps, staring at your body.

A quiet gurgle bubbles from one of the twins’ throats.

“You.”

He knows there’s no point speaking to them. Alive for less than a day, and he’s talking like they understand.

“You killed my wife.”

The twins gaze up at him, red eyes having never shed a tear and blue skin free from any stain.

He just needed to hear it said aloud.

They’re at peace. They found immediate peace with their surroundings.

“You took everything.”

Red eyes blink, tiny blue mouths yawn.

“You took her life, so you could find peace,” he hisses, dropping to his knees. “You split her in two.”

Loki refuses to accept it, but it does make some semblance of sense.

They’re already split, divided in two since the day they were conceived, two different beings trying to fuse together into one.

A half-life thanks to him, further divided when one became two.

These twins needed you, they needed more than your body could provide—only one-fourth of their entire essence actually came from him.

That leaves you to give them every drop of living power your mortal existence could create. Every breath went to them.

Loki swallows thickly, tears freezing over on his skin and shattering with the movement of every muscle.

Every ounce of immortality you’d gained went to them.

He’d tried to extend your life and his children had taken it for themselves.

“You killed my wife,” he whispers again, dragging himself to heavy feet. “You killed my wife. You killed my wife.”

The door swings open and Thor rushes in, the tearstained faces of Elliot and Frigg not daring to peek past the doorway.

Thor stops in his tracks.

Standing over your dead body, his brother is practically chanting, a man possessed as he stares at the two newborn babies bundled on the bed beside you.

“You killed my wife. Y-you killed my wife. You killed my wife. You killed m—”

“Loki.”

His gaze snaps up to meet Thor’s, and a glint of metal in Loki’s hand makes the god lunge forward and tackle him to the ground.

“Let me—”

“NO,” Thor shouts, grabbing the knife from Loki’s hand and hurling it across the room. “You’re not in your right mind, DO NOT KILL THESE CHILDREN—”

“LET ME GO,” Loki nearly screams, thrashing under his grip, fingers scrabbling for his knife again. “LET ME GO, JUST—JUST—”

His voice cracks into incoherent sobs and Frigg runs away from the doorway, having seen and heard plenty.

“Just let me die,” Loki whispers hoarsely, giving one last attempt to throw Thor off of him before going limp on the ground. “I’ve tried so many times. That knife was for me. Just let me die.”

“No.” Thor’s breathing heavily, still pinning Loki’s arms to his sides.

“Please.”

“No,” he repeats, stronger this time. “You have four children who love you. Who need you. You have a kingdom that depends on you, that looks to you as their king.”

“I have no wife,” Loki rasps, starting to struggle again. “I have no love, no wife, no love left in my life—”

“Dad.”

It’s a small voice, timid but sure.

“Please stay.” Elliot crouches by his side, nodding at Thor to release his hold on him. “Now we...we don’t have a mother.”

Loki’s body falls slack, silence fills the room for a moment, then he dissolves into sobs.

Gut-wrenching, soul-crushing sobbing, messy and wet and Elliot grabs him, wrapping his arms around his neck and hugging him tighter than he’s ever been able to before.

“She gave me everything,” Loki chokes, clutching at his son’s shirt. “Everything I have, it’s her’s, I don’t—”

“It’s yours, dad, she gave it to you for a reason. Don’t throw us away. Please.”

“I won’t,” he promises, trying to convince himself, “I won’t.”

Several minutes pass locked in their embrace until Loki takes a shuddering breath and lets go, trying his best to compose himself.

“Don’t hide this,” Elliot whispers, wiping away his tears with the back of his hand. “That’s too much to keep inside.”

Loki nods, gulping in air and shakily letting Thor help him to his feet. “F-Frigg?”

“Ran away when she saw the knife.”

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers in horror. “I’m so sorry. I couldn’t—not them, no, no, me...”

Elliot gives him a sad, ready smile and shrugs. “Might want to tell her that.”

He nods furiously, taking a few unstable steps towards the bed. Next to your body, the two newborn twins are blinking, skin still glowing that bright blue.

And even still, through all that just happened, not a single tear has fallen from those crimson eyes.

They have you.

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hope you enjoyed, please reblog and feel free to send me ideas!

~ masterlist link in my bio ~

loki tags: @bluediamond007 @himitoshi @drakesfiance @destiel1597 @dangertoozmanykids101 @archy3001 @jcalpha1 @yzssie @skullvieplu @forthesnakeofdragons @skulliebythesea @wegingerangelica @storiesfrommirkwood @agarwaeneth @adaliamalfoy @laurfangirl424 @paradisaicsam @fitzsimmons-is-forever @ladylokimischief @katelinwrites @tarynkauai @polaristrange @loavesofmeat @canadian-ravenpuff-multishipper @lou-makes-me-strong @holyn0vak @chocolatealmondmillk @swtnrholland @kenzieam @jessiejunebug @catticas @the-republic-and-face-of-texas @doralupin01 @whitewitchdown @atomiccharmer @falconfeather23435 @babygirlicecream @avengrcs @vethrvolnir2 @bookgirlunicorn @wabisabigrl @myhealingstar @khaleesi-marvel @ei77777 @spacecrumbs @scarlettghost13 @rocks-are-pretty-odd @confessionsofastrugglingteen @easilydistractedwriter @arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77 @fluffyllamaswearinghats @milktearose @lcyouinhell @h0tshotholland @dontmesswithmemundane @southsidesarcasticwriter @helnik-s @lilith-akemi @fire-in-her-veinz @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mischievousbellerina @kcd15 @mellowgirl01 @lokislilcaribbeanprincess @allthingzhiddleston @scorpionchild81 @lokixme @blue-automne @galaxycharmed @devilbat @kangaroobunny @end-up-well @planetariumx @sarcsep @mrfandomtastic @amaru163 @im-way-too-many-fandoms @caswinchester2000 @kybaeza @wester-than-west @vintagesunshinebitch @adefectivedetective @poetic-nikolai @moonduhsted @kerri-masson @iamverity @innaminitus @spnbarnes @narcissxblack @woohoney @anxiousamandapanda @padmeisgay @authordreaming13 @lokisironthrone @theunknowinglys @highfuncti0ningfangirl @epicfallenismine @stubby-toe-589331 @fandomnerdsarecool @retrofantasyland @arch-venus25 @forever-trapped-in-my-dreams @littleredstarfish @marshyrebelcloud @okie–loki @atterodominatus @stfxlou @pandacookieowo

#loki x reader #loki reader insert #loki imagine #dad!loki #loki angst #loki laufeyson #loki fanfiction #loki requests #loki drabbles

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multiverseforger · 4 years ago

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Slade Wilson (Deathstroke) meets a Cambodian woman named Lillian Wilson (born: Lillian Worth) on a search-and-rescue mission a few years after his divorce from Adeline Kane. His mission is to make sure that she escapes war-torn Cambodia safely. After an intermittent love affair with Wilson, Worth gives birth to a daughter whom she names Rose. Believing it to be in the child's best interest, Worth keeps Rose a secret from Wilson. Worth eventually settles down at a brothel in New York City, and, during a time when Deathstroke is injured and a fugitive from the law, Worth takes him in and nurses his wounds. Wintergreen (Deathstroke's butler) discovers 14-year-old Rose and suspects that she is Deathstroke's daughter.

When Ravager (Wade DeFarge – Deathstroke's half-brother) kills Deathstroke's friends and family, Ravager discovers Rose, captures her, and tells her that Deathstroke is her father. Wintergreen and Worth launch a rescue attempt, but Worth is presumed dead after she drives a Jeep off a cliff while trying to run over DeFarge. Wintergreen successfully rescues Rose and escapes.

Rose tries to reach out to her father, but he turns her away. He fears for her safety because he believes himself to be responsible for the deaths of two of his sons. Deathstroke leaves her in the care of the Teen Titans superhero team. During a training exercise, Rose is injured and taken to the hospital, and her precognitive powers emerge for the first time when she has a lengthy vision of Deathstroke's future. She awakens before she can test her powers further. She leaves the Titans shortly after and does not see them again until the Technis Imperative conflict, where she allies herself with the Titans to save fellow Titan Cyborg. During this incident, she vocally challenges the New God Big Barda, as the Titans and the Justice League had come to blows. Barda seems more amused than concerned over Rose and their potential fight is neutralized by other forces.

New RavagerEdit

The Madison family in Chicago adopt Rose, but DeFarge kills her new family. The Ravager claims to have been offered $100,000 for her death by an anonymous source, but neither of them know that Deathstroke hired DeFarge in an attempt to bring Rose closer to him.

Deathstroke anonymously alerts the Titans that Rose's life is in danger, and they fight to defend her. All of the fighters are rendered unconscious by an explosion of halothane gas, and Rose awakens in Deathstroke's lair. He apologizes to Rose for abandoning her and says that she is the only family he has left. Deathstroke suggests that she become his apprentice, offering DeFarge as her first kill. Rose accepts and takes the name “Ravager” for herself. Deathstroke secretly injects Rose with the same serum that gave him his abilities, and it causes her to suffer from psychosis.

Deathstroke doubts Rose's readiness to work with him and plans to disown her after she hesitates and is unable to kill Deathstroke's son Jericho (when he possesses Beast Boy's body). To prove her loyalty, she gouges out an eye to match his missing eye.

Batgirl vs Ravager. Cover to Batgirl #64 (2005). Art by Alé Garza.

After Rose suffers a defeat at the hands of Batgirl, Deathstroke places her under the tutelage of Nightwing after Slade is led to believe he has given up being a hero. Nightwing agrees to train Rose, while surreptitiously teaching her the values of heroism. Although Rose develops a crush on Nightwing as the training progresses, the attraction seemed entirely one-sided. In order to test Grayson's loyalty, Deathstroke replaces Rose's missing eye with one carved from Kryptonite and pits her and Nightwing against Superman. Rose attempts to kill Superman, but Nightwing uses Superman's concern for the safety of not only the civilian bystanders, but Rose herself as her final lesson on altruism. Nightwing agrees to stay away from Rose on the condition that Blüdhaven remained off-limits to the latest incarnation of The Society, of which Deathstroke is a charter member. Following the bombing of Blüdhaven on Deathstroke's orders in Infinite Crisis, Nightwing returns and informs Rose that the Kryptonite Deathstroke had implanted in her eye-socket is not just a danger to Kryptonians, but it is also carcinogenic and is indeed lethal to humans under extended periods of prolonged exposure. Enraged and heartbroken that her father would endanger her life so dismissively, and emboldened by Nightwing's tutelage, Rose breaks all ties with her father and runs away.

One year after the events depicted in the Infinite Crisis crossover, Rose once again joins the Teen Titans. She wears the same costume and wields two katana-style swords. With Deathstroke and his serum's influence gone, Rose appears more balanced than previously depicted. Robin admits Rose to the team as a favor to the team founder and ex-leader, her former mentor Nightwing.

Rose forms a friendship with Kid Devil, using his flame breath to light her cigarettes. When Kid Devil is injured during a mission, Rose defends him, and on multiple occasions threatens those she deemed a threat to him. She later admits to Kid Devil that she is afraid of being kicked out, should the old members return to the team.

Over the lost year, the Teen Titans came to the conclusion that they needed more members. After discovering that Raven believes there was a traitor on the team during the previous year, the team agrees to begin with her. The team travels the world in search of Raven apparently on the run from the traitor. They also meet several other former Titans, such as Red Star, Zatara, and Bombshell. During a meeting with Bombshell, Rose is accused of being the latest traitor, working for Deathstroke instead. She denies the accusation, supported by not only Kid Devil, but also Wonder Girl, who believes Rose would never go back to her father. Robin and Cyborg agree that Ravager would return to the Tower. Furious, Rose prepares to quit the team altogether until the team's caretakers Wendy and Marvin reveal to her that the traitor had stolen one particular object: the computer disk containing Jericho's essence.

Realizing why Raven is truly on the run, Ravager quickly returns to the Titans' aid, just as the traitor is revealed to be Bombshell. Ravager manages to save Raven, just as the empathic Titan uses the same spell which resurrected her to resurrect Rose's dead and previously insane half-brother Jericho. Upon the resurrection of her elder brother, Joseph and Rose begin fraternizing, unaware that Bombshell's betrayal was orchestrated by Deathstroke, and that their teammates have been subdued by his associates.

Later, Rose and Joseph fly to New York to have lunch with Nightwing, after which they go to the original Titans Island and discover that someone has built a demented version of the original tower there. Upon entering, they find that their father has kidnapped their teammates, all in order to gain control of them again. Rose and Joey then rescue Robin from Slade and Batgirl, during which Rose finally has her rematch with Cassandra Cain. Rose and Joey both attempt to stop their father, but they are defeated and left at his mercy until Nightwing, Donna Troy, Raven, Cyborg, Duela Dent, Beast Boy, and Bart Allen arrive.

Following the death of her former-teammate Bart Allen, Rose attends his funeral in Countdown #43 along with the rest of the Teen Titans.

In Teen Titans #50, Rose is present for Bart's wake, although she slips off after a while, bored with the somber, reminiscent atmosphere, and invites Kid Devil to join her in skinny-dipping in the Titans' swimming pool.

In Teen Titans vol. 3 #51, the Titans Tomorrow—a possible future version of the current Titans team—arrive in the present to aid the Teen Titans against Starro-controlled villains. Ravager's future-self is absent from the group and it is revealed that she betrays the team (primarily Bart Allen and Kid Devil) at some point. Kid Devil, his adult version Red Devil, and Rose are then sent to battle against Rampage & Livewire. Red Devil tries to convince Eddie to let Rose die during the fight, so that she does not manage to betray them in the future. Initially, it appears that Eddie intends to do so, before betraying his older self in order to aid Rose. Later, the trio return to the Titans Lair (home of the original Teen Titans), where they meet with Blue Beetle. There, Red Devil attacks Blue Beetle, claiming that he too cannot be trusted.

Eddie, Rose, and Jaime find themselves surrounded by an army of Titans led by Lex Luthor before they all battle against an invading army of Starros. Thanks in large part to Blue Beetle's powers and Robin and Wonder Girl managing to supposedly alter Robin's future (and thus alter the future of the Titans as a whole), the army of Titans is apparently defeated.

In Teen Titans #57, Rose is attacked by Persuader, Copperhead, and Dreadbolt of the Terror Titans, who had managed to infiltrate Titans Tower. During the battle, they goad Rose about the fate of Kid Devil, whom they had earlier captured. Despite overwhelming numbers, they are unable to take down Rose. Rose ruptures a gas line with her energy swords, blowing up a section of the tower. Rose is revealed to have survived the explosion by crossing the swords, creating a forcefield. She then follows the Terror Titans back to their base, saving Wonder Girl from Disruptor and Persuader. She then battles Clock King, her own precognitive powers matching him. Clock King offers Rose a place on his team, but she refuses. Clock King then ejects the Titans from his base. Back at the tower, Rose overhears Robin and Wonder Girl talking about her almost killing Persuader during battle, and deciding there will be "repercussions". Rose decides to leave the Titans, using one of Clock King's teleportation devices to do it.

In Terror Titans #1, Ravager is seen talking with Clock King, negotiating her role within his group. She agrees to take part in one of The Dark Side Club's arena battles, fighting against Fever. Rose defeats Fever, but when given the order to finish her, refuses, prompting Clock King to have Fever shot in the head. Although appalled by Fever's death, Rose stays, hoping to find out what Clock King's plan is. Continuing to fight in the tournament, Rose faces off against Static, and is almost killed.[1] Rose eventually discover that Clock King intends to use the mind-controlled teen heroes as his own "Martyr Militia" to destroy Los Angeles, entirely for his own amusement. Attempting to get help, Rose is attacked by the Terror Titans, who overwhelm her.[2] Help comes in the form of Miss Martian, who had been posing as one of the brainwashed teens, and had managed to use her telepathy to free them. Ravager follows the retreating villains back to their base, where she confronts Clock King. Despite their equal precognitive abilities, Ravager is able to defeat him, although she was unable to prevent his escape.[3]

Ravager returns during the Teen Titans/Titans/Vigilante crossover "Deathtrap", seeking to save Jericho, who had been targeted by Vigilante. However, the unbalanced Jericho refuses her offer of help, continuing in his plot to kill the Titans, forcing Rose to team up with the heroes to stop him.[4] It is also apparent that she has become addicted to the adrenaline given to her by the Clock King.

Following the "Deathtrap" storyline, Rose briefly tries her hand at being a part of the Titans, but finds that she does not belong with them. After an altercation with Bombshell, staged to ensure her loyalty to the team, Rose leaves to find her own way in life.[5] From Teen Titans #72 onwards, Ravager is featured in a 10-page, 9 part co-feature, Ravager: Fresh Hell, written by Sean McKeever and drawn by Yildiray Cinar.

In the Teen Titans tie-in to the Blackest Night crossover, Rose tracks Deathstroke down to his old mentor Wintergreen's house and attacks him. During the fight, the two are attacked by their deceased relatives Grant, Wade and Adeline, who, along with Wintergreen, have all been reanimated as Black Lanterns. When Grant attacks Deathstroke, intending to burn him in a fireplace, Rose reluctantly intervenes, saving her hated father. She then attempts to incinerate Wade, but is surprised when Jericho jumps out of his body.[6] Jericho, whose eyes had grown back since Vigilante's attack, uses his powers to make the Black Lanterns destroy themselves. After the battle, Rose refuses to reconcile with Deathstroke, despite acknowledging her daughterly love for him. She also realises that her mother may still be alive, as she was not among the attacking Black Lanterns.[7]

Following an adventure in another dimension, Static, Miss Martian, Bombshell, and Aquagirl leave the Titans, and Rose is invited to rejoin the team in order to help build it back up. While staying in the Tower, Rose hacks into the team computer and begins searching for information on her mother.[8] During her time with the group, Rose begins flirting with Superboy, and befriends Damian Wayne, the new Robin. She remains with the team up until the final battle with Superboy-Prime and the Legion of Doom, where she teams with Speedy to take down Persuader, one of her former teammates on the Terror Titans. She and Damian also help turn the tide of the battle by using a piece of Kryptonite to destroy several evil clones of Superboy.[9]

The New 52Edit

Following the events of "Flashpoint", the DC Universe was relaunched. In the New 52, Rose now has both eyes intact and does not go by the name Ravager, though she still appears to have her martial arts training and trademark swords. She is a teenaged mercenary hired by the shadowy organization N.O.W.H.E.R.E. to act as a handler for Superboy after he destroyed the N.O.W.H.E.R.E. lab used to create him in self-defense. Rose has a rivalry with Caitlin Fairchild, a young N.O.W.H.E.R.E. researcher who cares for Superboy.[10] Her origin is altered so that she is now the daughter of Slade Wilson and his wife Adeline Kane, removing her Asian heritage in the process.

After last seen by the side of her father Deathstroke, following the events that happened in The Ravagers, she reappears in a possible future 20 years distant. In this timeline she is along her husband Garfield Logan, now labeled as Beast Man, living together in the Justice League Watchtower as Beast Man is the only Justice Leaguer alive. The two also have a daughter named Red who is being mentored by them along other superpowered teenagers in order for them to become a team. After an encounter with three members of the Teen Titans from the present Red Robin, Wonder Girl and Superboy, Rose and Gar put in action a plan to swap Superboy (Kon-El) with the man of whom he is a clone (Jon Lane Kent, son of Superman and Lois Lane), who is responsible for the tragedy that happened in that future, in order to prevent those events from happening again. The plan is a success as Raven's soul-self departs with the Titans from the present and the unconscious Jon Lane, not Conner. Once alone, Rose asks Gar if they really did the right thing, which Gar responds: "I damn well hope so Rose. I damn well hope so".[11]

DC RebirthEdit

Learn more

This article needs to be updated.

Rose later reappears after the DC Rebirth relaunch, with her original Cambodian origin and mixed-race heritage now restored.[12] She is seen working as a strip club bouncer who moonlights as a teenage mercenary, and reunites with her father after someone puts a hit on her. Her past in the New 52 continuity also appears to be retconned, as she makes no mention of N.O.W.H.E.R.E., and claims to have been trained by Nightwing, much to Slade's annoyance

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thecandywrites · 5 years ago

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Of Heaven and Fire Chapter 13

Shit about to hit the fan. *light’s molotov cocktail with a sparkler* I’m sorry in advance.

@probablyclever @imherefortheforthefanart @funmadnessandbadassvikings.

Of Heaven and Fire

Part 13

You woke with a start, disturbing your sisters who had climbed into bed with you because they had missed you dearly and practically slept on top of you but they were deep sleepers and they only stirred but didn’t wake. It was early dawn and your dream had you wanting to scream your lungs out and breathe fire as you would too.

Your chest was heaving and your throat felt like you were being strangled and you couldn’t stop the streaming tears down your cheeks as your breasts were hurting and tender while your gut was in knots while your body was on edge and drenched in sweat.

You had a nightmare you couldn’t understand or make out. Like it was a bunch of snippets of memories scrunched up, knotted and folded and pinned together and it didn’t make any sense but the overwhelming feelings of betrayal and rejection ran deep and cut you like a thousand knives through your flesh down to your very bones and even though your mouth was dry, the taste of bile and blood was drenching your tongue and the only cure to it, was to eat that damn berry from “Zirvush’s tree” and without even thinking about it, you climbed out of bed and got into your satchel and got the berry and quickly scarfed it before your sense could stop you and instantly you were put into a trance and you realized...you were in a different realm.

“Finally, you’ve come to me.” A fae man, dressed in the grandiose and gaudy royal attire who’s crown was twice as big as his head- greeted cheerfully as you seemed to be put into his court, a fae court that while naturalistic, still held profound gravatas as you got your bearings and stood up and looked around.

“Who are you?” You asked wearily.

“His holiness, Prince Zirvush Matae.” He bowed with extreme flourish.

“So you’re the thief.” You leveled as your eyes narrowed.

“No, no thief, but definitely a being worth worshiping since compared to such simple and fragile and if I may be so bold as to remind you- profoundly mortal creatures from your realm, I’m practically a god.” He purred as he circled you like vulture as he drank you in like a fine wine with his eyes as you just huffed through your nose indignantly.

“Such a fiery spirit for such a lovely creature, it burns so brightly in your eyes. But your face is clearly that of heaven. No wonder all those mortals are half in love with you with just a glance, I know I am. They would be that way even if they all weren’t under a spell to love you at the first sight of you.” He prodded.

“What?” You asked, your heart dropping into your stomach.

“Yes, you have many spells cast over you right now, from the orc shaman, to the mountain moura seer, to the priests in the heavens, to the very water dragons in the sea, those poor guys didn’t stand a chance.” He laughed. A sardonic sound if you ever heard one.

“I broke the ones from the orc shaman.” You insisted.

“Oh no you didn’t.” He shook his head dismissively.

“Yes I did, I have the shackles myself because Suriel tore them off!” You argued.

“Two of the many. It would take no less than a dozen orc spells to really take any hold on a magnificent moura like yourself, especially as one as diverse and gifted as yourself. Look at you, you’ve only known that orc a month and you’re ready to marry him and bear his children- a thought you detested a month ago. Seems a bit odd doesn’t it? Especially to a being who moves in time frames of decades. Orcs move fast, they have to- the violent things- such short lifespans, every time I blink I see new generations. Everything orcs touch either gets consumed or destroyed or both. And you’ve already been consumed, it’s just a matter of time before you get destroyed.” He taunted.

“Brock would never…” you shook your head in disbelief.

“Yet when I showed you your future with him, it woke you out of sound sleep and you thought it was a nightmare. It was a prophetic vision is what it was. Let your heart stay on that brute and the vision will define itself more clearly and all those wrinkles and folds will smooth out, just you wait and watch. Fight it- and it gets worse, accept it- and you’ll resign yourself to a heartache that you can’t fathom yet. Just wait.” He promised and your whole soul became agitated at his words and any argument died in your throat before you could speak.

“However it doesn’t have to be that way. Choose me and I’ll make you a proper goddess, one worshiped and revered till the end of time. There will be alters to you in every temple complex the world over in every realm there is and your own temples to house your alters will rival all others in grand magnificence and richness, not to mention power. Because you’ll be the goddess of justice, peace and prosperity. And I can give you the power to fulfill all the wishes of those who pray to you.” He offered.

“I don’t want to be a goddess.” You shook your head no.

“Ha! That’s a lie. You don’t mind one bit how your suitors worship the ground you walk on- even now, how they are bending over backwards to get you everything you could ever want. How you’re using them even now to serve you and your interests or should I say Brock’s interests which you’ve adopted as your own, even now those clans are making you their patron goddess of reunion, rebirth and prosperity. And I know for a fact that you don’t mind at all how Brock worships you in private, if anything your whorish soul relishes it.” He practically moaned in your ear as the hairs on your neck and arms raised as you fought the chill that gave you.

“You stay the fuck…” You began to hiss.

“Out of it?” He guessed with a giggle that was worse than any vacuous girl with nothing but sex on her brain.

“Really, the choices are really all up to you. If you pick Ralitor, you’ll grow incredibly old with boredom in his ever blissfully peaceful kingdom and it won’t matter how many dresses you’ll have made or how much sex you partake in, you’ll grow numb. Pick Oriles, and you’ll grow monstrously large in the depths, to the point you’ll be unrecognizable to your family and a monster to the very clans you’ve befriended. Your grandmother will feel like a guppy compared to you. Pick that prick Bedhu and you’ll just be another slave in his house as your canal will grow so loose with birthing so many children to the point that even Bedhu will feel like having sex with you is like throwing his sausage down a hallway. Pick Cordene and you won’t even have room to breathe because of how suffocating and smothering he is. His jealousy will consume you both. Suriel however is your best shot at what you really want. Because isn’t all you want is to be loved and cherished by one man? Who knows you as well as he does respect and reverence. Who adores your strengths and forgives your shortcomings and who balances you? Who completes you and who answers the question of- if there’s a soul mate? Because he will. But it’s just too bad he’s destined to fall in love with your sister since she’s his soul mate and she his- but he’s so blinded by you, he can’t see it and won’t see it until it’s too late. And even now, Yaviane is having jealousy eat her alive and resentment dig it’s roots down deep because you have all these suitors who all seem to love you yet you don’t really love any of them, not even Brock, as desperate as you are to be so. But I’m sure you’ve figured it out that if I break these spells, all those orcs in Drauch and Vraum will fall right out of the skies to their deaths.” He concluded as you felt a little vindicated as your own suspicion was correct.

“So, because you are so incredibly pretty and fiery and that perfect balance between heaven and fire and because I’m feeling generous, I’ll do you the biggest favor ever even though you want to burn me to ash as we speak, which is so incredibly entertaining.” He continued to giggle with delight.

“l’ll wane all of these spells over the course of two weeks. By then, your suitors’ eyes will be opened and their hearts will be freed from their attempts to join their hearts with yours, but I’ll still incline their hearts to make good on what they’ve already offered to you so that their dignity, reputation and honor are intact along with your own and all of them will have an air of goodwill towards you, your family, your colony as well as the other competitors and they’ll even be in alliance with one another.” He offered.

“In exchange for what?” You asked wearily.

“That you accept me as the god I am and leave things in the colony the way they are now.” He urged you.

“And what, pray tell- would it take for Brock to get his moura cloak collar back?” You furthered. “Oh he’ll get it back when he leaves Suchi for the final time, never to return- along with you choosing a life partner, any life partner other than him. Because if you do choose him, the council will have no choice but to expose him and his clan’s shaman for their crimes and they will all be prosecuted to the fullest degree. Not only in the mountain moura courts but in every court all over the world and neither they or their clans will ever know this peace that you’ve fought so hard to bring to them.” He threatened.

“And if they dare go that far- I will also expose each and every single one of them to the point that they will lose all power and respect and face in everyone’s eyes, I will rip the heavens themselves down and and bring hell itself up from it’s depths to destroy everything they’ve ever built brick by brick if I have to because whatever they’ve built deserves to fall if it’s built on lies. deception and corruption and I’ll make sure each and every single one of their sins will be known to everyone living on the face of the planet and they will be known as intimately and thoroughly as everyone knows their alphabet and I’ll start with your alter and I’ll burn that tree to ash and nothing will ever grow in it’s place.” You snarled angrily.

“Even if your own sins are given the same treatment?” He returned calmly as you could see his devious nature in his eyes and the wickedness in the curve of his grin. You wanted to punch it off.

“I take it you’re talking about my own manipulations via sex? Of course.” You started laughing a bit mockingly yourself. “Men in every realm will use a woman’s sex as a tool to either liberate her to their bedrooms or condem her to shame after she leaves it. You or even they think I’ll be too afraid of the possibility that Brock won’t want me if he knows I’ve laid with others? Or that my parents will feel ashamed that their daughter has been to so many beds before her own marriage one? Or are you trying to imply that perhaps Brock’s parents will object to me over it? That no one would respect me if they knew I had- heaven forbid- sex much less orgies and had the audacity to enjoy them too? You do know you’re talking to a moura? Most mouras in general view sex as either a casual affair or entertaining past time? Or how in desperate times, my actions were in fact desperate too? Know this, I’ll defend myself and those I care about till my dying breath and if the council really wants to pursue that, I’ll gladly pursue it too and I won’t stop until I’m done and I’ve seen everything to it’s finish. Even if I have to lose everything in the process because if they dare take anything from me or bring harm either to myself, my family or those I care about, I’ll take everything from them. If I’m going to be condemned to hell, I’ll drag each and every single one of them with me, I have enough claws for all of them. I’m a moura, fighting is in my blood but it doesn’t stop there, I’m also siren, I’ll swallow them whole. I’m also angel, I’ll see to it that everything they’ve ever done comes into the light. And I’m human which means I’m creative, empathetic and determined. If that’s the game they want to play, then I’ll play it. There won’t by any winners or survivors though and I am a worthy opponent in any sphere they wish to wage this war in.” You warned as you felt your courage surge as you stood to your full height and took on the strongest stance you could. “Bravo, I do admire your spirit, but I fear your mouth may be writing promises your body can’t hope to fulfill since usually women in your circumstances are far more desperate for different terms to their outcomes. But I can tell that no matter what, this will be your answer. So I have no choice but to deliver it in full. Do not fear that this will repeat if you eat the fruit of the Zirvush tree in the future since the berry you plucked was magicked, the rest are not are no different than any other fruit in your realm and know that I and those in my realm mean you and those you care for and love- no harm, I am after all just a messenger in this circumstance.” He explained as you watched as his clothes changed to less grandiose and gaudy attire to that of a more simple yet dignified as his crown shrunk down to something much more discrete as his appearance was now much less predatory and imposing to a much more rugged, if not handsome and appealing before he waived with a smile and you felt like you were falling for just a moment and you caught yourself on the floor as the flavor of the fruit left your mouth refreshed, with sweet tones of tropical fruit paired with the refreshingness of perhaps mint before you spit out the seed into your palm.

You didn’t know if what Matae had said was true or not. Or if it was just propaganda to scare you. The latter felt more plausible.

But your agitation reached your core and you needed to see Brock more than anything as you quietly slipped out of the window and sprouted wings to fly to Drauch to the home he was staying in as you slipped into the room from the window to see him tangled up in the bedding and even now you could see his fitful sleep as you quickly shut and locked all the windows and went over to the bed and carefully pulled the bedding straight before you slipped into the bed with him, your moura cloak vanishing into tattoos in an instant so that you were skin to skin as that woke him up to feel someone in the bed with him before he instinctively held a blade to your neck which made you freeze as you inhaled sharply before he turned to see who had tried to slip into his bed.

“Oh, thank the gods, it’s just you.” He realized as he quickly pulled the knife away and put it back into it’s sheath under his pillow before he enveloped you into a hug and held you so tight your back cracked but instantly the agitation soothed and calmed and peace reigned in your heart, mind and soul as you hugged him back with all your strength.

“I’ve missed you so much.” He croaked and you could tell he was about to cry.

“I’ve missed you too.” You professed as you could feel your own eyes get watery too.

“Has any harm come to you?” You asked as you pulled away just enough to frame his handsome face in your hands to look him over carefully.

“No, but your unease and misgivings are my own so I’ve been on guard. I have had no less than half a dozen women offer themselves to me though since I’ve stepped foot in this colony.” He confessed.

“Who?!” You demanded which made him smile fondly to see you so possessive and instantly jealous like you really loved him or something.

“Doesn’t matter because they don’t matter.” He insisted. “I didn’t indulge them so there’s no reason to be upset.” He reassured you as he threaded his fingers in your hair and stroked your face lovingly before he kissed you soundly which had your whole body melting into his.

“Good. I would have had to start kicking ass extra early this morning.” You insisted when you broke for air which got him to chuckle before he kissed you just about senseless and just as you hiked your leg over his hip as he easily speered your center before there was extra squish in that movement.

“Wow you’re extra juicy this morning.” He grunted with a wicked grin of his own before he sniffed the air deeply a few times and frowned.

“Wait, is that blood?!” He asked as he recognized the scent of blood before he stopped you as you reached over him to touch the cloud light to illuminate the room to see that there was in fact blood dripping down his cock from your core.

“Fuck Yana! How come you didn’t say anything? How did I hurt you Babe?” He asked as he quickly pulled out and put away from you as you stared down at the blood in confusion.

Moura’s got their moon blood once every three months, or more like once a season, in the beginning of the season. You were due to have it when you were captured a month ago but it never came. However in times of distress and to keep from being prey, a moon blood would skip and come late then early to get back on cycle. It would make sense that now you were physically back home, your body would feel at ease enough to have your spring cycle. But mentally you were never more stressed or distressed. But at this moment. You were just relieved to see it.

“You didn’t hurt me Babe, it’s my moon blood, it’s late this season.”

“Wha-huh?” Brock asked.

“My menstrual cycle?” You rephrased.

“Oh! Blood week.” Brock realized. “Wait, season?” Brock repeated.

“Yeah, mouras only get our blood week as you call it- once a season, once every three months.” You informed him. “How often do orcs get their blood week?” You asked curiously.

“Once a month.” He answered.

“So do you have pain and discomfort with yours?” He asked as he palmed your belly reverently as you felt your affection for him resolidify.

“No, just usually a craving of chocolate and usually bitchiness punctuated with even more sexual appetite than usual.” You shrugged. “If it grosses you out though, we can stop.” You offered as you pulled the blanket down to cover yourself as your moura cloak began to make a nightgown for you as the bedding magically cleaned itself.

“Uh, no, it doesn’t gross me out, if anything it relieves me and if it doesn’t bother you and doesn’t hurt you or give you any discomfort, I’m ok with continuing because right now I’m about ready to pop and you haven’t really touched me yet.” He confessed. Well damn.

“Well then fuck me senseless.” You invited with a laugh as he practically ripped the blankets back and pinned you to the bed before he pulled them back up to cover both of you as he thrusted hard into you, a squish and the scent of your arousal with a twinge of blood began to fill the air.

But you didn’t care. You wanted this- no, needed this more than air at the moment. It had been too long since you had laid with him last and you had missed him terribly and you could tell he had missed you too by how desperate and possessive his touch was. Like if he didn’t hold you tight enough you’d slip away like water between his fingers. He poured his heart and soul into you as he kissed you as his hips began to snap into yours as your heels dug into the mattress behind his thighs as your hands clawed at his back. Your fingertips finding the deep valleys between the swells of his muscles as most of his body was now tightening like a coiled spring, ready to snap and he scooted down and curled himself over you so he could suck on your breasts and shove his hand between you as his fingertips found your nub and rubbed determinedly at it as your own body began to tense as he was practically hurtling you towards your release.

“Yana, please, cum for me.” He begged as he crouched on his knees and brought you into his lap as his thick arm cradled the small of your back as the other arm braced himself up as you wrapped yourself around him and held onto him like a lifeline while he licked and kissed your chest and neck and somehow him pulling you into him coupled with the hard snaps of his hips at this angle was exactly what you needed as you watched as your moura marks and his started to pulse brightly and coil and knot in the most beautiful patterns before they got so bright you had to close your eyes as he did the same as the flood of pleasure endorphines overwhelmed your senses as you both shook and twitched as you both rode your orgasms out to their limits before he fell into the bed at your side and held you close as you both basked in the afterglow.

“Everything ok otherwise?” Brock asked as he started to pet your hair, combing it lazily with his fingers as you sighed tiredly.

“No.” You answered honestly as Brock didn’t say anything as an invitation for you to continue.

“I had really bad nightmares and I woke up tasting blood and bile and then I ate that fruit from the tree because I was depserate to get the former tastes out of my mouth. And low and behold, eating the berry transported me to the fae realm where Matae delivered the council’s ultimatum.” You revealed.

“Which was?” Brock prodded curiously.

“To choose anyone but you as my life partner and to send you away from Suchi- never to return and your moura cloak will get delivered to you once you’ve left.” You stated, your tone hinting at anguish.

“And what are they threatening if you chose me?” Brock inquired.

“That they’ll prosecute you to the fullest extent of the law, they’ll hunt you down to the ends of the earth to do it and neither you or your family or your clan will ever have peace again. And the penalty for capturing a moura, much less enslaving one- is death. Not only to the person, but their entire family and everyone involved in it, including your shaman, so that the knowledge of how to capture a moura and shackle one, or tether one or enslave one is wiped from all memory which would leave your clan without leadership or hiers and their spiritual connection to thier gods.” You explained solumnly.

“Fuck.” Brock coughed like you just sucker punched him in the gut.

“Yeah. So I countered that if they tried, I would expose each and every single one of them so that everyone would know each and every single one of their deeds and sins as well as you and I know our alphabet.” You answered which made him guffaw before he dissolved into a deep belly laugh before he started kissing you all over.

“Gods I love you. Only you would have the balls big enough and hard enough to threaten something like that and I know you would make good on that. You’re so fierce, I love it.” He beamed which made you smile in turn.

“So, that being said, give me time to deal with my other suitors, and once they’re dealt with and dismissed, I’ll pack everything I own and travel back to the clan with you, Cugas can keep coming to deliver the fish and seafood and we can squeeze all the money out of Suchi as we can. But as far as I’m concerned, if you’re not welcomed here, I won’t feel welcome either.” You shrugged.

“Sounds like a plan to me.” He grinned happily as he kissed you again.

#orc love story #orc #sexy orc #moura #angel #fae #Of Heaven and Fire #Of Heaven and Fire Part 13 #monster boyfriend #exophilia #exo

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momonetmoproblems · 4 years ago

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Virtual Identities & Oversharing

The Spammer & The Paparazzi: How much is too much?

Social Media has fashioned a space for persons across the world to depart from the realities of their average lives and enter a world in which, with an email address or cell number and a few abstract characters strung together to create a password, they can be whomever or whatever they like. Sometimes these personas are an extension of the true self or they may be fictitious and misleading characters to disguise a user’s genuine identity. People develop various personalities across social media platforms to suit their audience “like a chameleon that changes colours to suit its background or settings, so the online personality can change to adapt and fit in to an online community” says Stacey Koosel in The Renegotiated Self: Social Media’s Effects on Identity. This can range from the Perfect Christian on Facebook for the approval of familial onlookers to Miss #FlewedOut on Instagram for the admiration and acceptance of other IG “baddies” to the I Hate Men posse for the recognition of Feminist Twitter. Social Media is a performative space where users carry out a balancing act, never breaking character and executing top notch shows in exchange for rave reviews in the form of Likes, Retweets and Comments.

From the impersonating of famous celebrities to World Record Eggs, Instagram, Twitter, Facebook among other platforms are breeding grounds for Virtual Identities, most of which, arguably, are false in nature. These concocted personas are often the manifestations of who one thinks he or she is or wishes he or she could be. The Spammer and The Paparazzi, as I will affectionately call them, are two of the foremost personas plaguing the internet, shifting perceptions of reality subtly but unmistakably, often through oversharing, and the repercussions can be grave.

Jaron Lanier, Chief Technology Officer at Microsoft, in the 2020 docudrama The Social Dilemma, states that social media causes a gradual, slight, imperceptible change in people’s behavior and perception altering what they do, how they think and who they are. Social Media, by nature, can turn users into “oversharers”, it is to be expected. Afterall, Facebook prompts its users with “What’s on your mind?” and Twitter with “What’s happening?” And as more actors join these performative spaces, it can be observed that the more outrageous the spectacle, the more interactions, engagements, and impressions it will receive as it “[inspires] the passive audience to become more active, interactive and creative” avers Koosel. Gradually, there is more and more competition for the spotlight. So, what do people do? They generate more content in the hopes of finally or repeatedly going viral. Who wouldn’t want to see themselves on Good Morning America for their viral #VogueChallenge or get their artwork of Nicki Minaj acknowledged by the rapper with over 123 million followers and potential customers on Instagram? Unfortunately, not everyone is talented in these traditional ways, thus the performance becomes one of improvisation with very personal, provocative or pretended anecdotes, pictures or videos to spark a controversy. But it is imperative that we ask ourselves “How much is too much?

The Spammer

The ultimate oversharer that will leave you screaming “T.M.I.” to your screen at least every other minute is the Spammer. Their tweets are often extremely personal and frequently appear in quick succession of each other. This type of user’s downfall is most likely that one post that the world did not need to see (believe it or not, the first tweet from the screenshot above is very real). This piece of information regularly falls in the hands of the worst person imaginable - an employer, parent, significant other or worse. This is the reality on the popular platform, Twitter.

Take the case of Deputy Director of Public Prosecutions, Adley Duncan, for example. The series of tweets below has forced the DPP to establish a social media policy after backlash ensued on the timeline in response to Duncan’s unnecessary and inappropriate confession. He has since deactivated his account.

Twitter user and YouTuber, Niakumi, is another oversharer. Unfortunately, in her case, it cost her a little more than her Twitter account. YouTube has become Oversharing Central and has cost several vloggers their careers, accounts and fanbases because of a Storytime that never should have left their hard drive or a tweet that should never have left their drafts.

The same can be identified in the case of the young JMMB employee who tweeted a “rape joke” which was quickly escalated to the JCF, Digicel and JMMB. The employee has since lost his job.

The Paparazzi

Erving Goffman in The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life postulates when individuals interact with others, they attempt to police how they are perceived by constructing a certain image of desired impressions. Goffman illustrates that these individuals choose their own stage, props, and costumes for specific audiences. Though Goffman was referring to real life interactions, as the world becomes increasingly digital, these performances are most appreciated on social media. Enli and Thumim, in Socializing and Self-Representation Online, posit that users meticulously select the best information to convey to their respective audiences which may establish a certain status for that user based on popularity. And where can one find the best arena for a popularity contest? If you said “Instagram”, you are absolutely correct.

The Paparazzi, best represented on IG, generates his or her “digiSelf” as Mark Federman used in The Cultural Paradox of the Global Village, by snapping a shot of every second of the day. This often includes:

Their outfit (the costume)

Who they are with (God forbid the person is even minutely famous)

What they are driving, and the music played

The journey

The scenery

The destination (the stage)

The food, drinks – bring out the top shelf liquor – and the bill (the props)

Cyberstalking is now birthed from oversharing in the establishing of these virtual identities as this user is not only a danger to themselves but to those around them as they enable stalkers and others with ill intent to live-track their location making them an easy target. Several Jamaican women find themselves being plagued by their very own Joe (don’t say you haven’t watched You on Netflix) which the above Jamaica Observer article speaks to as six men summarize the ways in which they kept tabs on an ex using social media, while international artistes, Tay Way and Pop Smoke, have fallen victim to this habit and the repercussions were fatal in both cases.

Users must be cognizant that their Virtual Identities or digiSelves, so long as they are associated with their governmental naming, are a reflection of whatever entity they find themselves employed, even if they do not intend it. These brands have worked tirelessly for years to maintain their image and will not hesitate to shed dead weight tainting their brand identity. Moreover, the savages viewers on social media are out for blood and will not hesitate to pull out the pitchforks and torches when someone missteps, #CancelCulture. Other users will not give the benefit of separating one’s real self and the digiSelf, they are far more likely to take one’s content at face value. Therefore, think upon what you want people to see when they type in your name or “handle”, what should they take away from your profile?

Furthermore, social media, when overused and abused, leave users vulnerable to the ill-minded lurkers in the shadows. Tactics like keeping a low profile, utilizing privacy settings by being specific about who can view one’s content and the follow or friend requests accepted, reducing the amount of personal information associated with one’s account and, if one must snap, posting the content when safely home enable users to lessen the likelihood of being cyberstalked.

To be safe overall?

Next time Twitter asks, “What’s happening”, or the next time you hit the road for a night on the town, ask yourself “How much is too much?”

References

Dazio, S. (2020, July 10). Police: Pop Smoke's social media led killers to LA home. ABC News. https://abcnews.go.com/Entertainment/wireStory/police-arrested-los-angeles-death-rapper-pop-smoke-71695053

Enli, S & Thumim, N. (2012). Socializing and Self Representation Online: Exploring Facebook.

Federman, M. (2006). The cultural paradox of the global village. Keynote Speech at McLuhan Programme in Culture and Technology, University of Toronto.

Gartrell, N. & Bouscher, D. (2020, September 18). Richmond rapper Tay Way gunned down minutes after posting Instagram video that revealed his location. Mercury News. https://www.mercurynews.com/2020/09/18/three-shot-one-killed-in-richmond-drive-by-shooting/

Goffman, E. (1959). The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life. Harmondsworth: Penguin Books.

Knight, C. (2019, April 29). All Woman Relationships Stalker mode: 'I would dial her number just to listen to her voice'. The Jamaica Observer. http://www.jamaicaobserver.com/all-woman/stalker-mode-i-would-dial-her-number-just-to-listen-to-her-voice-_163249?profile=1263

Koosel, S. (2015). The Renegotiated Self: Social Media’s Effects on Identity. Alfapress.

Zaman, M. (2020, September 2). The People Who Created Facebook & YouTube Are Sorry. Refinery 29. https://www.refinery29.com/en-us/2020/09/10002175/social-media-effects-the-social-dilemma-netflix-documentary

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beingallelite · 5 years ago

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Nearly twenty years after the end of the “Monday Night Wars,” the landscape of professional wrestling is on the precipice of a massive shift.

The catalyst for the seismic change is All Elite Wrestling, the upstart company founded by Tony Khan, son of Jacksonville Jaguars owner Shad Khan, and professional wrestlers Cody Rhodes, Kenny Omega and Matt and Nick Jackson — better known as the Young Bucks.

After holding four shows — two pay-per-views and two free events — all eyes will be on the upstart wrestling company this week as it debuts its live television program, titled “Dynamite,” on TNT.

“I guess you could say there are a lot of nerves because going live you face that fact that anything could happen,” Nick Jackson told Yahoo Sports. “You just never know if something wrong is going to go down, like someone getting hurt. Knock on wood, hopefully everyone just kills it and we have a great time. We’re just hoping everything goes right.”

The birth of All Elite Wrestling

Wednesday night represents a culmination of a months-long effort by the Bucks, Omega, Rhodes and Khan, among others. On the heels of their successful independent show, “All In,” in August 2018, the group announced the creation of All Elite Wrestling in January and the buzz immediately started.

What started as a conversation on his back patio between Matt Jackson, his wife and Khan had finally become a reality.

“With the feedback right away we knew it was something that could be big,” Nick Jackson said. “As soon as we announced Chris Jericho, then people knew this was real and it could be as big as anything we’ve seen over the past 20 years. Right off the bat we knew. When we hit a home run with [May’s event] ‘Double or Nothing,’ that was further proof that this was going to be the next alternative.”

While the concept of All Elite Wrestling kicked into high gear over the past nine months, the Jacksons recognize that their YouTube series, “Being the Elite,” served almost as a training ground for the production aspect of AEW.

“I don’t think we would have ever guessed that it would get this big,” Matt Jackson said. “When we first started it, it was just a fun little project that was Nick’s idea to document our day-to-day activities for the fans to help us connect on a more personal level. The fact that it became what it became is really crazy to us. We’re hoping to keep it around.”

Since its inception in 2016, “Being the Elite” has grown to include several other members of All Elite Wrestling’s roster and has served as a conduit to further storylines in between events. As AEW grew, inching closer to the October debut, the Jacksons’ responsibilities expanded and ultimately, the brothers admit that the hit series may change.

“We’re hoping to keep it around,” Matt Jackson said. “I don’t know what that means though exactly, it will depend on what our schedule looks like. We have a huge following, it’s too big to just go away. I think we’ll be going through a transitional phase here soon while we figure out what ‘BTE’ will look like.”

‘My sleep schedule hasn’t been great’

The biggest adjustment for the Jacksons has been juggling dual roles. In addition to being two of the marquee talents on AEW’s roster, the brothers serve as executive vice presidents for the company.

It’s one thing to have to prepare for your own match ahead of a show, it’s an entirely different beast to ensure every aspect of the production is firing on all cylinders.

“I’m learning that it was a lot easier just being a wrestler, especially with this whole project,” Matt Jackson said. “The biggest adjustment for me has been being on the phone every second of the day, trying to be a dad also. Trying to stay fit, trying to do all of my other daily things.”

“A few months into this my phone never stopped ringing and I never stop getting text messages. It’s been a non-stop work pace since June. I love it, but at the same time I will admit that of course I’m struggling with balance. We’re an upstart but I have my own family too. Juggling a billion things at once, my sleep schedule hasn’t been great.”

Juggling their time is just one part of the equation for the Jacksons.

As All Elite Wrestling continues to grow, there’s inevitably going to be the perception that if they are continuously booked at the top of the card that the Jacksons — along with Rhodes and Omega — are putting themselves “over.”

The Jacksons are attempting to squash the issue before it starts.

“That’ll always be a concern,” Nick Jackson said. “Matt, myself and Kenny, we’ve made this a rule where you cannot talk about our position in the office on camera. You’ll never hear about anything that we do outside of being in the wrestling ring when you watch an episode on TNT. The only way you’ll know that is if you’re really a true insider, a huge wrestling fan and we want to keep it that way.

“If we’re the most popular act on a show, then that popular act should win,” Nick Jackson continued. “If we aren’t getting the biggest reaction, we should lose. We just have to know better and what’s right and wrong. I feel like Matt and I are pretty thoughtful in a selfish business.”

Making a place for tag-team wrestling

The Jacksons are one of the best — if not the best — tag teams in the world, so it’s no surprise that All Elite Wrestling is placing a huge emphasis on the format.

The early success of “Dynamite” will hinge on a number of factors, but one of the most important will be the tag-team tournament that will inevitably crown the promotions first champions.

“We’ve always fantasized — we never thought we’d get to do it — but if we had the book, we would make tag-team wrestling a priority,” Matt Jackson said. “Every team that you see with us, they were hand-picked by Nick and I. We’ve either worked with them elsewhere or have been watching them. We asked ourselves, ‘Who are the teams we want to work with?’ We figured, if we could have a good match with these wrestlers, the other teams could as well. A lot of it was almost selfish, us saying, ‘Who can we tear the house down with? OK, sign them.’”

There’s obviously an old-school feel as AEW goes up against WWE — by far the biggest competitor in the wrestling industry — but putting tag-team wrestling front and center is a sign that the company hopes to take the business even further back than the “Monday Night Wars” of the 1990s.

“Tag-team wrestling historically has been big box office,” Matt Jackson said. “In the old territory days, the Rock ‘N’ Roll Express was the main event in every town. It was clearly something that worked. Even as recently as the TLC era, Matt and Jeff Hardy were the biggest box office draw in tag-team history. They’re brothers, there’s a lot of parallels. I don’t know why it hasn’t shined as brightly in the past 20 years, but it’s time for it to take its spot back.”

With teams like the Young Bucks, Lucha Bros. and SCU, among others, it won’t be difficult for AEW to sell tag-team wrestling. Anyone who has watched a match involving these teams knows that there is no shortage of death-defying and jaw-dropping spots.

While some teams may alter their style with the move to weekly television — there’s a belief that wrestlers want to save certain moments for bigger shows — don’t expect that in the early going from the Jacksons.

“Matt and I have built a career off doing everything every day and every show,” Nick Jackson said. “I don’t think we’re going to change that philosophy. You might see that change with other wrestlers, but Matt and I are going to go into it thinking, ‘Let’s do what we do and keep doing what got us to the dance.’ Maybe during commercial breaks we’ll take it a little more easy.”

“Now is not the time to hold back,” Matt Jackson said. “Now is the time to show the world what we’re capable of. This may be the moment where everyone wants to sample our product and we may just have 15 seconds to gain some viewers when they are flipping through the channels. Now it’s the time to show the world what AEW looks like.”

And if fans are hooked, they’ll get to see tag-team wrestling in the biggest time slots.

“I don’t want anybody to be surprised when tag-team matches headline and main event a bunch of our shows,” Matt Jackson said. “There’s nothing more beautiful than a good tag-team wrestling match.”

The billion-dollar question

AEW is far from the first wrestling promotion to try and compete with Vince McMahon and WWE.

After Ted Turner’s World Championship Wrestling and Paul Heyman’s Extreme Championship Wrestling were purchased by McMahon, the wrestling landscape has been dominated by WWE.

Smaller promotions such as Ring of Honor, Pro Wrestling Guerilla, New Japan Pro Wrestling and Total Nonstop Action have all operated over the past 20 years, but none has gained a large enough share to truly pose a threat to McMahon’s behemoth.

With AEW debuting on TNT — the same channel that aired “Monday Night Nitro” in the 1990s — things feel different. WWE has also moved its NXT brand, which more closely resembles the independent-adjacent style that AEW will have, to air on Wednesday nights in the same exact time slot as “Dynamite.”

“Of course [competition] is a conversation [we have],” Matt Jackson said. “I feel like the entire group of guys, we’re all so tunnel-visioned on what our idea is and what we want our show to look like, we have a vision of what we want AEW to be and we can’t stray too far away from that.

“Obviously, it’s smart to survey, see what the competitor is doing and what’s clicking or not clicking. A lot of this is going to be organic. If one week they are putting on something similar to what we have planned, maybe we change that. If they have a huge match planned and we didn’t, maybe that changes things. I think all it does is breed competitive nature in all of us, makes us all step up our game and put on the best show possible. It’s corny, but the fans win in all of this.”

At the end of the day, AEW’s ability to compete will boil down to the in-ring product and its production value.

Although the members of the AEW roster have vast experience in the professional wrestling world, there’s a significant difference between working on the independent circuit and putting on a live television program every week.

“We need to learn how to tighten up the show and tell our stories in 90 minutes,” Matt Jackson said. “The other thing is it’s going to be on live television, so we’re working with commercial breaks. I think we will gain our footing. This is all new to us and we’re a brand new company. We’re expecting hiccups but the best thing will be for us to pivot from those things and learn from our mistakes. We’re learning on the job but we also think we’re the most qualified team.”

Much like wrestlers calling a match in the ring, everyone involved in AEW will also need to be able to change things on the fly.

“We have an idea of where we want to go, but we also have to be ready to switch gears,” Matt Jackson said. “In wrestling, things just kind of organically happen. I always use this example, but we didn’t have a clue that after doing four shows that having a guy who dresses up as a dinosaur be one of our most over acts. Happy surprises happen. One thing we need to be ready to do is shift things and go with the flow.”

Saying goodbye to the old Young Bucks

In August, the Jacksons said goodbye to the independent circuit with a main event match against Private Party in Queens, New York. The show, put on by House of Glory, was in a venue that held maybe 1,000 people.

For comparison, “Dynamite” will take place at the Capital One Arena in Washington, D.C. — a 20,000-plus seat venue that sold out in minutes.

“The one thing Matt and I will certainly miss is how close we were to that fan base,” Nick Jackson said. “We’re not leaving them, but it felt so intimate, being in a smaller venue.”

It’s not just moving to a bigger venue for the Jacksons, it’s leaving behind the part of the business that helped make them who they are today.

“It’s an environment for being able to really thrive, be creative and try new things, take risks,” Matt Jackson said. “That’s one thing I miss. Every match we have there’s a lot of pressure, it’s high stakes, we have to hit a home run every time. It felt good to do independent shows because that’s where we really crafted our act and created these characters that everyone has come to love now.

“[Now we’re] realizing that that part of our career is over and I’m not sure if it has really sunk in for us.”

On arguably the biggest night of their careers on Wednesday, it will.

#the young bucks #nick jackson #matt jackson #all elite wrestling #aew #posted on: 9.30.19 #aew on tnt #aew dynamite #wednesday night dynamite #article #yahoo sports

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fasterthanmydemons · 5 years ago

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About the Muse

[CAUTION: NOT SPOILER FREE FOR ANY MOVIES!]

{ Basic Stats and Family }

Name: Pietro Maximoff

Avengers Alias: Quicksilver

Age: My starting age for Pietro during Captain America: The Winter Soldier is 17, for Avengers: Age of Ultron is 17-18, depending on the kind of thread we’re doing. If he’s saved from death at the end of Ultron, he turns 18 shortly after that. If he’s brought back by Clint during the time travel test in an Endgame verse, I will probably just make him 18. Age is somewhat flexible, though, it’s not set in stone. Please be advised though that in most verses the twins are still minors during their Hydra experimentation, and although I will not write that out in detail in threads, I do refer to it (or he does, rather, heh) as part of his past, so if that bothers you, we can age Pietro up a little or best not to interact.

Birth Mother: Magda Eisenhardt (deceased)

Birth Father: Max Eisenhardt/Magneto (Yes, I’m ignoring the retcon in the comics that stomped all over this, heh.)

Adoptive Parents: Django and Marya Maximoff (deceased) are the only parents the twins have ever known.

Siblings: Fraternal twin sister, Wanda Maximoff/Scarlet Witch

Languages: Romani dialect (native tongue); Transian and Sokovian (learned as a young child); English, French, and German (taught to him at the Hydra facility)

Romantic Orientation: demi-heteroromantic

Sexual Orientation: demi-heterosexual

{ Background }

Trigger warnings: sexual assault, child harm, child death, suicidal thoughts

(Basically, what I have done with Pietro is flesh out his background a little better than the films did, borrowing from certain parts of his background in the comics and melding it together with the movie verse. So neither the comic- nor movie-verse is 100% canon for him, but most of the changes and merges of the two are in his background before the movies. I will be counting the majority of what happens in the movies as canon for him. Below I have detailed his background story and general headcanons about his life, mental health, and some events of the movies as I will be using them on this blog. This does not mean all of this is set in stone, however, it is just what I will be working from as a starting point as I write him unless otherwise specified in rps. Some of this could be changed or truncated depending on verse and starter situation.)

Pietro and his twin sister Wanda were adopted as infants by Django and Marya Maximoff, never knowing any different but that the Maximoffs were their real parents. From a young age, Pietro always had a lot of excess energy, had a short attention span, had difficulty concentrating on anything for too long, and found it hard to sit or lie down for long amounts of time. He got by on much less sleep than Wanda, and even then, he would wake up several times a night and often be very restless. He could also run very fast, outrunning all of the other children in his village as a boy. He was fast, agile, and had impeccable balance. So even before the experiments, Pietro had a genetic tendency toward these abilities. This is due to him actually being a mutant, the son of Magneto, although he never knew this.

When the twins were little, the family lived in Transia, but an incident with Wanda forced them to emigrate elsewhere, to Sokovia. Their family was Roma, also known as the Romani people, an Indo-Aryan ethnicity, so they already faced prejudice for that reason, but when Wanda’s budding abilities as a mutant as a young child became known, that only made her family greater targets for hatred. The incident that caused it was very traumatic for Wanda. When she was six years old, she was molested by a boy her age. Her fear and anger caused her to release this force inside her, the same one that allowed her to move objects with her mind. It pushed the boy away from her and, still not done with him, she cursed him for what he had done, telling him he would die for it. The next day, the boy was run over by a wagon and killed. Because the boy had told his parents about Wanda’s curse and then it had come true, she was labeled a witch, and to protect her, the family left Transia and eventually settled in Sokovia.

This incident, aside from causing his family to have to move, deeply affected Pietro in a negative way. Until that point, he had loved his sister and spent time with her and regarded her as someone very close to him because they were twins. It was a carefree sort of thing. But after she was assaulted, he felt that he had failed her as a brother. Brothers (especially older brothers, even if only by 12 minutes), should always protect their sisters, he felt. This incident is the root of Pietro’s intense desire to protect his sister as all costs. It is driven partly by guilt for not having been there to stop the assault when she was little, and partly by the desire to never allow anything like that to happen to her again.

At the age of ten, there was an attack that resulted in the deaths of Wanda and Pietro’s parents. For two days the twins were trapped under rubble, staring at a bomb that thankfully was a dud, but the children hadn’t known that. The name “Stark” was printed on it, causing the twins to develop a hatred for America and one of its foremost security and weapons inventors. They survived the event, but it left them feeling angry and helpless. So when Hydra began recruiting for a research project that the deceptive organization said was to help empower the citizens of Sokovia, the now orphaned and homeless twins jumped at the chance.

For eight years, Pietro and Wanda were kept at Hydra’s facility, mostly residing in their individual rooms, but having supervised time together. They were put through many evaluations, tests, and training sessions designed to detail the effects of the experiments involving Loki’s scepter on them. Of the many children selected for the experiments, Wanda and Pietro had been the only willing participants, and the only ones to survive. I headcanon that this was because only someone of mutant blood could withstand the power contained in the scepter. The experiments were at times frightening and even painful, but the twins could see the results manifesting as time went on. For Pietro, it meant that his naturally high energy, speed, agility, etc. were enhanced to a superhuman degree. In addition he experiences an actual overhaul of his metabolism to be very fast and efficient, gained an apparent immunity to friction as he moves, gained the abilities to heal at a faster rate than normal humans and to create and utilize a slipstream. The slipstream is basically a molecular disturbance in the air that results from him reaching a certain speed when he runs. It creates a wind effect and even a vacuum effect at times behind him, causing objects and even people or animals to be dragged in the direction he’s running sometimes. He is also exceptionally strong, can lift much more than the average human, and his punches can crack rock and dent steel (or Ultron’s bots, heh) if he gets a good enough running start.

The experiments enhanced the twins’ already partially-existent powers and brought out whatever was latent within them, but that wasn’t all they enhanced. As the experiments progressed, the twins’ ability to feel things about the other became more intense and pointed. Sometimes, they could communicate telepathically as well, although it was more of a passive thing than something they could employ at will. In addition to having telekinesis and other matter-altering powers, Wanda also has the ability to be extremely empathetic, sometimes whether she wished to or not. She sometimes would feel the emotions of others around her so strongly that it would affect her own. Over the years, she learned to tune out what was not hers, although she could not stop herself from passively experiencing it. She could enter people’s minds, something she discovered by accident one day when she became angry with one of the scientists at the facility. She was able to not only see inside his mind, but to induce a dreamlike state in which the man experienced his darkest fears. This reality of her own creation that drew from the man’s own psyche was something she also witnessed, and combined with her heightened empathy, it frightened her. But after that first time, it became a weapon of hers, and something she did not allow to frighten her or make her sad if she deemed the person deserving of it. Wanda to this day carries guilt over what she did to the Avengers in the Hydra facility, knowing that they did not deserve the nightmares she manifested in their minds.

When the Avengers came to Sokovia, the twins were told that they were being attacked and encouraged to help defend it. Thinking they were being loyal to Hydra, whose true nature they didn’t know, they did their best to defend the facility. Later, they joined Ultron, but that fell apart once Wanda saw the computer’s intentions and realized it didn’t want to make the world a better place, it wanted to help destroy it. She decided to aid the Avengers, despite her hatred of Tony Stark, and Pietro followed suit. Pietro warmed up to the other Avengers aside from Stark rather quickly once he saw what they were trying to do for the people of Sokovia. That’s all that he and Wanda ever wanted was to protect children so they wouldn’t have to go through what they did and to protect people in war-torn countries who were often killed as collateral damage during conflicts. Once he saw the Avengers were on the same page as him and Wanda, he got excited about it. He wanted to join them and have their collective power behind him and his sister to do good for the world. Sadly, in the movie canon, he never got the chance, but he did give his life for Clint and an innocent Sokovian boy, which was a very honorable and heroic death that any Avenger would have been proud of.

#{ out of breath } ᵒᵒᶜ #about the muse #pietro maximoff rp #avengers rp #marvel rp

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emmybluefire · 6 years ago

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THE VOID IS NOT ALL POWERFUL!

Warning! Wall incoming!

I know! I have likely said the most ghastly thing any roleplayer could ever say. But I said it! The Light, the void, the Arcane, fel, nature, the elementals, death... It’s all on the same scale. Ever shifting energies forever vying for power in the WoW universe. The conflicts between the light and the void may have created the others, but as the epochs progressed so too did their place in the universe. So too did their roles.

WoW chronicle Volume 1, chapter 1, page 21, “The Void Lords and the Birth of the Old Gods.”

“From the moment the cosmos came to be, dark spirits within the Void sought to twist reality into a realm of eternal torment.”[...] “Envious of their power, the void lords sought to corrupt one of the world-shaping titans.”[...] “To achieve their goal, the void lords struggled to manifest in the physical universe.”[...] “Yet the noble and virtuous Titans proved impervious to this insidious corruption.”[...] “Eventually the void lords moved to exert their influence over a titan in its most vulnerable state.”

As you can plainly see described here, the Titans--beings of raw, untamed, primordial energy, Arcane most notably--had proven themselves already too much for the Void lords to handle, and so they had to find more clever means of getting what they wanted. And if you’ve been keeping up on the lore, you’d know that they were widely unsuccessful. Yes. The void managed to devour many worlds, and many races... turning them into Lovecraftian horrors. However they had never managed to successfully corrupt a world soul. Sargeras himself destroyed several old gods with one swing of his sword... along with the entire planet they were inhabiting. Amun’Thul himself managed to kill an old god with one hand. Yes... it damaged Azeroth in the process, but the fact he could do it proves him more powerful than it. After that, the Titans opted to instead imprison all of the old gods so that they could no longer do any harm. Prisons that were widely impervious until Sargeras stabbed the planet with his sword, weakening their integrity.

While yes, there are theories out there that suggest that the old god’s don’t truly die when they are killed, rather they slumber in Ny’alotha until the void lords decide to use them again--in true Lovecraftian fashion I might add. So far they are widely that. Theories. Many have yet to be confirmed. Even when Il’gynoth mentioned that he’ll return to Ny’alotha upon death... many of his whispers were so cryptic that it’s hard to decern what exactly he meant. What even is Ny’alotha? Where is it? We’ve never seen it in game as of the writing of this post.

Originally posted by squawks

On top of that, there are many lines from Xal’atath herself that indicate it is the mind of a person giving up and breaking apart that lets the void in. Not necessarily the void’s power itself. Void corruption is just what allows it to touch you and begin the process of your own self-destruction.

“Another mind warped servant of Xavius. A druid should have better control over his own mind, don’t you think?” (At Arch Druid Glaidalis)

“It is possible N’zoth may be responsible for her form, but her arrogance is all her own.” (At Lady Hatecoil)

“Watch now as a weak mind gives way to darkness.” (At Arkhaan)

Among others.

Additionally, The Sha, Creatures manifesting from the heart of Y’sarraj--who was quoted as being the strongest of the old gods--can be kept at bay simply by meditating and not allowing your negative emotions to rule you. A feat the Pandaren have mastered all to easily. It wasn’t until we, The Horde and the Alliance, brought our war to Pandaria and let our negative emotions run rampant that The Sha became a HUGE, huge threat.

And also: Fun fact... the Ethereals were actually able to keep a void lord at bay from consuming their home-world with Arcane magic for the LONGEST time. It wasn’t until Dimensius the All-Devouring had enough time to summon an Army that he was finally able to consume their world and cause the Ethereals to flee.

https://wow.gamepedia.com/Ethereal

So why then does everyone just assume that the void is the most powerful force in the known warcraft universe? Truthfully, if anything... it is just the most patient force.

Well... in truth... I believe the reason is actually the way the void manipulates people. C’thun had multiple lines such as “Your friends will abandon you.” , “Death is Close”, and “You are already dead.” Il’gynoth says lines like: “The boy king serves at the master’s table. Three lies he will offer you” , “Welcome death. Do not fight it” , and “You have failed those who needed you.” ... and several Faceless One bosses in various dungeons such as “The Violet Hold.” and “The Throne of Tides” attempt to shroud your mind with philosophies like “Are you sure this is real? Or is this all a dream? How can you tell?”

Notice a pattern? The void makes itself powerful by instilling doubt in the mind’s of it’s victims, forever whispering in their mind until they give in and take the “solace” it offers. When you do that... that’s when the void has a hold of you. That’s when it fully corrupts you. And Blizzard writes this so well that even us, the players starring at a window into a fictional world, even fall prey to it in a way. People believe the void the most powerful because it makes itself so mysterious. Mystery makes us vulnerable to curiosity. And curiosity makes us vulnerable to suggestion. However... well. The reality of the Warcraft universe is this: all forms of magic are powerful. And each individual form of magic is good at doing what it’s intended purpose is.

Light is the force of life, making it the best at healing... and smiting the things that try to destroy the life it creates.

Arcane is a force of order, making it diverse, and incredibly good at controlling all the forces of the cosmos.

Nature is a force of both life and order, making it good at healing, ordering, protecting, and maintaining the balance of things.

Necromancy is a force of death and chaos, making it good at altering the balance of things and destroying the walls between life and death.

Fel is a force of pure chaos, making it good at destroying the other cosmic forces and inciting disorder amongst everything it touches.

And the Void is a force of pure death, spawned from the pockets of darkness the light left behind. This makes it good at causing death, and forcing things to cause death for it.

At the end of the day... when it comes to a battle between an Archmage and a high priest of the old gods? A harbinger of the void lords and a cleric of the holy light? It’s the skill and cunning of the caster that matters most. Not the powers they throw at each other ironically enough.

So. If you’re new to Warcraft RP, or have had these notions in your head for quite a long while... bare all of this in mind.

Thank you guys for reading.

#wow #world of warcraft #discussion #essay #debate #void #magic #ooc #rp #roleplay

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trevaleyn · 6 years ago

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Chains That Bind

Most people didn’t see the world the way Ulysses did, or had rather. He supposed none of that mattered anymore--only one thing mattered to him of that old life, his wife Rolance. Sure, their had been other flames, other interests, other infatuations but those all boiled down to distractions, nothing more and nothing less.

“I just came home from being in prison,” The words weren’t his, but rather his wife’s even now, an entire reality away, the eldritch magic that saturated Ulysses being--and now the reality he had created, linked them all together, her words and thoughts able to bleed over much like how a pen or a marker with too much ink was able to bleed over to another page beneath leaving its mark, echoes he supposed, but it felt like more than just echoes. Could space, time, and reality itself have memories?

“Just like when I died to the Crows, nobody came to save me… Well. Me in particular. The group was saved.” There was a pause, “But for me, I think the person who was the most visibly concerned was Kelly, and you know how she is… If she cares the most for you, that’s pretty sad.” He smiled at that, though found no laughter or joy in Rolance’s words. He was merely listening as he worked.

“Suppose I am pretty sad right now.”

His hands flourished once, in this realm creation was his right, his mere will was all he needed to play, no, be a god. Ulysses sheer will had manifested before him a forge--not a heavy handed blacksmith’s forge, the tools here were smaller, more precise, more clamps and small furnaces and kilns, molds and sharpened tools meant to work with softer metals, this was the forge of a whitesmith.

“Do you know the shit I did for you? I stormed a Legion ship for you. I became a soldier for you. I learned how to manipulate time and space to bring you back from certain death…” He did know. of course he knew, he was Ulysses Trevaleyn, it was his job to know. That was how he had undid the damage and alterations to Azeroth’s reality and created his own.

“Can’t think of any times you saved me. You said letting me die was something like payment for how I’d wronged you, if I remember right…” The sound of a bellows in the background as he listened in across the barriers of realities, though perhaps listen wasn’t the right description, he more felt the words, like thoughts he might want to say aloud, words that hovered in the forefront of his mind but he knew the source wasn't him. A jeweler’s hammer had manifested in his hand along with a pair of almost wire thin tongs as he began to shape what he was making carefully, meticulously so.

“This was just another time that you weren’t there, I guess. That I would have been if it were you in trouble.” He could feel pain alongside those words, the Eldritch was inside Rolance’s body right now, acting to suture her back together. Despite feeling the ghost of Rolance’s pain, Ulysses still did not react, he had become more stoic in this place and on his own.

“I should hope one day I meet someone who cares for me like I cared for you.”

Their were tears then as he worked, though they weren’t his own. Borrowed from the link they shared, these we're Rolances tears he was wiping from his cheeks, taking a moment to compose himself though he knew Rolance was still bawling like a babe, curled up on their couch.

Despair, it had always gripped Rolance so easily without Ulysses being around, one lesson the tempest of a woman never had learned was that exact exchange was a lie. People took different things from different relationships, Rolance had been with Ulysses because she craved a man who would stand up to her, to tell her what to do, to be a sort of check and balance against her actions and to correct her moral shortcomings.

Ulysses had been with Rolance because he respected her ferocity, her strength and cunning, but also her passion for what was right and wrong. Though those lines blurred often, what did them in was that he had never forgiven the woman--he couldn’t, he couldn’t forget what she had done, but then again the hard part was always letting go.

This was his reality, his dimension where he could sculpt whatever he liked--right now, the product of that desire to create was a chain of eldritch rings. The gloss of silver and gold combined with the glamour and glitter of rubies and garnets, on Azeroth it would have been a weapon unlike any other, something that would have allowed for total and complete destruction of the planet, here it would be a tool of creation.

“You’re not alone,” he said aloud, “You’re never alone Rolance, that’s your problem. You relied on me to make you into something,” he wasn’t sure if the link worked both ways, though he just wished to speak the words out loud, to get the feelings that protested her assumptions out in the air, “You can’t be alone because you don’t know who you are. Your hair, your skin, your scars, always changing, even the powers you drew from were always changing. You have the heart of a dog. No meant yes, attention either good or bad wasn’t discerned, you just cared that you got it. You did not love me. You used me to make yourself feel better and I simply didn't care."

The finality of those words would echo here forever. This reality Ulysses was building was for himself, not for them both. Slipping the chain on over his neck, he grew a smile that seemed sad and genuine, “Without me, you revert to the same old tactics, throwing yourself in harms way to feel something, throwing yourself at the feet of controlling, abusive leash holders. You scorned me for wanting to break that lead. You kept crawling back, over and over when I had no desire to control you. I wanted to show you how to be your own person but you took that as a desire to be like me. To crave power and avarice and hunger for more. You got that from me, I know it. It’s not a gift to you like it is to me. You were always unwieldy with your emotions Rolance.”

A wave of his hand dismissed the forge he had created, tools and molds, foundations and furnaces disintegrating into dust. He no longer had need of it. Ulysses wondered what Rolance would have thought of him now, how both his mind and body had changed. As a god in his own realm, Ulysses looked younger--perhaps in his late twenties or early thirties, though he had always been an ageless looking man, his hair was a brunette mane that hung about his shoulders, his body bore no scars or blemishes, even his tattoos, each and everyone one of them was gone, leaving a bare sun-kissed look to his skin, he wore no armor, only a simple cream colored long-sleeved shirt a belt, loose fitted black pants and some simple leather wrapped shoes over his feet, though his hands and ears were ever adorned with jewelry.

“Do yourself a favor: make something of yourself. I gave you every gift I had but I guess I could never give you the foresight on how to use it. You have the power of a god in your blood now, and yet you’re weeping on our old couch because no one is there to tell you how to use it. I love you Rolance, that’s why I dedicated myself to giving you that power. Death, injury, even how you feel right now? Irrelevant, you only need to see that to move to the next step. I let you die because that's the price. You learned that you are immortal."

Goddess. He had been trying the entire time to forge Rolance into a goddess, but he was a mere mortal then. He supposed in a way he still was here, though he didn’t need to be. Were someone to somehow enter his realm and destroy his physical form it wouldn’t matter, this dimension was sculpted with the very eldritch essence of Ulysses body, along with arcane and light magics, he would just manifest in another physical form if he needed it, though the reality of it was, he didn’t. He merely existed in this form because it felt comfortable.

“I have work to do. The Titans chain Sargeras. Someone must impose the order of creation without them.”

Someone indeed. His left hand reached up to the chain around his neck as that sad smile he bore turned a bit more pleased, Rolance was linked to him. Perhaps one day she would learn to dip into the powers he held now, perhaps not. He had work to do, he always did, emotions that were literally a reality away couldn’t and wouldn’t impede him now.

He lofted a palm and aimed it into the mostly black void of this still new, unborn reality, eyes lidding as he focused his powers. One by one, stars began to form, twisting, churning, candle flames igniting in the dark, distant or entirely to small. In a matter of minutes a galaxy would be birthed, and he held it between his palms. One day she would join him, then her pain and suffering would melt away, they could even become one singular being if they chose to make it so. For now, Ulysses had an eternity to craft. How utterly divine, he thought to himself.

Mentions: @high-inquisitor

#ulysses #godboi #wow rp #oc #short stories #paladin #paladidnt #rolance #power rings #eldritch

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animentality · 6 years ago

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Say…why don’t I give you a treat today?

It’s nice and warm, isn’t it?

Do you like warm weather?

I imagine you don’t get much of it, where you’re from.

Ah, you look like you’re enjoying it.

Amazing what a little sunlight can do, isn’t it?

You look younger.

Now.

I’ll leave you out here for two minutes.

You have that much time before…oh, you know what? I’m feeling generous. We’re done with the box for now.

But today is bath day.

So…enjoy the warmth.

Enjoy it while you can.

This feels colder than anything he’s ever felt, but he knows this sentiment to be false.

He’d been held down in a bathtub full of ice cubes and just a little water until he passed out.

This should feel like nothing.

He’s walking, so his blood is pumping.

He’s wearing a jacket.

He’s not naked.

And this is not freezing water, just freezing air.

And he is not drowning.

He can breathe.

There’s only air in his lungs, not frigid ice water.

And yet, he feels colder than he’s ever felt in his life.

And his body screams out for him to stop. But his mind forces him not to.

He has no food.

Just snow, which is really only water, and he gets the feeling it’s polluted by the toxins excreted by this nation’s climate control.

Their environmental alterations upset the natural balance of the atmosphere.

His people do not use environmental control, not unless it is absolutely necessary.

Oh come on now, I know the temperature is usually below zero, where you come from.

Below negative seventeen, by your temperature scale, I suppose.

It’s cold at home too.

He’d spent countless days and nights on patrol, standing outside while it was raining, snowing, hailing.

He knows cold very well, having been accustomed to the temperature of the laboratory since birth, the youth training center, the army barracks, purposefully kept cold to weed out those of weak body and immune system.

But a man never gets used to food poisoning, no matter how many times he gets it, and knowing cold, living most of his life in cold, doesn’t make it feel any less harsh.

And all of these prior times, he’d been perfectly healthy.

Well equipped, well-dressed.

And with the knowledge that if he collapsed, someone would drag him somewhere warm eventually.

Out here, alone, there is no one to help him.

No one to save him.

No one at all, not the Empire, not the Republic, not the faceless, countless others out there, the world full of humans divided by borders and ideologies.

He is alone.

Truly alone, now, without the dissident.

The prisoner could barely walk before.

Now, encumbered by snow, he can walk even less.

It’s tempting to lie down.

But he can’t.

The lake.

Get to the lake.

Maybe he’s there.

He’s already there, of course he is.

Waiting.

Link to rest of book.

Notes:

-separating the two, the dissident and the prisoner, was important. the prisoner had to realize that wanting death and actively seeking it are different things. he is left alone and it’s just not human to let yourself starve to death or freeze to death, not if you have enough strength left to crawl. he’s still very injured here, and he has a permanent limp, and permanent organ problems, but he’s doing his best to keep moving because...what else can he do?

-he’s become used to the dissident. perhaps he doesn’t like him, but he’s grown used to following him. and he’s been a part of a military structure his entire life. he only knows to follow orders, and the dissident becomes his new commander at the “end of times.” so their relationship hasn’t completely over turned the prisoner’s world yet, but.... it’s at least developed to the point where he’s not hating the dissident or seeing him as the enemy.

#kl writes #borderlines #original writing #writblr

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bangkokjacknews · 3 years ago

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How to spot a fake news story

Nine helpful tips to stop yourself from sharing false information.

If you’ve been looking at Facebook lately, you may have seen that Pope Francis endorsed Donald Trump, a town in Texas was quarantined due to a deadly disease and Germany just approved child marriage. To be clear, none of these events really happened ― but that didn’t stop news of them from spreading like a virus. Fake news articles ― especially throughout an election year ― have increasingly become a fixture on social media. These posts, designed to deceive, run rampant across the internet. Only later, if ever, do readers discover that the stories they shared may have been false. -

- The publication of blatantly inaccurate stories is certainly not new to the digital age, or even the analog era ― just check your local supermarket aisle for tabloids ― but what is new is how easy it is for a reader to scan a headline on Facebook, hit share and watch his 500 followers do the same. - In the final three months before the U.S. election, 20 top-performing fake news stories on Facebook outperformed 20 top-performing factual stories from 19 major media outlets in terms of engagement, according to a BuzzFeed study published last month. https://albertjack.com/2021/06/25/corpse-factory-birth-fake-news/ As it stands, there are few checks and balances to prevent any outlet from posting an article that is made up of false facts. In the coming months social media platforms will need to address many broader questions, including what level of editorial control sites like Facebook should exercise over the content on their platforms. After initially downplaying the problem, Facebook announced that it would begin seeking out ways to weed out some kinds of fake news from feeds. Google, too, said it plans to stop fake news sites from using its ad-selling service. But part of stopping the spread of hoaxes and misinformation also falls on readers who email these articles to friends and family or post them on social media, lending these stories their own credibility. In order to prevent the spread of fake news, here is a quick guide to spotting it. https://albertjack.com/2020/11/11/media-who-cried-wolf/ Read Past The Headline One way that fake news gets amplified is that busy readers may not look past the headline or opening paragraph before they decide to share an article. Fake news publishers sometimes exploit this tendency, writing the beginning of a story in a straightforward way before filling in the rest with obviously false information. In other cases, clicking through to the article will reveal that the story really has nothing to do with the headline at all or provides nothing to back it up. Check What News Outlet Published It Unfamiliar websites plastered with ads and all-caps headlines should draw immediate skepticism. Googling a site’s name and checking out other articles it posts should also help determine whether it’s trustworthy. Many fake news sites will outright say that they are satire or don’t contain factual information, but others are made to mimic major news outlets. Check the URL names of pages that look suspect, making sure that it’s not a hoax site that is pretending to be a trusted source. Check The Publish Date And Time Another common element in fake news is that old articles or events can resurface and lead people to believe they just happened. Checking the publish time stamp is something readers can quickly do to prevent being misled. Sometimes, however, finding out when an event happened can take a bit more work ― such as when the date of an article is current, but the events described within it are old. Click through links and read carefully to determine when the event described actually happened. Who Is The Author? Looking at who wrote the article can reveal a lot of information about the news source. Searching through the author’s previous articles can show whether they are a legitimate journalist or have a history of hoaxes.

A Facebook post from The Event Chronicle falsely claiming that George Soros died. Look At What Links And Sources Are Used A lack of links or sources for claims in an article is an obvious warning sign that the post is likely false. Fake sites may also provide numerous links to sites that appear to back up their claims, but are themselves spreading misinformation. Check to see that claims supported by links actually come from reliable sources. Look Out For Questionable Quotes And Photos It’s incredibly easy for fake news writers to invent false quotes, even attributing them to major public figures. Be skeptical of shocking or suspicious quotes, and search to see if they have been reported elsewhere. Likewise, it’s easy to take a photo from one event and say it’s from another. Images can also be altered for a certain story. Reverse image searches, either through Google or tools like TinEye, can help you find where an image originated. Beware Confirmation Bias People are often drawn to stories that reinforce the way they see the world and how they feel about certain issues. Fake news is no exception, and many of the articles that fall under its umbrella are designed to stir up emotion in readers and prey on their biases. It’s important to check that news stories are based in fact, rather than sharing them because they support one side of an argument or bolster pre-existing political beliefs. -

A Facebook post on the page of American News linking to a false story. - Search If Other News Outlets Are Reporting It If a story looks suspicious or claims to reveal major news, search to see if other news outlets are also reporting the story. A single article from a suspicious source making a grand claim should be viewed with heavy skepticism. If no reliable news outlets are also reporting the story, then it’s very likely fake. Think Before You Share Fake news sites rely on readers to share and engage with their articles in order for them to spread. In extreme cases, these fake articles can balloon out of control and have unintended consequences for those involved in the stories. After fake news stories claimed that Hillary Clinton was sexually abusing children at a Washington, D.C., pizza restaurant, the business owner and his employees received death threats and vicious online harassment. The staff is still under attack even though these false claims have been debunked. More Resources For Spotting Fake News: - Melissa Zimdars’ List Of Fake News Sites - On The Media Fake News Handbook - FactCheck.org - Poynter’s Tips For Debunking Fake News - TinEye Reverse Image Search - Washington Post Fact Checker Read the full article

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avicebro · 7 years ago

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Hello Pollux! Can you explain your OTP tags?

This is something people want? Lol okay:

This includes League of Legends and Fate.

Fate:

otp: be my queen | richard/ayaka

reference to the fact that richard is continuously trying to get ayaka to be his master. since they are master/servant and i like them romantically it turns from “be my master” to “be my queen”. a good otp 10/10 narita when will you ever.

otp: avenger and ruler | edmond dantes/amakusa shirou

i hope this is obvious. it’s an avenger and a ruler. demonstrates the fact that they’re polar opposites but still good as a ship.

otp: dragon slayers | siegfried/saint george

reference to how they work really well together in defeating wyverns in fate/grand order. may include kojiro if i find some siegfried/kojiro art i like.

otp: thief and executioner | robin hood/charles henri sanson

i like these two, especially in the salem chapter. the ship name is reference to their roles: one is a thief, one is an executioner. i was also thinking of giving them a title like “the new fruk” cause that’s basically what they are lol.

otp: im a self insert | guda/fgo character

any art of a guda and a fate grand order character. mainly avicebron and dantes because that’s who i ship myself with. more characters may join eventually but im very gay.

otp: casters of opposing factions | avicebron/william shakespeare

in apocrypha they’re the casters for the opposing factions. in fate grand order they seem to keep this dislike for each other.

otp: a new isolde | tristan/melt

ok i haven’t seen the full ccc event yet but basically tristan compares melt to isolde so yeah she’s a new isolde for him. i don’t like how fate writes her name (isseult?) so we’re going with this spelling.

otp: i’ll make you tsar | kadoc/anastasia

this is kadoc’s plan in lostbelt, to make her tsar of the lostbelt. that doesn’t really happen though but they’re in love okay?????

otp: hate at first sight | kirei/kiritsugu

i was tempted to call them “beautiful ties” as a pun on their names but decided against it. hate at first sight because that’s what happened. get along you two.

otp: president and princess | rin/issei

their roles at school. proud captain of the rissei ship. i will love this ship by myself if i have to.

otp: like cats and dogs | gilgamesh/cu chulainn

this is because of ip. go through her gilcu tag. i swear you’ll come out a different person. gilcu is a good ship. they’re a cat and a dog.

otp: i hate everything you stand for | hansa/jester

hansa and jester both hate each other because of who they are. jester despises those from the church, hansa hates dead apostles. they’re fun.

otp: l’auteur malfaisant | edmond dantes/dumas

this is just what dantes calls him, “the wicked author” but in french. love these two so fucking much. if you want me to be happy just mention eddumas.

otp: beast like me | caren/angra mainyu

in hollow ataraxia, it’s stated that they are both beasts: caren for being born “out of wedlock” and angra mainyu because he’s all the evils of the world. they are both beasts by birth, and must deal with the sins from being called a beast. also a big otp.

otp: sad a lot | tristan/lancelot

i was originally calling this ship “tristalot” which sounds like “triste a lot” which is french for “sad a lot”.

otp: up until this moment my wish was being granted | medea/souichirou

OTP TO RULE ALL OTPS. god i love these two. it’s a reference to what medea says in UBW when she dies. man i love these two so much.

otp: the jewel resting near my heart | rin/shirou

reference to the pendent rin gives shirou. may include rin/archer i’m not sure yet.

otp: let’s destroy the world! | kirei/gilgamesh

wow this is late on the list lol. the ship name is what they wanna do. kirei route when nasu.

otp: on the defense | hector/alter cu chulainn

both of them are known for being defensive characters, both in playstyle and in personality. they’re old, tired men let them nap.

otp: i may not always be by your side | issei/shirou

this is a line issei tells shirou in prillya. love these guys a lot. especially with rin.

otp: sword and sheath | saber/shirou

that’s what they are. saber is the sword and shirou is the sheath. no sexual jokes please. like them romantically and as friends.

otp: my wish is for her to live | medusa/sakura

purple girlfriends. love them. love heaven’s feel. reference to a line medusa tells shirou.

otp: my superman | sakura/shirou

OTP TO RULE ALL OTPS. the best ship in stay night with kuzucaster. i love heaven’s feel so much. they were what got me into drawing. i love them so much. reference to the superman scene in HF.

otp: two too pretty boys | diarmuid/gilgamesh

this is 100% because they are attractive guys. that is it. the ship name shows this.

otp: you cursed me | emiya alter/kiara

don’t @ me i like these two. emiya alter an alter because of kiara, hence the ship name.

otp: you were literally made for me | gilgamesh/enkidu

I DON’T HATE THIS SHIP WHY WOULD I TAG AND REBLOG IT SO MUCH IF I HATED THIS SHIP? I simply stated that I am tired of seeing it so much in the f/sf tags. I do like these two shhh. name is a reference to the fact that kidu was made for gil.

otp: lance to the heart and you’re to blame | kirei/cu chulainn

hello i love kotoyari. reference to the UBW ending. feb 14 isn’t valentines day it’s kotoyari day.

otp: your dream is mine | kiritsugu/irisviel

i can’t talk about this ship without crying just know i love them. iri wishes for his dream to come true.

otp: i wanted a saber anyways | rin/saber

just gals being pals you know . and originally rin wanted a saber.

otp: the woman was a saint | kirei/claudia

im not crying you’re crying. a line in the VN.

otp: you remind me of someone | paracelsus/phantom

no this isn’t just because they’re pretty boys lol. like the idea of them being good friends who help each other when the other goes berserk.

otp: dancing with the devil | mephistopheles/paracelsus

there’s a lot of cool/interesting ship art between these two that’s really cool and i love. love the idea of them adopting jack.

otp: fist of the north star to the heart | saint martha/sasaki kojiro

just wait until the summer event. love how koji has joined the dragon slayer’s group. hope he enjoys his new friends. you have to fight her at one point for koji’s development. it’s a joke about how her np is a fist of the north star joke.

otp: calm desert nights | nitocris/scheherazade

reference to lalalack’s ‘desert beauty’ piece. they spend those nights in the desert exchanging stories, calming each other down.

otp: how about we put it to the test? | li shuwen/beowulf

what beowulf says to li shuwen before they start their fight. they like to beat each other up and it’s great.

otp: beat up a pretty face | beowulf/fionn mac cumhaill

who has the pretty face is up to you. reference to how fionn looks ephemeral in the beofionn art.

otp: a king and his knight | diarmuid/fionn

it’s their roles. yeah i know fionn “killed” him it’s fun.

my chivalrous knight | diarmuid/saber

who is the knight and who is chivalrous? up to you!

otp: blue knights | cu chulainn/saber

only two people ship this there’s only two posts i wanna die

a queen and her knight | saber/irisviel

based on when saber acts as her knight (aka all of fate/zero) in f/z. doesn’t have otp cause i’m lazy.

ot3: church trio | gilgamesh/kirei/cu chulainn

they live in the church lol.

ot3: we could have had it alllllll | sieg/jeanne d’arc/astolfo

based on the fact that apocrypha could have easily juggled the three of these into an ot3 but nope.

ot3: my two friends | gilgamesh/enkidu/kirei

there is only 1 piece of fanart in this tag but it’s a very good piece of fanart

ot3: this could have worked really well tbqh | kirei/gilgamesh/tokiomi

team archer could have been good if kirei didn’t get his dick sucked by gilgamesh.

ot3: princess president and prince | rin/issei/shirou

their roles - i think shirou should be a prince. i just really love rissei and shissei so why not combine them into an ot3 y/y?

group tag: aesthetic of death | gilles de rais, uryuu ryuunosuke, jeanne alter, prelati

i love these guys a lot okay? a lot of gilles/ryu because canon otp. was supposed to be art of death because of ryuunosuke's CE but it was mistranslated and i'm too lazy to change it!

group tag: equipe francaise | d’eon, marie, mozart, sanson

they are cute but this tag is pushed by my thirst for mozart. the tag means “french team” which is basically what they are right?

brotp: my retainer | waver velvet/alexander the great

im sorry i can’t ship this romantically but they are cute together!

brotp: troy's defense | penthesilea, hektor

these two are good bros who break pots together and will rip achilles' open

League of Legends:

otp: spin to win | katarina/garen

this is about gameplay. garen is known for his e, which is a spin. the joke “spin to win” comes from that ability. since katarina also has a spin, spin to win works for these two.

otp: drasona | draven/sona

it’s just their ship name lol.

otp: takes two to tango | evelynn/twisted fate

reference to the twisted fate and evelynn shared tango skins. such a good ship. i love them and twisted fate/graves. league of legends please do something with these two i stg.

otp: partners in crime | twisted fate/graves

man this is the best lol ship man i wish lol would do anything with this ship that would be great i love my gay men. and they’re working together again! nice!

otp: the sun shines for you | leona/pantheon

i don’t know what lol is doing with these two if if they’re actually gonna be together and i love diana/leona too but i’ve always had a soft spot for these two. also? a great bot lane if you can stomp early.

otp: it’s called art | jinx/jhin

to be honest i just think these two would be hilarious. let them just do whatever they want in piltover.

otp: collecting souls | thresh/kalista

aesthetic and also a great botlane. i just love kalista tbh. ghost wife.

otp: trying to keep the balance | shen/zed

wow the first otp for league of legends. good shit guys hope you guys get more content soon.

If a ship you know I like is not on this list it’s probably just tagged as the ship name! I’m probably going to go through and create tags for each ship like these as I think of them. If you have suggestions for ship names let me know!

#ship tags

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msclaritea · 7 years ago

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~Napoleon, Nietzsche & TFP~

A Study In Holmesian Iconoclasm: Masks & Images P.2

This is the final part of a series that looked into the canon story The Six Napoleons, resulting in mary-resurrects-lucretia & sherlock-on-the-ocean-when-neitzsche-wept. In the story, someone is running around, smashing Napoleon busts. Strange enough, but even more so when you find out that this has all happened before. Arthur Conan Doyle was masterful, it seems, at embedding real-life people and true tales of History in the Holmes stories. Iconoclasm is the social belief in the importance of the destruction of usually religious icons and other images or monuments, most frequently for religious or political reasons…In Political and revolutionary iconoclasm, revolutions, and changes of regime, whether through uprising of the local population, foreign invasion, or a combination of both, are often accompanied by the public destruction of statues and monuments identified with the previous regime.

During the French Revolution, the statue of Napoleon on the column at Place Vendôme, Paris was the target of iconoclasm several times: destroyed after the Bourbon Restoration, and during the Paris Commune.

Napoleon loomed large as a political figure in the 19th century. The artists of subsequent periods were a mix of elevating his image…or smashing it. Napoleonic Iconoclasm is an actual known trope, as he evolved into a mythical figure during the Romantic Period.

“Such a fact must tell against the theory that the man who breaks them is influenced by any general hatred of Napoleon. Considering how many hundreds of statues of the great Emperor must exist in London, it is too much to suppose such a coincidence as that a promiscuous iconoclast should chance to begin upon three specimens of the same bust.“

The Adventure of The Six Napoleons touches on true political history, and the image of Napoleon intertwines with the enduring quality of Holmes. Moriarty was not called ‘The Napoleon of Crime’, for nothing. He was created as a nemesis to Holmes; his mirror image, for his eventual death. But whereas Moriarty died, Sherlock Holmes, like Napoleon, was ‘banished’, only to return, and be celebrated, while once again, taking control of ACD’s career.

“Privately, he has become something of a villain, over time, tyrannically taking control of Doyle’s writing, and his endlessly-replicated heroic figure invited smashing.” This quote, from The Secret Marriage of Sherlock Holmes: "Shattering the pedestrian image of reason is Holmes’s great iconoclastic gift.“ "His reasoning is obsessive, impulsive, unpredictable, astonishing.” Holmes displays much enthusiasm and dramatic flair in The Six Thatchers, and “When the blow of the riding crop shatters the image so long sought, and reveals the pearl inside, all subsequent explanations seem a footnote. That blow is this story’s symbolic representation of reason’s power, and that single gesture sums up the transvaluation (re-evaluating of the values) of reason’s image that Sherlock Holmes has wrought.“ It’s part of my theory that BBC Sherlock is engaging Holmesian Iconoclasm; in a literary sense, breaking the man down to his most basic parts, taking him into dark places in an experiment of re-integration, using the teachings of Nietzsche in Season 4, as a way of aligning his moral code for the world we live in now. What ARE the sum of his parts?

The Question: Sherlock and Theseus’s Paradox by Dennis O’ Neil

"An Ancient Greek named Theseus…builds a ship. Over time the ship needs repairs and pieces of it have to be replaced and finally everything has been replaced. Not a single splinter of the original craft remains. Which brings us to what is known in some circles as Theseus’s Paradox. We ask: Is the ship our man Theseus ends with the same one that he built years earlier?”

In The Beginning: Birth & The Bi-Part Soul

Below is an excerpt from a thesis The Influence of Duality and Poe’s Notion of the Bi-Part Soul’ on the Genesis of Detective Fiction in the Nineteenth-Century by Stephanie Craighill. It is a lengthy, beautiful piece on the genesis of the creation of what we refer to as the Mirrors. Like Nietzsche, Poe and Doyle held strong belief in Duality/Dualism/Balance, and used that belief, NOT just when structuring characters, but the stories themselves.

"Observing him in these moods, I often dwelt meditatively upon the old philosophy of the Bi-Part Soul and amused myself with the fancy of a double Dupin; the creative and the resolvent." Poe‘s explicit reference to the double‘ directly intertwines with the theme of duality which resonates throughout the Gothic novel and the Romantic Movement in nineteenth century fiction; this paradigm is evident in texts such as Johann Wolfgang von Goethe‘s Faust, Mary Shelley‘s Frankenstein…This motif has been extensively examined by scholars and has been defined using numerous but vague classifications which include the fictional double‘, the evil twin‘, the alter ego‘, the antithetical self‘, the fragmentation of self into dual‘ and the twin soul‘. Dupin reproaches the Prefect of the Parisian police for being too cunning to be profound‘,

(which mirrors the game of chess where what is complex is mistaken for what is profound‘. The detective, also, rebukes the Prefect‘s wisdom‘ for being all head and no body‘ which relates to the detective‘s earlier supposition that the ingenious are always fanciful, and the truly imaginative never otherwise than analytic‘ The Prefect‘s reasoning is too fanciful‘ to be successful. It is through the combined use of both aspects of the Bi Part Soul‘, the head‘ and the body‘ and their associated faculties of the imagination and reason, that the detective was able to outwit his opponent.)

Duality is implicit in the structure and characterization of The Murders in the Rue Morgue‘. It is visible in the tale‘s twin plot, the divided self which is the narrator and Dupin, the doubling of the criminals, victims and detective and most prominently the detective‘s creative and resolvent‘ Bi-Part Soul‘. Dupin‘s dual psychology is associated with moral ambiguity and a blurring of boundaries which, consequently, has shaped a compelling psychosomatic template for a genre of multifaceted and complex detective protagonists. Holmes‘ inherent dualism is summarised by Iain Sinclair and Ed Glinert who state that: Holmes is the classically divided man that the age required: alchemist and rigorous experimenter, furious walker and definitive slacker, athlete and dope fiend. He could, as the mood took him, be Trappist or motor mouth … Holmes is forever lurching between incompatible polarities. From the beginning Holmes was a double figure, first in himself as the mixture of scientist and poet and even more significantly in the double figure of Sherlock Holmes Doctor Watson‘. Conan Doyle‘s implicit doubling of Poe‘s detective trilogy extends further; like Dupin who doubles the criminals in The Murders in the Rue Morgue‘ and the thief Minister D. in The Purloined Letter‘, Holmes represents a doppelgänger for his arch nemesis, the criminal mastermind Professor Moriarty. Moriarty only directly appears in two of the sixty Holmes accounts; in the short story The Final Problem‘ and the novella The Valley of Fear, though he is mentioned in a selection of the other narratives. In these two accounts we learn that Moriarty shares a number of common characteristics with Holmes. He is of similar physical appearance, has a phenomenal mathematical faculty‘, is a genius, a philosopher, an abstract thinker‘ and a scientific criminal‘ Moriarty conforms to the same Bi-Part‘ mould as the detectives Holmes and Dupin; he is both reasoned and artistic. In The Final Problem‘ Holmes refers to Moriarty as the organiser of half that is evil. Moriarty could characterize an inversion of the values embodied by Holmes‘ and, as a result, the criminal represents the detective‘s doppelgänger who is equipped with an identical skill set but motivated by an evil purpose."

Context: Paralleling the Works of Nietzsche and Sherlock

Out of the night that covers me, Black as the pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul.

Thus Spake Zarathustra: Sherlock On The Ocean:

"The above piece was written in 1875 by William Ernest Henley. Perhaps most famous is Henley’s closing statement: “I am the master of my fate:/I am the captain of my soul.” The poem is a declaration of the triumph of the human spirit - the refusal to bend to a universe Henley called “a place of wrath and tears. Holmes was an unprecedented sort of hero. Emerging from a culture enthralled by scientific progress, he was a superhero who relied almost entirely on his powers of deduction…Holmes was and is the sensationalized personification of Henley’s captain of the soul. His powers of deduction are presented as the triumph of reason, a triumph open to all of humanity if we’d only try a little harder. In this way, Sherlock Holmes is Nietzsche’s “superman” (a term coined in Thus Spake Zarathustra, written a few years before A Study in Scarlet). He is the moral, observational and logical evolution of mankind.

The Übermensch is Nietzsche’s concept of the ideal, and it can translate to overman, superman, above human, and probably some other things. The Übermensch doesn’t have incredible physical abilities. Instead, his power is mental and spiritual. The greatest power in the world, according to Nietzsche, is freedom, and I’m about to make a huge and tragic over-simplification of Nietzsche’s theory as to what that means. It is that complete human freedom is achieved by radically breaking with all forms of guilt, shame, and external authority. It combines many qualities of a completely naïve and fearless toddler with those of an experienced and wise elder."

Sherlock: Isn't that...one of those Law things?

"In the first or second episode a minor character calls him a sociopath, and the show really delves into the question of what actually makes Holmes and Moriarty (a really evil criminal who is as good at crime as Holmes is at solving crimes) different from each other aside from pure occupational interests. The sociopath comment was my first clue. Critics of Nietzsche’s philosophy have always contended that his Übermensch would really be a sociopath who just looks out for number one. What is useful in making the connection between Sherlock Holmes and Nietzsche’s work is that I think the Holmes series provides a picture into how the Übermensch doesn’t necessarily play out as a sociopath.“

"He can’t stand the boredom of the day to day, the absurd. And it is just like any good German existentialist to value present experience over the longevity of life. Furthermore, he is completely open about his habit with Dr. Watson, who is initially very concerned. His openness about it shows that Holmes gives no credibility to prescriptions other than his own as to what constitutes a good life.

His passion happens to be for forensic science, or the “science of deduction,” as Holmes calls it. The key, though, is that he throws everything he has got into what he truly cares about, leaving no room for time wasters like social obligations, civic engagement, parties, etc. Dr. Watson even finds that Holmes isn’t aware that the Earth revolves around the sun, since it has no use for his forensic studies.”

“There is an old illusion—it is called good and evil. Around soothsayers and astrologers hath hitherto revolved the orbit of this illusion.

Once did one believe in soothsayers and astrologers; and therefore did one believe, "Everything is fate: thou shalt, for thou must!”

Then again did one distrust all soothsayers and astrologers; and therefore did one believe, “Everything is freedom: thou canst, for thou willest!”

O my brethren, concerning the stars and the future there hath hitherto been only illusion, and not knowledge; and therefore concerning good and evil there hath hitherto been only illusion and not knowledge!" Thus Spake Zarathustra

”On Nietzsche: While most of his contemporaries looked on the late nineteenth century with unbridled optimism, confident in the progress of science and the rise of the German state, Nietzsche saw his age facing a fundamental crisis in values. With the rise of science, the Christian worldview no longer held a prominent explanatory role in people’s lives, a view Nietzsche captures in the phrase “God is dead.” However, science does not introduce a new set of values to replace the Christian values it displaces. Nietzsche rightly foresaw that people need to identify some source of meaning and value in their lives, and if they could not find it in science, they would turn to aggressive nationalism and other such salves. The last thing Nietzsche would have wanted was a return to traditional Christianity, however. Instead, he sought to find a way out of nihilism through the creative and willful affirmation of life.“

The Gay Science: Nietzsche’s first consideration of the idea of the eternal recurrence

“What if some day or night a demon were to steal after you into your loneliest loneliness and say to you: ‘This life as you now live it and have lived it, you will have to live once more and innumerable times more’ […] Would you not throw yourself down and gnash your teeth and curse the demon who spoke thus? Or have you once experienced a tremendous moment when you would have answered him: 'You are a god and never have I heard anything more divine.”

This was one of the themes of Shakespeare’s No Fear Sonnets 1-60, some of which have been found embedded and acted out in the show. 59 is heavy with this theme and found in The Six Thatchers. “Not only does Nietzsche posit that the universe is recurring over infinite time and space, but that the different versions of events that have occurred in the past may at one point or another take place again, hence "all configurations that have previously existed on this earth must yet meet…” And with each version of events is hoping that some knowledge or awareness is gained to better the individual, hence “And thus it will happen one day that a man will be born again, just like me and a woman will be born, just like Mary—only that it is hoped to be that the head of this man may contain a little less foolishness…”

The Antichrist, originally published in 1895

MARY: Hm. Now you’d think we’d have noticed, when she was born. JOHN: Hm? Noticed what? MARY: The little 666 on her forehead. JOHN: Hmhmhm, that’s The Omen. MARY: (lifts her head to look at him with a frown, stays like that though John’s entire answer) So? JOHN: Well, you said it was like The Exorcist. They’re two different things. You can’t be the Devil and the Antichrist.

“Nietzsche writes scathingly about Christianity, arguing that it is fundamentally opposed to life. In Christian morality, Nietzsche sees an attempt to deny all those characteristics that he associates with healthy life. The concept of sin makes us ashamed of our instincts and our sexuality, the concept of faith discourages our curiosity and natural skepticism, and the concept of pity encourages us to value and cherish weakness. Furthermore, Christian morality is based on the promise of an afterlife, leading Christians to devalue this life in favor of the beyond. Nietzsche argues that Christianity springs from resentment for life and those who enjoy it, and it seeks to overthrow health and strength with its life-denying ethic. As such, Nietzsche considers Christianity to be the hated enemy...Christianity is called the religion of pity. Pity stands opposed to the tonic emotions which heighten our vitality: it has a depressing effect. We are deprived of strength when we feel pity. That loss of strength which suffering as such inflicts on life is still further increased and multiplied by pity. Pity makes suffering contagious."

Sherlock: This hospital is full of people dying, doctor, why don’t you go and cry by their bedsides, see what good it does.

Nietzsche claimed that the Christian religion and its morality are based on imaginary fictions. Concept of morality is falsified. Morality is no longer an expression of life and growth. Instead, morality opposes life by presenting well–being as a dangerous temptation. Priestly agitators “… interpret all good fortune as a reward, all misfortune as punishment for disobedience of God, for 'sin,’…The sacred book formulates the will of God and specifies what is to be given to the priests. Priests become parasites.”…All things of life are so ordered that the priest is everywhere indispensable; at all the natural events of life, at birth, marriage, sickness, death. Not to speak of 'sacrifice’ (meal–times)…Natural values become utterly valueless. The priest sanctifies and bestows all value. Disobedience of God (the priest) is 'sin.’ Subjection to God (the priest) is redemption. Priests use 'sin’ to gain and hold power.

Sherlock: …And contrast is, after all, God’s own plan to enhance the beauty of his creation. Or it would be if God were not a ludicrous fantasy designed to provide a career opportunity for the family idiot.

*Interesting footnote about the first part of this statement. Goethe, from whom Nietzche gets the word Ubermensch, apparently actually invented the Color Wheel. THIS video shows how he used light, shadow and a color to enhance the beauty of another.

“The Truth’s Boring!”

“Nietzsche is critical of the very idea of objective truth. That we should think there is only one right way of considering a matter is only evidence that we have become inflexible in our thinking. Such intellectual inflexibility is a symptom of saying “no” to life, a condition that Nietzsche abhors. A healthy mind is flexible and recognizes that there are many different ways of considering a matter. There is no single truth but rather many.”

“Because You’re an Idiot”

"Nietzsche thought that the word idiot best described Jesus. According to Walter Kaufmann, he might have been referring to the naïve protagonist of Dostoyevsky’s book The Idiot. “The fable of Christ as miracle–worker and redeemer is not the origin of Christianity..Jesus did not want to redeem anyone. He wanted to show how to live. His legacy was his bearing and behavior. He did not resist evildoers. He loved evildoers. Nietzsche claimed that the Christian faith as practised was not a proper representation of Jesus’ teachings, as it forced people merely to believe in the way of Jesus but not to act as Jesus did, in particular his example of refusing to judge people, something that Christians had constantly done the opposite of."

Human, All Too Human: On Becoming

JOHN: Don’t pretend you’re not enjoying this. SHERLOCK (not looking round): Hmm? JOHN: Being back. Being a hero again. SHERLOCK: Oh, don’t be stupid. JOHN: You’d have to be an idiot not to see it. You love it. SHERLOCK (turning to face him): Love what? JOHN: Being Sherlock Holmes. SHERLOCK: I don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean.

"Nietzsche wrote that Heraclitus "will remain eternally right with his assertion that being is an empty fiction”. Nietzsche developed the vision of a chaotic world in perpetual change and becoming. The state of becoming does not produce fixed entities, such as being, subject, object, substance, thing. Ephesus, who in the sixth century BC, said that nothing in this world is constant except change and becoming." Sherlock, at this point, is still in a state of becoming.

"Reptile!"

"But wherever ye would ascend with me, O my brethren, take care lest a parasite ascend with you! A parasite: that is a reptile, a creeping, cringing reptile, that trieth to fatten on your infirm and sore places. And this is its art: it divineth where ascending souls are weary, in your trouble and dejection, in your sensitive modesty, doth it build its loathsome nest.”

“Enemy” shall ye say but not “villain,” “invalid” shall ye say but not “wretch,” “fool” shall ye say but not “sinner.”

And thou, red judge, if thou would say audibly all thou hast done in thought, then would every one cry: “Away with the nastiness and the virulent reptile!” Thus Spake Zarathustra

Why All The Pain? The Birth of Tragedy

“Artistic creation depends on a tension between two opposing forces, which Nietzsche terms the “Apollonian” and the “Dionysian.”

"Apollo was the god of light, reason, harmony, balance and prophesy, while Dionysus was the god of wine, revelry, ecstatic emotion and tragedy.

Nietzsche uses this duality for discussing the artistic process which relate to either Apollo or Dionysus. Apollo and Dionysus symbols of this duality which he further distinguishes with the terms of “dreams” and “drunkenness.” For Nietzsche, dreams represent the realm of beautiful forms and symbols, an orderly place of light and reason. Drunkenness, on the other hand, is that state of wild passions where the boundaries between "self" and "other" dissolve. (This may strike as odd, but Nietzsche seems to make the assumption that, when dreaming, one is aware of the fact that one is dreaming and so still able to separate appearance from reality. I believe that he would claim those who are entirely caught up in their dreams are experiencing Dionysian ecstasy, not Apollonian beauty.)"

Meet Nihilism

”The nihilist believes in nothing, has no loyalties and has no purpose in life. Some are left with only an impulse to destroy.“

EURUS: Am I being punished? MAN (offscreen, faintly): You’ve been bad. EURUS (almost sing-song): There’s no such thing as ‘bad.’ MAN (offscreen): What about good? EURUS: Good and bad are fairytales. We have evolved to attach an emotional significance to what is nothing more than the survival strategy of the pack animal. We are conditioned to invest divinity in utility. Good isn’t really good, evil isn’t really wrong, and bottoms aren’t really pretty. You are a prisoner of your own meat. MAN (offscreen): Why aren’t you? EURUS (raising her head and looking directly into the camera as she speaks the words slowly and clearly): I’m too clever.

"Moral nihilism, also known as ethical nihilism, is the meta-ethical view that morality does not exist as something inherent to objective reality; therefore no action is necessarily preferable to any other. For example, a moral nihilist would say that killing someone, for whatever reason, is not inherently right or wrong. Nietzsche characterized nihilism as emptying the world and especially human existence of meaning, purpose, comprehensible truth, or essential value."

Eurus is most definitely a Sherlock mirror; a Bi-Part Soul. She doesn’t even know 'if something’s beautiful or not; only right’. Eurus is pure Nihilism. A Brain without a heart; an actual calculating machine, attempting to show that making a supposed 'morally-right decision can actually create the opposite result, so that moral codes don’t matter. She used tests, like sherlocks-paradox, tests he has been put through before. As we witness, Sherlock succeeds.

This is still the same journey many have pointed out, just using the Nietzschean Method to do so. Growing from a great man…a Superman into a good one; flawed and very much human, with a Moral Code to match.

"Friedrich Nietzsche believed that the corrosive effects of nihilism would end up destroying all moral constructs, religions, and metaphysical convictions...that nihilism would be the most corrosive force in history.”

Fun Note: On Mustaches & Military Kinks

“Nietzsche lived with the mustache most of his adult life, and it represented for him the military life. He served briefly in the military, and always held certain admiration for military discipline. In him we get a sense that the military attitude is very important towards living a proper, fulfilling life. If you ask most people what does Nietzsche look like, what they will immediately say is: ‘oh that’s the guy with the huge mustache’. And if you ask: ‘well, what about the eyes? the nose? what about the chin? what about the hair?’ They will probably draw a blank. And Nietzsche himself points out that when you see someone with a big handsome mustache, what they see is: the mustache. It is a mask, it allowed Nietzsche in effect to hide.”

To conclude, through the eyes of Nietzsche, the show is smashing the previous images of Sherlock Holmes, using the Philosopher’s works, in addition to Freud and Josef Breuer, to take him through a journey of self-discovery, and yes, love. Given the strong hints to a troubled childhood and suppression of feelings, the philosophies of these men, together, are employed, just as presented in When Nietzsche Wept. This meta cannot even begin to cover the full scope of Nietzshe’s works or his strong influence on the blueprint of Sherlock Holmes. His presence is found throughout canon; sometimes, in the form of other characters. I will say that Nietzche’s ideas are many, profound and important. Considering his influence on Arthur Conan Doyle, and Sherlock Holmes, who has in turn, been so important to 21st century, in many fields, Friedrich Nietzsche should always be held in high regard. Not bad for a guy who in the good old days would have been labelled a Heretic, and burned at the stake. So maybe he’s right; we can be better.

“I know my fate. One day my name will be associated with the memory of something tremendous — a crisis without equal on earth, the most profound collision of conscience, a decision that was conjured up against everything that had been believed, demanded, hallowed so far. I am no man, I am dynamite. Ecco Homo

(Don’t you just love some of his book titles?)

Read also the-reptile-in-221b & sherlock-denying-the-devil

@brilliantorinsane @simpleanddestructivechemistry @shylockgnomes @possiblyimbiassed @raggedyblue @rinkagaminesstuff @artfulkindoforder @radogost @asherlockstudy @fellshish @multivariate-madness @madzither @yorkiepug @loveismyrevolution @consultingidiots @tjlcisthenewsexy

Full text of Thus Spake Zarathustra

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#Napoleon Nietzsche & TFP Meta #Threads #1895 #The Ubermensche #Josef Breuer #Freud #Nietzsche/Sherlock Parallels #Holmesian Iconoclasm #I'm Done!

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mccotterkayvin · 4 years ago

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aureliavalmont · 4 years ago

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THE WORLD — aurelia valmont, 3rd in line to the throne, in summary.

FULL NAME —

Aurelia Josephine Liviana Valmont.

Names are chosen for all sorts of reasons, on any normal day, for any normal babe. The problem, of course, is that this is not a normal babe. This is the only daughter of Septimus Valmont, and as the priests gather to bless the name of the princess, King Septimus is tired. Still, her face is as beautiful as her mother’s, even in infancy, and it inspires her father to emerge from boredom into a modicum of enthusiasm. He names her for her beauty, Aurelia, for he’s always wished his own name had some grand meaning, rather than being the equivalent of numbering your children so you won’t forget which came first. Why bow to such wretched tradition? After all, Septimus could have been named Primus for all the good it did the first heir of his generation. On a whim, he named her something gilded or maybe gold, and hoped for her to turn out as pretty and vapid as he’d been, before the burdens of the world were placed upon his shoulders. Any daughter of his should be gilded, no? Even if the gold may only be a film to cover rot and decay, she would always have her filigree, and would always be permitted to harness it.

After that, he meandered. Josephine, for his favorite aunt as a child, for she’d died young and the former king had not spared the resources to bring her back to life. He spared no thought for his bride, who had carried the babe to term but was given no option to name her themself. They were as powerless as the daughter they’d provided him, and he cared not for their wishes, not enough to notice them, at any rate. He might have stopped there, but as he looked down into her now-peaceful face, at last stopping crying after being separated from her mother, he smiled a little melancholy smile. He remembered all too well what it was to grow up in the lap of luxury and know the crown would never fall onto his head, despite what he became. He remembered with fondness and chagrin how his second-born sibling had trailed after the heir, always wanting to inherit, never understanding what a burden it would be. The second-born’s life is defined by the heir’s, he murmured gravely, bending down to pretend she could understand him as his thumb brushed her ruddy cheek, if I recall correctly. He cooed at her a moment, and her lashes fluttered as though she was dreaming, maybe even of him. Ah, yes, I know exactly what to expect from you. And so he named her Liviana, because it was for the envious, and he expected her to know its taste on her tongue before she knew how to say the word. He could not know, of course, that she would grow to know nothing of the kind, never coveting anyone’s life but her own, for she knew instinctively that one did not need to be heir apparent to know their own worth.

King Septimus could have continued, as each priest and noble in the room waited on him to do so, but he grew tired of the game. Even life and death had become such to him these days. Her life was nothing more than an opportunity for him to reflect, in the end, on his siblings and their demise. Absently, he pressed a whiskery kiss to her forehead and declared her a Valmont, and it was recorded with the rest for the purpose of their royal history.

THE READING —

— Future (Upright)

You are the relief that comes at the end of a long and winding project, the comfort taken from the knowledge that it’s done well, and the sense of completeness that brings. You are a circle that has no beginning, a closed circuit of a girl with her hopes settled and dreams nothing more than a memory, for what you want is now in hand. You are someone defined by your goals, yet comforted by reaching them, on a larger scale or even day to day. The journey has been hard, but you have been rewarded with the celebration of your achievements, and you understand that your responsibilities exist, but do not inhibit your joy. You carry with you a sense that every step of the journey has made you smarter, stronger, or wiser, and even when your path was lonely, there has always been a light at the end of your tunnel. The light is you, and all that you encompass. Self-reflection is key to who you are, and your awareness of your faults and strengths is what keeps you going. In the completion you seek, you will find new beginnings, too, for yourself and those around you. Whether you enjoy change or not, you must tug it ashore and present it to the world, neatly wrapped and tied off with a bow.

— Present (Reversed)

You are the sensation of standing at a crossroads, turned in the opposite direction of the path you know you must follow. You fear that first step more than anything, but finding closure is essential to your happiness. It is only your tether to the past that inhibits you, and you worry endlessly over the journey, though your feet will make it there whether you want them to or not. In order to find balance, you need to embrace where you are now and let go of what came before, for the conflict within you is only an illusion. Your journey will be personal and quiet, filled with turmoil and self-recrimination, but you will emerge from this, for there are no other options left to you. You have a necessary task to complete, but it strains you nearly to breaking, and it will cost you more than it already has before it’s completed. No trial or turn in your path can be overlooked in order to complete the cycle started with your birth. You define the sensation of never being finished, of seeing the light at the end of the tunnel stretch further away with every step you take. You are still a project with an essential piece missing, and until you find it, you will always feel hollow.

AGE —

Twenty and one years, born in the Fifth Month, on the 17th day.

Stable, resilient, and capable, she will always have her feet planted firmly on the ground. She knows well her own likes and dislikes, and gravitates toward material pleasures and wealth in spite of herself. Aurelia is most comforted by stability, and dislikes fast-paced change, which makes her the perfect person to so easily wave away the concerns of the prophecy to the watching eyes and ears of the nobility. Who, after all, would suspect that a girl too afraid to cut her hair would be the one to change the foundations of the world? She has no issue, however, with change at a slow and steady pace, heralded and planned out by herself and her own sharp mind. She is most interested in being her own master. Responsible and capable, she has a strong work ethic, but that does not mean she forgoes luxury altogether. Aurelia is a perfectionist, which she sees as both a flaw and a decent trait to have, considering her goals in life. She is extremely set in her ways and focused on the big picture, which means that while she empathizes with the small slights inflicted on others, she may allow them to occur while working to fundamentally alter society for the greater good. Aurelia won’t stop until she has what she came for, and she won’t compromise her values (love, empathy, fairness) to obtain it, either.

DETAILS —

What drew me to Aurelia was all of her, really. I know this is where we highlight the things that we liked most, but I can’t pick her apart without explaining why I like the whole, irrefutable package. She’s soft for others to a large degree, but that doesn’t entirely define her; it runs parallel to her other traits, yet it doesn’t work against them. She’s strong, even with her soft heart, strong enough to see that what she’s been told her whole life is right is very, very wrong. She has a will of her own, and you can’t get that by being weak and easily influenced. I love that she refuses to fight outright, preferring to maneuver in such a way that no one has to get hurt, and I love that she has the ability and the confidence to see it through. She knows that she would be a good ruler because she cares, and she cares fiercely enough to protect her family, even when they mostly don’t deserve it. She knows she’ll win because she absolutely cannot lose, all her cards are on the table but they’re also face cards, maybe even an ace. Her power comes from the desire to protect, and her pragmatism is married to her sense of love and duty in an indelible way. She cannot have empathy without having responsibility, and she refuses to lead a violent revolution against those who have cared for her all her life. She’s not one dimensional, not naive, not hopeless. I love her for all those things combined, and to pick them apart wouldn’t yield the same results.

BACKGROUND —

— Growing up in a fortress can feel isolated at times, but Aurelia found ways to play with those around her, even as a rambunctious child. She was the girl who would sneak cookies for the stable-boy’s dogs and giggle playing peek-a-boo with a guard when he was supposed to be on duty. Curious about others and rarely allowed around other children, she devoured the attention of adults, and from an early age cultivated a strangely adult manner of speaking. The other nobles thought it was charming, that a princess would know to speak so regally throughout her years, and Aurelia never disabused them of the notion, preferring instead to delight them with fun new vocabulary. This got her into trouble, of course, when she learned about swearing, but she was too sweet-faced to be stern with long, and too sweet-natured to take advantage the way a brat or a bully might. For this, she was doted upon by her nannies and tutors, as well as those in the barracks. It was easy, later on, to begin cultivating those people as a network, sneaking her information with worried glances and trust in their eyes. What a sweet girl, they would murmur, pressing their lips to her knuckles, to worry so about such simple complaints.

— When she was six years old, they began placing books atop her head and forcing her to walk without them falling. She always thought it was to improve her posture, with the way her nanny was constantly straightening her spine, but she knew it was more than that when she first put her crown on. By Undeath, that thing was heavy, and it took all she had to walk with her head held straight, to eat five courses of a meal, to talk and dance and not throw her head back and let the thing slide right off it. No one would listen if she did complain, and she never told anyone, save for THE LOVERS, who she eventually grew to trust so much that she could let them in on the secret. When she takes the crown for herself, her first non-essential decree will be to melt them all down and make them smaller, sleeker, and more easily wearable.

— Aurelia is fond of pestering THE SUN, though she wouldn’t call it annoying them so much as caring for them. Necromancers have always seemed so lonely to her (other than THE HIGH PRIESTESS, who unnerves her), and that’s especially true for the old ones. How terrible it would be, to grow older and older and lose all those you’d once loved. Would you ever try to love again? She’s not sure, but she wants them to know that she’s okay with it if they never love her back. They’re a strange, morbid part of her family, but they’ve been family since the day she was born. What else can she call someone who might one day be asked to kill for her, or on her behalf? She would inherit them as well, after all, and Aurelia is cognizant of the responsibility that would be. They have one of the hardest jobs, she thinks to herself sometimes, and therefore must be treated with the most care. Do they ask for it? Perhaps not, but they’ll have it regardless.

— It would be easy for her to hate her family, but she doesn’t, she can’t. She’s loved them as long as she can remember and she will love them after she is dead. She knows the touch of her father’s kiss at her temple as well as she knows the cruelty with which he sends men to the noose. She knows her cousin’s laugh as she knows the whistle of their blade through the air, the way she remembers how to breathe, the way she counts the steps down to the barracks every time she goes. Her brother, best of all, she knows to be as useless as they are lovely, cruel as they are decadent, and all these things don’t make it any easier to choose between them and her people. She will not. She cannot be asked to. As much as she understands that her first priority must be the citizenry, because someone on earth should care more for them than themselves, she also won’t part with her loyalty. Not to them, and not to her family, either. She will find a humane way to settle this, by Undeath, and if she can’t, then it will be on their heads, not hers. Still, she feels confident in her own victory, bolstered by her knowledge of the people who love her, and who she loves in return. She will not be vicious to them just because that’s what people clamor for, or because it’s asked of her with wolfish smiles. Aurelia wants justice, not bloodshed, and she will have it.

— It always surprised her tutors, how much she longed to attend lessons with her brother. She was hungry for knowledge from a young age, eagerly snatching up everything and anything she could. Aurelia was curious not just about the castle but about the world beyond it; she would ask that her rooms be decorated with maps, until she knew the lay of the land by heart. Any time there was a visitor, she would attempt to ask that they correct her maps, to ensure they were kept in date. Her fascination with geography was not the only thing she took interest in, however. She wanted to know the ins and outs of trade, wanted to learn as many languages as she could and know the difference between an emerald and a diamond with her eyes closed, hands clasped tight around the stones. She wanted to know the seal of every nation or rebellion that had ever tested their borders, and she asked so many questions that they were forced to send for answers, again and again and again. It should’ve annoyed her tutors, but her enthusiasm was so genuine, they wanted to please her. Over time she grew to recognize that fact and treat it as a responsibility; she could wield the care of others as a weapon, but she chose not to, and that was the difference.

— There is not a guileless quality to her, no matter how often she might be called naive by some of the cruel portions of her family. In quiet moments, when it’s only her and her ladies-in-waiting, the age of her thoughts reveals itself in her eyes, in the grim set of her mouth, or even in the delicate curve of her shoulders. She doesn’t pretend not to know about the farce of her existence, because that would never inspire confidence in her as a leader, and it would only hurt those who have come to depend on her. Instead, she makes her rebellion known in small ways, refusing participation in games she doesn’t approve of, humiliating nobles she finds foolish and cruel, or small-minded and weak. The one thing she doesn’t shy away from is executions: Aurelia attends each one, refusing to let anyone die for her father’s whim without someone who respects them bearing witness. They can’t know how she feels, but she makes a promise to each as they die before her eyes: I will never let this be for nothing. Sometimes she comes across as over-aware, too sensitive, too passionate to understand the cool logic of the world, but she understands it all too well. She does not believe that you can exist as a good person without marrying logic and emotion, as disparate as they are, and she will never abandon that part of her that cries for each life lost, each hurt inflicted, each blade in the hands of someone far too young for it. She cultivates it like her own personal garden, honeysuckle growing wild in her rib cage.

— The first time she truly understood what she could do, she was only fifteen. TEMPERANCE had said something particularly upsetting, though they never truly understood why she stormed away. With tears in her eyes, she’d run, not knowing where she was going until she almost slammed into the body of a castle guard. They weren’t assigned to her rotation nor her quarters, but they knew her from when she would drop in at their meal times and ask after their days, or peel oranges to slide under their helmets as they stood outside in the hot summer sun, armor burning, skin sweltering. He caught her by the shoulders and held her steady as her guards and attendants rushed to catch up with her, and wiped away an errant tear with one gauntlet-covered thumb. What’s happened, Princess? They asked and she answered, for she was a teenage girl whose heart had been wounded, and as they listened, as all of them did, their faces fell in sympathy, too. When she looked up at them, this guard who barely knew her, it was the first time she understood what it looked like, to watch someone decide they would kill for you. Their offer was couched in softer words, but it was no less lethal, and when she shook her head she could’ve sworn she saw disappointment in more than one face. It was the last time she ever took her relationships, or her feelings, for granted.

— She cried for months as a child, wailing unhappily no matter how often her wet nurses tried to shush her. They ended up going through six of them before one realized the problem; the child did not want a wet nurse, she wanted her mother, and she knew the difference quite clearly. Perhaps it is this sense of abandonment, fostered in her early youth, that makes her reach out to others so often. She wants more than anything to hold them close, but the one person who was meant to never has. Oh, she’s heard of the prophecy, but it doesn’t excuse her mother’s cowardice. In truth, Aurelia loves her father and even her brother more, because they at least have shown her who they are. They have shared with her something THE EMPRESS always denies. By eight years old she was calling them by their proper name, much to the shock and confusion of the court, but even that would not prompt them to explain things to her. They looked almost through her, as though she were an alien being, a parasite in their womb who had now been made into flesh, and Aurelia regards it with more bitterness than anything else in her life. Is it not enough, one of her ladies asked her once, to be loved by every person but one? Of course it wasn’t. She didn’t covet adoration from everyone, she simply wanted acknowledgement from the only person who would never give it, and it has curdled her sweetness into poison. They, more than anyone in the world, inspire pettiness and anger with no compassion in it. Aurelia has no empathy for the person who seeks to throw her away, and even if they can make peace, she knows they would never be on her side, anyway. Not when they’ve picked anyone over her at every opportunity, over and over until it left a scar on the inside of her heart.

— She was a coward, the first time her father declared her ready to attend an execution. The man’s crime was a bawdy poem about THE HIGH PRIESTESS, but it was entirely her father’s decision to make it punishable by death. He said it was defaming the crown, by extension, and he had no advisor powerful enough to say no, or with the will to do so. No, you can’t! she cried, and bored, he’d said quite simply that he could. Again, he asked if she would attend, and tasting bile on her tongue, Aurelia declined. She dreams, still, about what she might have seen, and about whether he died with everyone jeering around him. Did a single person look him in the eye and remind him of his humanity? She’ll never know, because she was too weak to bear it. No one can say she doesn’t learn from her mistakes, though. The next time she was right in the front row, lip trembling, tears running down her cheeks. Her ladies hate it, always trying to persuade her not to go, but without enough power to save their lives, this is all she can do. She can’t shy away from the ugly bits. Each time, it reminds her of what she needs to fight for, and of what she could be capable of, if she does not continuously tend to the flowers blooming in her chest. She still flinches when the blow comes, or when the boards drop beneath their feet. It still feels like weakness.

— She keeps a list, in a pocket-sized journal in the false bottom of her vanity drawer, of all those she must make reparations to. Sometimes it’s just a family name, people whose child was taken from them too soon, or who died in a battle against those who wanted better for the world than her father. Other times, it’s nobles wronged merely for standing up to him, or peasantry she sees abused by the guards who seem to think along the same lines as him. Aurelia is running out of room, even in her smallest hand, and she’s terrified to start a new journal, because that would be crossing some invisible line. If she fills it, how broken does that make her family? How unforgivable?

— Every child looks up to their elder siblings, and there were periods of time in Aurelia’s life where she tried to imitate both THE EMPEROR and THE CHARIOT. She tried to be tough, like her cousin has always been, but her skin bruised too easily and her feelings even easier. She tried her hand at the casual cruelty her brother always displayed, but the first time she said a mean thing to a servant, she burst into tears and threw herself into her arms, where the woman patted her back consolingly, likely terrified and confused by her mercurial behavior. The cruelty she inhabits is accidental, and if she’s made aware of it, she rectifies it as best she can. Simple things, like a lack of understanding for what a simple existence might be, or a careless comment from someone dripping in privilege and stained with gold. She can’t understand them, as hard as she tries, and sometimes she forgets them without thinking, though she always feels genuinely chastised later on. She is as close to good as anyone in power can be, but she can never be wholly so, for she has never known true despair or suffering.

— Aurelia plays the piano forte, but it’s singing where she really shines. Considering all the useless lessons royal non-heirs are put through, it surprised her to discover she enjoyed music, but she often plays near the window, now, and feels a little like she’s singing a duet with the birds on the ramparts. She likes best when the guards are training outside, because sometimes they hear her, and some of them sing along. She likes that music connects otherwise disparate people, that it can bring passion into lifeless eyes and coax a smile out of misery. More than that, though, she likes to create. So much of the Valmont legacy is destruction, now, and she may never cleanse their name, but she can make things. New, bright things, untainted by the poison of her blood, coming straight from her spirit. Every tune she carries, every new combination of keys, she’s bringing something beautiful to life, not razing anything to the ground. She is endlessly fond of THE STAR for this reason, who looks like magic to her, even if he uses not a lick of it.

— While she loves the look and feel of plants, and she tends to the garden within her soul rather well, Aurelia is what you would call the opposite of a green thumb. A red thumb, maybe, for she consistently pricks herself on any bush she can, and plants wither under her care within moments. It’s lucky she has so many servants, who can attend to her desire to have plants hanging in her quarters without a second thought, or she would forever rue her bad luck. Nonetheless, while she doesn’t touch her plant babies and lets others care for them, she does chat with them about things in her day, usually making up fantastic stories about the events just so that she feels like she’s caring for them. She knows they can’t hear, knows it doesn’t do anything, but she hates the idea of having something so lovely around and not at least trying to offer it what she can, however meager fruit that is.

— The oncoming conflict with Koldam was the first time Aurelia ever directly asked THE EMPEROR for anything. Mercy, brother, she whispered, I entreat you to try a little mercy. She knew that it’s never been in their nature, but what was she if not someone who tried, even when she failed? She had already petitioned their father to simply reprimand or offer a treaty to Koldam, but that was a failure. This was her first time trying her brother’s version, and look how that turned out? She hasn’t been able to look them in the eye since, in spite of generally seeing the best in them, even when they’re cruel to her. Being cruel at home is one thing; senseless violence is another. She can’t condone it when Father sends people pointlessly to execution, and she can’t condone it for THE EMPEROR either, because he was given enough authority to act. Koldam has taught her one thing: the only royal she can rely on is herself, and perhaps THE CHARIOT, though she hasn’t approached them directly.

— Unlike her father, Aurelia has always been fascinated by and unafraid of magic. The wonder and horror of it enthrall her, and at the same time, the pain they are forced to endure to use it wounds her heart. She would not employ magicians unless it was dire and necessary, but for opposite reasons to King Septimus: she will not condemn anyone to torture lightly. That said, she visits the practitioners within the castle often enough, always wanting to be sure that someone in her family treats them with the respect they deserve. At night, lying awake and counting stars out her window rather than sleeping, she sometimes imagines what it would be like to have magic. The power to heal, the power to kill, the power to bring others back to life… all of them would make her a stronger and more capable presence in court, even if they would inspire fear and awe in her father’s eyes and perhaps change her position. Still, she must make due with what the Undeath has chosen for her, and must cultivate the only power that remains to her: that sharp mind and that brave heart.

— Her inner circle is how she refers to her ladies-in-waiting, while her guards retain the name of Coterie. This is because while they must be distinguished, she doesn’t think of them as only guards or only ladies-in-waiting. They are friends, confidantes, and trusted sources of information, without which the bare bones of her slowly growing claim to the throne would not be possible. They aren’t disposable tools, and they certainly aren’t only soldiers. This distinguishes them and allows them to stand a little taller, and walk with a little more pride. Naming groups both allows a feeling of exclusivity and reminds them of the privilege they have to be within those circles, and to be cast out hurts all the more for it.

PLOT IDEAS —

— TO LOVE ANYTHING GOOD, AT ANY COST, IS A BURDEN | Considering THE LOVERS is such an important connection to who she is at her core, I think it’s important to explore that relationship and grow or burn it down. Either works for me. Sometimes, a good ruler must give her heart first to her people, and it leaves no room for anyone else. Sometimes, a good ruler must have a good partner at her side, to share her dreams and prospects for the future, to advise her when she is down, to take care of that heavy, heavy head. The problem is that Aurelia must take care of all of Tyrholm, and that will never leave room to focus on any one individual. So what can they do? They love each other, and what is lovable about Aurelia might also be what undoes them for good. She has already decided to pick family over vengeance, but can she choose love over duty? So far, the answer is unclear, but it crawls from the fog of indecision, closer by the day.

— GIVE ME THE BLADE. SOME THINGS ARE WORTH SPILLING BLOOD FOR | There cannot be a bloodless coup, not when the King himself is so bloodthirsty a man, and his heir is worse. She believes she can end this peacefully, but it’s a foolish dream, born from love rather than from logic. Usually, the two pair well in her, but in this she has become blind to the path forward. It will take a lot to open her eyes, but when they begin to see what she must do, I want her to balk. I need her to cower, because it’s what makes her human. She will rage against it, she will fear it, and most essentially, she will be forced to confront it. There will come a time where Aurelia can’t move forward without bloodshed, without ousting someone from her path permanently, and I want her to face that with all the courage she can muster. By the time the knife is in her hand, I want her to have come to the point where she can use it, even if it hurts, even if it twists a blade in her own gut.

— WE MUST RESIST. WE MUST REFUSE TO DISAPPEAR | Connecting members of the revolt will be essential to its doing, and I want her to be one of the lynch pins that holds them together. She is the most likely to get along with the most people, to see the way THE FOOL suffers or THE HIGH PRIESTESS grows tired of these games. She can coax revolters together to some degree, with the help of a couple others spread across the city, and if she can win a majority of them to her side, she’ll have won the game. The trick, of course, is uniting their common goals, and in convincing them to pick her over THE CHARIOT, who is the person she most needs to win. Still, consolidating power will become necessary as the revolt kicks up steam, and she will not be left out or left waiting on someone else’s whim. She will pluck the best of the best from those she can coax into aiding her, and together, they will make her dreams a reality.

— IT INFURIATED ME THAT THEY KNEW ME BY HEART | With how often she’s been thrown together with TEMPERANCE, she should know that there’s more for her here than animosity, but she doesn’t. I want her to recognize that she cares for them, because in turn, it will help her recognize that they call to the petty jealousy in her, to the frustration she bottles up day in and day out. They call to the spirit of a fight in the pit of her stomach, and there’s no one else who sees that part of her, the not-so-pretty parts. That they care for her anyway, that they float marriage no matter how many years go by, fills her with warmth when it shouldn’t, and for that, she despises them. Love should be soft, she thinks as she looks at THE LOVERS. It should care for her heart and cradle it in careful fingers. Yet they don’t quite challenge her the way TEMPERANCE does, and that fills her with dread so profound she can’t examine it yet. I want her to look into it and make a choice, once and for all, about what she wants, because it will define not only her life moving forward, but potentially the one sharing her throne at the end of it all.

— AND EVERYTHING’S HOLY— EVERYTHING, EVEN ME | She acts the pious one because she must, but truth be told, she is afraid of death in a way that she has to confront in order to gain the Undying’s blessing. She wants it, because it’s of her people and she loves her people, but she doesn’t really have a firm grasp of death, not in the way necessary to commune with Undeath themself. She’s too young and too sheltered, and while her heart hurts for those who die too soon, it’s in the abstract, without real context to define her grief. She has not had to accept death before, to look it in the face and make peace with it, and that will be her gauntlet when she moves for the throne. Religion in name only isn’t going to cut it, and she knows that, but she puts it off, afraid of what she’ll face in the Sanctum or, even more dangerous, within the Temple of the Undying God itself. It’s the cross she will grow to bear, and developing her relationship with religion is key, not only for her own development but to grow her connections within the worshippers themselves. Their support would be essential to her coup, after all, as their declaration of the Undeath’s favor and her confirmation of it would bolster her support.

— I DON’T NEED TO BE LOVED EXCEPT WHEN I DO | Ultimately, Aurelia will need to confront THE EMPRESS, and I would like to take her development in that direction. For good or for ill, this is her mother, and there can be no moving forward without hashing out their lives. Ultimately she would come to a point where she might even ask her mother to join her, desperate to prove that she can be creation, rather than the destruction they’ve always seen her as. Her need to be cared for by them is constant and frustrates her, but she can’t rid herself of it, either, damned for something she’s not even done yet. Can she understand, Aurelia wonders, that this coldness has led her closer to revolution than love ever would have? That if they had held her closer, perhaps they could have stayed her hand? Without that foundation, she will never listen to them, but she might attempt to take advantage of their political acumen for her own gain.

— YOU COULD NOT SPEAK / SOMETHING WAS DYING IN YOUR CHEST | The Necromancers have been used as mindless tools for too long, but Aurelia grew up with them around her, and she knows that they aren’t hollow vessels for magic, they’re people. Sure, maybe the magic takes some of it away, but it can’t take everything, and Aurelia doesn’t want to let it. They deserve more than what they’re given, and so do the Inferni; the Vitalus aren’t the only practitioners worthy of magic, but they’ve been treated like it for their noble birth and their easy to swallow techniques. Aurelia wants to change that. If the Necromancers interact more with the world, perhaps they will consider the lives they take more preciously; if the commoners are forced to interact with them, perhaps they will recognize those sparks of humanity within and foster them. The Inferni can learn that life is precious, that their power can raze the earth and leave it clean for rebirth if they’ll allow it. There’s no one way to handle magic, no perfect system, but then, there’s no perfect system at all with people involved in it. All she knows is that Aurelia would treat them all with respect, if not always kindness; a ruler cannot always be kind, but they must endeavor to always be just.

— I DOUBT EVERYTHING, EVEN MY DOUBT | There will come a time where she will be asked to betray her family and she will say no. I would love for that to break someone’s trust in her, as a ruler and as a leader of the revolution. I would love for it to shake her faith in herself. Can she be a good person when she loves them, these awful people she has decided belong to her? It would be a stumbling block, and I want her to need to prove that she’s in this, preferably by deliberately and methodically betraying her family at a later date, after her resolve solidifies. It won’t kill them, she tells herself as she wakes up crying for the fifth time that week. It will only hurt.

— LOVE HAS TEETH WHICH BITE, AND THE WOUNDS NEVER CLOSE | This will involve a layer of integration, but someone close to her dying would really galvanize her. If that happens, it would invigorate those parts she’s always bottled up: things like rage and decisiveness would become paramount to her. She would be a little more ruthless, a little more sensible about the reality of the world, if she had to lose something precious. Any loss of something she loves is a loss of a bit of herself, she gives her loyalty so fiercely and without any sort of restraint. She hadn’t known loss, hasn’t known a bit of it, and thus doesn’t know when to hold back and when to pour herself into another person. Her disillusionment would grow, and her view of leadership and its duties would change, which I would love to explore if the plot of the overarching group allowed it.

— WHICH SHOULD I REGRET: WHAT I BECAME, OR WHAT I DIDN’T? | It would be essential to her to find the person who originally gave the prophecy about her birth. If they’re no longer alive, then she would find their closest relative or any witnesses to it. She wants to know the exact words, and more than that, she needs to gauge whether this person is bullshit or not. Her hunt would culminate in finding out more about who she’s supposed to be and what she’s supposed to do, with a healthy dose of angst to go alongside it. After all, it’s one thing to hear rumors about a prophecy; it’s another entirely to realize it’s real this entire time. It would depend on what happened, how she reacts, but I know it would change how she views herself and her mother both, at the bare minimum, let alone its effect on her responsibilities to the revolt.

— I NEED A VOICE TO ECHO / I NEED A LIGHT TO TAKE ME HOME | This is probably the most fun plot idea I have, but it’s subject to a lot of other people helping, so bear with me. I would love for Aurelia to start masquerading in Lowtown and other places far from the castle as a bard. Not a well-practiced one, but a revolutionary one that always wears a mask. She would have to spend hours practicing, and would involve all her ladies-in-waiting, among others, to help her sneak in and out and ensure her safety. Still, poems and songs are often used to foment the seeds of revolution in all cultures, and royals are so often educated in music, it just seems like a natural fit. It would also tie with her fondness for THE STAR, not wanting to ask his help in fear of endangering him or herself, but will he find her out anyway? He just might, or someone else who frequents these areas of Tyrholm might. In any case, I would like to build a slow-burning revolutionary plot where the princess masquerades as one of the people, both to learn more about them and to show them it’s okay to raise their voices. Maybe it leads to the tavern she performed at once getting razed by the guard, and she realizes she gravely misjudged her father. Maybe she gets unmasked and punished, or even killed. It just offers so many opportunities, and seems like the sort of thing a romantic revolutionary might cook up.

— THE FAULT LINES, SEEDING, LYING IN WAIT | Despite knowing herself as the best person for the throne, Aurelia is not, in fact, opposed to THE CHARIOT taking it for themself. With a little more spine, she sees the making of a great ruler in them just as easily as she sees it in herself, and she has a goal to foster that. I would love as an alternative plot, as her first option, to see if she can maneuver herself into aiding their bid for the throne, and then either deciding that she must take it or helping them to grow would be my next objective. Aurelia wants the best ruler for Tyrholm, full stop, and THE CHARIOT is in front of her. They are therefore far easier to get into a sitting position upon it, and together, the two of them might have enough power to do it without killing anyone, especially if they enlist THE EMPRESS. This plot is too dependent on others’ vision to expand on, but I wanted to include it, because I don’t want Aurelia’s only option to be herself. That’s not in character for her, not really.

— FOR LOVE, I WILL HANDLE YOUR SINS | This is up to whichever player is down to do this plot with me, but essentially, Aurelia will have started cultivating a friendship with a specific Necromancer. This is so that she can use one of her back-up plans, and it’s definitely a last resort, but if one of her family dies in this revolution, she would want them brought back very badly indeed. In fact, she would give some of her own life to power that regeneration, if necessary. In the event that the King dies or even THE EMPEROR falls, she would want a way to bring them back and set them to sail across the sea and live out the remainder of their days as a commoner. It’s fitting punishment, in her mind, and it’s better than them being dead, isn’t it? For she cannot and will not kill them, but exile will satisfy her needs, and their public death will satisfy the people’s needs as well.

SCENE ONE —

Aurelia relishes in the feeling of grass beneath her palms, her head cradled safely in Petra’s lap as she cards through her hair. Her voice fills the small space between them, reading to her from the latest novel she’s plucked from her father’s library, and Aurelia lets her eyes flutter shut. She’d prefer if THE LOVERS were with her, but they’ve fallen ill, and she would never coax them from a restful slumber if it will make their healing faster. Petra is her second favorite of her ladies, anyway, her voice the lowest of them all and most suited toward reading. She never minds, either, whether it’s complicated, confusing poetry, or a simple romance novel from twenty years ago. She’ll even read intercepted missives to her, though Aurelia generally lets those lie until her eyes alone can read them. It’s not that she doesn’t trust her ladies, for they are her closest confidantes and her very best friends, but she doesn’t want to endanger them. They can’t know more than they should, for their own safety.

Now, the tale is coming to a close, and the Crying Tree whispers in the slight breeze as Petra’s voice trails off into silence. Aurelia sighs; it was a good story, if not a great one, and she’s sad to part with it. ❝ Thank you, Petra, ❞ she says almost to the wind, lashes still brushing her delicate cheeks. Book set aside, her lady-in-waiting now uses both hands to comb gently through the princess’s hair, much to her lazy delight. ❝ I thought it was… good, in the end. What is your verdict? ❞

A hum comes from on high, making Aurelia smile slightly. Petra is a thinker, always considering each angle before she responds. She’s the best strategist in Aurelia’s arsenal, certainly. ❝ Passable, my lady, nothing more. ❞ Aurelia has managed to break most of her ladies of their formal habits when they’re alone, but Petra clings stubbornly to some sort of title, downgrading it from highness to lady only after much pleading on Aurelia’s part. Now, she sits up, letting Petra’s fingers trail from her scalp and fall into her lap as the wind plays with the strands of hair around her face. She turns a beatific smile in Petra’s direction, whose responding expression is indulgent and fond.

❝ You comment thusly on all the novels, ❞ Aurelia points out. ❝ We must endeavor to find one that measures to your exacting standard, or I will never be satisfied. ❞

She turns at the sound of Luneria’s voice, looking over her shoulder to where another of her ladies is popping a fat grape into her mouth and giggling. It takes her a moment to swallow, and she offers a grape to Aurelia as she speaks, who takes it with aplomb. ❝ Have you tried her on any historical novels, Aura? ❞ She thinks around the fruit in her mouth; Luneria is the newest of her ladies, and thus would have little awareness of what she has or has not attempted to have Petra read her.

❝ I attempted once, though it was a romance, which we quickly discovered was not to her taste, ❞ she admits after thinking it over. Petra steals an orange from the basket in the middle of their blanket and begins to peel it with practiced precision, neatly curling round and round the fruit until the rind can be neatly coiled in the palm of her hand. As she works at the small project, she smirks a little bit; ah, this is Aurelia’s favorite side of Petra. ❝ The frippery of the language and the content suits me ill. Nothing in them is ever practical, and if you’re not careful, they’ll fill your head with flights of fancy, my lady. ❞

❝ Give it here, please, ❞ Aurelia asks after the skin of the orange, distracted from their conversation by her overwhelming love for the scent of oranges. She takes the rind and cups it in two hands, leaning down and inhaling the sharp scent of citrus. Luneria giggles again, and Kolva raps her on the knuckles with the spoon they’ve been using to sample the saucer of mousse. Embarrassed, her cheeks flush red, and she turns wide eyes in Aurelia’s direction. ❝ I’m sorry, Aura. I’ve never seen someone so excited by an orange peel, that’s all. ❞ Another member of her family might have punished her insolence, but Aurelia only wrinkles her nose before laughing too.

❝ If I could fill my bath with orange and lemon every day, I would, ❞ she admits, pressing the rind to the skin at the nape of her neck so she’ll carry a fragment of the scent with her during the rest of the day. She can be entirely unselfconscious with her ladies-in-waiting; that’s why she vets them so thoroughly, getting to know them without pretense before admitting them into her inner circle. Luneria is new, but she’s not cruel, and she would do anything for Aurelia. She can be nothing less, else Aurelia would’ve declined to invite her altogether.

Now, she holds out her hand for the rind, which Aurelia hands over with mocking reluctance, smile delicate but sure. Luneria lifts it to her nose a moment before smiling. ❝ It smells like you, ❞ she realizes, mouth opening in surprise. ❝ More fool am I not to have recognized it before. Do you keep these beneath your pillow? ❞

❝ Tucked into the pillowcase, ❞ Kolva explains before Aurelia can. The princess merely shrugs, opening her mouth when Petra offers her a slice of orange so that she can taste the sweet fruit without getting her hands sticky. Luneria claps her hands together, delighted to learn something new about Aurelia’s routine. They’re so easy to please. Sometimes it scares her, honestly, that they’re this easy, but their love is the kind that’s without reserve. She’ll never take it for granted, not with how blessed she feels to have it, but she won’t curtail it, either. She wants them with her always.

Turning bright eyes Kolva’s way, she eyes the mousse with suspicion. Kolva avoids her gaze a moment, but her mouth twitches, barely containing her giggles. For the most taciturn of her ladies, she has a streak of wildness and delight to her that Aurelia coaxes out as often as she can. Now, she leans forward in an attempt to inspect the saucer, but gets caught in the sheer amount of fabric in her dress. ❝ Kol-va, ❞ she sing-songs, flopping onto her back with the effort exerted. ❝ You better leave some for me, or I shall have to inform the entire castle of my most fearsome lady-in-waiting’s sweet tooth. They say it may be the sweetest tooth this side of Koldam. ❞ This memory exists in the space of time before Koldam was destroyed, when they were nothing more than a smaller city-state she’d read about in history books and seen as a dot on the map. It’s also where Kolva is from originally, before her family moved to Tyrholm for better prospects and Aurelia spotted the delightful shade of her hair from across the market. The rest, as they say, is history, aside from Kolva’s light accent.

She hears rustling around her, and when she opens one eye, she sees Kolva sitting above her, red kissing the blonde in her hair even more than usual in the halo of midday sunlight. Eager, she sits up almost too fast, breath knocked from her by the corset around her ribs. ❝ Ouch, ❞ she whispers, and all three of her ladies are immediately crowded around her. They strike like soft lightning, like the edge of a healing blade, sharp in movement but soft in expression. ❝ Are you hurt, my lady? ❞ Petra asks, running a hand down her side in an absent, soothing gesture.

Aurelia shakes her head, tenderness in her smile as she looks at each of them in turn. ❝ Merely winded a moment, and perhaps touched by your ready response, ❞ she admits, for sharing affection always makes her happy. Petra presses a kiss to her temple, while Luneria takes her hand and presses a kiss to the back of it. Kolva dips her spoon into the saucer, holding it gently to Aurelia’s lips. ❝ Your tooth rivals mine, ❞ she says stubbornly, even as she slides the silver spoon between the princess’ lips. The texture is airy and rich, a perfect compliment to their picnic, and Aurelia’s sigh is one of contentment.

❝ And you never let me forget it, ❞ she answers, reaching out to cup Kolva’s cheek in one soft palm. ❝ What would I do without you, hmm? ❞ She looks at each of them in turn, Luneria practically in her lap and Petra behind her, one hand still on her shoulder. ❝ I would be lost without even one of you. ❞ Yes, even Luneria, as green as she is. Her infectious enthusiasm and joy is something Aurelia had been afraid she was starting to lose, but with Luneria at her side, how can she? Each of them brings something to the table, something to her heart.

Her ladies. Her circle. They are the thing that keeps her balanced, her corner of sanity in a world that makes less sense each day.

SCENE TWO —

Her receiving parlor is not a throne room, but Aurelia sits in her ostentatious bergère as though the crown is already atop her head. THE LOVERS stands at the back of her chair, to her right side, but they know to keep quiet. The best help anyone can be in matters of censure, with Aurelia being so young and seen as so gentle, is to be silent. Her expression is cold and imperious, a far cry from her usual gentility, and though their heads are bowed, she is almost positive the three guards kneeling before her can feel the sharpness in her gaze.

❝ I have been informed of quite an ugly circumstance, ❞ she says quietly. Her voice is not cold, not nearly so frigid as her eyes remain, but it is far worse: each word drips with disappointment, with the feeling that you have let down someone who loves you dearly. They’ve laid their helmets in front of them, and she can see quite clearly when one uncovered head dips, right at the center. They do not like this treatment, and they should not.

She doesn’t have to be cruel to them to punish them. This is something her father and brother have never once understood. When you are the warmth of the sun, you must only force someone to remain in the dark, and they will learn well what it is to appreciate the heat when it returns.

The silence is its own form of punishment, forcing them to wait on her to continue. They know what they’ve done, of course. They knew when they began that she would not approve. They just didn’t seem to care. Now, she looks at each of them in turn, wondering which will be the first to break down and apologize directly. ❝ As my midday meal came to an end, I was approached by a servant with news from the dining hall. She claimed that three guards, my personal guards, were disrupting the peace. Would any of you care to confess as to why you would interrupt the rest and rejuvenation of those around you to be needlessly cruel? ❞

She waits. Aurelia is not impatient, and she has nowhere else to be today. This is, after all, the privilege of being second-born. She is never expected, not really, not if she doesn’t want to be. In a lack of duty, a sense of honor was born to her that ensures she has her own responsibilities to attend to, this being one of them.

Her fingers tap against her lap for a moment, the rhythm precise and methodical. ❝ No? ❞ she inquires one last time, into the deathly silence of the room. ❝ Then I can only assume none of you will plead ignorance to what you have done in my name. ❞ Her voice now hardens as she confirms what she knew from the start. At in my name, the guard to her left flinches, and her heart hurts. Still, this is what must be done. She cannot avoid punishing them simply because she cares for them.

❝ I have only three rules you must obey to stay a part of my Coterie, ❞ she reminds them, authority ringing even in her own ears. Coterie, she calls them, for they are not only a Guard, they are her friends. They wear her heraldry, her own personal identification on their armor, and every single act they take has her name on it. That is why their betrayal hits her so strongly, perhaps, and it is a betrayal. To go against her beliefs is as going against Aurelia herself. ❝ The one you have broken is the one I value above all else. Will one of you recite it for me? I know you capable and aware of which it is you have forsworn me by. ❞

Etienne is the first to speak, thus refusing Octavia and Isobel their chances. ❝ No one with the privilege of wearing your heraldry shall wield it for the purpose of cruelty or out of spite, ❞ they say, corn-silk hair falling out of their braid and into their eyes as they look up to speak. Whatever they see in Aurelia’s expression burns them, for they gaze upon the floor again soon enough, trembling head to toe.

❝ Thank you, Etienne, ❞ she says out of politeness, for nothing in her countenance suggests gratitude.

❝ We’re so sorry, your Highness, please — ❞ Isobel starts, her voice revealing her to be on the verge of tears. As they are all looking down for the moment, Aurelia reaches over her shoulder for THE LOVERS hand a moment, to steady her. She has never enjoyed making her people upset, even if it’s for a righteous purpose.

The warmth of their touch gives her courage. ❝ Not sorry enough, or you would never have done it. ❞ She sighs. ❝ Besides, I am not the one who merits an apology from you. When we are done here, I expect you to apologize to Guard du Jardin, and I hope that you will mean it. ❞

❝ Of course, ❞ Isobel whispers, ❝ As soon as we are able. ❞

Aurelia is sure they will. She’s sure they mean their apology sincerely, and she’s positive that they will not act in such a manner again. That’s not the issue. The issue is a deeper one that underlies every part of her section of the court, from her Coterie to her inner circle. It’s not particularly their fault that they’ve highlighted it to her, but if it goes unpunished, it will galvanize the others.

❝ I understand that a position within my Coterie is highly coveted, and that my restrictions make it hard to obtain one. ❞ The ban on cruelty and spite is fairly simple for people to swear to, but the five recommendations and the trial period before her inner circle decides whether they stay on in a permanent position are not. ❝ What I do not understand is why you would use that envy against someone else, when you yourselves have felt it so keenly. Your solution is to laugh at someone for thinking to try? To hold your position over their heads and talk down to them? ❞ She shakes her head, expression miserable. She will not be used as a cudgel to put others down. She will not be lorded over anyone.

Aurelia turns to Octavia, who has done an admirable job of keeping quiet. ❝ Do you have anything to add, Octavia? ❞ She does not call her the oh-so-affectionate V normally reserved for her, does not indicate any inch of familiarity between them, but Octavia doesn’t flinch. Instead, she meets Aurelia’s eyes evenly, without malice or defiance.

❝ I do not, your Highness. You have said it best yourself. It was a petty thing for me to do, and I regretted it immediately. Any censure you have for us will be deserved. ❞ At this, tears well in Aurelia’s eyes, though she does not allow them to fall. Octavia is the only one in a position to see them, anyway, and at the sight, her own eyes well with salt water as well. They must both be strong, for the sake of not only each other, but Aurelia’s right to respect from her court. They love her, yes, but they must also obey her, and Octavia understands this most of all, coming from a noble house herself. Aurelia nods.

❝ Yes, I find it will be. ❞ At last getting up from her seat, Aurelia leans down to Etienne and Isobel in turn, tilting their chins upward with careful fingers, so that they can see her. She hates this part, the punishment part, but it’s a necessary step. She refuses to do it without at least looking them in the eyes.

Once done, she returns to her position, regal as always. ❝ For misusing the power I have given you, I see I can no longer trust you with it. Each of you are no longer a member of my Coterie. ❞ Isobel gasps, a wounded sound that Aurelia associates with hospice or injury. ❝ If you wish to return into my service, you will be required to receive no less than seven individual recommendations, none of which may be issued by those who previously floated you for your positions. In addition, ❞ she says, hardening her heart to the look of horror on Etienne’s face, ❝ I require that one of those recommendations come from Guard du Jardin personally. ❞ They’re lucky that she has enough members in her Coterie now that they will not be missed. Were that not the case, were they infringing on her safety, their punishment would be far greater.

❝ Stand, please, ❞ she says, and the three of them rush to their feet. Octavia holds her head high, but Isobel is crying, and Etienne’s lower lip trembles. Rather than asking THE LOVERS to do this part, because it’s hard, Aurelia approaches them herself to unpin her insignia from their armor. They bear it with as much grace as they can; she knows if this were her brother or father, they would do it where the entire court was watching. Then again, they would never dismiss a personal guard for cruelty in the first place.

Once collected, she hands these items to THE LOVERS for safekeeping and turns back to them, now looking somehow naked with no heraldry to mark them as her own. ❝ As I hope you understand by now, your punishment is that which you so disdained your fellow Guard for mere hours ago. I hope, should I see each of you in my service again, you will comport yourselves in a way that does not debase me. I will treat you with exactly as much honor as you show me yourselves. ❞

Head held high, she returns to her bergère and sits, exhausted. ❝ You are dismissed. ❞

The moment they have left the room, Octavia shutting the door behind her, Aurelia allows her tears to fall. It is hardest to punish those you love, she thinks as she covers her face in her hands, allowing THE LOVERS to hold her at last.

ADDITIONAL —

— In my first writing sample I wanted to say there was a Weeping Willow, but I renamed it Crying Tree because it just seemed to fit the mythos more to me. I would think it would be interesting if perhaps they’re favored by The Undying God, considering their mournful legend in our own history.

— The only weapon Aurelia will ever carry herself is a knife, because it’s easy to conceal amid all her layers, and it will only be used as a last resort. She trains with it, so she can defend herself if she’s caught alone, but she isn’t a physical fighter and she never will be. She hopes she’ll never have to use it on a living person, not ever.

— Pinterest.

#{ ✿ } ——— HISTORY | but the heart in her breast began to grieve.

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