#it’s like. so much of what would make them a light warden is tied up in the need to consume aether

[impossible-rat-babies]

every day I get closer to making stuff part of eyrie’e shb lore that is Unhinged

[baldursgaysart]

Long lost!!!!

So, I finally got around to painting my Tav and Durge romancing Minthara. This took longer than expected but it’s been a long time in the making. I had my wife help write out my vision and backstory for them since I’m not very good with words. I hope you enjoy this! I was told it’s like an A24 poster 🤣

Tav and Durge Backstory:

Names:

Vierna: Light colored Tav character

Brimaia: Dark colored Evil Durge

Vierna and Brimaia are both reincarnations of one of the only truly loving and romantic relationships Minthara ever experienced after Ketheric Thorm’s trickery forced her into consuming an Illithid tadpole and altering the course of the rest of her life.

The events of Baldur’s Gate 3 are actually Minthara’s eternal Purgatory.

Vierna grew up as a noblewoman in Menzobarranzan, who was aware of the Baenre family, but had no real ties to it. She met Minthara in the goblin camp and was completely transfixed by the skill, prowess, and cruelty of the night warden. She fought alongside her as they both eradicated the once peaceful druid grove; proud of their accomplishments in the name of the Absolute.

When Vierna again found Minthara at Moonrise Towers, and beheld the terror and desperation in her eyes as she turned to meet Vierna’s gaze, she knew their bond was already so strong that they did not require an Illithid tadpole to read one another’s thoughts. It was written plainly on their faces. They needed one another.

For months the pair fought and slept together, ending the tyranny of Thorm, and allowing Minthara vindication after all she had been through. They gleefully stole away the lives of countless vile creatures, cultists, and would-be dictators, until they at last reached the Netherbrain.

Their companions were losing their life force and strength as they did their best to hold the Netherbrain back, and Vierna and Minthara realized it would be up to them to finish the job.

Just as hope seemed to be within their grasp, Minthara was hit with a near lethal blow from a Mindflayer. Vierna knew she could not allow her lover to die this way. Not to the very creatures who cursed her life in the first place. Boldly, she watched as the Mindflayer reached its tentacle out to finish Minthara off, but at the last moment she dove in front of her and took a fatal hit. Minthara had to carry on with the fight as the portal opened to her, with the knowledge that although the Absolute could never harm another again, she would be alone in the world once more.

What Minthara and the other companions were not aware of was the fact that all of this, everything they had suffered, had been a form of Purgatory. Every year they would lose consciousness as the Netherbrain careened into the Chionthar, but when they woke they would be right back on the Nautoloid, or in Minthara’s case, back in the goblin camp. Only something different occurred after the loss of Vierna. When a beautiful; dark skinned drow entered her sanctum, Minthara realized there was something different about her, but she could not quite place what it was.

Bhaal had played a cruel joke on Minthara by resurrecting her fallen lover as a monster known as the Dark Urge. It was not enough for Minthara to watch the love of her life die before her very eyes. No. Now she would have to brave Thorm and the Absolute all over again, while wondering every night whether her own beloved would take her life in a murderous blackout. Vierna, now going by the name Brimaia, however, would never lay a harmful finger upon her darling drow. She would much rather take control of the Netherbrain with Minthara at her side, and force all in Faerun to be subservient to their new queens!

[ghostwise]

from the veilguard artefacts prompts! 5. Letters taken from the library in Weisshaupt, tied in a bundle

LOVED THIS ONEEE this one was so fun, thank you! Some notes: In my worldstate Alistair is Warden Commander, and Var'myathan, the Dalish land boon, thrives in the South.

“I washed my hands of Warden business long ago,” he says, and it hurts, though it shouldn’t.

That their shared brotherhood—their only commonality at this point—is so distasteful to him, so very worth forgetting, hurts. But then again, if there’s one thing Alistair knows about the Blight, it’s that people choose how they remember it.

For him, time has distilled those feelings and experiences into something potent, terrible, yet formative. Every instance of the man he has become is touched by it. No Blight, no Alistair. And there’s the rub.

For Hamal, his memories of the Blight are something to be discarded.

Both of these viewpoints are correct, or at least, no more reprehensible than the other.

Alistair smiles. He slides the letters across the table once again. Hamal fixes him with an uneasy stare.

“Is this an order, Warden Commander?” he asks, his glasses giving him a rather owlish appearance.

“Maker, no. It’s a gift,” Alistair replies. “Can’t you tell by how nicely I’ve wrapped them for you?”

Hamal doesn’t laugh, but the corners of his mouth lift for a moment. He reaches for the papers.

“And what gift is so important you have made the trip all the way to Var’myathan to deliver it?”

“Letters,” Alistair says with a sheepish smile. “My letters.”

“Letters are traditionally mailed, Warden Commander.”

“Not when they contain controversial or suppressed knowledge,” Alistair says. “Knowledge about the Blight. Knowledge about the Taint. Such letters might be best hand-delivered.”

Hamal’s fingers are steady as he unwraps the parcel. There are stamps upon the envelopes, the sort that were used in the old days; simple cork and blue ink, and, in this instance, magical enchantments that light up against the touch of warm hands. The envelopes have been waiting to be opened, all this time, patient in their knowledge.

“I smuggled them out of Weisshaupt,” Alistair admits.

Hamal eyes him for a moment. “Why?”

“We’re not getting any younger, my friend.” Alistair reclines in his seat and for a moment remembers that he has, by now, outlived Duncan—but he refocuses sharply on the conversation at hand, scored as it is by an ever-present dirge. “In the years following the Blight, I encountered many strange things. Darkspawn that could speak and reason like men. Wardens that had extended their lifespan in unnatural and twisted ways… these field reports were buried, as so much of what we lived to this day has been buried… never to see the light of day. I speak of your own miraculous survival as well, you see.”

Hamal sets the letters down and watches him with an inscrutable expression.

Alistair smiles.

He’s mastered the knack of instilling a healthy dose of fear into his Warden recruits, while never betraying his friendly exterior. Now he’s convinced he has delivered his message adequately, and made his good friend squirm long enough.

“In any case,” he concludes, “It will do more good in your hands than in the First Warden. The Order is—well.” Alistair stands, his blue cloak fanning out with an elegant sweep of his arm. “I wouldn’t bore you with all that. It’s all things you already know, or things you are better off not knowing. Just understand that in keeping these… you would be doing me a favor. And in reading them, even more so. No orders. No obligations. Just… a favor, from an old friend.”

Hamal flips through the letters, occasionally pausing to squint at the writing on the envelopes. He finally groups them together again, tapping them against the table to line up their edges neatly. He doesn’t look up.

“Thank you for the audience,” Alistair says. “If you do ever read my ramblings, let me know what you make of them. Take care.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, sit down Alistair,” Hamal says. “Haven’t even given me a chance to find my reading glasses.”

[solidaritygaming-fanblog]

You requested traumatizing AUs for the poor Jimmy? Ask and ye shall receive. I’m currently in the process of making the bones of a Hermits/life series space AU and I might’ve solidified how Jim gets introduced into the story. Apologies if this is too long but I need to free this from my mind.

Jimmy was a space cowboy. He traveled the galaxies enforcing the law and throwing criminals into jail. He always had good intentions, he only ever wanted to help the galaxy become a safer place. He had that classic naive 25 year old sheriff attitude that made him believe that he could change the galaxy he lived in. He was so very wrong. Being in his line of work in space came with hundreds of other dangers other than just putting dangerous criminals away. After a particularly harrowing encounter with a top Deep Dark leader (the Deep Dark is like. A space cartel in this AU run by The Warden. Nobody know who. He is or what he looks like but it’s often said that if you saw him, that was the end of the line for you. Again this is all a rough outline) a bounty was put o his head in the darker rings of the galaxy. The bounty itself wasn’t on his head but his wings. With Jimmy being an avian, his wings were incredibly important. After Jim had dropped of the Deep Dark leader, he had just left the planets atmosphere when alarms began blaring. The flashing red lights warned of another ship docking on his. Before he could even veto the dock, the space lock opened between the ships, letting a burst of cold air through his small ship. Another Deep Dark leader had been following him and had broken the guy out that he had just attempted to put in jail. They came looking for revenge. Over the course of the next 48 hours Jimmy was tied up, beaten and tortured (the whole works), and before the Deep Dark leaders left, they cut off his wings. Of course he was still awake as the blade sliced through the muscle, severing his golden yellow canary wings from his back. He was left bleeding out and beaten. As soon as the leaders left, the Hermits were alerted to a drifting ship that appeared to have no pilot. They docked on the ship, expecting to find it empty but instead they found a bleeding Jimmy on deaths door. Tango was his main care taker in the after math of his rescue. Of course this leads to the Ranchers couple (i love them both so much <3). Even years after his wings were stolen from him, the nubs that were left on his back still twitched whenever he would’ve used them to emote. He will never forget the feeling of his wings being crudely sliced from his back. He will never forget what they took from him.

So yea :3 that’s kind of all i have and it isn’t too fleshed out so it’s kinda lame right now but the ideas there. Soooo :333

I had to let this sit and marinate for a bit because IM SO???? NORMAL ABOUT THIS????? taking the concept of the deep dark and turning it into a crime organization is such a mcyt fan thing to do that I would never see anywhere else and I love it!!!!! Ehebehehehehehehe I'm gonna go CRAZY. Yeah no you are so right especially about him being naive and starry eyed..... he just wants to make the universe better!!!!! And he doesn't understand the seriousness yet... poor buddy

[tallysgreatestfan]

Specials in the book vs the movie

Now, from the way they are described in the book, I am not sure if you could even possibly translate that into a movie, especially not with this budget, but: It is really frustrating what the movie did with the Specials.

In the movie they come across as your garden variety super soldier, but in the book they are honestly one of the coolest cyborg designs I ever saw in scifi (and scifi is my main reading and watching genre).

For starters, yes, they are much stronger and faster than the humans in the setting, but most of all, they are surged to look intimidating. They use plastic surgery to make the Pretties look beautiful, but for them the Cities huge medical advancement is used to design their faces and body type in a way that is not even necessarily visibly non-human on first glance, but the type of facial features one instinctively is afraid of. Which is such a interesting concept.

They also, and I can totally understand that this would have been incredibly hard to get right, maybe impossible, move in a way that is just slightly off. Too fast and too angular. The book describes it as elegant but almost insect-like, like cockroaches slithering across a plate. You see them for longer than a second and instinctively know that that aren't humans anymore. It's taking the uncanny valley and using it for warfare.

It is a bit visible in the way Laverne Cox plays Dr. Cable, even she plays her much more human than in the book. She does emote and she does have body language - but much lesser than most people do, and she uses the majority of it to manipulate people. She also doesn't do all these small, unconscious movements like cleaning your fingernails, bobbing your foot or scratching your face.

Third: They are disturbingly fast. The scene where they invade the Smoke is described in the book as the Specials just casually walking into the complete chaos, and it doesn't looks as if they are doing anything - except that they herd Smokies in front of them and everybody they walk past is tied up on the floor. Which is such a cool visual, but again, not sure if its possible to film that.

Its also, and this is yet another reason why I dislike the changed Peris plotline, much more complicated and disturbing than them just being mindless killing machines. To be fair, it only is explained in the later books, but it is more like an artificially induced personality disorder, carefully tweaked so that they have a sense of superiority towards Uglies and Pretties, but also notice the beauty of the natural world much more intensely than them and are ready to protect them, anger and impulse control issues, and loyalty to the City.

What makes that even more disturbing, and this is not directly canon, but it would make sense from certain events in the later books, they seem to specifically pick already neurodivergent people to mold them into that. Yes, the series has light, but there, neurodivergence themes later on. This aspect is handled surprisingly well and empowering (unlike the eating disorder and self-harm rep, but that is another topic).

There seem to be two ways to end up in Special Circumstances, and its way to easy for Peris to have this happen:

Be with the wardens (they are actually different to Special Circumstances), the firefighters or the doctors, aka the only professions in the City which don't have the lesions, and stand out in some useful way. Likely how Dr. Cable ended up with Special Circumstances.

Be self-destructive and mentally ill in a way that seems useful to be manipulated. Happens with [redacted] and [redacted]

And they actively screen the Uglies for who might a good candidate for Special Circumstances in five to ten years. The Uglies dorms are so easy to trick not by oversight, but to watch who is able to tweak the rules and who not.

They also have fangs in the books. Which would have looked so cool, but also acting with fake fangs is a pain in the ass (ask the Star Trek Discovery season 1 Klingon cast), so I can understand that they left that out.

Another thing the movie sadly dumbs down is just how invasive not just the Pretty surgery is, but the Special surgery even more. Tw for surgical gore for the rest of this.

They skin the person and replace the skin with new, more flawless skin for both operations. They also take out all teeth and replace them with ceramic teeth in both operations. What is unique to the Special operation is that they replace most muscles with cybernetic muscles, and that they replace the entire skeleton with the same much more sturdy ceramic they did the teeth with. No, I do not want to know how this logistically happens.

Also just so many other cybernetic implants. A chip in the fingertips that makes them able to put their fingers on glass and translate the vibrations into the sound happening in the room behind. Various tweaks to the eyes, or maybe they completely replace the eyes, it is unclear, but Specials can see infrared radiation. Software to calculate the time and direction just from seeing the stars.

I do like how Laverne Cox interpreted Dr. Cable, but for the other Specials I would have really liked to see more

[chroniclesinlacuna]

Splash of Blue (read on ao3)

pre-Rookanis, G, ~850 words

There's something off in his room - a splash of blue against warm browns and earthy shadows. It's the only real spark of color in the otherwise carefully organized and contained space and he has to pause just to...

He recognizes the flower, of course. It had only been a couple days since the blight eruption - since he'd had to help drag Rook back, Assan helping pull Davrin along just as successfully. Mierda, they'd both been as useless as he'd ever seen them - loose and quiet in a way that had made his chest hurt.

A two hour walk had turned into five by the time they'd made it back to the glade, Lucanis trying too hard not to think about how light Rook had gotten in the last few weeks, and how heavily he leaned on his shoulder in a way he'd never let himself before - Spite suspiciously silent the entire way.

(It was too damn quiet - too damn loud in the silence that he almost asked, almost begged Spite to say something. He could feel Spite gearing up, could see the slash of purple out of the corner of his eyes. But Spite…didn’t.)

He was aching by the time Rook found his feet - by the time Davrin was able to carry his sword instead of drag it, the hand on Assan's back fond instead of steadying - but they made it to the cave in one piece.

He remembers admiring the small blooms, shoulders and thighs sore as he crouched among the soft petals, the Wardens talking quietly amongst themselves. He hadn't caught all of the conversation, but he had caught the hope in Antoine's voice. The teasing joy in Evka's. And the almost palpable....something, in Rook's. Whatever it was, it made him sound hoarse, tired voice scraping at the stone in a way Lucanis had never heard before.

But, that had been the end of it. They'd left the lovebirds to their date, and had gone back to the Lighthouse to collapse for all of a couple hours before the next emergency whisked them away.

He hadn’t thought much of it. The flowers at least. Maybe he loaded up Rook and Davrin’s plates a little more for the next couple of dinners. Maybe he snuck Assan a couple more treats - though he gave up on that when he noticed Neve doing the same, and the look of abject concern over who to go to first on the bird’s face made him feel bad. But the flowers? Until he’d walked into his room that night, he hadn’t thought of them.

It’s a couple of blooms, stems tied together gently with a scrap of leather and he does not need Spite pointing out that they smell like woodsmoke and earth. He almost doesn’t want to move them from the shelf where they’re carefully laid, afraid of bruising the small petals.

So he doesn’t. The flowers sit there, untouched, unblemished, for the next day.

You’re afraid.

Yes.

Of what.

Damaging them.

No.

Yes.

No.

…

He scoops up the flowers the second night, quickly rearranging them in a small vase that seems to have appeared - Spite? The Caretaker?

See. They’re fine.

He’s not… dreading seeing Rook again after that. That would be ridiculous. But something in his chest aches in a way that’s old and tender, and he doesn’t want to see… see what? He’s not sure he could articulate it well, and after trying to explain to Spite that he’s not hiding, he does finally have to leave the pantry.

He’s not so unlucky that Rook is there when he does slip from the shadows - but Neve is, making her absolutely horrendous excuse for coffee and well. That just won’t do.

Rook’s there later though, with the rest, while they figure out who both wants to make dinner, and has a salvageable idea (Harding being carefully distracted by Taash’s… actually, he’s not sure what they’re doing, but it’s working in keeping Harding away, so). Lucanis feels like he’s walking on fraying rope everytime Rook looks at him, waiting for… for something. Some expectation, some… 

When he drops the pot on his own foot, the only thing saving his dignity is the fact that the sound makes Bellara drop multiple loud metal utensils. Rook’s there a moment later, crouched to help pick things up and he’s suddenly closer than he’s been in days and Lucanis…

When he looks up though, there’s nothing new there - soft, dark eyes, framed by dark curls and an ugly slash of a burn scar. He looks at Lucanis like he always does - warmly, curiously, unflinching. There’s nothing new there, except the small ghost of a smile that’s more in the crinkle around his eyes than his lips, as he hands the pot back up and turns back to help Bellara.

A breath he didn’t even know he was holding suddenly burns in his lungs and he has to turn away quickly before Neve can notice - Neve who’s watching him with soft, soft understanding.

Rook never mentions the flowers. And Lucanis thanks the Caretaker for keeping them fresh.

[muwitch]

oh god I want to ask all the questions for the veilguard asks lol but can you please answer 2, 3, 16, 17, and 20? 🩷

Ayyy, no, is fine! I love answering STUFFS, send em over soijsejfo

2. most & least favorite: location

I personally and PROBABLY didn't open all of the locations (there could be smaller ones still locked under personal quests), jaoever. Locations do differ in their quality or how big they are, or how much is happening there, so it’ll be a hard pick. I think the most disappointing location for me would be Rivain, as, unlike other places, it is mostly…uninhabited? Yes, we love ourselves ruins, but even location with little npc presence still had a vibe and an atmosphere to them. All the rivaini npc’s are in the hall of glory, and honestly, I was hoping to have more peeks at the culture, especially if that comes up in Taash’s quest partially. Or there are interesting talks in the Hall of Glory, but all in all – very disconnected. My Rook has some Rivaini roots and it always had stricken me as a very culturally diverse place, so that was a letdown.

I was quite hoping to see more of Minrathos (SD play, you dig), but I’ll take what I can.

As for top picks I’d say well, it’s definitely also hard. Antiva is very beautiful, like legitimately I spent some time just doing architecture shots (the only grievance we only see a small part of it), Anderfels for the authentic Grey Warden experience and all that, followed by Grand Necropolis, bc it’s a VIBE.

3. most & least favorite: banter

This is a hard pick as well, like… I don’t like many of Taash’s banters, but I know they’re JUST LIKE THAT. Some of Lucanis banter just doesn’t make me feel anything in its delivery, sorry, if I am offending the stans, just, personally not really clicking with my Rook. He’s ok and all but just, eh.

Bellara and Neve discussing Tevinter’s light novel serialization, so much good Davrin banter, Emmrich also is quite funny and diverse depending on who he’s with. Neve too.

16. what animal would your rook be?

Surprise, surprise, but Luc has long adopted the alias of “Mongoose” as a shadow dragon! So, he’s one. Local snakes beware* (with exceptions).

17. very serious question, what type of pony would your rook be? what's their cutiemark?

He’s a mage so I gather…a unicorn? Let this hoe be normal for a moment, wait, I forgot he’s from Tevinter.

His cutiemark would be either something akin to a lightning-bolt, since he’s mainly electricity focused mage…I will avoid saying mongoose, right, but also might be something light related??? You know, his name, Lucius? And “bring light” line from Viper? Do you feel?! Light/shadow dichotomy, beloved.

20. is rook best friends with any of the companions? if yes, who?

Luc has relatively good relationship with anyone, since he’s a dumpster on fire, but I’d say Davrin? The buddy, the guy! It would seem that Luc would be more inclined to be bbf with someone from the mage part of the party (which is partially true), but honestly?

Davrin is such a fresh breath of air. They bond almost instantly on this alienation from their respective cultures (in a sense), partially healthy self-esteem, push and pull banter, admiration for Assan and later on? Survivor’s guilt? Trying to figure why the heck both are here, reflect on their choices, what do their lives mean? Being the tool with no purpose? Tis a good soup my liege.

Luc does see Davrin in a better light than himself (and he’s not wrong), in many cases Davrin’s willpower to push through and to do the right thing is the lever Luc needs (since *coughs* SD related spoilers *coughs*) to not roll back to his own devices and vices following it?

They can pull each other out of misery if needed, and all in all, I’d say it’s a friendship I didn’t expect to form initially but it is there.

[mercysought]

you’re in a position of great power. it’s a lonely place to be. most leaders spend their lives using others and being used. love isn’t just a luxury for you. it’s a rarity. it’s a gift. don’t throw it away. ( val for anora it spoke to me okay )

The Queen stands softly, watching her husband not too far from where she was. He spoke with the Inquisitor in quiet tones and Anora kept herself from allowing her thoughts to spin out of control. She chooses instead to make lists, to know that the period of peace had come to an end and she had not even realised it. It was a sort of grief that she had almost allowed herself to forget, to kept neatly tied inside of a box in her mind, away from where the light might wash it away.

She loved him dearly. She had loved him dearly before she even took him to her bed. And he had loved her, loved her before she had been Queen, and then as a desperate woman trying to set things right. It had been a lucky twist of fate that had brought him to her and that it had made their marriage be one that had brought her nothing but property, joy, their children, love. In a strange twist of fate, it had been her worst day and her own misery, both of theirs, that had brought Anora the life she had so dearly wanted.

The Queen still remembered as clear as today, when she had realised she was pregnant. It was not the best timing, the throne was not secure and the rebellion was picking up and barreling towards either a sword upon the bastard's neck or one of her own. Anora had not wished to face such a fate knowing that what she had always wished was just, just in her grasp.

   "I know." the Queen, nods, glancing towards the Warden. And now her two eldest stood just a few steps behind their father. Their eldest, the future Queen, biting nervously at her lower lip and her brother listening intently to the words shared between both of them "Both of us will do what is necessary to keep this nation safe." her throat feels dry, her attention falling on the reddish hair of their eldest children, the way that their brows sunk upon their face so similar to Jamie's she could not stop herself from smiling "But I think we both know how these stories often end."

She was in no rush to find out. She had no intention of sacrificing a life she had built from not only her own suffering but the other woman's.

Still, that did not mean that they would not have a contingency plan. And that was what Jamie discussed now with the Inquisitor. She would die before something happened to her children. Her youngest would be taken somewhere safe, long before darkspawn could even be seen in the horizon and the thought broke the Queen's heart. Anora was not foolish, for all her strengths she knew this was Jamie's. He had a softer, lighter, hand when speaking with the Inquisitor. Even the Warden Commander.

   "For what is worth, Warden Commander..." clearing her throat, the Queen turns to face the elven woman dressed in shades of silver and blue. She had heard some rumours though had not given them much thought, not beyond a mild interested hum before proceeding to remove it from her mind. She knew only that an Antivan Crow had arrived with the Warden and had remained despite not being a warden himself. She hoped, even for the Warden Commander, that she had found some level of comfort, after all the pain that Anora and her rebellion had caused her and hers "While I do not apologise for what we had to do... I understand where you were coming from. All those years ago."

Which was, of course, likely cold comfort. If comfort at all. Alistair Theirin was dead. Eamon Guerrin was dead. Loghain Mac Tir was dead. Yet, for all their History, the Warden had still rallied her forces to Denerim, she was working with them to make sure that they would not be decimated. The fight from what she understood would still be frought, but at least it would not be hopeless "I will do my best to make sure that the sacrifices we both had to do were not in vain."

BEYOND THE STORM // accepting . @immobiliter

[blackcatruse]

𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔞𝔰𝔥𝔢𝔰

«prev. ❃ next» ❃ first chapter ❃ m.list ❃ ao3 pairing: r. haitani/fem!reader ↳ she/her, fem descriptors, nickname ❃ chapter synopsis: when you have too much freedom on your hands, you can only think of childhood memories. your childhood was not good. word count: 3.2k chapter cw(s): swearing, possible ooc, mentioned/implied suicide, mentioned human/sex trafficking, implied CSA, isolation, breakdown a/n: very, very sensitive content ahead. nothing explicit, but be careful with this one y'all.

Suzaku put you on house arrest for an indefinite amount of time, per direct orders from Kirin. Your usual territories would be divided among Nezumi, probably-Hato, and Shika. Your debt was temporarily arrested and someone from Genbu’s and Seiryu’s divisions was posted on a 24/7 watch. You were going stir crazy, but at least you were finally eating something other than cup noodles. Your guard dogs brought you food because you weren’t allowed to leave under any circumstance. It was almost like you were being waited on hand and foot, but you knew better.

Aside from telling your wardens that you were hungry, the only other human interaction you got were a few text messages from Nezumi. He was actually kind of cool when you were talking to him, but you still kept anyone from Wuxing at arm’s length. You couldn’t make any ties if you wanted to truly be free from them. Though with all the free time you’d been given, you were left alone to think a lot more than you’d like. Ideas you wouldn’t even bother entertaining were creeping in your mind and you couldn’t get fresh air. You couldn’t go anywhere, not even with a guard.

It did make you curious about why the executives of Wuxing were putting such strict measures in place, but you would likely never figure out the answer. Kirin was the only one who knew everything about everyone, and you’d only ever heard his voice. It was obvious that you were important to this new cult that was arising from the shadows. You called it a cult because you weren’t sure what it was. It didn’t feel like a gang or crime syndicate because the people weren’t trying to infringe on territory or sending declarations of war. They were just targeting you and it looked like they were also messing with Rokuhara Tandai. Two of the Three Deities, but you weren’t sure if Kanto Manji was experiencing anything similar.

Next to the hypotheticals that played out in your mind, the nagging thought of, Why me? repeated endlessly. Who you were was a ghost. Who you are now was so far removed from that girl, you wouldn’t recognize yourself at all. But how did these people know you? Know your family? You tried racking your brain for memories, but nothing came to you.

Unfortunately, the digging into your own mind triggered some delightful nightmares. You would wake up in a cold sweat, gasping for air like you were drowning. Some nights you paced around your room, trying to make yourself so tired that you would pass out in a dreamless sleep. It worked about once, and then never again. The only semi-reliable way for you to get sleep was to leave the lights on, but you hated it.

Days passed by in a blur before you realized you probably needed to update the Haitanis about what was going on. Digging your private burner out from under your sink, you tried to turn it on, only to find that it was dead. You hoped it wouldn’t take long to charge, but when did anything ever go your way?

When you heard it chime, you ran into the bathroom and then back to your room. The people watching over you were less likely to hear you talking that way, and you didn’t need anyone getting suspicious. Talking to yourself sounded much different than carrying on an actual conversation. You stared at the three numbers you had in your call history. You couldn’t remember whose was whose, so you picked at random and listened to the ringing.

“Hello?”

“Shit, I thought this was Ran,” you muttered.

“I am going to hang up,” Rindou said, no emotion in his voice.

“Wait, wait,” you whispered urgently. “We’ve got a problem?”

“We?”

“Yes, we,” you spat. You sighed before going on. “I’m on house arrest.”

There was only resounding silence. You weren’t sure if you needed to go on and explain or if you needed to wait for the information to sink in. You could imagine the irritation on Rindou’s face, and normally, you’d be ecstatic. But not this time.

“What did you do?”

“Wow, okay so you think I just did something? Seriously?”

“Lotus, get to the point.”

“You know that group that’s been messing with us? They’re after me for some reason, and I don’t know why. I can’t imagine why. I’m not important in any sense of the word. But Suzaku put me on lockdown with orders from Kirin. I have members from other divisions keeping an eye on me, and I can’t go anywhere.”

“Seriously?” The suspicion in Rindou’s voice was almost offensive to you.

“Use that tiny brain in your thick skull!” you snapped. “I don’t want to be stuck like this. Why would I want to put myself in this situation?”

“So what do you want us to do about it?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I don’t even know what’s happening anymore or how many days it’s been. I just—I don’t know if I’m going to be able to make the job.”

“You sound stressed.”

“Really? That’s all you took away from that? Fuck it, let me talk to Ran.”

“He’s out.”

“Okay, so then I’ll call him.”

“He left his phone here.”

“You’re lying.”

“I don’t care if you don’t believe me. Try it.”

You hung up and found a different number you figured was Ran’s since the third number you had had never called you. You had only spoken to the Haitanis. You dialed and swore vehemently when you heard Rindou pick up.

“Surprise,” he said flatly. “Trust me, I wouldn’t lie about Ran not being here. I don’t want to talk to you any more than you want to talk to me.”

If your anxiety and stress weren’t so high, you’d try to say something snarky. But you couldn’t collect yourself enough to do that. Tears blurred your eyesight and you quickly wiped them away. “I don’t know what to do,” you said, accepting the defeat in your tone. “I don’t know why they want anything to do with me. But I can’t sneak out like this or my life will certainly be forfeit.”

“I’ll talk to Ran. We’ll try to get in touch.” Rindou’s voice was surprisingly gentle. Maybe your mind was making things up now, hearing sympathy where there was none.

You chuckled bitterly, “Well, I’m not going anywhere.”

That night presented you with what was probably the worst nightmare you’d had so far. It started off with you walking home from school. Standard, not unusual. You approached your old apartment that you called home and yelled that you were back. But no one responded. At this point, it felt like you were watching yourself, screaming at your younger self to leave. To not go investigating. Because you knew how this went, but dream-you did not.

You watched as you opened the door to where your mother usually hid. The room was dark and your mother wasn’t sprawled out on her futon in a drunk haze as usual. You left, calling out, “Mom?” But there was no answer. It wasn’t like your mother went anywhere. Lately she’d been even more irritable and reclusive, but you had just thought she was in one of her moods. Some part of your naive heart wanted to make sure your mother was okay, so you kept searching. Fortunately, or maybe not, the apartment wasn’t very big. Instinctively, you checked the bathroom next. The door was closed and it didn’t seem like the lights were off, but when you opened the door you would never have been prepared for the sight before you.

Water had splashed on the floor, tinged orange. As your eyes scanned up they landed on your mother’s corpse. It was as horrifying in the dream as it was when you actually experienced it. The bath water was a rusty color, staining the edges of the tub. Your mother’s head was leaned over the edge, eyes empty and wet hair stringy. One arm was slung over the edge, dried blood clinging to where she had sliced into her own skin.

You screamed until the neighbors came over, disgruntled about the noise, but when they saw the scene, they immediately called the cops. During the actual incident, you remembered the cops coming and asking you questions. One of the kinder ones tried to shield you from your mother’s body, but it was too late for it to do anything. Your psyche was already damaged. You remembered that your brother came home and he was furious because the cops could find his drug stash. He waited until they were gone to take that frustration out on you. That’s how that event happened in your life.

But in the dream, you saw your mother’s limp arm twitch. There was a black spot on it, like your mind was covering something up, but you couldn’t recall anything else on your mother’s bloodied forearms. In your periphery you could see your brother’s feet, his presence hidden by the shadows that were creeping up behind you. You sat on numb legs, listening to water slosh and the muffled screams of your brother.

And then you were ripped backwards, tumbling into the darkness. What felt like hands grabbed at your body, voices dripping with ill intent whispered around you. A gentle caress and a sweet lie echoed in your ears. Touches inched higher and higher up your legs and rough hands wrapped around your neck. You couldn’t scream. You couldn’t make any sort of noise. You felt yourself cry, but only heard the angry slaps and yelling that served to discipline you.

You awoke thrashing, voice hoarse like you’d been screaming. Your heartbeat was erratic and breathing desperately ragged. The cold sweat on your skin felt restrictive, but the air of your apartment felt suffocating. You needed to leave. You needed to get out. You couldn’t stay here any more, house arrest be damned.

Running on a panicked autopilot, you threw on a pair of sweats and erupted from your apartment, not caring about the slamming door or the alarmed exclamations of people. You just kept sprinting, like you could stay ahead of your demons and memories that haunted you. The night air was cold and felt like pin pricks on your skin. You could feel the tears streaming down your cheeks and the tightness of your chest. Struggling to breathe, you kept pushing on. You had to. You didn’t know where you were going, letting your feet carry you anywhere else.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been running, but you found yourself at your secret spot. The smell of the sea centered you, and you slowly took in your surroundings. You saw the sun trying to break the horizon, lightening the sky just barely. You heard the breeze and waves and birds. You could feel the cool air and solid ground beneath you.

You had managed to calm yourself down, but it wasn’t enough. You collapsed to the ground, ignoring the pain in your knees, and you let yourself feel. You screamed. You cried. You begged.  Silence answered you, but you always knew that would be the case.

When you ran out of tears and energy, you realized that running out of your apartment was probably not the best move. But you had to get out. If you didn’t you’d probably have done something even dumber. You would let them be mad at you. You didn’t care if they were. They probably saw how frantic you were, and honestly, you were surprised they didn’t pursue you. It wasn’t like you were the fastest person around.

You watched the sun rise, the only indication that time was passing. You weren’t sure how long you’d been curled up, hours probably. But it didn’t matter. If the people after you got their hands on you, you didn’t care. You just wanted this entire mess to fucking stop.

“I figured you’d be here,” you heard a familiar voice and turned slightly, seeing Shika standing there. She didn’t look annoyed, but you couldn’t read her expression as she approached you. She took a seat next to you and spoke gently, “I come here too when I need to think.”

“So they’re looking for me? How pissed are they?”

“Livid,” Shika didn’t bother to lie to you. “I wouldn’t want to be you right now.”

You snorted, “I don’t wanna be me right now.”

“Tell me, Lotus, girl to girl, what’s going on with you?”

“How much of my sob story do you want?”

Shika shrugged. “Whatever you want to tell me. Things have been kinda crazy lately and none of the Four Symbols are saying anything. Just that you were at the center of it.”

“Do you hate me for it?”

“No,” Shika said, shaking her head. “If anything, with you out of the way, the rest of us can get decent jobs.”

You laughed mirthlessly. “I appreciate the honesty.”

“Never believed in being dishonest,” Shika told you.

“But you’re trafficking illegal goods?”

“What can I say? Gotta make ends meet somehow. Can’t earn the money I need with a standard 9 to 5.”

You took a deep breath. “I didn’t want to be a part of all of this, but my brother fucked around and I’m the one finding out.”

“What a bastard. What the hell is he doing?”

“Taking a dirt nap, or maybe swimming with the fishes. I don’t know what Wuxing did with his body.”

You didn’t know Shika that well, but she seemed pretty stoic, like nothing bothered her. You really couldn’t let a lot of things bother you in this line of work, but when you looked at her, you saw Shika’s expression of horror.

“How can you say that so plainly?”

“He sold me to Wuxing,” you said. “He was a bastard until the end. No lost love, I promise you that.”

“I’m sorry.” That was all Shika could offer, like she was lost in her own train of thought.

“It is what it is,” you said, shrugging.

“Well, it certainly explains a lot.”

You glanced at Shika from the side of your eyes. She was staring at the soft sunlight of early morning. “We were wrong about you,” she admitted. “Hato, Nezumi, and I, we hated you.”

“Yeah, I know. It never bothered me.”

“But then Nezumi told us about what you were doing for those kids, and I didn’t want to believe it. But I saw you working for them to keep them safe. I think it changed Nezumi’s image of you, and he tried to get me and Hato to at least be friendly.”

“It’s fine. I don’t want to get attached to anyone here. If I’m being honest, I hate Wuxing. I just want to pay off this insurmountable debt and just leave. Go so far away it won’t matter anymore. I would find a way to get forged documents and make up a name. Who I used to be is dead to society anyway.”

“Who were you before?”

“Just a middle schooler,” you said vaguely. “A nobody from a broken home. And I was okay with that, until I lost any hope of freedom.”

“Middle schooler?” Shika didn’t hide the shock and disgust in her voice. Most of Suzaku’s division knew you were formerly Byakko’s. Your alias gave it away anyway, and you stubbornly insisted on keeping it. You were going to take back the moniker of Lotus and make it your own. You also weren’t sure what animal Suzaku would assign you, so that’s what you fooled yourself into believing.

“Yeah,” was the only response you could come up with. “Anyway, we should be getting back, huh? I want to go face Suzaku's wrath while I’m still numb.”

Shika frowned.

“It’s okay,” you said, glancing at her. “You don’t have to pretend you care.”

The frown turned into a scowl. “Stop being so stubborn!”

“Nezumi told me something similar.”

You stood up and offered a hand to Shika. You expected someone like her to have soft, delicate hands, but they were just as rough as yours. Calluses decorating the palms and cuticles peeling. Trying not to think about it too much, you hefted Shika up and then dusted your pants off.

“Seriously, though, Lotus,” Shika said quietly. “You don’t have to go through everything alone. You trusted us for the sting operation, so trust us now too.”

You were only ever good at pushing people away. Nothing beneficial ever came from making friends, and you were never interested. You protected yourself with isolation and a facade of noisy pride. Make yourself as unlikeable as possible because you couldn’t trust anyone. The people who were supposed to fundamentally give a shit about you didn’t care about anyone but themselves. So you had to, too. It got lonely sometimes, but the only one you could depend on was you.

“You’ll have to forgive me then,” you responded, voice low and hollow. “It’s not easy for me to trust.”

Shika nodded, and the two of you headed back to the rundown apartment complex where most of Suzaku’s division dwelled. Like a disappointed parent, Suzaku was standing in front of the building. He was a new shade of red and you swore you could see the veins popping in his forehead. You didn’t expect a heartfelt reunion, in fact you were bracing yourself for an assault of fists. But Suzaku did none of that. He looked at you, voice cold and soft as he demanded, “What the fuck happened?”

“I panicked,” you said. “Had a bad nightmare. You know about what.”

Suzaku pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “I can get Miko to bring you some sedatives—”

“No drugs,” you immediately said. “Prescription or otherwise. I don’t like how they make me feel.”

“So what do you propose?”

“Well, I don’t think being alone was the best and I’d really rather not have anyone from Genbu’s or Seiryu’s divisions in my apartment. Can some of the runners just like, visit me?”

“You’ve never wanted to connect with them before. Why now?”

You didn’t blame Suzaku for being suspicious. You would be too, but you knew you couldn’t be left alone again. You had to say dumb things to someone and pretend you were okay. You had to maintain the act you tried so hard to put on.

“Someone talked to me,” you said, gesturing with your thumb to Shika behind you. “Made me think about some things.”

“Fine, but if you run again it’s directly to Byakko you go. He knows how to keep a tight leash.”

You couldn’t fight the way your spine stiffened and your heart dropped to your gut. No. You would die before you went back to Byakko. You would give yourself up to the people after you sooner than you’d return to Byakko’s brothels in Kabukicho.

Unable to find words in your dry mouth, you bowed slightly to Suzaku. He stepped aside and you walked back to your unit. Shika tried to follow you, but Suzaku stopped her briefly so she could explain what happened. You passed by the guards posted outside your door without acknowledging them. There was too much you needed to think about, and you felt gross.

The new developments were certainly going to throw a wrench in your plans. You truly believed you’d have a better time with the company of people who could tolerate you, but if you did, you were going to have a hard time sneaking out to do the job with the Haitanis. You’d figure something out. You didn’t have another choice.

Please do not reupload, translate, or steal my work! If it isn't here or on my ao3, it's not me! Likes & reblogs appreciated! <3 Dividers courtesy of @/cafekitsune & @/firefly-graphics

[writingsofwesteros]

I was thinking of Stev and Viserys and can you imagine if he married a strong woman as his second wife instead of Alicent? I had to do a little thing about it! And I’ve got no one else to show as I have no friends..

She’s strong willed, trains with all types of weapons, has the Stark height (she’s 5’10”), has the mouth of a sailor, she’s got a built stature, you can see the muscles and the time she’s put into training, she stands up for herself when it comes to men and lords who think they’re better than her, wears dresses only when necessary and prefers her pants and shirts as she often trains and hunts, she’ll wear them for court appearances though, just to please them. A lot of people look down on her and think she’s beastly and an embarrassment, well the rich South people do, in the North she’s praised for being fierce and standing up for herself, her beliefs and her rights, her father just absolutely adores her, she’s his only girl and the apple of his eye.

When she arrived at the Red Keep no one could deny her beauty as much as they despised to do so. Curled, dark black hair reaching her her mid back in braids and twists, eyes a light grey bordering on white, they immediately pulled you in, she had a dazzling smile, white teeth, beautiful nose that compliments her face, high cheekbones but a strong jaw, plush red lips that were enticing on her pale skin. They just couldn’t deny her beauty what so ever which only went to annoy the ladies more because why was this brutish lady, with the habits of a man, blessed by the gods despite her lack of manners and her unladylike habits.

Viserys heard about her hobbies and what she gets up to, he was honestly expecting a grotesque woman with a beard who belches out burps constantly, asking for more ale. He needed to keep the alliance with the North though, he can’t just hope they’ll always bend their knee to them especially when they’re the largest of the seven kingdoms. He has to keep the alliance up and it was between her and two children no older than his daughter.

She’s ethereal though, lovely and kind honestly, she treats every one the same; Lord, Ladie, animal, commoner, traveler etc… she loves animals, she’s smart and has a silver tongue that can cut through the almost stubborn of men, she runs rings around his council and always has the best ideas due to growing up helping her brother be ready to claim the Warden of the North title.

She makes it known that just because he’s king doesn’t mean she’ll bend over backwards to please him and ruin her life in the process, it’s a mutual agreement and there’ll be respect from both sides, she promises she’ll do her best to be a good wife and give help when needed but she won’t give and not get back but she’ll do her duty as she’ll be making an oath on her wedding day and she’ll be damned if she’s the first Stark to break an oath.

Viserys gets quite the shock when she speaks to him like he isn’t the king and her superior. He agrees with her words because no woman had actually stood up to him despite him being quite soft, even if he’s a king and Targaryen, she’s a proud woman and will not be subjected to a mockery of the people because her husband doesn’t respect her. He’s like a submissive puppy looking into her eyes and just agreeing to whatever she spits out as it feels quite nice not to have everything piled on his shoulders, at least he knows his second wife will be a wonder ti the seven kingdoms and a good person to him.

LOVE IT!!

I also think it works because Viserys can be so submissive most of the time. I am sure she would be able to bring him from that shell.

Your description is STUNNING! I love her already. I think it works perfectly !

[mor4llywrong]

Servants of a different kind (prologue snippet)

Male OC POV (Mythanar) Astarion's death Snippet of a way larger WIP I might consider posting at some point. content warning: grief, descriptions of murdered person WC: 969

By the time they arrived, the rain had already washed away the blood. The guard had started to get the shallow crowd of late night patrons, lured by the tragedy, under control.

And Mythanar was no stranger to death. To murder and to the grotesque fascination it tended to inspire in people. 

He had joined the church of Ilmater fairly young, after hours spent with his father in the magistrate and finding he had no patience for lies and politics. It was of no interest to him who had withheld taxes and who had smuggled some forbidden wine into the city. His strength had lain in comfort of a victim’s family.

He had a way to talk them through their grief and pain. He could offer comfort, stability and a steadiness many of the grieving people needed. One of his friends had suggested he should attend some of the Ilmater clergy’s masses. 

It had brought him into the clergy and made him walk the path he was confident in walking. While he wasn’t devoted to Ilmater, he was most often sent to alleviate the pain of those who remained. Mythanar had found his faith in helping those who did not understand death and the step it marked in every soul's personal journey. He had admired Jergal for a long time, and had read about the scribe in text that could crumble at the faintest touch. 

A shame what had become of the ancient one’s domain. Myrkul was no better than the rest of the dead three. The fear of death that had spread through the people, made so much worse by the disrespect myrkul’s followers displayed towards the dead. A vile church Myth had no intention of ever crossing paths with.

And if he did, it would not be him needing a rite.

The church of Ilmater was grateful for his presence, for his acceptance of death and willingness to perform the rites according to the dead’s belief. His respect was met in kind and rewarded by the living offering their thanks and him seeing them recover from their loss. 

Sadly, not every deceased would pass quietly and in peace. Sometimes the guard would call for someone of the clergy to oversee a crime scene, ensure the dead were taken to their temple and receive the rites. 

The runner had arrived at the clergy just minutes ago, but Myth had been the only one available, his latest consultation with a grieving widow hopefully having been helpful. 

He had grumbled into his robe as he tied his embroidered sash, marking him as Ilmater’s death warden. It had been pouring for days, keeping the people mostly off the streets, opting to instead stay inside and curl up in the shelter of their homes. 

With a huff he went outside, pulling the hood of his cloak over his head, shielding his bright hair from the gently weeping sky. His boots squelched on the ground, rivulets passing him by as he ascended the streets towards the upper city. 

What a dreary night for murder. Light had escaped the Gate’s citizens the entire day with the late autumn sun being hidden behind heavy clouds for what felt like forever and the night was even worse. Darkness fell oppressively over the city, scaring even vermin into hiding.

Myth nodded to the guard as he passed the Gate to the Upper City, their grim faces fitting into the sombré atmosphere the gloomy weather had created throughout the city in the past days. He could make out the guard from afar, their torches bright underneath the walkway. A few stood outside of the circle of light, ensuring the victim was shielded from the curiosity of passersby. 

It was Cal, an Iron Fist Myth who had gone out more than once to drink with and endearingly complain about family to, who spotted him first. Myth was already raising his hand in greeting as the guard’s grim face morphed into shock and then stuck to utter despair. Horror, so visible even Myth had rarely seen it displayed so openly. Ignoring the pit opening up in his stomach, the tightness in his throat, Myth hurried forward.

“What is it, Cal?” Myth asked. Concern lined the edge of his voice. There were few things that would rattle Cal. The half-elf  had seen the horror’s of the city. Had stared over the edge and into the abyss of darkness hiding in people. Yet, nothing had ever brought forth a reaction like he displayed now.

Cal, a brave man daring to stop an elf twice his own weight, blocked Myth from laying eyes on the body. “Go back,” Cal whispered, holding Myth by the shoulders. “Send anyone else, just not you. I mean it Myth. Don’t do this to yourself.”

Myth swallowed, dread writhing through his body. His eyes darted over Cal’s shoulders. Even 200 years later, the image of grey, wet mud on that all too familiar light hair would make Myth stop breathing.

His baby brother. The youngest of their clan. Murdered and left in the mud to die. Someone had killed his brother. 

He couldn’t remember how he ended up on his knees in the dirt, his hands buried in that stupid, stupid, black magistrate robe. But he could remember the pain. The stabbing, tearing, ripping of his heart with every beat. The pure agony of his grief, as he keened into the cracked open chest of his little brother. He could vividly recall the scent of his brother’s blood. Coppery and clinging to the red doubled mother had gifted him just a few days earlier. 

Fear still clung to the ground, to the walls of that dirty alley. Terror hung in the air, heavy and cloying, spreading from his brother’s body.

And amid all of it, the tiniest bit of hope.

[water-pokemon-appreciator]

( @taraka-at-naranjauva Long Post Warning)

Since people are giving gifts now, here is what we all have got for you. Just remember to not neglect your needs after this, ok? Ok, here’s the gift.

It’s a package…nay, a present, labeled “For: Sidon” and “From: Taraka, Arezu, Haze, Lora, Floren, Cossie, and Indigo”. It’s quite hefty, and seems to have a lot packed into it. Inside, Sidon would find…many things.

First, wrapped in a fluffy white cloth, is a light blue crystal, one unmistakably from Area Zero, with a note attached by a a string around it, saying “I did get permission from the Paldea Leauge to get this for you. Signed, Taraka. P.S. The cloth it was in is actually a Frubble-themed Blanket. Enjoy!”…wait, there’s also a blanket?

Second, in a less themed cloth is…a wooden bangle. Wait…it looks Hisuian, yet depict is a Greninja…then the note (also tied on via string around it) explains what’s up: “I was informed that Greninja are important to you, so I opted to replicate the bangles Wardens like I had and give one dedicated to Greninja to you.“, followed by what appears to be Hisuian Writing…Arezu clearly sent this.

Third, there is a set of Lure Balls, a total of 10, with a note on the package. “You would not believe how many auctions I went through to find these. However, at this point, I felt I could do nothing less, especially for a friend as good as you. Sincerely, Floren.” Dedication much?

Fourth, rolled up are three star charts, showing constellations. One appears to be of a Manaphy conjuring water (Aquarius), another of two Basculegion swimming in a circle (Pisces), and finally a Gardevoir holding an olive branch (Virgo), the last of which marked as “Your Galarian Zodiac”. There is a note with them as well…”Hi Sidon! I found these signs, and thought you’d like seeing them. Love, Cossie!”. The note is definitely written by a 6-7 year old.

Fifth, a box filled with two kinds of trinkets. Namely, charms and talismans. The charms are all of an endearing appearance, and the talismans seem to represent various good fortunes. There is another note with them, too, with half of it in (actually readable, somehow) cursive and the other in a less elegant but still pleasant font. “Hello Sidon. I do hope that the talismans I was able to create and that you can see before you are able to bring good fortune to you and your family. Sincerely, Haze.” “Hey there Sidon! I hope you like the charms I made for you. Maybe they’ll even bring some good luck when you need it most! Signed, Lora.”

Finally, there seems to be…a grappling hook. One that looks custom made but comes with a manual, which mentions being more effective with frubbles…this would probably seem very specific, but then the note explained all: “Sup Sidon? Thanks for the unknowing input. Allowed me to make this even better for you. All three of it’s heads will work better with frubbles for when you need extra grip and power. Hope you like it. Signed, Indigo.” This note also looks like a 6-7 year old made it.

A final thing at the bottom of the box, a photo of everyone who sent something in this box posing with a banner that says “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SIDON!”…they really went all out for this, didn’t they?

oh shit you have me crying

gimme a sec

[scribbledquillz]

Lilouuuu I am both loving and biting you for sharing this hOW DID YOU KNOW I WAS READY TO BE A NOSY BITCH ABOUT YOUR GIRL???? I'm going to slam 7, 14, 20, 23, and 24 on the table-- politely, of course, I don't want to alarm or offend with these loud and hasty movements-- for your kind consideration AND! As I did in my last ask, if you there's a question you're dying for someone to ask and it wasn't covered, consider it asked babay!! Have a gorgeous day you cool banana! :D :D :D

Edgy/misc OC ask meme ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

Plant my love, you are always and forever welcome to be as nosy as your heart desires about my silly little idiots living in my head. I adore that you adore them so much. <333

7. What's one way your OC has changed since you first came up with them?

If it's possible to consider, Revka is far, FAR more approachable than she used to be. If she's at an 8 from 1-10 on the standoffish and curt chart now, when I first was writing her she was sitting solidly at a 13. 16 on a bad day, lol. Ceral surviving long enough to see his magic come in and being taken to the Circle rather than killed as he originally was plays a huge part in it all. With him still in her life and her avoiding the worst the the shit I put her through at first she manages to stay softer as a person. Where before she was cold and shut off and quick to violence because she believed there was no sense of true, selfless kindness in the world, only survival and those who would take advantage of a "weak" heart, now she is far easier to befriend - if proud and hesitant to show weakness because she's grown accustomed to being the one to make the hard choices and act as the rock for everyone else around her.

14. How does your OC want to be seen by other characters?

Answered here! :3

20. Does your OC have a tendency to get jealous? If so, how does this manifest?

Also answered riiiiight over here! :3

23. What emotion is the hardest for your OC to process? How about express?

Hands down, it's her grief. When their parents pass Revka shoves all the feelings of loss - sadness, anger, fear, despair etc - down and out of her mind. Not because she wants to (though that does have a hand in it) but mostly because it's the only way she's able to pull herself together quickly enough to keep her and Ceral together. The elders in the alienage were talking about sending Ceral to live with another family, questioning her ability to care for a young boy when she was still basically a child herself at sixteen. If she didn't get her shit together, keep herself going to prove she could take charge and manage both the house and her brother's care, she was going to lose the last living family member she had. She couldn't let that happen, so she shut herself down, emotionally.

Grief was a luxury she couldn't afford, so it got packed away to gather dust until she was hit over the head with it when returning to Denerim during the Blight. During all her time traveling then, she'd been in denial about having to leave her home permanently. Yes, she had to stick with the Wardens, but once the Blight was over if she was still alive, she could go home! Things could be sort of normal again, maybe she'd even manage to bring Ceral back with her. But there's a moment where she slips away from the group and Zevran finds her a few hours later, tracking her back to the home she used to live in with her family. And he sees her in this moment of sheer defeat.

"Thought it would feel right, coming back here. Thought - I don't bloody know. That it'd still feel like home. But it... it doesn't. 'S nothing left here any longer. Only dust and ghosts."

As for express, I'd say love and affection are tied for first. Not because she can't show it - she finds her ways with touch, acts of service, gifts, those sort of things. But asking her to put words to these feelings... it's like asking a Mabari to recite the chant of light. The feeling is there, but the words just aren't. It's too big to make fit into something so limiting.

24. What is an alternative life path your OC might have gone down? How different would their life be if they'd made those decisions?

If she had been braver, if she hadn't had the ties to the alienage in her family to keep her rooted, Revka would have absolutely taken her ex-girlfriend Arden up on the proposition she made to her when they were fifteen. Arden wanted more than anything to get out of the alienage, out of her drunkard father's reach and to see the rest of Ferelden and Thedas. She wanted to explore places no one knew the names of, and had this big vision of a grand adventure full of riches and beautiful places with Revka at her side.

Most likely if the two had gone through with the idea, they would have been hit hard and fast with tough realities of life on the road as two young, naive elven girls. But Arden is passionate and Revka is stubborn and loyal, and between the two of them I think they'd have eventually fallen into a comfortable way of life as travelers / petty thieves. I could see them eventually making their way up to Rivain and settling in quite nicely, though never in the same place for too terribly long.

BONUS ROUND! (thank you for enabling this ehehehe)

9. Do you have a specific lyric or quote which you associate with your OC?

TOO MANY. But for the sake of brevity I'll go with what I really feel is the most Revka song I've managed to come across to date.

Towards the Sun - Rihanna

Got lost in a promise of a love I'd never know Shadows chased me far from home I remember when my heart was filled with gold And you know I've been burned, I've been burned, I've been burned You've seen me lose control It's not worth, it's not worth, it's not worth my soul Turn your face towards the sun Let the shadows fall behind you Don't look back, just carry on And the shadows will never find you

[needleandstory]

Insect legs, berry light, the crushing suffocating weight of soil.

Nat jolted upright in bed, nails clawing at their own arms as their breath came quick through gritted teeth. A nightmare. It was only a nightmare. Slowly, they lowered their hands to their lap. They could see skin caught in the crescents of their fingers, but their flesh still crawled. It took a force of will to not keep scratching. Instead, they worked their jaw and focused on their breathing, trying to relax.

They were starting to hate this place. They had always had dreams, but lately, the nightmares were endless. They dreaded going to bed, but no matter how hard they resisted, exhaustion pulled at them and their latest record for 'longest time awake' was a measly six hours. The doctor still didn't have an answer for them, whenever he bothered to say hello. Then there was the matter of their cast, hanging off their useless leg and rooting them to the ground. No windows. No light. No flight. It was a cage made special for them, stalked by a warden they had hoped they'd never see again.

They hated how easy it had been for them to identify his near-silent footfalls. They had become a ghost around him, perpetually dancing just out of view, while he stalked about, a minotaur in their labyrinth.

Balling their fists, they buried their face in their hands. They wanted to go home. Instead, the door clicked open. They straightened up quickly, smoothing out their face and sheets, but the smile they prepared for Fenn vanished when they saw Rowan instead. He looked nearly as surprised to see them as they were to see him. They rallied that smile back. "Aw, is our game of hide and seek over already?"

Something flickered behind his eyes that they couldn't quite recognize, but they could see the tension winding through his body, making him stiff as he shut the door behind him and walked to their bedside. "Too bad, so sad."

He hadn't changed much. They spied a few new scars, pale and shining under the florescent light, but other than that, he had the same heavy boots, stepping lightly in spite of them; the same sort of clothes--dressed like a warning sign--and the same knife-sharp eyes. He opened his mouth to speak. They readied themself for a torrent of hatred.

"I'm sorry."

The words crashed like steel beams between them. When Nat remembered their time with Rowan, they remembered his cutting tongue. They remembered his bitter disappointment, his harsh criticism, his belittlement. Don't be an idiot. Why would you think that's a good idea? Get over it. Rowan kept talking.

"I've had a lot of time to think, lately, about what happened last time I saw you. In retrospect, it's real fuckin' obvious. You were breaking down, and I was too focused on the next score to give a shit. I didn't hold up my end of our deal, and I made that your problem."

Rowan couldn't look at them, gaze fixed on the corner of their bed. For several moments, Nat could only stare. But then, laughter began bubbling up through Nat's throat, the sound all feathers and wings. They laughed, and laughed harder, even as Rowan's face turned bright red. His expression twisted with rage, and they got ahold of themself just enough to say, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I was so sure you hated me. What have we been doing? What do you want me to say?" They rubbed a hand across their face. "I never thought I'd see you again, and I was happy about that."

"I hated you for years."

"What changed?" A realization--and potential answer--clicked into place. "Where's Sofi and Garrot?"

"Sof's on the straight and narrow these days. Garrot's with her."

"And you're here."

"I'm here."

Nat rubbed their arm. Memories returned, unbidden: Rowan cajoling a furious Sofi into keying a car together. Rowan tossing back drinks with Garrot. Rowan with them in the dark, kissing each one of their burning, blistered fingers. An abrupt ache for that comfort seized their chest, yet they remained repulsed by it. The thought of being tied down again, to Rowan no less, made them sick to their stomach.

As if he read their mind, he continued, "This is something I decided to do a long time ago."

"Then what took you so long?"

"This was the last place I expected to see you. What the fuck is going on with you?"

"Hasn't anyone told you? I'm a medical marvel." They didn't entirely succeed in making it into a joke.

He had nothing to say to that. When he spoke again, it came with a sense of finality, "I said what I came here to say."

With that, he turned and left. When the door shut, it took a layer of Nat's skin with it: they felt red, raw, and exposed. Their heart ached, and they resented the feeling. They were alone in this pit, with no one to even complain to. Really, they only had one option.

[TXT] Fenn! [TXT] I wanna talk more about my druid. 🥺

[clawsextended]

@anthromimicry asked: much to misao's own dismay, her hunger was starting to get bad again; and that was something concerning because her diet was definitely not that of your typical person's. this was because, at the threat of losing the funding of one of their most prominent benefactors if they didn't start 'cleaning up their act,' that the warden of arkham asylum suddenly seemed very gung-ho about protecting the patients. as if he ever cared much about that — even before misao came along and started to eat the patients of hers whom she found very unlikable, to say the least.

and as a consequence of this, she saw it fit to break out the outfit she'd used for a time when she first moved to gotham to feed. it wasn't anything ostentatious unlike what a lot of the other villains there were wearing nowadays; it consisting of just a dark purple parka, black pants, and a surgical mask. but surprisingly enough, someone seemed to remember seeing her one night misao had went out quote unquote 'hunting.' a sigh slipped through her lips as they told her the story of the murder they'd witnessed of hers as a kid.

not killing children was one of the few rules that misao went by while she was out, after all, so of course it had come back to bite her in the ass one day. she had no qualms with killing adults however and would've done so if they hadn't shown up with a friend of theirs whom had actually managed to sneak up on her. misao would've been impressed if she wasn't so damn angry at being hit over the head hard, which caused her to fall to the ground, dazed and her head bleeding. she let out a groan of frustration as she tried to clear her vision at first but failed. misao was only able to partially do it just as the guy had cocked his gun at her, prepared to shoot, only for it to go flying out of nowhere.

there was someone else here. that was all she was could glean from this situation at the moment, as the sound of fighting broke out before her. misao used this as an opportunity to begin getting up from the ground. and when her vision finally cleared completely… she saw that the person who had helped her was none other than a woman in a vaguely cat-like get-up. if her head wasn't throbbing something awful, misao might've found some irony in the fact that catwoman, someone who was a 'good guy' in her eyes had saved her. but she merely gaped at her as she wiped away some of the blood from the cut on her forehead.

❝ you didn't have to step in and help me, but you did, ❞ misao began as she pulled down the surgical mask she wore and examined her more closely. with the neon lights of the bar next to them shining upon selina's face, she couldn't help but think she looked pretty like that. ❝ and i appreciate that. a lot, actually. ❞ misao shot her a truly grateful smile albeit a slightly strained one, ❝ i guess i owe you one now. i know offering you food will probably not even begin to make up for you saving me, but i was actually just heading to get some food. that is... if you'd maybe like to come along? ❞

the cat’s just doing her rounds on the average night. she’s taken out a couple drug dealers and left them tied up and real life not simulation waterboarded, motherfucker, she would drown you for real. just swaying gracelessly beneath the docks, precisely close enough by selina’s rope calculations. she’s been certain it would be just enough to cause a mind-numbing panic and a sense of inevitable fatality. just enough to get the tips of their hair wet in the famous gotham river weeping and pleading and thrashing.

that’s probably cruel, isn’t it? oh well. she flippantly places the night’s antics from her mind. the bat will do the cleanup— whichever bird or bat is the flavor of the evening, she can usually pin down her kiddo’s patrols but sometimes she’s not keeping meticulous count. one of them will happen along the screaming and the shouting and catwoman’s aquatic saw trap should draw them in. easy enough — loop an idiot’s foot and watch him go down.

there’s a deeply sadistic joy that rips through her when she hears the rope pull taut. she can’t stifle the bark of a laugh that bleeds into a quiet cackle that resonates as those ropes sway and jerk uncomfortably, heaving with muddy wet as it sprays off the river. the gallows she creates delights her quietly, a tableaux she watches briefly as it disturbs choppy waves. she’s gratified with the sight, the chaotic thrashing that will eventually die down to a silence tight as a wire.

the cat’s brimming with adrenaline when she starts moving, drops the bat a ping and cartwheels out of sight before a whip cracks out and attaches to wrap around a railing. she slingshots herself with exceptional force, flying into the blue of the night with an efficient speed like a cannonball. it makes no such sound when she tears through the dark. and then her goggles ping. click. the ai informs her wordlessly that a gunshot’s detected a few feet below her — and she’s swinging aside suddenly, flying through the air with such rapid force — man, this is gonna suck for this guy. her heel hits the gun and his wrist with a sickening crack masked by the metal clanking noisily to the floor. whip cracks forward, a sharp warning. a quick shower of sparks erupt from where it hits brick, a party trick meant only to scare away an idiot stupid enough to buy the pyrotechnics.

“mm, isn’t it just like a man to take advantage of a woman’s vulnerability. dark alley. really?

—walk away and you can keep your face.”

his hand is already cracked awkwardly aside, a grotesque imitation of anatomy. fingers bend back, hang uselessly and dangle, nails beginning to purple. her eyes narrow, and she casually flicks her head aside. shnkk. claws come out when the young man staggers to his feet. he hobbles toward her in an attempt, swinging an inert hand back to strike her with it like a hammer. knee up, smashes hard into a chest, and then claws sink into a shirt and the cat hurls the target of her violence aside to crash loudly into a pile of garbage cans. the commotion dies down, and she retracts claws as the figure retreats, shrinking until he disappears.

and so the cat turns to attend immediately. and suddenly she… laughs. she fucking laughs. the sound of a hard bark that she swallows without shame but with self-consciousness.

“no. i— would much rather go take a look at that nasty fucking gash on you.”

she raises a hand to touch fingertips ever so lightly to that particular spot, taking it back. she’s careful when she grazes, hardly touches at all. perhaps only touches in theory. it’s the suggestion of touch, and yet physical in and of itself — schrodinger’s caress, maybe.

“come on. i have a place nearby i know. —uh. and it has a kitchen. and neither of us are getting arrested.”

[i-am-creacheur]

Im gay and can't decide so I'm going to do my favorite one from each album

TDaTD: "By My Cur". This song is meant to be inspired by Joel's dog army, and also ties into the the whole dog theme. Also the definition of cur is "an aggressive dog, or one that is in bad condition" which he is very much.

SpySorc: a tie between "Run Away with Me?" and "Wailing Wizard". The first one is about Martyn promising to go with Jimmy if he gives back the stolen life, and the second one is- well- also just Joel. Maybe a hint of Scar as well.

TW: Honestly is gotta be "Secluded Scarlet". It's about Scarlet Pearl, but less of her violent side, more into the emotions of her abandoment. "Moon Eclipsing" is (most likely in lyrical) about a girl trying to kill the man who cheated and abandoned her, only for him to kill himself, breaking her heart. It leans more into the rage, while "Secluded Scarlet" would be like a little song she sings to Tilly while crying before she goes fully crazy. I honestly love both of them equally

NaB: ONE HUNDRED PERCENT "The Judged, The Juror, The Executed". I really like this album more than the others- "Grow Lights" (a tally hall esque song where they put on the characters of three guys growing drug plants in their basement) and "Sleeping Eyes Open" (refrence to Grian's afk) are really good, and I LOVE the idea of "Worthless, Useless" being a solo vocal peice by Jimmy that's basically him dealing with his final death (because his reaction in video makes me want to cry). But all of these are shadowed by the beauty of "The Judged, The Juror, The Executed". It's named after Jimmy's beloved frog, and I haven't decided what it would be about yet, but you bet it's gonna be a banger.

SF: NEVER TO FALL AGAIN!!!!!!! Okay so I decided it would be really fun to have a song in each album that's specifically about Jimmy's final death- the lyrics aren't all about him, definitely, there's a lot of "Oh Hello" type bs in there (I love the Oh Helloes. Misinterpreting biblical stories my beloved), and so that's what the fall series is. I imagine this song to be almost transcendental... it's quiet and gentle, carrying you along in familiarty, but it intensifies, the lyrics changing from mythological and religious refrences to deep, emotional, heartfelt experiences Jimmy has had. It's an amazing vocal performance, and the song ends with the namesake "Scream" or "Death Cry"- a long, held out note, incredibly high, almost like the song of a bird. He petforms a few similar ones earlier on in the song, just a bit lower. The name is also a refrence to his death by the Wardens shriek. Overall the idea of this song has haunted me for so long. I have multiple songs I can scrape together that have the vibe I want this one to get across/imagine it top have... also the eggshell song is inspired by grians stupid little egg base. It was originally titled "this one kid dropped an egg on my head from the top of the stairwell in middle school and I never forgave him"

Foolish: honestly I'm not sure. I mostly slapped them together... probably "Arachnaphobia" because it was one inspired by the one comment made about bigb being on the ceiling like a spider. Its niche and I like it

OitW: I don't even know. Wild Life is my favorite season and it shows. It might have to be "Hunger Lust" because it's such a weird phrase. It inspired by both that really weird interaction they had (but I made another song just about them threatening to cannibalize each other/implicitly talking about sexual favors) but is mostly the weird food episode. I wanted a song for each wild card, and fortunely Oli made that a lot easier!!!!

Singles: I don't think I can answer this one. I might have to say "Pull String" because of the little in universe lore I came up for it (it was going to part of a esmp2 themed EP, but Jimmy felt incredibly uncomfortable with the turns it was taking. He only told the other two bad boys once the test vocals were recorded, and the other two finished songs were released as singles, while "Pull String" was released as a demo (Jimmy okayed it because he was pretty proud of his vocal performance)). But also I came up with a lyric for "Man and his Devils" as follows : You make think you are a god, but that just means you lack a heart. I like that pair of songs, they are what I named my big playlist after <3

And yeah that's it! I forgot to mention that Jimmy is the vocalist and backup guitarist, Grian is the guitarist (occasional vocal support), and Joel is the drummer and backup vocals. In universe there's an entire tour they do where it's mostly Jimmy and Joel dueting (Grian would but he's also Ariana Griande and so can't really sing that much lest someone finds out), and they get Skizz and Impulse on to cover the drums! That's all for now whoops

kinda bored and feeling better so here's my full discography for the bad boys band au I have mentioned to basically nobody.

Each of the albums ties to a life series season. You can ask me about any of these titles and I bet I can give you the background info!