#i'll do tempest eventually

[arcadiabaytornado]

okay so you don’t like the the third episode of before the storm (and believe me, i feel you lmao) but what do you think of the play?

I think it's genuinely the best written scene in Before The Storm, and possibly the LIS franchise.

First of all...having Rachel play Prospero and Chloe play Ariel is...really interesting.

In "The Tempest," Prospero free's Ariel from being trapped in a cloven pine and then takes Ariel as a slave. In act one of the play, Ariel begs for their freedom and Prospero denies them, saying that if they follow the rest of his commands, then he will set them free. In act 3 of the play, Prospero finally gives Ariel their freedom, which is the scene we see Rachel and Chloe act out.

However....Rachel goes off script and refuses to give Ariel (Chloe) her freedom. Instead she asks Chloe to keep servicing her schemes ("For but a little longer I beseech: continue in thy service to my schemes") and swears she'll make her so happy that she'll forget the name of liberty. (I'll seek to make thy happiness so great that even the name of liberty's forgot.)

So...that's interesting context about Rachel and Chloe's relationship. When Rachel should let go of Chloe, she won't, and when Chloe is told this, she can say either that she'll "run away" or "then you should come with me." Interestingly, her answer alludes to the eventual end of LIS, where Chloe either "runs away" and leaves Rachel behind after the storm, or "comes with" Rachel even into death.

I think the play is not solely about Rachel and Chloe running away, but also commentary about the more unhealthy aspects of the Amberprice dynamic. Rachel doesn't free Chloe when she should (Like when she lies to Chloe about Frank) and Chloe continues to serve Rachel because she's hoping for freedom. (Like their promise to escape Arcadia Bay together.)

However, I think the play has a third layer. It's not just about Rachel and Chloe wanting to escape together, or the unhealthy parts of Amberprice, it's also about how Rachel denying Chloe's freedom represents how she'll always be in Arcadia Bay. In the Tempest play, Prospero lets Aries free as he's leaving the island they both reside on. By Rachel refusing Aries her freedom, she's not following the final scene where Prosphora leaves the island...which could also be seen as suggesting that Rachel didn't leave the island because of Chloe.

I think the play is a fantastically written scene in regards to Rachel and Chloe's relationship. It has so many suggestions and implications to consider....it's just SOOOOOO good. Dare I say, perfect. 10/10. I think about the scene all the time.

[dapper-lil-arts]

Hello, Hope you’re doing well ^^

1. Thoughts on Tempest X Twilight?

2. Do you have a master list of your FanFics, been wanting to check them out eventually.

1 - Honestly apart from sunlight n stuff, tempest and twilight is one of the absolute peak ships with Twilight sparkle, I think that what she requires on a partner is someone fiercely loyal that would treat her right, and tempest checks all of those boxes. plus yknow, someone that can help her in her job, Tempest would make for a wonderful captain of the royal guard, heh. though I'll be honest, Tempest in the comics cannonly went to be with a childhood friend and she's just so happy in those comics that I can't in good conscience ship her with twilight hvbfhd. Also Sunset checks all those boxes and more 😎

Don't get me wrong though it is def peak. And Tempest deserves wonderful things. And hey if twilight wants to be on a sandwich of beef, yknow

2 - Here's a link to all of my fics and my account on fimfiction! From short to small, I am very much a fan of all of the ones I made. (Though there is one there that was just a favor to a friend I might take down lmao, the end of gen 6 It's quality is inferior to the others. But return of midnight is also my first too, and goofy)

[bonefall]

So why's BB!Skystar like That? I'm not looking for a justification or excuse mind you, and I understand he completely refuses to better himself, but not even someone like him is born evil.

I'll get to his origin and tell you exactly how he grew up, but lemmie be clear about something. I don't think people respond to what they experience in a proportionate, 1:1, "hard times go in, bad guy comes out" sort of way.

People aren't bread and yeast. We don't follow a recipe for "becoming a bad person." You don't add trauma and then from there they choose to be a bad person because of their pain or not. No one is born evil, and the other side of that coin is that EVERYONE has the capacity for it.

Extremely privileged, charmed, blessed people with wonderful home lives can also become awful people. Violent, demanding, murderous ones. The "why" is "choice."

That answer's not satisfying because we want it to be deep and interesting. Like it makes it "mean" something, or adds some kind of "logic" to it. But you won't get it.

EVIL is simple. It feels good to get what you want. It feels good to hurt the people who keep it from you. POWER is even simpler. It is the act of making others do what you want. It's as simple as childish entitlement, indifference, or spite. Gratification that outweighs guilt.

If you're looking for some grand tragedy, you won't find it here. Nothing he went through was particularly unique and there was no grand ideology at play. His dad vanished when he was young and so did Gray Wing's. The Tribe dealt with a famine and several people died, including members of Bright Storm's family.

The only thing special about his birth and upbringing, in particular, was that he was quite privileged from the start.

Clear Sky and Gray Wing in the Tribe

From their very birth, both kits were welcomed and celebrated. They were destined for greatness from the start. Their mother was Quiet Wing, a direct descendant of the Stoneteller, Half Moon, and the father was a respected leader and political figure, Tempest Sky.

(This was before the Tribe would eventually become three camps, "Wards," united by a river. Tempest might have been considered an early leader of such a Ward.)

The older kit, a perfect image of xeir mother, was said to be the inheritor of her legacy as a relative of their founder and holy speaker. Xey were named Gray Wing. The younger, who would surely become the natural leader his father was, got the name Clear Sky. In their language, Koof Yaawrl-- Not just a sky without clouds. A perfect, flawless sky.

The two of them grew up with great opportunities. Connections are everything to their culture, and they had their pick of any amount of interests they wanted a paw in. The hunters would happily bring them along if asked. The crafters had extra patience set aside just for them. A good deployment of a mew and baby eyes could get them some extra scraps at dinner. Everyone wanted to make their little mark on such special, talented kits.

Clear Sky was a little general type. He wanted to be a leader right away. He loved hunts, he loved being in charge of other kids, he loved the way people listened to him. He wasn't familiar with the word No and was almost always the top banana of a group of other children. Even if they were older.

(Gray Wing in contrast was more of the game-creator, the "old soul," the kid who got along better with adults than other kids. Less of a leader and more of the guru, good at networking and settling disputes between people.)

While they were still kids, Tempest Sky vanished.

He was missing for days, and was assumed dead. There's plenty of ways to vanish in the mountains, but no remains were found. The Stoneteller tried to contact his spirit over and over to confirm his death, and he never came. So it was most likely that he just... left. Or maybe was taken.

Either way, they didn't really get closure for it. It was an awful thing to happen to a little kid, and Clear Sky took it really hard. A while after that, their stepdad entered the equation. Stone Peak wasn't big or strong or special, he just made their mom happy.

Gray Wing LOVED this man. After some friction, him and Stone Peak became excellent friends. They had a deep sense of respect and camaraderie. Clear Sky hated this. It was like Tempest Sky was being replaced before his eyes.

It was years before Stone Peak and Quiet Rain had a litter, well into Clear Sky and Gray Wing's adulthoods. It burned Clear Sky a new one to think that she was moving on from his father, who could still be alive. Maybe it's part of why he was so willing to throw his half-brother out into the snow, that fateful winter.

When Jagged Peak and Fluttering Wing were about half a year old, there was a terrible drought. It wasn't "overpopulation." It was a bad season. NOTHING could have stopped it. Lots of cats died.

Fluttering Wing was one of them-- along with some of Bright Storm's immediate family, Fox Claw and Petal Claw's mother during a hunting accident, and many more.

At the height of this drought, the southern river's level was so low that it became a scorched, crackled path with only a wet scratch of mud running along the middle. This dry riverbed beckoned to be followed downwards, until the water could be found again. THIS is the "Sun Trail;" a path carved by the sun.

It was Gray Wing the Wise who interpreted this as an omen. Xey believed it was their ancestors showing them the way to safety. The rest is history.

But the bottom line is...

Skystar's upbringing wasn't a supreme tragedy. He faced adversity just like everyone else, but he'd NEVER bring up the privilege that he had when he was young as something unfair to be examined. Tempest being a respected leader whose connections gave Clear Sky lots of opportunities is only spoken about in terms of Clear Sky being a "born leader" or "coming from greatness."

All of his charisma, his achievements, his command over other cats, that's all something he's "worked for." All of the adversities are examples of how strong HE is, in contrast to other cats, even if they went through the same exact struggles.

Why is he the way he is? Why is he so controlling? Why is he violent? Because he will take what he wants, and no one can stop him. He likes power more than he cares about the consequences of treating people poorly, so he cries "unfair!" if you take his toys away.

Stand by him and the rewards are sweet and delicious. Deny him what he wants, and he will crush you. He chooses how he treats you based on how much he likes you, and at the rotten heart of his behavior, is the simple choice to be this way.

[arach-tinilith]

NAADJA AND MAGIC

Okay so Naadja has gone through a couple classes in her duration of bg3 as well as in her past.

Her timeline is Sorcleric-> cleric -> sorceress which seems derivative and boring but HEAR ME OUT!

She was intentionally bred to be a sorceress because her older brother was such a disappointment, the matron had to secure her next offspring would always have some innate ability.

However, it is known in Menzobarranzan that being a caster is Cringe^tm and for losers who are desperate for power. Since Matron Duskryn didn't want to seem desperate, she instructed Naadja to resist her magic entirely, opting to have her trained in combat (her finesse weapon proficiency). This develouped into a pretty unhealthy obsession for Naadja to reject ALL magic and basically considering it to be a form of heresy only she could commit because Lolth endowed her with this curse that cannot ever be manifested lest everyone die in agony :)

When she went to Arach-Tinilith, she was instructed to....cast magic. Obviously this was a huge hurdle that she had to overcome, but through the power of divinity she was able to discern that Clerical magic was pure and holy but Sorcery was wicked and evil. And while the irony of trickery and demonic power being her idea of purity was COMPLETELY lost on her, she did come to a sort of realization that maybe her sorcery is not The Enemy but rather a completely indifferent neutral thing.

Now for a very specific and local experience, Naadja was exposed to Faerzress. If you're not familiar with the concept, it's radiation from old magic in the underdark. Now, there's not a lot about longstanding effects from Faerzress however there is an effect on plantlife in that it's supplied nutrients from the radiation. It also has a beckoning call to drow that keeps them in the underdark. BUT i do think it affects her in other ways. Specifically i think she'd finally allow herself to cast clerical spells and Faerzress would like alter the magic, causing her to access sorcery that was otherwise dormant. It's an extremely upsetting experience for her because she's finally channeling her magic into something she can accept and it turns into a situation she can't control in the slightest. Her instructors hail her as a conduit of Lolth's will. She sees herself as a failure.

So! She commits herself to trickery as her domain. She wants absolutely nothing to do with sorcery and focuses all her attention on combat and manipulation.

And if you're not familiar with her storyline. I'll give you the TLDR: She leaves Menzobarranzan for reasons outside her control.

Eventually, she winds up in the care of the Aevendrow. These are followers of Eilistraee, a Goddess that was strictly forbidden to Naadja. In the Aevendrow community, Naadja was terribly alone. Her entire life had changed in an instant and she was forced to accept this may be her new normal. So she did what anyone would do in her situation and found god.

It's also at this time that Naadja was basically stripped of ALL magic because she was no longer exposed to Faerzress and it put her at a disadvantage of having to start back at square 1 of her studies and abilities. Through a LOT of practice and worship, she became a cleric (again) this time, tempest domain. The followers of Eilistraee taught her to channel sorcery into the worship she practiced. Then, because of a difference of political opinions (Naadja attempting to raise a drow revolution. Foiled again) she left the Aevendrow.

This is when she gets tadpoled.

So all that work to focus her power has her right back at lvl 1. A shame. She's on the brink of madness stumbling through the nautiloid and all she has are a few measly lvl 1 spells and cantrips? Not ideal.

Then, as she's finally getting her bearings and figuring out what she's supposed to do about this tadpole in her skull, she stumbles into someone from her past. Minthara.

Here's when things get weird. So, the sight of Minthara has her reeling a bit, I've written about how huge a moment this is before. Minthara would have slaughtered her without a moment’s thought. But she didn't. And Naadja was prepared to kill her and anyone standing in her way. But she didn't. And at Moonrise Towers, she should have let Minthara die. But. She. Didn't.

Instead, she watched Minthara plea to the Gods for salvation that never came. This is when Naadja is completely consumed by her magic for the first time. It's blinding. It rips throughout her body, disassembling her entirely before annihilating her enemies. Then she remained, and she was a sorceress again.

Her subclass is storm sorcery, no surprise there. The release of her magic took a heavy toll on her body (her strength was reduced dramatically but charisma increased) and she swore off all godly interference. If the Gods could abandon Minthara, she would abandon the Gods.

And that's her class/magic arc! Anyway chain lightening attack

@majorasnightmare i made a gif for this post also :)

[pengujoon]

A LETTER TO MY BELOVED

content. megumi x fwb!reader, fluff, angst if you squint, megumi wants to learn to love and accept being cared for by others. megumi loves you and realises his feelings for you

a/n. wrote this in megumi's pov in mind, although there's no names specific here. it's a different writing style than what I usually do! there's absolutely no smut, but rather just the status of a fwb

To my beloved,

From the moment I met you, something changed within me — a shift in the tides of my heart that I couldn't fully comprehend. You were a tempest of contradictions, a captivating blend of fire and gentleness. And as much as I tried to resist, your presence burrowed deep into my thoughts.

I've always found it difficult to love — difficult to let someone in, to expose my vulnerabilities, when all I've known is people leaving. The pain of loss has carved scars on my heart, a tapestry of wounds that I've carried with me for so long.

When we began as friends with benefits, it was a choice born out of self-preservation. I told myself that this way, I wouldn't have to open my heart fully, wouldn't have to face the possibility of another person walking away from my life.

But every stolen moment, every touch that we shared, only served to deepen the bond between us. Your laughter became a melody that I craved, your smiles an anchor in the storm of my thoughts.

And though I denied it with every fibre of my being, something within me recognised that you were different — that what we had was more than just physical.

I found myself choosing you, over and over again. I found myself seeking comfort in your presence, in your touch, in the shared spaces where it was just you and me against the world.

Yet, I pushed back the truth. I refused to acknowledge the way my heart skipped a beat when you were near, how my pulse quickened at the mere thought of you. I convinced myself that I wasn't capable of love — that I was too broken, too scarred to deserve it.

But love doesn't always follow the rules we set for ourselves. It doesn't care about the walls we've built, the reasons we've concocted to keep it at bay.

I tried to fight it, tried to drown my feelings in denial. But as each day passed, it became impossible to ignore the truth — the truth that I had fallen in love with you, with your laughter that echoed in my dreams, with your touch that set my heart ablaze.

I saw the way you looked at me, a warmth in your eyes that spoke of something deeper, something that went beyond our physical connection. And yet, I couldn't bring myself to believe that you could love me — a person with a past stained by loss and pain.

But maybe, just maybe, it's time to rewrite the script—the story I've told myself for so long. Because every time you're near, every time our fingers brush against each other, it's as if the universe is telling me that love is worth the risk.

So, here I stand, torn between the fear of loss and the desire to be truly seen, truly loved. And as I watch you from afar, I can't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, you could be the one who stays — a constant in a world that's always been transient.

And even though the words are hard to say, even though the fear lingers in the depths of my heart, I'll whisper it to the wind, to the stars above — the truth that's been waiting to be spoken:

I love you.

I always have this headcanon that megumi has a fwb because 1) no strings attached and 2) doesn't involve him romantically. and also I hc that he finds himself hard to be loved and thinks that all the people he loves will eventually leave him, and therefore got himself into his current predicament.

then he eventually came to a realisation that he actually loves his fwb and since he couldn't admit his feelings outright, he chose to write a letter to reveal his true feelings. (such a megumi move)

[aqua-dan]

hello!! Do you have any Garth comic recommendations for someone (me) who has never read a Garth comic outside of a handful of TT issues before?

Hi!! I definitely have some recommendations! This definitely isn't a comprehensive reading list by ANY means (although I do want to make one eventually!), but rather a small smattering of Garth centric comics that I think are fun or noteworthy! (These are also not in any particular order, just written out as they come into my brain lol)

Tempest (1996) - Obviously the Garth holy grail! There is no better Garth comic than this. It is peak and honestly one of the best books DC has ever put out. It's short, too (only 4 issues), so it's not too intensive of a read.

Adventure Comics #269 - "The Kid from Atlantis" - Garth's first appearance! Don't get too hung up on the lore here, as it changes later on, but it's a sweet issue and obviously important!

Adventure Comics #270 - "The Menace of Aqualad" - I love this issue for a multitude of reasons-- including the fully unintentional foreshadowing,-- but mainly I love it because it showcases what a sweet person Garth is and always has been.

World's Finest Comics #133 - "Aquaman's New Partner -- Aqua-girl" - Again, the lore needs to be disregarded, but this issue fascinates me as an early iteration of Garth's insecurity about where he stands with Arthur/feeling useful.

I probably shouldn't list everything individually so this post doesn't end up being a mile long, haha! So I'll start putting some groupings together:

Aquaman vol 1 #14, 18, 23, and #33

The Brave and the Bold #54

Teen Titans vol 1 #11 (not particularly Garth centric but just especially fun to me lol), #17, #19, #28, #29, #44-end of series. (Side note that @ttwasteland has a really good podcast covering volume 1 of Teen Titans! Actually, they have a lot of Teen Titans podcasts! Which is really useful for those who struggle to read Silver Age comics + I am immensely pleased with Hub's Aqualad enthusiasm!)

The Brave and the Bold (vol 3) #10

Death of a Prince (Technically, I recommend reading all of it, since it'll help you understand how things got to this point. But especially Adventure Comics #452 and the Aqualad stories in #453-455.)

Tales of the Teen Titans #85 & #86 + Teen Titans Spotlight #10

Teen Titans Spotlight #18

Teen Titans Spotlight #21

Aquaman vol 5 (Yes, all of it lol)

Showcase '96 #1

Teen Titans (Vol 3) #12-16

JLA/Titans

Titans (vol 1) At least the Devin Grayson portion, but I don't dislike the later stuff either!

There are also storylines that I think are fun or important that happen in across various books/stories (Obsidian Age, Aquaman vol 6, other (Teen) Titans stories, Blackest Night, CoIE, dare I even say Sword of Atlantis...), but I'll save those for a more in-depth reading list some other time! These ones are just popping up in my head rn.

If you want N52/Rebirth stuff, there are also a few stories that are pretty good. Sadly, they're pretty few and far between since canon changes and DC tossing their character bibles have left poor Garth in an odd, largely OoC limbo for years. Although I don't /love/ these stories as much as others, they still manage to vaguely pass the vibe check:

Nightwing & the Titans in Team Building (Robin 80th Anniversary 100 Page Super Spectacular) It's not super Garth centric, but it's fun!

Aquaman 80th Anniversary 100-Page Super Spectacular #1 - “It’s a Family Affair”

Aquaman 80th Anniversary 100-Page Super Spectacular #1 - “Lady in the Lake”

World's Finest: Teen Titans & DC's Spring Breakout "Relay for your Life" Garth's characterization in these... isn't right, but I feel like it has the spirit more than the vast majority of things published in recent years.

Titans (2023-) I... don't totally feel right putting this here, but I feel like slowly... extremely slowly... they are starting to fix Garth's characterization. We're not quite there yet-- and it is sadly written by Tom Taylor,-- but I feel like it's going to lead to something that's actually good for Garth again. (Aka so many hints towards a potential new Tempest mini-series or one-shot have been dropped lately, and I feel like this series will be context important.)

Ok, to try to finish this out: Also consider watching some stuff with Garth in it like Aquaman (1967) TV show / DC Super Hero Girls (2019), or reading some cute, non-canon series such as Tiny Titans! It's just good fun!!

Anyways, thank you so much for the ask!! I hope this helps!!! (And thank you for allowing me a chance to ramble lol!)

[literallyangelshaw]

Wake up guys Redacted OC just dropped

Enjoy <3

Also refs coming soon maybe

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑"Am I evil? Or just doing what's needed for the survival of humanity?"๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

☆《Basics》☆

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟName: Nilah "Natrix" Glynn

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟAge: 30

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟGender/Pronouns: cis fem; she/they

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟSexuality: Lesbian

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟOccupation: DUMP Board Member

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟEmpowered?: Yes

☆《Species, Race, Appearance》☆

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟSpecies: Empowered Human; Telepath

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟEthnicity: Afro-Caribbean

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟNationality: American

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟHairstyle/Color: A black wolfcut, but with dreads, I'll find a ref eventually

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟEyecolor: their left eye is purple, the other is black

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟScars/Tattoos/Marks: Stab wound scar on the back of her right shoulder, vampire bite mark scars on her thighs, sleeve tattoo (left arm), small tiara tattoo on her wrist, trampstamp,

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟSunbound or Moonbound: man idfk, I think they're Sunbound

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟAccent?: Haven't decided yet

☆ 《 Internal Info》☆

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟMoral Compass: Mildly Grey, Pure Intent, Vile Execution

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟReligious Beliefs?: Atheist

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟMental Health: She has ADHD, Anxiety as well as BPD and Depression

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟPhysical Health: Chronic fatigue, probably gonna develop scoliosis, migraines, and she can't see out of her left eye

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟBackstory: W.I.P

☆《Relationships》☆

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟSignificant Other: Dalton Boldling

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟParents: W.I.P

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟSiblings: W.I.P

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟBest Friend(s): Navier "Sweetheart" Greer, Bea Knox, Verena "Bestie" Tempest

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟEx(es): Estella Holloway

☆《Extras》☆

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟInterests: Poetry, Politics, Animals, Art, Foreign Language and Cultures

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟFavorite Color: Mint Green

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟHobbies: Baking, Reading, Writing Poems, Learning Foreign Language and Appreciating Foreign Cultures

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

[strxnged]

KAZUHA: # lent.

word count. 0.7k. genre. ANGST.

song request by @rainswept: lent — autoheart.

warnings. spoilers for kazuha's backstory.

✧ join my event, tuned to the world's sounds. send me a character and a song and i'll write for you. requests wide open until june 30. ✧

Whether he would admit it or not, Kazuha was running.

“The clouds do not thunder above me,” he would always say. “I only catch the scent of rain and know when it is time to move on.”

That wasn’t the whole reason, but you wouldn’t argue anymore. He had his reasons, of course, with the tragic but “justified” death of his closest friend, and his other friend unwantedly encouraging him to mourn. You eventually gave up on telling him to work through the pain. He was allowing the avoidance to change him at his core. He didn’t want to hear you talk about the duel at the throne, he didn’t want you to tell him to face the truth, and he didn’t want to stay still. Which meant that you didn’t stay still, either. Despite everything, you remained by his side.

Until today.

As much as you loved and cared for Kazuha Kaedehara, he was lost and wandering and dragging you out of the storm's reach with him. After many failed attempts to tell him to leave you behind, today you would be successful. Today his scarlet eyes would do no convincing, his speech of tulle would fall flat. Today you would plead with him to let the darkness of a storm come.

Kazuha seemed to know, too. He was keeping a careful eye on you and his hands fidgeted. You were just outside of a village, one you didn’t mind the prospects of settling down in. But he often faced away from it, to the horizon of the sea.

It was as if he wanted to journey beyond the ends of the earth to avoid the storm.

“A storm is on our tail,” he urged you, absently curling a leaf in his fingers. “We shall go on, indeed?”

You did not speak. He knew the answer.

“Tempests are nearing,

And merciless, gusting threats,

My breaths grow sharper,” he mused. You stood behind his view from where the clouds in the horizon were approaching quickly. They were indeed black, and you could hear rolls of thunder.

“We live in a nation,” you said, “where the threats are not to be ignored.”

He didn’t respond, but his fist clenched and he tilted his head up towards the sky.

“Even fugitives must face their pursuit.”

He shook his head, turning his head just enough so that you could see one of his eyes. “Not like this.”

“Kazuha.”

He fully faced you, eyebrows puckered. “Not like this,” he repeated in a whisper. The wind was picking up and his loose hair swirled around his face.

Your heart felt like a cloth being wrung over a well, but you held fast. “I don’t want to keep running. This has become different from when we started, Kazu. I can’t be involved in your denial like this.”

He shook his head. “I have no reason to wallow in the darkness.”

“You’re not listening!” you cried. Wind tore at your face, drying your tears almost immediately. “You’re going to be running your whole life because you aren’t letting his sacrifice mean anything to you! To us!”

The last time you had seen Kazuha cry was the day of the duel before the throne. But he had later claimed that it was dishonourable to cry over it, and that he must not allow himself to be weighed down by it. Now, the weight was coming over him again, sinking his shoulders and drooping his eyes as the tears fell.

His eyes flashed up to the sky, fear spawning in them at the sight of the grey clouds. Oh, you knew he was so tenderly sensitive to the weather. You knew his connection to the wind had always tormented his soul. But you wished, you prayed, that he would stay.

You felt his hands on your cheeks and his lips on your forehead. Then, he turned away from you again, wiping both his eyes with his wrists. “I must—I must go. Follow me if you will it.”

The rain hit your back, your hair, your cheeks. It soaked and consumed you as you sank to your knees, planting yourself in the grass. But Kazuha ran. His hand had released the leaf and it danced in the wind before settling a few feet before you.

“Come back,” you whispered. You tilted your face and caught the rain in your eyes and the raindrops became your tears. And you became the storm. But Kazuha still ran.

author's note. holy guac, ink, this song was so good and this fic just. like. happened. thank you 100000 times for your request and for introducing to me this song AGHSHFF

please reblog if you enjoyed!

✧ JOIN MY EVENT!

➳ GENSHIN MASTERLIST

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

The Glass Merchant Part Four

Masterlist

Part Three

Contains: Fluff, mild angst.

4.2K words

The truth comes to light

Despite his rushing thoughts, Kai slept like a baby encased in the warmth of the comfortable guest bed with the sounds of the wind blowing up outside. It was considerably colder when he stumbled out of bed, and the sky that shone through the ceiling in the main room was somehow both dull and foreboding.

Minna was there in a long, silky green robe, feeding Zephy a plate of fish with a soft smile on her face. She turned to him and pointed towards the hallway. "I was about to get breakfast, do you want to join me?"

He nodded. "Sure, Love." The silence that followed them through the hallway wasn't awkward, but he'd be happy when it left. She stood in front of the open fridge, looking at her supplies as he took a seat. "About last night?"

She nodded. "I'll answer any questions you have, you deserve that much."

He shrugged. "Ay, but I don't have any." He sighed and rubbed his face. "Look, there's no love loss between Kora and me, she's a little too self-righteous for my taste, I'm just surprised she didn't want to make sure you got your glory, she was all about thanking everyone who helped."

Minna shook her head. "The government kept my involvement out of it; all she knew is that it was a state-run lab that created it." She rubbed her face and took an armful of items from the fridge. "When the Motherworld realised their Dreadnoughts were useless, they just sent wave after wave of soldiers in hopes of winning a war of attrition. The fighting in the streets was bloody and close up, and by the end of it, we just wanted to rebuild; there was no interest in metals and parades."

He chuckled. "So no putting her statue in the town's square?"

She let out a single harsh laugh. "That's not our style."

With the soft tapping of a knife and click-clack of pans, breakfast was slid in front of him with a smile from her. "Omelette with vegetables. Eat fast, the weather report says we've got about five hours until the storm hits so we've got work to do."

****

Kai was shocked at the rush that greeted him when they walked outside; soldiers were everywhere, working with Minna's neighbours to tie down the enormous trees were dotted throughout the block. Eventually, as the skies grew darker, the same glass and metal frames that protected the stalls at night came out of the ground to encase everyone's front garden and all the berry-covered green hedges around the neighbourhood. A soldier handed him a long coil of thick, rough rope and directed him to help with a gruff point as another handed Minna a box of goods. "I need to pack these away and hand some stuff off, just do what you're told and you'll be fine."

He didn't have the time to argue, not with the disaster growing above everyone's heads. It was hard work, throwing the ropes over the tall trees and lashing them to the ground, but everyone was doing their bit, it was an effort he hadn't seen in a very long time.

There was an anxiety in the air, the same that comes when a ship starts to list in the middle of deep space. An elderly man, cane in hand, hobbled over to where Kai was helping another man tie down his boat as he shook his head while looking skyward. "The name's Earl, I live next to Minna, you're new here."

Kai nodded. "Yeah, she's letting me stay with her until the storm passes."

Earl chuckled. "Well you're going to be here a while, it hasn't been like this since I was a boy." It made sense as to why everyone was so hurried.

The man Kai was helping tutted. "Don't scare him Earl, the weather division won't know anything until it hits."

Earl smiled, old and seasoned, like he had told a joke that went over a child's head. "You'll see, this is going to be a once in a lifetime tempest." He reached out and placed his hand on Kai's shoulder. "I have to give your host some extra fish for the blankets she gave me. Don't hesitate to stop by if you want a cup of tea, my doors always open."

Kai smiled. "Thank you."

Earl limped away, and as the last boat finally settled, Kai stretched his aching arms above his head. The man he was helping stretched his hand out, and Kai accepted the firm shake. "I'm James; we're three doors down from you. Is this your first time on planet?"

Kai shook his head. "I was here before to buy something from Minna, it's lovely here."

James nodded. "The best place in the universe." He jutted his head towards the slowing building swell and sighed. "Some of us are taking one of the storm boats out to check for people needing a hand, you wanna come?" His expression was appraising, there was absolutely a wrong answer here.

Kai nodded. "Sure, just let me let Minna know."

James smiled. "Go ahead, follow the pink flower signs, she'll be making sure the med bay is all stocked up."

Even with the building storm, the walk finally allowed him to take in the area past Minna's house. There was a central pathway in the middle of the island linking everyone's homes together, every so often shooting off into a park or public building. Everything was well signposted; some he understood, like a book for a small library and a lightning rod for what must have been the island's power bank, but others, like the pink flower, made little sense. Nevertheless, he took the path all the way along until he arrived at the bustle of the med bay.

He wove past all the people, knocked on the door frame, and waited for Minna to turn around. She did so with a smile and a sigh. "Thank the Goddess, can you go over to the wall and turn on the water pump please?"

He did as she asked, using all his strength to move the valve until it loosened and he heard the rush of water. "You a nurse too?"

Minna shook her head. "Almost, it's a long story." She sighed. "There are three of us trained to work the med bay but we've never been all that busy since the war ended."

He took a second to look around; for a mini hospital, it was a very inviting place. There were five beds along the walls, the far wall lined with frosted glass cabinets and a sink, while the ones on either side contained desks and equipment. "Earl said the storm's going to be here a while."

A flash of worry came over her face before she shook her head. "There's no point in worrying until we get the full report, regardless the military have special ships to travel in the storms so we don't have to worry about running out of supplies."

He nodded. "How long until it hits?"

She shrugged. "Maybe a few more hours." She closed the cabinet and rubbed her face. "I'm done here, we better head back home and lash down the boat."

He smiled and stretched out his hand. "Lead the way Love." She rolled her eyes but looped her arm in his as she began to walk. "Can I ask you a question?" She nodded. "Why a pink flower, wouldn't a medpack make more sense?"

She smiled. "There's a flower called Floscura that grows in our forests, is what most of our very effective and advanced medicine comes from."

He blinked. "Shite, you really do have it made here."

She nodded. "That we do."

They paused as two little children rushed in front of them, Minna smiling as they exchanged words in their mother's tongue before running off again. "Sorry, they don't start learning the universal dialect until they're a little older."

He smiled. "Don't fret about it, it's a very pretty languge."

There was that sad look again in her eyes, and she took a deep breath. "It's called Menian, after a Goddess. My mother…" Her eyes fell to the ground, and her chest shuddered as she turned her head away. "We really need to get back."

He didn't press; he understood the choke of emotions that came with some memories. "I told James I'd head out of a patrol boat with him, what am I in for?"

She chuckled. "I'll give you something so you don't get sea sick, other than that, good luck, I hate drowner duty."

Kai looked at the bright orange swim trunks with a raised eyebrow. "Is this it?"

James nodded. "You won't get lost, what more do you want." He sighed and smiled softly. "You'll be fine, you can stay in the boat."

The iciness coming off the water was enough to make Kai shiver even fully clothed, but he wasn't going to let anything stop him, not with Minna watching from her doorway. "I'll be fine, I used to fish in the rain for my Ma all the time."

James gave him a hearty back slap as his face broke into a grin. "Glad to hear it."

They walked to the dock and Kai stepped behind a curtain to change, he could see Minna walking over above the metal rob and flashed her a smile. "You coming over to wish me luck?"

She shook her head. "I'm coming over to tell you to be careful. The net slashers come out in this weather and they're mean." He gave her a wide-eyed look, and she smiled. "They like the taste of offworlders too." He could tell she was bullshitting him, or at least he hoped she was. He stepped out from behind the curtain with a smile, and she handed him a cup of steaming blue tea. "For your sea sickness."

He didn't miss how her eyes stayed locked on his face, her back stiff straight as she made a point of not looking at his naked torso as he reached out a muscled arm and took the cup from her. "Cheers, Love." He downed it in one, it was somehow hot and cold simultaneously, sliding down his throat like warm honey as it settled in his gut. "That was delicious."

She nodded and took the cup from him. "Good, off you go, you've got boats to rescue."

He grinned. "How about a kiss for good luck?"

She rolled her eyes and stepped closer, placing her hand flat on his chest as she craned her mouth towards his. He should have known by her grin that she wouldn't give in easily, and the soft brush of her lips on his cheek severed to make his blood rush. "Good luck Kai." She stepped back and finally allowed herself to look at him, her eyes raking over his body with a slight tilt of her head. "Don't drown, it would be a shame if you missed dinner."

With that, she turned on her heel and headed back towards the business of preparation, leaving him alone while James laughed behind him. "She's not kidding about the net slasher, they're a real problem." He pointed behind him to the large boat pulling into the dock. "We gotta head out, you ready?"

Kai nodded. "Ay."

Not even the worst storm on Saaldorun matched this, and it hadn't even started raining. Still, Kai watched as the few men and women with him jumped off the boat and into the water to tow other boats to safety and drag half-conscious people out of the water so the medic ships could take them to hospital.

They came up to another row boat in trouble, the people on board working hard to keep the boat upright as the water moved in the wake of their ship. "You guys need a hand?" James's voice was steady despite how worrying their situation looked; one more big wave and the rowboat would be upside down in the water.

"Please, we thought we'd have time to go to the market." The man sounded scared, his body coiled tight, ready to swim if his boat went over.

James slapped Kai on the back and smiled. "In you go."

He took a deep breath and moved to the edge, squaring his shoulders as someone handed him the rope. The water was so cold it felt sharp when it splashed on his skin, and a zip of fear raced up his spine at the look of the broiling sea. But he was no coward, and with another deep breath, he jumped in. The frigid water stole the breath from his lungs, but he still managed to kick his way to the rowboat and tie it up, and with a finally tightening tug, it snapped tight, and he hauled himself back onto the ship.

James was smiling from ear to ear. "Good job, you can do the next one too."

Between the adrenalin and the warmth coming from the vent at the bottom of the ship, Kai no longer felt the cold. "Ay, you just tell me when."

It went on like that until the first cracks of thunder and lightning went off in the distance, and the skies finally opened as rain began to pour from above. A harsh siren went off, and the ship kicked into high gear as it pulled the rowboat back to the Minna's island. "We're not collecting more people?"

James shook his head. "No, now that the rains have started it's not safe, the military will get them home."

Everyone was lining the shore when they arrived, standing in the rain waiting for them to return. Kai hopped off the ship and walked straight to Minna grinning like a fool as she wrapped a dry, warm blanket around him and handed him a cup of tea. "Fire mushroom tea, it will help you warm up. Did you have fun?"

He nodded. "Ay, a boat load."

She shook her head and sighed. "Go inside and have a hot shower. They'll be locking everything down soon, and we need to put the finishing touches on all the prep."

He finished his tea and flashed her a smile. "You're a doll."

She rolled her eyes. "Go, before I make you work in your swim trunks."

He chulked. "You'd like that wouldn't you?"

He couldn't find words to describe how much he loved her look in incredulity. "Go, I've left some clean clothes under the heated blanket on your bed."

Kai needed the hot shower, but nothing beat being greeted by warm clothes when he stepped out of the bathroom to get dressed. It reminded him of when his mother would leave his clothes by the fire so they'd be warm when he returned from working on the farm, and he pushed down the rush of homesickness as he slid the loose linen shirt over his head.

When he walked into the main room, Minna was there, soaking wet and sipping on the same rich smelling mushroom tea. "You look like a drowned cat."

She laughed. "And you look warm. I just wanted to rest for a second before I take a shower myself." She moved closer, reaching out her hand to place it on his shoulder. "Thank you for helping today, James told me how many people you saved."

He grinned. "All in a hard days work." Before she could reply, another siren rang out, much louder and harsher this time, and there was the sound of mechanical creaking as the pathways were enclosed in metal and glass. "I thought the first one was loud."

She sighed. "The first one was the warning, that one was to make sure people are inside." She rubbed her face and pointed behind her towards the kitchen. "We're having dinner at the community hall tonight, you wanna help me cook something once I'm clean?"

He nodded. "Sure love."

She blinked slowly with the exhaustion of someone who clearly wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed, but she smiled softly. "Great." Without another word, she spun on her heel and walked upstairs, leaving him to stew in his swirling emotions as the storm above truly made itself known.

This felt familiar to Kai, peeler in hand skinning root vegetables for a stew bubbling away on the stove with the warmth of the flame making the kitchen feel like a cocoon. The weather was raging above their heads, the rain coming in so heavy that it formed falling sheets on the glass roof while the thunder splintered the air with the rhythm of a machine gun, and the lightning flashed like their muzzles.

"It's really coming down now." Despite the similarity to the hail of war, the fury of the deluge was nothing but pleasant, and he found himself waiting for the warmth of dinner like a balm from a long forgetten childhood.

Minna sighed. "Yeah, this is about as bad as it will get. I'm sorry you've ended up stuck here, I know this must be cutting into your income."

He was taken aback, the last thing he felt was stuck here. "Nah. I got a warm bed, good food and wonderful company, I ain't stuck here."

She smiled and shook her head. "You never turn off the charm, do you?"

He smirked. "Is it working?"

She shook her head, but the smile on her face gave her away. "No. Now, if you're finished peeling the vegetables, you need to cut them so they can go in the stew."

He tossed the peeler into the sink and reached across her to grab a knife, making sure to lean into her space as his fingers curled around the handle. "You sure about that?"

Her eyes fell to the bench as she did her best to hide her expression. "Yep." She lifted her head and their faces were close enough that their noses almost touched. "Can you hurry up with the vegetables please, we don't want to be late."

He fought the urge to kiss her. "Alright Love, your wish is my command."

As night fell, the sky went from dark grey to pitch black while the storm roared overhead, flashing light through the darkness with an unpredictable burst of sound and glow. Kai watched from the couch as Minna fed Zephy, his little grabby hands picking up the bits of cut fish and inspecting them before using his razor sharp teeth to tear off little bites. "He loves his tucker."

Minna chuckled. "He will do anything for food." She had just finished packing all the food they had cooked, there was the meat and vegetable stew, savoury pancakes and bread and whipped dessert that smelt like cream and honey.

"How did you come by him?" Besides fish and birds, he hadn't seen much wildlife, although she had explained before that there was plenty if he would just pay attention.

He was getting used to brief flashes of emotions on her face, anger then sadness this time. "Poachers killed his mother and tried to smuggle him off planet. There's a roster for caring for injured wildlife, and my number came." She walked over to Zephy and scratched his soft head. "He was only a few days old and sick when he came to me, in the end, he couldn't go back to the wild."

Kai had run into his fair share of professional poachers, they were just as bad as Motherworlders. "What happened to the bastard that took him?"

She smiled, it was almost sadistically cold. "You didn't read the pamphlet and all the signs when you came in? We killed poachers here." He understood the fondness she had for the furry purple creature, especially as he raced over to Kai to hand him a half chewed bit of fish. "He likes you."

He chuckled and made a show of pretending to eat it as Zephy chattered happily at the sight, running back to his dinner once he was sure he thought Kai had eaten it. Minna walked over and palmed the piece, tucking it into a tissue and hiding it on the tray of food containers. "We gotta go."

The outside world was something to see, even with the pitched shells that protected all the footpaths from the storm. The walk to the community hall didn't take long, even accounting for how they had to stop to make room for everyone coming out of the homes with trays of food. Minna paused to toss Zephy's gift in one of the many rubbish bins and by the time they were close enough to hear people talking, he could smell the food wafting from the door.

They were greeted with warm waves as they entered, and someone pulled out a chair for them both while someone else took the tray from her. Everyone was seated at a massive oval table, children on their parent's laps as the man standing at the door waved the last person inside.

With the table full of people and food, dinner began. Kai noticed that some people were praying over their food, their palms folded in front of them as they muttered under their breaths. He waited until they were done, turning to Minna for an explanation, and she smiled softly at him as she clarified. "Most of us still believe in the Old Gods, it's just a thank you for the food and the company."

He nodded. "Ay, my Ma was the same."

Before he could say more, the elderly woman sitting next to him took one of the many small bowls from the table and placed it in front of him. "That's one of the best dishes here, I wouldn't want a guest to miss out."

He smiled. "Thank you Ma'am."

She brushed him off and introduced herself as Lilly, and before long, everyone joined in. Between the food and being welcomed like a friend returning from long travels, he felt something settle in his chest, something which, while he knew what it was, he wouldn't dare name.

It felt like his plate was never empty as time went on and conversation filled the air. There were dishes upon dishes, and by the time dessert came, he felt like he couldn't eat another bite. Nevertheless, the table eventually cleared, and as it grew later, the people with young children left for their warm beds. They went with the last group, Kai lingering to chat with a new friend as Minna helped clean up.

By the time they returned to her house, he was ready to sleep himself but she dragged him over to the couch and waved at him to sit down. "We should know how long the storm will be here by now, they'll be playing the weather report on the Hologlow on repeat."

Before he could ask what the Hologlow was, a transparent screen slid out from the wall, and a picture slowly came into focus. He grinned and shook his head, once again marvelling at how normal everything felt. "You have a telly."

She nodded. "If that's what you call it. We've got millions of channels and things to watch, too." She huffed. "We're just like everyone else, I promise."

She made herself comfortable, shoving Zephy towards the middle as she sat on the opposite end. They turned their attention towards the screen, and she clicked a button as the video began to play. As if the technology knew they had just arrived, the newscast started from the very beginning. He could see the uneasy look on her face as they showed a moving map of the planet, her mouth slightly open while she barely blinked like she was scared she'd miss something. She clicked the small controller in her hand more, and the dialogue switched to her native Menian while universal subtitles appeared on screen.

"Once in a century storm, currents reports have its duration at one month. You are advised to prepare to have the forest festival indoors this year."  

She clicked the dialogue back to universal and turned to him. "I'm sorry, sometimes it's just easier to understand in Menian."

He smiled. "Ay, I understand." He hated how concerned she looked, like she was worried he was upset, so he leaned in as close as he could with Zephy between them. "We got a whole month together, I guess we better think of things to do."

She grinned and met him in the middle, once again close enough that they were almost touching. "I'm sure we'll think of something." A yawn from here cut off his plans to steal a kiss, and she leaned back to stretch. "But right now, I'm going to bed."

She stood up, and Kai joined her, not yet moving to his guest room. "You need company?"

She shook her head. "Nope, I want sleep, not whatever you've got planned."

He chuckled. "Alright, you know where to find me if you change your mind."

She huffed and turned on her heel. "I won't. Goodnight Kai, sleep well."

He was never going to get tired of riling her up. "Goodnight, Minna, have pleasant dreams."

She was already halfway up the stairs with Zephy following behind her, and he made his way into his room. As he settled into his warm bed with the rain and storm overhead, all he could think about was how happy he was to be able to stay here with her for a whole month, coin be dammed, this was the most joy he had been in years.

Part 5

@red-orchid @rayslittlekitten @laurfilijames

[kimagure-oni]

i'll never fall in love with you

This is a review for a one-shot by Mikanuji, and heavy spoilers are involved. A fan translation exists, but the official translation can be found on Amazon.

"Bullies deserve whatever punishment they get."

This line at the start is given its own panel. Many bullies do not grow to regret their actions, at least not consciously. Even when they grow older and change enough that they'd never repeat such behavior, humans have a knack for protecting ourselves from uncomfortable truths. Your brain will just supply an endless number of excuses to justify your past actions, at least to yourself. It's almost the bully's choice whether or not to be forgiven, as they have to regret their actions to qualify.

Sugiya's tempest of regret raises the stakes of the story significantly. If she didn't care, or was able to justify her past actions, her and Kamisaki would have nothing to say to each other. Instead, Kamisaki exploits her regret for the sake of her revenge.

They learn together that revenge can't undo the damage.

"It's only fun if you hate it."

Their relationship becomes sexual the same day they reconnect, and consent's not part of the equation - not that Sugiya seems to particularly mind.

This one surprised me, because my first introduction to Mikanuji was a too-short serialization with the premise "what if two gamers fell in love…", an idea she'd carry through to the long-running Fuzoroi no Renri. Fuzoroi no Renri isn't without the juice, of course, but this is a knockout blow. I wasn't exactly expecting sexual violence from this author, lol.

"That's my toy for you. You really do whatever I say."

Sugiya does eventually call things off; something that I could stand to see more of in blackmail stories. Even though she doesn't hate the things Kamisaki does to her (her words): she calls things off because it's getting her hopes up.

The extreme emotions that connect them refuse to fade. Sugiya can't stand not being involved with her, and Kamisaki presses her on this. Sugiya reveals her feelings along with her guilt for having them (still believing Kamisaki is a victim who has nothing but loathing for her). Kamisaki confirms that they're mutual in an unconventional way - she takes the other girl's hand, and places it on her rapidly beating heart.

"I think you know what it really is you want to do and what you want us to be."

On the final page, both girls are blushing, eyes locked.

We are blessed with a note from the author in the compilation: "I'm pretty sure this was the first long-form story I ever drew. You can really tell how my love for eroticism and my desire to tell an emotional story were in conflict."

We certainly can. I've found that one-shots are capable of punching far above their weight, and this one certainly threw me for a loop. It also raised an author I was already fond of several degrees in my esteem.

[harrenhalyuri]

4, 6, 20, your choice!

thank you!! I'll go with marazhai x mortred

OTP question meme

4. Favorite non-sexual activity?

I don’t think there’s a proper word for it, but they have their “first aid” sessions - basically just patching up each other after returning from a mission. It’s the most intimate moment they share - for Marazhai, to allow someone else to tend to his wounds (someone who has no forced allegiance ties to him, unlike a kabal’s Haemonculus and his assistants) is a huge sign of trust.

6. What is their favorite feature of their partner’s?

Funnily enough, their choices are very similar. 

Mortred loves Marazhai’s hair - would spend his days playing with it if he could. Marazhai likes Mortred’s beard because it’s a novelty for him, since the Eldar don’t have facial hair or body hair beyond eyebrows and scalp.

20. What do their family/friends think of their relationship?

On Mortred’s side, everyone is against it for a myriad of reasons (all of it valid lmao). Even his old friends back in the Calixis Sector would be against it. There’s only one person neutral about it: his daughter. She spent quite some time around all kinds of Eldar, so Marazhai’s shtick doesn’t really faze her. In turn, Marazhai is a bit surprised by that, and eventually it turns into begrudging respect. They won’t ever be friends, but it’s enough.

On Marazhai’s side, his relationship with Mortred is a sociopolitical suicide. If the other Drukhari believe it to be an ordinary master-pet relationship, then it’s acceptable. However, if they knew what’s it truly like and everything they went through…it would end in death for both. 

Yremeryss would LOVE to watch Marazhai’s complete humiliation and disgrace, even bigger than what happened at the Obsidian Court. She would make a big spectacle of it. 

[Going purely headcanon here since it has no lore basis] Farkaza, however, would dispatch assassins to end Mortred before the news of her son’s disgrace could spread and besmirch the Aezyrraesh name before the rest of Commorragh, then punish Marazhai however she saw fit in a private Kabal trial. The Reaving Tempest’s stability is all that matters.

[halla-hunts-the-wolf]

Lavellan Tells a Story

On their way to track rogue apostates, Inquisitor Lavellan tells a story to his companions.

Featuring: Mahvir Lavellan, Dorian Pavus, Varric Tethras, and Cole!

Length: Short & Sweet.

⚔️⚔️⚔️

"There is a story among the Dalish," Inquisitor Lavellan says as he walks amongst clefts in the hills. His years of outdoor experience allow him to avoid rock falls and loose stones, while his companions stumble and slip behind him.

"Right." Dorian chides, his foot catching on rough ground and causing him to stumble into the elf's back. "Now seems like the perfect time for stories."

"It's always the perfect time for a story, Sparkler." Varric fires back, clinging to the back of Cole's leathers so the young boy could guide him safely down the path.

Mahvir reaches back with a gloved hand to steady his mage, and Dorian takes it as an opportunity to draw his staff. The Tempest was a dangerous weapon, pillaged from a demon-infested temple within the Western Approach, but today it would be nothing more than a walking stick.

"Very well," he huffs, missing the warmth of his lover's hand as it moves away. "You lot have your fun, while I try not to die."

They continue their descent, creeping amongst the hills in the Hinterlands. This was the first place the Inquisition had gained influence and yet the war continued.

Rogue Templars in the area clashed with apostates who refused to join the Inquisition. Both sides thought they were fighting for a higher cause when in reality, they were putting innocent people out of their homes and killing themselves out of pride.

"So the story," Mahvir continues as his gaze maps out safe routes down the rocks. "The Goddess Andruil catches Fen'harel hunting her Halla in the forest and demands satisfaction. As Fen'harel is tied to a tree to be held hostage for a night, he is sentenced to serve Andruil in bed for a year and a day-"

"That's not as righteous of a punishment as I'd expect from a God." Varric comments.

"I suppose we all have our vices." Dorian agrees.

"While Andruil is setting up her camp for the night, a forgotten one, known as Anais, flew into her camp. He claimed that Fen'harel had also wronged him and he demanded satisfaction as well." 

"This is a violent story," Cole remarks.

"Most of them are." Varric soothes.

"They decide to duel for their right to Fen'harel, while he watches from his place against the tree. He eventually calls out to Anais and tells him of a weak point within Andruil's armor. Anais heeds the wolf's advice, and as Andruil falls to the forest floor, he turns to regard Fen'harel..."

Dorian chuckles lowly, despite himself. "Turning your back on an enemy? A novice mistake for anyone."

"Anais didn't see Andruil rise from her place nor her arrow coming until it protruded from his abdomen. Both now unfit for battle, they sit beside the camp's fire.  As they are forced to tend to their wounds, Fen'harel chews upon his binds, and escapes."

There is a moment after the story ends where the only sound is their footfalls, the soft clanking of Mahvir's armor, and fighting in the distance.

"A lovely story, Amatus." Dorian finally says, skidding down a few feet as his staff dislodges a small boulder. "That Fen'harel is a tricksy bastard."

"You think we are like Fen'harel?" Cole offers, there is something hidden within his voice, but the other three men easily dismiss it as his usual touch of whimsy.

"The Inquisition, yes." Lavellan's voice carries softly and lacks an echo among the the rocks surrounding them. A fresh cloud of smoke, caused by an invasive fire, had caught his attention.

His ears twitch.

After another moment of silent consideration, he continues. "We make enemies on all sides and maneuver our way out of danger. The mages and templars, Celene and Gaspard, The Grey Wardens and Corypheus..."

"We do end up in the middle of things quite a bit, don't we?"

"I'm half afraid I'll start praying to Fen'harel before this business is done," Mahvir says. He seems genuinely bothered by this admittance. A weakness shared among friends. "The Creators know that I could use some of his cunning, in the days to come."

"Why do you need his when you have your own?" Dorian challenges. He knew the Inquisitor well enough by now to recognize when the elf was on the hunt.  He'd already prioritized a plan, by the time the fire's smoke had reached the sky. "The plan?"

"We're going to drive the mages' into their fire and smoke them out. Once it enters their lungs, they'll lose focus, and we can handle them quietly."

"I suppose I'll be dispelling anything they throw at us," Dorian says, already thinking of the smoke and ash that will be clinging to his robes.

"While Cole and I box them in?" Varric finishes off, already pulling Bianca free and fondling her trigger.

"I'm not equipped for stealth," Mahvir announces. Leaning back on his heels just for his armor to creak and his grappling chain to rattle. "I will keep watch and warn you of any reinforcements. Keep an ear out for a robin's call."

"A whistle, amidst flames and fighting?" Dorian sounds dubious.

"I will hear it," Cole says, his face shadowed by the brim of his hat.

"If we can take the mages out quickly, we can take the Templars by surprise. I'll join the battle then, and hopefully, this road can be open for travel and trade within the next few days."

"Ah yes, the Inquisition's most important duty; returning commerce to Thedas one hovel at a time."

They reach the base of the hills just as Dorian finishes speaking, and Mahvir steps out to hide amongst the trees that had not been struck or burnt down by some miracle. "Get the job done here Dorian, and we may see less of Fen'harel in the future."

The mage's staff begins to glow- its decorative skull rattles with ambient magic- as its sunken eyes begin to gleam with a faint purple light. "As you say, Inquisitor."

The apostates do not live long enough to see their fire scourge the Hinterlands, nor do they get the satisfaction of seeing their enemies struck down in their stead.

The first caravan of the season travels down this war-torn road not two days later.

While the Inquisition and Fen'Harel remain, as always, in the middle of things.

[thepreposterousprequel]

Chapter the Third

M: Welcome back to another exclusive interview with Prufrock Prep's one (and only) reporter. Proceeding down the alphabet, we have—by random coincidence—arrived at D. D: Thanks for having me on the show, M. And I prefer to think of it as an inclusive interview myself. M: Okay, sure. But first, let’s both get this awkwardness off our chests. D: Who said anything about awkwardness? M: What I mean is you and I are the two candidates running in this election—the only two candidates. We're both trying to end up as the second-in-command at this school. D: I know. And I respect you for that, M. That should give us more to talk about, not less, don’t you think? M: I see. And I respect you for that, D. I just feel so much respect. It's like... have you ever felt something—like a sort of burning—but you're not quite sure how to express it, and— D: My favourite word's "luminary," by the way. M: Hmm? Oh, yes. Thank you kindly for the reminder. Now let’s get to the heart of it: you played a foundational role in the group we all know as Vaudeville’s Finest Denarians. D: Oh, when it comes to that, I’m only the tetartagonist, really. M: It sounds like you’re making up words again, D. D: It means “fourth actor." K and L are clearly the protagonist and the deuteragonist. And B(ea) outplays me—you can be sure about that. M: I see. So you're not even putting *me* in the picture? Or C? D: You’re new. Fifth and sixth actors. And there are the other trainees, which brings our number up to ten. M: I see. In that case, who's the... Decagonist? D: I'd say... F. Or maybe E. But probably F. J and H are definitely more in the middle. M: You may be alienating a few of your voters, D, you know. D: Okay, M. What I meant is that F and E are younger and have a chance to be the protagonist someday. They'd be the first to agree with that.

M: Of course. But L is young, too, you know. D: But he's also L. Also, if this is about inclusivity at the school, let's remember you're the one doing "exclusive" interviews here, M. Anyway, my point was that, currently, we're the perfect number for The Decameron. I hope your readers know about our first performance. M: Of course. And what's our theme? D: The power of fortune. M: I have to say: your performance in the dress rehearsal was simply dazzling. How are you so good at bringing fortune to life? D: It's just a slice of life for me, I suppose. M: Of course. Now, first question: D: *laughing* You mean the interview hasn't even started yet? M: *ahem* What will you do for the school if you win the election? First of all, what title will you assume? D: You'll remember Ish called this "an election for an indeterminate student position." So the eventual title really can only be assumed. M: *sighing* Only Ish... D: I don't know what word I would use, but it definitely would not be "king." There’s a character named King Duncan. He's in a very fascinating drama, but very early on, he gets murdered. That doesn't feel like a good omen. M: I know that play. Would you say Duncan is a good king? Would you structure your leadership style after his? D: After he’s dead, does it matter? M: For the sake of the play? Not really. So I'll let you dodge that question, but not the shipwreck one. It comes up in all sorts of Shakespeare plays. Twelfth Night, the Tempest... D: Well, if you'd asked me yesterday, I would have said B(ea) in a heartbeat. But now, I think I’d go with... H. If our lives depended on it, he could save us with a flying machine made only of coconuts and seaweed, I'm sure. M: So... not B(ea)? D: No. Unfortunately, no. *pause* M: Why not? What's changed? D: B(ea) and I are… not together anymore. M: Wow. I’m sorry to hear that, D. You know, I hadn't even met you before you two were dating. D: Yes. It's true, M. This is my first time saying it out loud, but B(ea) and I are, in fact, taking a pause. And I'm okay that we're taking a pause. *pause* D: Okay, I was sobbing all night. I mean, we’ve had our disagreements, but I thought... Anyway, it felt sudden. M: I'm here for you, D. I mean—we're *all* here for you. And for B(ea). D: Thanks, M. I need this space. You know, the worst part is, B(ea) and I had this dance performance planned for tonight. There's a message we need to convey through the music. An important message. M: So... A dance partner? That's what you need? We do already tap dance together, you know. D: It was supposed to be the foxtrot. The Victor Foxtrot Delta, to be precise. And Bea is kind of irreplaceable. But maybe... M: Whatever message this music is supposed to convey, I'm sure the two of us can convey it through tap. D: So... M: Yes! I'll tap dance with you. D: Tonight? M: That seems a bit sudden. But absolutely! D: Are you sure? We've never performed together. M: ...but we have *rehearsed* together plenty. D: Well if *you* want to, then I couldn't thank you enough! We'll have to talk about costumes. It's got to be something fiery. M: *laughing* How did we get here… You’re distracting me! Very few Ds do that to me. D: Wait—we're still recording? You *are* editing this interview down, right? And I mean a *lot*. M: I only keep the important bits.

On your very first day at Prufrock Prep, dear reader, after disembarking from whatever kayak, submarine, or paraglider you happened to be traveling by, you will likely be pressured into a session of evening entertainment put on by the Department of Wooden Performances before the sun even sets. I, for one, have spent countless hours captive to the less than captivating acts—the mangled magic tricks, the aberrant acrobatics, the violent violin sonatas—with only a handful of pearls worth polishing into a positive review article to show for it. Tonight is my chance to infiltrate.

“You spectacular students never cease to amaze me," says the department head, Professor Remora. We sit overlooking the island's amphitheatre in the sunny afternoon. "But if I'm honest, I came here for the bananas.” These bananas comprise the entirety of his salary, he explains, "and it's worth it." Some combination of the climate and volcanic soil is ideal here, apparently. He peels another from the crate next to him and eats it as I type. The arts are often underfunded.

Evening finds me in a place I'm more than familiar with by now: the antechamber underneath the stage. What I'm not familiar with is the bustle of performers, and I'm awestruck. The lighting—fireless candles—was provided by the Department of Steely Resolve, along with the entry onto the stage—a rising platform through the trapdoor. There's a faint thrumming sound coming from each of the fireless candles as they light up the scene. It fits the mood perfectly.

Jacky and Jenny are the next to take the stage. I can't imagine the stage would want to be taken, if anyone bothered to ask. As a final touch to their costumes, they're adding more and more powder to their already pale faces, continuing as the platform rises through the trapdoor. Their act on the stage above us sounds something like an invigorating rendition of "Somewhere over the Rainbow." It's either that, or perhaps the championships of the welterweight boxing tournament.

"What a lovely performance!" says the opera singer preparing to take the stage next. "I'm glad Jenny finally got her chance." If you need a definition of the word "magnanimous," then look no further than the student who programmed the performances, Beatrice Anwhistle. We have a long chat about the inspiration for the piece she's about to perform. Underneath her warm, calm demeanor, I sense a hidden depth of grief and struggle.

"Duncan's done all the work for our act, really. He's one cool alligator," says Bea, wistfully. "And Héctor cobbled together the wings." "You're being magnanimous, again, Bea," says Duncan Quagmire IV, clarinet in hand, tap shoes on feet. With minutes to go, he's finally showed up for their number. Words start pouring out, as if from a pitcher. "I'm so sorry to come at the last minute, Bea. I wasn't sure if you wanted us to say anything to each other, so I thought I'd just wait, or else stand hunched in a dark corner, and then come in, maybe jumping on the platform as it rises, but I also didn't want you to worry I wouldn't come, so I—" Bea breaks in and hugs him. "I'm the sorry one, Duncan, for our little misunderstanding. I'm glad to see Moxie step in tonight, but I'd have been happy if it was still us. All I wanted was...a slower tempo. For now. That's all."

Duncan gasps. "You mean... you want us to go on?"

"Don't be so gobsmacked," she says, smiling. "You and me both know the show must go on." Their platform slowly rises into the misty evening air. As applause dies down, the intro comes to life: a slow and sublime clarinet and piano line, strumming like a heartbeat. Then Bea's voice breaks the air with "Song to the Moon" from Rusalka. With the atmosphere now in pieces, the magnificent tones easily travel as far as the Moon—a waxing gibbous tonight. If any space traveler stood on the lunar surface that night, they must have been moved to tears by the song directed especially to them. This will be an impossible act to follow.

I take a deep breath. Short-short-short-long, I recite in my head. Then short-short-long-short, then long-short-short. That's all there is to it, Mallahan. Repeat those three over and over. Your message will be received.

After Bea is finished with her song as well as three encores demanded by the audience, her platform descends back into the antechamber. It's my turn. "Shake a leg!" she tells me as we trade places. The electric stage light stings my eyes and the blurred audience disorients my balance. But Duncan's hand reaches out to me, and our act has begun.

"You were fantastic on the stage!" Duncan tells me afterward. "A phenomenon!"

"You were the one carrying the show, really," I say, slowly regaining my breath in the antechamber. "All I was there for was to help the show go on."

"And the message to go on," he adds. "Honestly, I can't thank you enough, Moxie. Someday, I'll do something in return that will help your passion for journalism go on."

"That's a bit vague, but... I like it," I say, thoughtfully. "The world is too quiet here. We need more journalists. We need a world abuzz with the news. Then maybe all those mysteries Snicket and I solve will no longer need solving."

"I'll convince someone else to join you, then, as a journalist," he says. "I don't know who... My firstborn child?"

"I'll take that as a compliment," I reply. "And as a promise, Quagmire. On the record."

Much as I'd like to continue narrating the evening's entertainment with a glowing review of the next piece on the program—"A Dialogue between Hippolyte and Olaf"—I have a question to ask Duncan. A mystery to resolve. I interviewed him about Vaudeville's Finest Denarians this morning. But why did he join the group in the first place?

"My instructions were simple: follow the bats. It was for Bea. She's a baticeer, you know."

"So that's it," I say. "You were looking for bats down here, and you found Vaudeville's Finest Denarians. Mystery solved."

"We found much more before that, Moxie Mallahan," says Duncan, suddenly even more mischievous than usual. "There was the eye of the snake carved into the wall. And then there was this." Somehow, he pulls a skull out from behind his back, holding it up at arm's length and looking into its eyes.

“There’s a painting I studied once. It was years ago, but it's one that sticks in your mind. The scene shows nothing more than a person screaming, hands to his face under an orange sky. The result is terrifying. Colors and shapes mash and bend like hot caramel, and it feels like reality itself is melting. I’ve never seen whoever it was that modeled for the painting, and certainly not his skull, but if I did, I imagine it would look like what I hold in my hands now.”

“So,” I summarize, “The skull is… long.”

Duncan sighs. “If you’d like me to speak like a journalist instead of like a poet, then, yes: all I could have told you was, ‘The skull was long.’ "

"Holding up skulls and soliloquizing in dark antechambers seems a bit too gothic for you, Quagmire. Are you sure you don't have an evil twin?"

"No," he tells me, with another cheeky smile in the torchlight. "He's an evil triplet."

“To carry a torch” is a set of words with at least two meanings. One meaning is to hold a piece of wood designed for the purpose of being lit on fire to give light to the surrounding area. Duncan and I had already done that far underneath this stage. And then there’s another, more figurative torch that one may carry. Though beautiful, it is the most scorching torch of all.

"Good talk, Moxie," says Duncan, sticking his hand out for a shake. "The arts and the media each benefit from a professional working relationship." As the act onstage finally comes to a close and intermission begins, he puts down the skull and heads towards an exit. "I wonder if Bea has plans for the weekend..."

[dalesramblingsblog]

OK so, here's the deal. If you head on over to https://ko-fi.com/dalesramblings right now, for as little as five dollars a month you can get access to my forthcoming book reviews several months in advance if you sign up as a member. Currently, that means all three posts for January of 1998, covering Christopher Bulis' Tempest, Peter Anghelides' Kursaal and David A. McIntee's The Face of the Enemy, and I'll work on adding more as I finish them over the next few weeks.

Does this count as a violation of my "I'll never put anything behind a paywall" promise? IDK maybe. I want to stress, if it makes a difference, that the intention is *absolutely* to make these available for free on the blog eventually, so if you'd rather not spend the money and just wait it out instead, that's totally fine. The world's rough out there, I get it, hell that's the main reason I'm even doing this in the first place. There are people out there who could do with money more than some random who spends time reviewing out-of-print Doctor Who books, and who won't be turned out on the street for not paying rent or whatever.

But if you like what I do, and you can spare the money, every little bit would be appreciated, as would even a one-time donation.

(Also my plan is to add the names of Members to the blog's sidebar alongside one-off donors, so if anyone has any qualms about how they'd like to be credited, or if they wouldn't like to be credited, do let me know.)

So yeah. It's here.

[ro-botany]

the thing with teambuilding in heroes that's hard right now is that like. the only strategy i know is BIG MOBILITY BIG ATTACK NUMBERS. my primary team is four high attack cav units, two of whom are chroms with their fancy reposition-then-move-again assist skills, and my aim with every map is to either A) stampede in and murder everyone in two turns maximum, or B) nuke a guy and run out of enemy range until the map is cleared.

and to be fair this DOES work most of the time. the chroms + freds are all hard hitters, and they've gotten me thru most story content and a fair amount of other maps like champions.

but also that is my One And Only Trick. so if they end up dying, say, in tempest trials; or if i ever want to actually go try squad assault maps that force you to use like 5 different teams; i have no fucking clue what to do. i have no back up strats. the best i can do is "sort heroes by rating, pick one of each colour, pray"

eventually i'll look up information about proper team composition, figure out some good builds for some of my older units i'm attached to, all that jazz... but hoogh does reading things about this game ever tire me out fast. the way they write skill descriptions is so unnecessarily complex.

[mortuarywriting]

Wip Wednesday! I uh. Might've spent the latter half of last week making a silly thing that I'll eventually get back to but first. Dragons once again.

So yes, while a dragonslayer is a very unlikely title for someone to claim for themselves, the dragons that walk among the people will neither forget nor let their guard down for the scent that will send any dragon's instinct into certain wariness.

Ultimately the dragons want to live by their rules, be left well enough alone, and to support those in their weyrs that need the support and protection. A single dragon can be a valuable target, but a weyr has its own way of making itself impenetrable and invaluable.

Again, this is not saying dragons are bastions of moral purity. Regrettably there will be demographics where might makes right, or tradition dictates to the point of restriction. Most have embraced that humanity, more as a blanket name for the population, is prone to cycles.

A surge of innovation, a wave of luxury, a tide of oppression, the tempest of revolution, and once the fires are put out the cycle begins again- innovation in the wake of tragedy to try to fix what has been broken. Patterns, cycles, the cute phrase "history is doomed to repeat itself" thrown about but ultimately ignored. An individual can vary wildly but as a rule humanity?

Somewhat predictable.

And its in that prediction the draconic populace tends to temper themselves and hide in plain sight. Many dragons these days are bred out enough that their youngest grandchildren will have long lifespans for a human- and many humans don't know the hints of dragon blood that may flicker in their veins. Nothing that can spur any particular magic or draconic shift in itself, but enough that dragons may be more inclined to keep an extra eye out.

And that's where the dragons in power come in. Oh politics generally keep too close an eye and shift so regularly truly ancient or outed dragons work very hard to avoid the political stage. Dragons with the power and drive to protect tend to do so in ways they know will make impacts- maybe starting local support networks, maybe heading businesses, or maybe heading some flight of their own.

Here's the part where we discuss, more specifically, why dragons are so bad at dying for a cause.

In its most boiled down and concentrated essence, its really a simple answer.

Dragons are bad at dying.

A gross oversimplification, but as stated a dragon is not an insignificant target.

Many centuries ago (a few millenia really, but other than the mountains that walk among us who's counting?), when dragons were more complacent? A few industrious leaders of men marched their armies upon dragons.

Well, war is a great driver of innovation. Knowing your enemy means being able to devise a strategy around them.

Dragons known for being swift and staying in the skies for days at a time? Had to come down at some point, and catapult and trebuchet made that decision for them.

Where scales had been impenetrable by man, nature could be leveraged and tempered.

So it was determined that, perhaps, dragons should don human guise and enter these armies themselves. Make their way in and hide and keep the species off the chopping blocks.

And when something that good works? Others follow.

Bits by bit others followed suit. Humans... didn't need to know how much of their armies were actually human anymore, and the nonhuman population was safe enough, so that worked out.

But! I digress.

Dragons.

Causes.

Dying.

By all counts? They've had enough of it. If you're enlisted it's something of a gentleman's agreement- you've thrown your lot with a cause you chose and some may even defect if appalled enough with some strings pulled. Takes a lot to sway a dragon's mind, after all lives are a drop in the bucket and ends can justify the means easily when you consider the many against the few.

It's an easy path to tread. The ends justified the means. I was following orders. It's what was expected. What else could I have done?

There is a level of violence that cannot be ignored.

Dragons.

Wars.

Artillery.

There is a level of complacency that will never wash out.

Dragons.

Atrocity.

Bombs.

Scales can be hardened and tempered over time, but remember maps of where war planes have been repeatedly shot are only ever from the planes that managed to return.

Dragons.

Blood.

Screams.

Some sins may never be forgiven. How many sit at your feet, how do you know the call you made was right?

For everyone that depends on you, it just has to be enough, doesn't it. That it wasn't has to be unimaginable. To get lost in what-ifs is to meet your twilight and send your soul on from your body.

So.

Dragons are bad at dying for causes.

Because every dragon asked has had to live for theirs, haven't they.

And the military is so full of humans, isn't it?