#kin memory that i am NOT elaborating on

[talos-stims]

my garden will grow so high / that I will be completely hidden...

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[backjustforberena]

oooo can you elaborate on what you mean by there being meaning behind rhaenys not being at the dinner?

I am typing on my phone because I'm without my laptop for a few days but I REALLY wanted to answer this so sorry for any typos or messy thoughts or just general un-policed rambling.

I love it because it illustrates Rhaenys's place within the Targaryen family and what she means to those responsible for the dinner. The answer of which is... bugger all. Take Viserys's words. He's delighted that his whole family is there and wants them all to come for dinner. He looks around the table at the faces "dearest" to him.

But there is no seat for Rhaenys. Rhaenys is not one of the faces looking back. Rhaenys is not even mentioned. There's no clue to support the idea that Rhaenys has been invited and rejected the idea because of her feelings. It's just... she's not there. She is a Princess of House Targaryen and she is not present at a dinner to celebrate House Targaryen. And not only that, but the settled succession of HER HUSBAND'S seat and her home, and the betrothal of 4 of HER grandchildren. A dinner that is meant to symbolise peace and bygones and unity after strife. She's not a part of it. Either because she cannot, emotionally, be a part of it, or it does not matter. She does not matter. Not to the adults present. Not until they want something from her.

Everyone at that dinner had a calm before the storm. A happy memory. A grand delusion, just for a night. Rhaenys gets no such comfort. She gets the consequences of her good brother's body on a slab. And she LOOKS at it. They don't have to do that, even though they've brought it about.

It's the severance of the relationship she has with her paternal house. With her cousin. A cousin she LOVES, but who has orchestrated the destruction of everything she holds dear. He is the root cause. It's his brother who wants his love. It's his daughter who he enables. It's his war that her husband fights, and who might be dead. It's his will that sees over everything.

He has his meal of peace. He sees the children laughing and dancing. He eats and drinks and has his loves (however complex that is) by his side. He GETS VALIDATION, enough to shuffle off this mortal coil.

Rhaenys gets nothing of the sort. She is the flip side of him. Viserys and Rhaenys, to me, have always been in opposition. They don't want to be and they love each other very much but the gap has become wider and wider. Think about it, we've had Rhaenys and Viserys smiling and being so happy with one another in Episode 05 ("Cousin!!" / "Princess!") - to a relationship where they haven't seen one another in 6 years and there is no contact between them other than when he is King and she his subject. When she is forced to give up something and follow his rules to benefit him and keep her life. He gives her leave to speak... but not her own words.

Rhaenys is left alone. The only persons she has had in this have been Baela and Rhaena. And she has had to give them both up. Because of Rhaenyra. And because of Viserys. Baela especially. Baela, who stood with her in the Throne Room. Baela, whose hands she could hold. Baela, who has been her ward. She does not have Baela anymore. Her granddaughter is claimed by the Blacks, by the family. By a betrothal Rhaenys had to make to keep her safe. They take her away to Dragonstone as soon as.

Rhaenys's only other kin are Velaryons. But Vaemond lies dead on a slab. Her husband lies, dying, on Tarth. Her children are both (she believes) dead. She has no claim to her home. Her future looks terrifying. If Corlys dies... she will have to be reliant, mainly, on the hospitality of the woman who killed her son. Lucerys is not of age. Rhaenyra will be the true power. And how horrifying is that?

On a more basic level, her not being in the dinner illustrates the idea that she does not belong to a faction. She sides with Rhaenyra for the succession, but only that. Her voice in that instance does not equal her declaration for the Blacks. She is not a part of it all. Nothing has changed, in her heart. Which means that Alicent can make a bid later, which means her isolation is a real danger, which means she's still in the Capital.

[wc-confessions]

Yo. This is going to be a long rant since I am currently reading Tallstar’s revenge. I really hate Sandgorse. And I kind of hate Palebird, but mostly Sandgorse. (Cw; Abuse) I put the warning since Sandgorse is clearly abusive, though people tend to overlook that. So I’ll be explaining a little bit about what he’s done to Tallpaw. When it comes to the abuse toms in the series, people tend to often ignore or just downright deny that. (Ex: Crookedstar ironically enough and I’m not talking about on Rainflower’s end. Goosefeather, Tigerclaw (To be clear from Mapleshade and Pinestar. Pinestar is neglectful while Mapleshade groomed him). So I will argue with you if you disagree that “Sandgorse isn’t abusive"; he is. He’s a god-awful father. If CPS was a thing in this universe, I’d call them on him. 

Early on in reading Tallstars Revenge I liked Sandgorse for his passion for digging and because he seemed like a super caring father at first. But as the story progressed, he just started pissing me off. I hate how he cares more for damn tunnels than he does for Tallpaw’s own well-being and what he wants. I hate how he tried to force Tallpaw to do something he didn’t want and then cold-shouldered him for rightfully being terrified. As I got to chapter 14, it’s clear he’s just plain emotionally abusive, and overall, he's an emotionally absent father from Tallpaw. He doesn’t care about Tallpaw’s feelings and often dismisses how visibly uncomfortable he was. 

He insulted his son and brushed off his concerns when the tunnels flooded. I liked him and genuinely thought he was interesting since nobody ever elaborated on why he was "bad,” but Jesus. Nobody ever said he was outright abusive. Like Tallpaw himself says, “But what I want didn’t seem important.” That is how terrible Sandgorse is. That is how his Abuse affects tallpaw. All throughout chapter 13 of the SE, he constantly thought about becoming a tunnel just to please Sandgorse. It’s so fucking obvious that Sandgorse is a shitty and abusive parent. But then again, abuse in the Warriors universe is often overlooked because of how poorly written and portrayed it is and because, in general, not many readers are educated on the different types of abuse and factors involved. That or either they just deny it even exists. I feel so bad for Tallpaw. Even after how Sandgorse treated him, he still loved his father enough to run away from home just to avenge him. Sandgorse is such an ass. And he should’ve even been grateful at all that he had a tallpaw considering his other kit finchkit died. And I love Sparrow (so far, let’s hope he’s still an angel). I love how he pushed Tallpaw to care about what he wanted instead of trying to make Sandgorse happy. I love that he encouraged Tallpaw to follow his own path instead of letting him think that his feelings and what he wanted didn’t matter.

 Ew and the dirty looks Sandgorse kept giving Tallpaw Chapter 14; Page 250; (digital copy)

“Tallpaw snapped his head up and tried to catch Sandgorse’s eye. Before he pushed his way through the heather, his father shot him a look that stabbed Tallpaw’s heart.”

Someone, please help this poor child. Even Dawnstripe (who is his mentor if you haven’t read the SE’s or haven't read Tallstar's yet) could see how shitty he treated Tallpaw.

“Dawnstripe brushed softly against Tallpaw. “Why don’t you run to the first marker?” she suggested. “It might wake you up a bit.” Tallpaw heard sympathy in her mew. She saw how Sandgorse looked at me.”

“Why can’t I have normal kin who care about my training and who are proud of me?”

The fact that he feels so unloved by his parents is genuinely tragic to me. He’s one of the cats in the series that deserves better than anyone. Along with Bumble,Turtle Tail, etc. There’s probably some others, but I have bad memory, so I can’t list them all. This poor cat is continually plagued with grief and feelings of failure, feeling like everything is his fault. It was heartbreaking to see that he thought Palebird would hate him because he felt it was his fault her friend Brackenwing died. Even Sandgorse believed that he’d killed Brackenwing. Though Palebird imo is just as shit about believing it too, I won’t just shit on him for that.

And Sandgorse is such an ass for shit-talking his own son to Sparrow: “A flood scared one of the apprentices, so yeah, it’s all his fault that we can’t tunnel, and I hate him.” And then, in the next chapter, he just dies. And Tallpaw risked his life to save his abuser.  I cannot stress enough how much he deserves better than what he got. He risked his life; he was fully ready to throw away everything just to save his father. He didn’t care how badly he’d treated him; he still loved him. And Hareflight pisses me off. He saw how Shrewpaw kept bullying and picking on Tallpaw and didn’t do anything to stop him, but as soon as Tallpaw beat Shrew's ass, he wanted to act like Tallpaw was in the wrong. In fact, I wouldn't even call it bullying at that point because it's gone so much farther than that. 

.

[headmate-packages]

A package has arrived for you! Open it?

Shipping #00010110

📮💌📦

Package Number: 00010110 (22)

Name(s): Obscrhiza Aterepes (Dark Root, Creeping Black)

Nickname(s): Oriz, Oriza, Scrhi

Orientation: Quoi-AroAce

Pronouns: They/Them/Their/Theirs/Theirself, Zhe/Zhir/Zher/Zhirs/Zherself, Prox/Proxi/Proxs/Proxis/Proxiself

Species: Shade

Age/range: 22 (static)

Gender: Aternary

Role: Gatekeeper, Memory Sorter, Writesmith

Interests: Greek philosophical studies, racial histories

Front calls: Libraries, Lit Candles, Journals & Internal Secrets

Likes: Classical music, school and education

Dislikes: Religious (especially catholic, but all religions) things

Appearance:

(I was not able to find a picture that was exactly what you were going for, apologies) Shadowy figure with long jagged jet black hair, a thousand yard stare from their white eyes contrasted only by pupils. They dress in more formal clothing, though comfortably wears a floor-length black cloak.

Extra: Selectively Mute but can communicate, writing over speaking. Name picked from systematic taxonomy prefixes & suffixes.

Sign off: 🔏🕯️🫥📚

Fears: The destruction of knowledge or secrets

Kins: Shadows, Wan Shi Tong (ATLA), Quincy Martin (Adamandi)

Happy place: Endless halls of shelved books and knick-knacks. [Like the Spirit Library in ATLA (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

Hobbies: Reading, studying

Passion: Factuality, imagination, philosophy, ethics, and morals

Favorite memory: Being praised for a paper written about The Odyssey by Homer

Headspace Room: Their walls are exclusively bookshelves, the floor is clear tiles filled with torn pages, and the ceiling is dome-shaped and revolves with a galactic view. Their bed's in the direct middle of room on top of a book cover carpet.

Best friends: None, considers greek philosophers ‘friends’

Family: One parent was a religious figure of some sorts. No siblings

Backstory: There was always pressure to be “just as good or better” academically. Zhe was pushed to be a perfect student, and always found solace in the library.

Handwriting:

Image ID: a dark skinned person writing very elaborately in blue pen on lined paper, using two lines for any tall letters. It reads "A smile with love behind it has so many positive" they are not done writing

Letter: Hello, Project System.

It's nice to be able to reach out. The purpose of this section is for you to see how I write. I enjoy writing papers and essays, this is probably my most treasured hobby.

As such, I write in full sentences, as grammatically correct as they can be. I am a firm believer in history, poetry, and the oxford comma. I also believe the best way to be heard is to write, not to yell.

Hopefully I've given you some insight on my writing

-Obscrhiza Aterepes

[daughterofnoridoorman]

how does my uzi kintype affects a my identities, alterhuman and lgbt? the reason i love murder drones is because of the way the characters are portrayed. for example, n is more than just the dangerous-but-nice golden retriever. he is too nice for his own good, and by existing he goes against his designed purpose. being kind hurt him, and even though he seems fully aware of that he doesn't stop. this also applies to uzi- she's more than the angsty chosen one teenager. there are so many layers to her personality, which makes it pretty difficult to put a pin on the way that having her as a kintype affects me spoiler alert and mentions of su1cide+v1olence!

1- hooded crow theriotype in home, uzi "hacks" the mind of n (and also v's mind too. whatever) to prevent their memories from being wiped. during this, she takes the form of a hooded crow with the username 'darkxwolf17'. when i took this into consideration, i realized why my crow theriotype was so weird. i felt like a person in a crow's body, not a crow in a human's body, which is how i usually feel with my theriotypes. but being darkxwolf17, NOT a crow made so much more sense. it explained why i got bird shifts even though i didnt feel like a bird, why i felt that way, why i always wanted to make nests despite not wanting eggs. i am the body of a hooded crow, not the crow itself.

2- absolutesolver kin (violence warning) (note; when i refer to the solver, i am referring to the virus itself. not cyn, not yeva, not nori, not doll, not uzi. THE solver. not its hosts.) even though uzi neutralized the absolutesolver, it still 'lives' on in her programming. and it is a separate entity from uzi. in my mind, the absolutesolver represents intrusive, violent thoughts. that definition fits both the way i've come to see it and the canon. as someone who has struggled with intrusive thoughts for years, i've learned not to feel too much shame about them. in my experience, that only makes them worse. i know that it's not my fault i cannot control my thoughts, and i wont beat myself up about it anymore. this may sound like the thing your elementary school teacher would say if you got in a fight, but i may not be able to control my thoughts, but what i can control is whether i react to them or not. that's what uzi did. she learned how to block the absolutesolver from her mind. how to take control of what it gave her without it taking control of her. 3- monsterkin (suicide and violence warning) i am vampirekin and demonkin. for the sake of convinience, i will say 'monsterkin' and use it as a general term when i am talking about both of these identities. in cabin fever, uzi transforms into a 'monster' when she does not consume enough oil to keep herself from overheating. in my case, the consuming oil part is like seeking validation. i have always needed validation, but more than usual. i have tried too hard to be noticed and congratulated, but it never worked. and then, the overheating is like suicidal thoughts. without validation, i start to become suicidal. i need high amounts of validation to stay in a 'normal' mental state. uzi's classmates treated her as a monster, even before she transformed. just for being herself. as someone who is a queer alterhuman and has known that from a young age, this has really resonated with me. for just existing, i am a monster. a creature of sin. the subtle homophobia and transphobia i recieved from my closest friend, combined with the same hatred towards alterhumanity from even more people before i was even ten really messed me up. the way cabin fever is written just really connects to me. uzi's already so fucked up, she doesnt need another factor ruining up her life. but it does it anyways. she's proven to everyone how she's a monster. (im not elaborating for personal reasons) the fact that uzi's classmates at the end of absolute end didnt really care that much just really helps me feel better. they didnt care. why would my classmates care? 4- gender and sexuality before i even knew girls could kiss girls, i liked girls. in particular, i liked people i had a friendship with. however, my friendships were very messed up and i fell in love with anyone my age who could treat me with decent respect. i headcanon uzi as bi, and i didnt understand why (other than the doc martens) until i connected the dots that im uzi. i am bisexual. maybe? and theres also referring to v as hot at ep 8 so... angsty bi queen uzi but, although me, the almalgamation of kintypes and names that i am, the uzi part of me always feels bisexual. always. when i think of myself as uzi, i can only see myself as demisexual-bisexual and demiromantic-biromantic. this also applies to gender- i am an axenlector user. i collect xenogenders. i am cottoncandygender, i am gendersky, i am gummisharkgender, i am starricattic. i am more genders than i can count. and i dont care honestly. but once again, when i really connect to uzi, i can only see myself as feminine. this does vary from demigirl to rosegirl to just girl. 5- notes and stuff! well, thanks for reading all the way through! a like, reblog, or follow would be awesome! every time i referred to uzi as someone else it was like "why r u talking abt urself in third person! YOU ARE UZI DOORMAN!" but alas, i must differentiate between myself and my kintypes,,, maybe one day i will not have to,,, please tell me im not the only one kkkkkkkkk

[fictionkinfessions]

anyone else out there new to fictionkin , having their world turned on its head , finding out it meant something else than what the internet taught you (i always thought kin meant what synpath means lol) , and you realize it fits you perfectly ? but you also keep worrying you might look like youre faking it cuz you dont have any of that canon memory or past life stuff and really just None of what everyone else seems to be experiencing ? like youre just that fictional character trapped in a human shell and not much else ? did you also make an entire google doc compiling possible "evidence" that proves youre beyond a doubt fictionkin but you still kinda feel like youre faking it ? am i the only one ??

like. i've had this feeling for over a year . before i watched any part of spearmaster's campaign i asked my friends if its weird that i feel a connection to them (spearmaster) . I've been calling them me or basically me for a year . looking at fanart of them always makes me feel like im looking at myself . why do i feel faaaaake just bc i dont really have memories from canon . I dont understand memories . any other fictionkin out there that doesnt understand memories? is it,, okay to even talk abt my kintype like this ? with a hint of seperation between them and me ? like we're both the same and not? is it weird to say "me" "i" "myself" instead of "spearmaster" or vice versa? is it ok to talk abt this in the . fictionkinfessions askbox??? is it ok to post where other fictionkins can see ? will this pondering harm anyone??

i know everyone's experience can and will be different but mine feels. too different yonow . i dont get why i cant wrap my head around it . i feel like i wouldnt be able to distinguish memories from my general knowledge of the source . Is anyone else like this. i cant be the only one dude . the way i experience being fictionkin feels like the same way i experience being otherkin : looking at images makes me think "haha wow thats me" and sometimes i feel like my actual body is a mech . and thats not how any fictionkin-related site described being fictionkin . should i just call myself otherkin ? are these rhetorical questions? no theyre not i need answers

i could elaborate on this more and more and more but i dont wanna talk Tooooo much . Im sorryyy

- spearmaster rain world

s

[pandorias-box]

Infernal Truths

(TW: murder)

I have come to know why this Naganadel clan had decided to collaborate with the Project, and the answer I received was…not what I expected at all. I knew the Hive-mother sought power, but I knew not she was so relentless in her wake. And to think, the messenger who sent me the mission request is from said territory.

All of this stemmed because I overheard them mumbling something over comms…

"Fallax, during the call you seemed to murmur something in response to a comment regarding the Infernalis. If you do not mind, would you elaborate on this further? Considering we still have minimal information on them aside from their supposed aggressiveness, any further data would be beneficial if we are to stop this operation in full."

The agent also goes quiet. "I know not of what you speak of."

"Fallax. You are a bad liar, and even I heard you mumbling something in this room. Just tell them." Her mother swiftly retorts. Fallax pauses before speaking again.

"I...very well. I suppose this topic of conversation does concern the mission at hand in addition to several of the parties involved in it. Myself, most of all," They begin.

"What Pandoria heard was me simply thinking aloud. The Infernalis were not always this way; being described as ruthless and merciless. I should know such things because I am of their kin. "Our clan's namesake was originally due to our funerary rites, a practice of setting the dead ablaze in a pyre and mixing their ashes with fertile soil in order to plant saplings in their memory within the nest. There is a flame that burns within us all, and one day this light shall fade, burning brighter than before among the stars. That was a common saying among us. The flame within us was referring to the connection of light and aura; not the flames of ambition that consume everything in their path and ravage anything that dares to stand before it. We were not filled with this supposed infernal rage and fury. This change came suddenly and violently due to a change in succession within the hive. It has been rarely reported in recent memory aside from this instance but...the original Hive-mother, Kukri, was usurped. Murdered in cold blood in the dead of night. There was no visible injury on her body so they could not track the one responsible for such an offense. Many dismissed it as being borne of natural causes but...I and only a few others know the truth. As I had said in prior meetings, the current hive-mother only sought this collaboration with the Project for more power and influence, trying to amass several smaller clans in their wake of conquest. If we try to speak up against this abuse of power...we are struck dead. Both denizens of the hive and the swarm that obeys her. The new hive-mother does not believe in law and order as is written and known by others; she believes in the laws of nature. The natural order - only the strong survive. This has only happened in recent memory, but we are powerless to call for aid knowing that we can do nothing. That is why I reported this to the Revelry - to Altana. Not only was this political plot a threat to those of this world, but the Project's influence was there nonetheless. I knew not of the Project before conducting further research, but...all I knew is that there had to be a way to end this."

[alegocarmadein]

How about 35, 32z and 17 for the writing asks?

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

oh god. so it's set in the fae realm, right? I call it Elphame in this fic. And it's this mismatch conglomorate of ideas I've learned, rpg shit, and random fucking ideas. not based on real fae myth, this is fantasy bullshit. So there's these beasts, right? these monstrosous, weird creatures called the First Beasts because they were what first evolved/were created. And over like….millions of years many of these beasts have been hunted down (mostly by humans). They're generally worshipped by various species of the fae realm. we meet at least two, maybe more. But they're ethereal in a way. kinda terrifying? ever see a bug that's so fucken weird you're like. I don't think you're an enemy. but maybe ur an alien so please leave my house/screen. or had a weird crawdad-like thing run over ur foot when you weren't expecting it? yeah like that, like not unheard of just like ah hi what the fuck are you. generally this fic is meant to be a respite. there's not really weird time shenanigins, or fucked up memory stuff, just a classic slow, we're walkin in the forest looking at shit and talking while we head towards our destination. oh look a giant snail. hey did you know i love you. im going to look at you meaninfully and study your features cause i have no clue if we'll ever get home. that shit. not pining…just…lingering. it's also a uh interim? between next of kin & the third story in the series. that ones. gonna be. rough. so we have to be chill in between then and now. god i will get this goddamned story done. someday.

32. What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic etc that you return to from time and time again? How did you find it? What does it mean to you?

Hm. I am really. really. really. bad at remembering lines. but this segment sticks with me.

"Still, Feels said nothing. Not the house still brought you back to me. Not you were unconscious, you didn't hear how that place still breathed - quiet, yeah, but still there. Not the flies were gone when we left, the dust swept away, the window propped open for us .

Instead, wordlessly, he held his hand out.

An invitation. A question.

Do you trust me? it asked.

Kane took it, and in the silence he gripped it tight."

god the "An invitation. A question." I LOVE that shit in writing. the repeat of similar words but with important meanings that when put one after the other elaborates on the feeling of the story, the imporatance of the end, the meaning behind the action. AHG.

this is my favorite kaf fic. and this whole segment of it is just OH so impactful. i love house horror and i love the house loving you (see thirteen letters). i found it because its a kaf fic- shit i just realized you asked me this rowan, this is going to seem like pandering, i didn't even notice you asked it. well. anyway- the way it's written is really alluring in a way that is very satisfying to read. it is just the type of fic i wish everyone made because it's so good and really just. good fic. 100/10. quality shit. like argh. 

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/44602054)

35. What’s your favorite writing rule to smash into smithereens?

uh keep it tight. fuck keeping it tight. sometimes. you need to linger. SOMETIMES. you need to use fucked up punctuation. SOMETIMES you need to repeat words in a row to emphasize shit. SOMETIMES you need to fuck up your structuring and have it not make sense to get there. to the end. sometimes. you need to linger. sometimes you need to say "fuck consistency we're takin this shit OFF THE TRACKS. WE WILL NOT RAILROAD OURSELVES INTO STEREOTYPICALITY. WE WILL MAKE WEIRD STORIES." 

make weird stories yall.

(i never do ask games so this is very fun. im gonna reblog the list so if theres any anyone wants to ask. ya know. ask.)

[katyspersonal]

Why Bloodborne is like thiiiiis (creativity notes, don't mind me)

I do like how cosmos/arcane in Bloodborne have different colors, too? There are:

turquoise/cyan - Ludwig's moonlight sword and Guidance Rune, Small Resonant Bell + the mist from which summoned cooperators appear, mist around Gehrman after he turns to the Moon

'pale' blue - magic of cosmic Kin like Brainsuckers, mist around scythes of Church Servants (at 15+ Insight), Milkweed Rune, mist Gehrman and Micolash disappear into when hit, haze inside skull of Laurence before we saw his memory for some reason...

a more saturated blue - magic of Celestial Emissaries, Eye Rune, that weird spiral trap in Isz dungeons, Rom's meteorites, eyes of the scourge beasts in Choir's base, Call Beyond charging, Choir Bell, Fluorescent Flower's magic

purple - Messengers' lamps, magic of Nightmare Executioners (behind their helmet and from their axes), portal from Lecture Hall into Nightmare realm, lanterns Church Servants are carrying, skulls of Fish people (mages) + accursed brew, glowing eyes of enemies that got hunter's Blood Echoes, Wet Nurse's magic

deep red - trickled state of Logarius' Wheel, his whole magic actually, skulls of Executioner's glove, Maria's Quickening mist (after stabbing herself), mist around Brador when he invades + Sinister Resonant Bell, cursed effect that Cain servants can give the player

What I can reliably gather from this, is that the color of Moon's power and guidance given to the hunters IS cyan, and I've been misremembering Gehrman's mist as pale blue when it is p much like Ludwig's guidance, yes. And that from colors meanings standpoint placement of Purple works very well! It feels like a combination of 'curses' and blood + 'cosmic' arcane. Red + blue = purple. Especially I'd say seen from Fish people, who are using the same cursed Pthumerian magic represented by skulls, yet were... touched by arcane blessing QUITE a lot, ok? And Fishing Hamlet priest will even give us Accursed Brew as a reaction TO Milkweed equipped. But also, the fact that Dreaming is both bloodshed and magic, and it's mechanics are tied with purple (lamps and recovering Blood Echoes from enemies)...

Blue hues also broadly overlap, it seems. The only truly visible difference is color of Eye vs color of Milkweed. I'd say the colder and paler blue is closer to 'marine' arcane, and is more 'primal', whereas more saturated blue is closer to the 'stars' and more 'perfected'. However, 'pale' blue also has its merit connected with the dream and the hunt, of course!

______________

I started to try to put all this together all because I was unsure of what to color-code Laurence on earlier stages, when Arcane was more prevalent in Healing Church, as opposed to his later corruption when he delved stronger into blood and left the nerds (Choir and Mensis) to do their thing... I suggested purple, but then hesitated because it'd fit Micolash too because of Nightmare connotations, but then @val-of-the-north said:

Purple is blue and red, arcane and blood Both Laurence's pursuits I think it still fits him quite well He was a man of both, but all who came after him chose one or the other

And yeah, I think this actually works really well! (Though it is yet ANOTHER time Laurence and Micolash are both perfect to share a concept... They are just doomed to be rivals, hahaha) I am already thinking about how to elaborate purple into his design! Mostly I just broke my mind over this because I struggled with what color to make Laurence's ribbon, since I didn't want to make it blue (that's for Willem and Choir, which doesn't go with my headcanons on timeline and Laurence). But also it would be too "early" for red, nor my Laurence WEARS a ribbon in his 'third stage' to begin with.. Other variants are to use cyan patterns, like Ludwig's guidance, or try more golden (so, golden ribbon). But I think purple is just really good! Because the connection Val made about how it color-codes both of Laurence's gimmics at once is great.

P.S. Oh boy... So, Ludwig - cyan, Gehrman - blue, Laurence - purple and Maria - red. 🌈🌈

P.P.S. Nightmare Executioners (the mobs), however, wear cages on their heads (not dissimilar to those of Yahar'gul Hunters), and also protrude tentacles from their faces... That makes me think of Micolash again. Not sure whether they were result of Micolash's experiments, OR Micolash took the inspiration since School of Mensis IS a faction of the Church after all.

[devouring-hive]

"Well then~"

...she took out a few papers from her pockets, in Braille at that, while elaborating-

"These are our terms and conditions. I serve under Lord Marchosias, and we pride ourselves in our adherence to contracts and bindings. You can find there information about how we work, what to expect and demand from us, alongside the terms by which the contract Is rendered void."

After a pause, she takes out another stack of papers, this time to refresh her own memory-

"Err... Additional clauses can be mediated by both parties, too. I am good at cooking, cleaning, basic Magic, math, arcane arts and computers."

...bureau, much.

"Marchosias... A familiar name... That's the pitiable mutt clawing at Hell's smooth stone edges in effort to earn enough favour with the... Chairwoman, for reassignment back to the Heavens, is it not? Well, if nothing else it provides some certainty of satisfaction- New Management doesn't look quite as kindly on traitors as the old Hell God did, last I heard."

Remilia's spare finger traces longingly along the braille, smearing another's blood along every ridge and bump as she investigates the distinctions within the writing. A Devil in true form herself, she is no stranger to the typical workings of her kin- Even among those serving such a flexible and comparatively-agreeable Lord.

"Your offerings are outdated, I would get those checked as soon as possible lest I find the means to wrap you in it sooner than you may expect. Of the skills I am aware of that you have not professed; Middle management, large scale organization, diplomatic engagement, as well as transdimensional awareness-and-travel are not listed. Fix it." Remarkably generous of her to bring it up, instead of just taking advantage of what she found.

[demystifiedstardust]

I have more questions if you don't mind me asking !

In what ways do you relate to and as aether ?

What differences or similarties do you have with aether in the game verses the way you express yourself as aether irl ?

Also- not a question, but I geniuenly do think roleplay is my favorite form of dealing with dysphoria and a great way to explore one's fickin identity !

I've tried to find hoyo kin roleplay servers but nothing shows up rip

And I actually really like the tumblr indie hoyo roleplayers (their layouts are always so aesthetic) and I've been wanting to join that side of tumblr to indulge in feeling close to my kin but honestly I have my reservations and doubts

Do you prefer discord or tumblr roleplay ? Or somewhere else ?

Those are amazing questions; pardon me for chewing on them for so long.

Re: relating, similarities, and differences:

While I am Aether, I'm not perfectly canon compliant game!Aether as much as I am the broader concept of Aether. The biggest difference is that the very specific story of the game only applies to me in broad strokes. Lumine is an outlier (as she is in everything always and forever, haha!), but I don't have like, for example, an element of "I miss doing this and that together" with the cast. Nor have I ever been slapped in the face with non-canon memories. At the same time, I don't feel strongly about anything in the game canon being particularly incorrect.

Te//yvat itself is a different story. I feel very connected to the concept of it in a spiritual-ish sense. Growing up, if spirituality were an organ, I would tell you I was definitely born without it. I've been reconsidering if I do experience spirituality, just in a weird way.

So, working backwards, you could say I'm in a weird proxy relationship with Lumine and Te//yvat, and being Aether is a way to make sense of that. It feels right to me and it gives me peace and joy, and while there is absolutely a coping element, I believe it empowers me more than anything. I hope this answers your question; I'm not sure if this is the answer you were after, but I'm grateful for the opportunity to mull over it!

In terms of similarities specifically, this is not something I've thought about much before. Silent protagonist-type characters are typically written to be broadly relatable, so I don't believe my experience is unique, but I do relate to game!Aether's personality and to his way of life, albeit to the latter in a more mundane way. I could elaborate... but that would make this post very long (and get very emo, lol).

In terms of differences, off the top of my head, I don't particularly resonate with channeling elements, Te//yvat variety or otherwise.

Re: roleplay:

I do recommend creating a roleplay blog if you think it sounds like it would be cathartic to you! I used to do roleplay here on Tumblr about ten years ago for a different copinglink (although the word didn't exist yet) of mine (although I have long since grown apart from that particular linktype, so they're not on my list) and made connections that persist to this day. I even met my boyfriend (who later confided that he's a fictionkin who roleplays!) of many years through that blog. So yeah, although I wouldn't suggest being openly kin/hearted/link on a roleplay blog because people can be weird about it, actually running a roleplay blog can be a great experience and very cathartic.

Nowadays my roleplaying consists of messaging friends back and forth on discord. I don't know any good servers, unfortunately, since I don't use them.

Thanks again for the ask!

[cruelprincae]

Black eyes rimmed in gold blink their perplexion in sight of the mortal boy's retort ― it is curt, and simple and spoken in such a nonchalant way that Cardan has trouble pointing his well-manicured finger upon the meaning behind it; is it meant to be an insult ? Or, a further elaboration on his dim-witted beliefs, perhaps ? He knows not, and inquiring further about it would make himself appear even more stupid than what he is painting the boy out to be. And if there is one thing that the Folk mind above all, that is their ego and making certain they do not make themselves appear smaller than the creatures considered to be their inferior.

Besides which, he does not need to chill out, for he is fairly content with the temperature of the isle at this fine hour of dusk.

❛ I am far from warm, I need not chill, ❜ Merely points out the Prince, the words themselves escorted by a breathless scoff, as though such ought to have been rather obvious. The atmosphere, throughout Elfhame, forever remains in the warm, soft spring breeze that maintains the land and its wildlife in those vibrant colours and bloom; a mask of its own accord, a painting of dreams and desires, as though meaning to conceal the nightmare of a Folk that inhabit it. For Cardan, it reminds him of a carnivorous plant, spreading its blossoms to attract the unsuspecting fly only to close in around it when the insect is in its grasp. The only difference between the land and the carnivorous plant in question, is that the land does not attract unsuspecting flies but unsuspecting mortals.

In a way, the Fae can sympathise with the boy's desire to leave as quickly as he can. He would have done the same as well were he to have the slightest of clues of how to navigate the mortal land and its Folk of clay.

A toy, the other says and the Prince's dark lashes blink away in an attempt to contemplate its usefulness were he to claim it for himself. But toys have no purpose other than to entertain the children they are granted to ― or at least, that is what he deems their sole purpose is, for although he has seen plenty of mortal children carry them around in the street, himself has never been graced with one to occupy himself and bide his time.

A Prince of Elfhame needs not to distract himself with unnecessary nuisance, Balekin claimed one busy afternoon when the subject was brought up, whilst the entirety of Hollow Hall was preparing to host one of the many revels of the Circle of the Grackles. As soon as his spider-spun, silky shirt was laced upon his person, a thorned hand came to rest upon the dark curls of his head, petting him as though he was not his kin, but a tame hawk. And if he is in need of amusement, then he is more than welcome to participate in the revel rather than to merely watch from the sidelines.

Cardan himself knows not whether the revel is actually entertaining, for he has little memory of it the night prior. A toy, be it for mortals or the youth of Fae, must certainly be more entertaining than it.

❛ I wish for one of your toys, ❜ The Prince states after a long moment of thought. His brows are furrowed in his forehead and his plump lips are pursed, as he gives the matter yet another spin reflection. ❛ I wish for a toy that you fancy. One that is entertaining and impactful for you. Grant me this, and I shall take you back to your land where you can cry your salty tears to your heart's desire. Deal ? ❜

The flush of the other boy's cheeks startled Eddie with its intensity against his pale skin, noting the expression on his face as one similar to his mother's when he went against her wishes. Fury mixed with surprise that he would even say such a thing, and Eddie wondered if maybe he'd crossed some sort of line.

"Chill out," he replied, copying the phrase that he'd heard Richie say to him a number of times, and Bill say to Richie in return. "Sorry, I guess."

So he was a faerie. Eddie didn't know whether to be awestruck or fearful of this knowledge so he opted for a healthy mix of both, rubbing at his eyes as he noticed the sharp point of the boy's ears -- Maybe this really was a dream, just a really long one.

"What do your child species possess?"

The question made him consider, pursing his lips as he thought of his bedroom back at home. He didn't have a lot of things, not like some of his friends -- Bill and Stan and Richie's parents all made a lot more money than his mom did, so their rooms were much bigger.

"I don't know, books and toys and things," he replied. "I got a trainset on my last birthday."

[armenelols]

The first time I read The Lord of the Rings, I remember thinking 'why is everything so grey?' There was the Grey Company in their grey cloaks, Elrond in his grey mantle and Arwen in her grey dress; grey eyes, silver eyes, symbolism with night and evening and stars. Silver and grey were the colours appearing consistently though the trilogy, most often with the elves and Dúnedain.

So I wondered... Why?

I have said it before and I am saying it again - I am not a big fan of Elrond calling himself a fëanorian, nor am I a fan of him being considered a Noldo.

He is half-elven. It's referred to so often it is impossible to miss. He is called kin of both Elves and Men, and he associates with both.

But if we have to speak of Elrond strictly as of an elf, I do not think Noldor are the way to go.

In The Peoples of Middle-earth, chapter Problem of Ros, we can find this passage:

The names Elros and Elrond that Elwing gave to her sons were held prophetic, as many mother-names among the Eldar. For after the Last Battle and the overthrow of Morgoth, when the Valar gave Elros and Elrond a choice to belong either to the kin of the Eldar or to the king of Men, it was Elros who voyaged over sea to Númenor following the star of Eärendil; whereas Elrond remained among the Elves and carried on the lineage of King Elwë.

Note 19

And also that of Turgon; though he preferred that of Elwë, who was not under the ban that was laid on the Exiles.

It is said Elrond himself preferred his status as the heir of Elwë over Turgon - and while yes, this book isn't exactly full-canon and was posted after Tolkien's death, there are just enough quotes in LotR itself to prove which side of his heritage Elrond preferred.

'... Eärendil was my sire, who was born in Gondolin before its fall; and my mother was Elwing, daughter of Dior, son of Lúthien of Doriath...'

- FotR

Elrond names Eärendil as his father, yes, but that's it - while with Elwing, he names half of his family tree.

More than that, there are the connections of Elrond and his family to the colour gey - the colour of Sindar, Grey-elves, and their king Elu Thingol.

Almost every time a member of the House of Elrond appears, they are wearing grey or are described in relation to the evening, stars, night.

And while stars are associated with all elves, the combination of all those elements is most common with - you guessed it - Sindar.

[of Elrond] His hair was dark as the shadows of twilight, and upon it was set a circlet of silver; his eyes were grey as a clear evening, and in them was a light like the light of stars.

-FotR

[of Arwen] ... and the light of stars was in her bright eyes, grey as a cloudless night; yet queenly she looked, and thought and knowledge were in her glance, as of one who has known many things that the years bring. Above her brow her head was covered with a cap of silver lace netted with small gems, glittering white; but her soft grey raiment had no ornament save a girdle of leaves wrought in silver.

- FotR

[of Elladan and Elrohir] ...two tall men, neither young nor old. So much alike were they, the sons of Elrond, that few could tell them apart; dark-haired, grey-eyed, and their faces elven-fair, clad alike in bright mail beneath cloaks of silver-grey.

- RotK

Elrond wore a mantle of grey and had a star upon his forehead, and a silver was in his hand, and upon his finger was a ring of gold with a great blue stone, Vilya, mightiest of the Three.

- RotK

There are more connections - Elladan and Elrohir bearing a silver banner, the above mentioned Grey Company who are known friends of the House of Elrond, as well as descendants of Númenor, and others.

In Problem of Ros, we also have this bit:

Now Elrond was a word for the firmament, the starry dome as it appeared like a roof to Arda; and it was given by Elwing in memory of the great Hall of the Throne of Elwë in the midst of his stronghold of Menegroth that was called Menelrond, because by the arts and aid of Melian its high arched roof has been adorned with silver and gems set in the order and figures of the stars in the great Dome of Valar in Aman, whence Melian came.

More connection to stars, to Menegroth, to Elwing, to Thingol.

And of course, of Thingol himself:

... Elu Thingol he was called, King Greymantle, in the tongue of his people. They are called the Sindar, Grey-elves, of starlit Beleriand; and although they were Moriquendi, under the lordship of Thingol and the teaching of Melian they became the fairest and the most wise and skillful of all the Elves of Middle-earth.

- The Silmarillion

Greymantle. Grey-elves. Starlit Beleriand. Constant references of Thingol and Sindar being connected to the colour grey, stars. Another interesting thing people seem to forget is that Sindar were wise and skilled and not lesser than Noldor, just different - and even than not much as Noldor and Teleri were told to be alike. Daeron constructed Cirth and was a bard of great renown; Lúthien was... Lúthien, which I don't think needs an elaboration; Mablung and Beleg were respected outside of Doriath; Celeborn, called the Wise; Thranduil, a Sinda who would not fight a war over gold (which is always a smart decision); Elwing who was brave and did the best she could (and before anyone goes at me about Elwing, I recommend this post and reading the notes on it).

Outside of them, it is the House of Elrond and Dúnedain who gets connected to the colour grey the most. I don't think it is a stretch to say that of his elven ancestry, he prefers the heritage from his mother.

In the end I see him as a Sinda-Númenorean who has just enough eldtrichness to show he is a descendant of Melian - and maybe a bit more of it when needed. However, he respects all sides of his heritage - and despite me saying he doesn't see himself as a Noldo, he doesn't have any problem with Noldor, nor does he ignore or dislikes that side of his heritage. He is proud of it and bears many Noldorin traits. He taught his children to be the same. It just isn't the most prominent part of him.

I think his tendency to stand in the background rather than lead himself is also a trait more of Sindar than Noldor, for... Obvious reasons. Most of the Noldor in the First Age fought a battle after a battle, rushed into reckless valiant acts. But if we see Sindar in battle, it's most often because they were attacked first; as a last resort; unexpected kicking ass in Lúthien style; because they see no better option.

And in the end, grey is not exactly a distinctive colour - it tends to fade into the background, but is no less than important.

Just like Elrond. Just like Sindar.

[ncitygirls]

only - changbin x f reader

angst, fluff, suggestive, royal!au, cw: war, 5.3k

you were barely eighteen when you accepted the hand in marriage of the son of the duke and duchess of levanter. seo changbin - an affluent heir to an impossible fortune - almost had you surprised when you found his interest in you was unlike that of your fellow bachelorettes. naturally, their interest was fuelled by an insatiable greed and a hot desire for financial prosperity. as should yours, as was yours. not changbin though. no, changbin prided himself on many things unfitting for a man of his status, even his age. he wondered not of your family’s alliances or existing trading partners, but of religion and upbringing. he tsked at mention of your international estates, unless in regard to your memories there. he was complimentary of your attire, less in expense but rather in beauty. changbin wanted to know of your favourite season, and your preferred time of day. who was your favourite poet, and from them your favourite poem. he was obsessed with your knowledge of the world, or rather your interest in it. you had been to neo, but did you really see it, really explore? and if not would you care to? did you prefer sugar or honey in your tea? your bread buttered or oiled? to sleep bare or in silk? he wanted to know what side of the bed you preferred to sleep on, if you were adverse to cuddling and if so, if you could be persuaded.

to be fair, he only spoke with you like this for two reasons. the first being your shared upbringing. after almost two decades of friendship, having you enter his home in the prospect of being his wife didn’t come as a surprise to the young bachelor, but rather a relief. he spent days in and days out discussing family politics, ancestry, and accounts. he chose to ignore the blatant issue there, sharing the intricacies of his family’s wealth and heritage with these ladies from kingdoms and countries he’d been too busy to pay any mind in schooling. he knew his ignorance could come back to bite him and it did, especially as you entered his home looking far prettier than he had ever recalled you looking. he held his tongue before he could whistle, but you could see his smirk all the same. it softened into a grin as he bowed, you returning the pleasantry with a lot less pleasantness than he offered you. he welcomed it all the same. it was why he could be free on this day. speak about the things that would effect you two as one another’s, not you two as one.

your presence also meant he didn’t have to pussyfoot around. he didn’t have to fear your hatred, nor your judgement. though your eyes rolled more than the actual number of potential brides he had become acquainted with. he let f bombs slip, and his guard down. he frolicked with you through the grounds you already knew so well, and guided you through the parts once forbidden to the rambunctious children you once were. he walked you to the kitchen and asked for bread, as opposed to stealing it like you both once would. he tried to describe the estate’s chambers as best he could, detailing the art a then prince hyunjin had gifted him and your childish scratchings still on his door frame.

‘you can see it one day,’ he had whispered under the willow tree on the grounds, watching the way your fingers clung loosely to the weeping leaves. ‘it’s still as it was when we were children.’

‘and how would i do that?’ the question is valid enough, though he frowns, tilting his head. ‘i did not realise i had uttered a riddle, my lord.’

‘well neither had i,’ he tutted, moving to latch onto the same branch you once held. ‘and here i was, assuming you to be the smart one.’

‘i am the smart one.’

‘then answer me this,’ he began, pausing to firmly elaborate, ‘plainly.’ your eyes roll for the umpteenth time at his silent warning before you concede with a nod. ‘how might you see my bed?’

with a sigh you deadpan, ‘if you were to make me your wife.’

‘so to see my bed, and your vandalism-’

‘scribbles.’

‘i must make you my wife.’

‘it seems quite the extreme just to see some old scribbles.’ if changbin senses the hidden meaning to your words, he gave nought away. ‘mightn’t someone just bring me a piece of the bed? i’m sure it’s almost past its use, just peel the pane off. and why still the same bed? you are a young lord of age now, don’t you think-’

‘you know you prattle when you’re nervous?’

‘i do no such thing-’

‘it’s cute.’

‘changbin! how are you so sure i want to be your wife, hm?’ you half questioned, moving away from his looming figure. ‘i only came because your parents asked me here.’

‘y/n, i have known you a long time,’ he punctuates his reminder by closing the distance you so bravely placed between you. ‘if you wished not to be here, you would have found no greater pleasure than to decline the invitation.’ that much is not only true but undeniable. the seo’s was your third courting invite this month alone. you knew, and worse, changbin knew. ‘is it so hard to admit that i might have soften that hardened heart of yours?’

‘i find no pleasure in your games, changbin.’

‘what game, y/n? can a man not just want you?’ your eyes betray you as you try to expel the softness conjured by his taunt. a taunt that is starting to sound less like a taunt, and more like a confession. ‘can i not just want you?’

‘how do i know you want me, bin?’ you pressed, pressing your back to the leaning trunk of the all encompassing tree. ‘how do i know you don’t just want a way out of this endless cycle of mindless heiresses?’

‘you said my parents asked you here?’ your head bobbed as he approached you, nodding in time with you before he stopped a foot before you, smiling eyes gazing right at you. ‘who do you think asked them?’

you were married that fall. under that same willow tree, in the presence of his royal highness and his kin, your family and the seos. the affair was small like you both wanted. small like your needs. you joked marrying you was a cop out, as he spun you around the gardens, escaping the intimate celebrations in the grand banquet hall to enjoy the breeze on your skin and feel the wind in your hair. it was the first time he held you since your dance lessons as kids. where you would lead and he would follow. he once swore he would follow you anywhere. both literally and figuratively. around the grounds of your childhood home, in all your beliefs and ideologies. he filled his mind and self with your gospel and truth, infatuated with your manner of thinking, how you arrived at conclusions. changbin spent his whole childhood falling in love with you.

‘you weren’t a cop out,’ he breathed into the shell of your ear, humming as you lay your head on his shoulder. pressing his lips to your temple he confessed, ‘you were my only choice.’

that night, the two of you consummated your marriage under that same willow tree. his hands clinging to your waist as he ground his hips into you. his tightened breaths filling the drum of your ear with every snap, his lips closing around the skin of your jaw, summoning the most satisfying whines he could draw from you. his lover. his friend. his lady.

in his absence, you remind him of this night. how biting the bark had been on your skin, the autumn air stinging your already teary eyes. his last letter arrived over a fortnight ago, it spoke of his fears at battle, the treacherous methods of his enemies. the only face he prays to see again and until that day, the only face he will dream of. you have sent a handful of letters since then, yet still sour as you awake another day to no news. you sigh as you grab your quill, letting the ink drip before signing off your letter.

‘my dearest, changbin. a season separates us, but only a season could.’

it isn’t long after you seal it that you are summoned to the hwang holiday estate. the royal family have a long history of retreating to the country when the weather is a touch higher than that of luke warm water, or near cool cinder. the seo’s residence is but a short carriage ride from the estate, though a tad longer walk. you often opt to walk as you do today, taking no larger than foot long strides between the cobbled paths. your guard walks in time with you, though no more than a few feet behind. he had never been one for small talk, you quickly came to realise. though, since neither is your husband, you feel an odd sense of relief, normality, even in his absence. you try and enjoy the song of the breeze through the willow, the scent of the king’s rose garden carried on its back. it’s hard over the creak of your guard’s hurried stomps, his pace doubling with every corner you take. you only verbalise your awareness of his impatience when he arrives beside you, hastened to strike the door to announce your arrival.

“master yang,” you call softly as you two await entry. “if i did not know any better, i would say you were rushing me.”

“apologies, my lady,” he confesses, stepping back at your side without any question. though, when he gulps, you eye him with a softened concern. “i was informed you were summoned due to a grave emergency.”

“worry not, jeongin.” you chide, recalling your highness’ idea of an emergency. “the king often calls when the queen is away and he is tasked with matters such as assigning dinner seating.” jeongin looks as if he is about to ask when you add, “she says his involvement humbles him.” when he nods, you straighten as the door swings open, a servant welcoming you in. “yes, there is nothing to fear, master yang.”

only, falser words had never been spoken.

you are quick to note the tremor in the king’s frame as he hurries to stand upon your arrival, rushing you through the official pleasantries of an official summoning. “lady seo.”

“your highness.” you reply, your knee bending as you politely lower your head. “how are you on this fine afternoon-”

“i apologise, y/n. but as you know, i didn’t call you hear on matters of leisure.” he politely interrupts, a flush of embarrassment flooding his cheeks as you frown. “when was last you heard from him?”

“heard from who?”

“from—” hyunjin’s confused gaze cuts to his informants, a few members of his court shying away from him before he marvels at them. “has lady seo not been informed?” when he receives no reply, you feel yourself shrink as the gentle king bellows, “why has lady seo not been informed?”

“informed of what—”

“the order of information begins with yourself sire, before reaching the court, the council, the lady and then the people.”

“i specifically requested she be kept informed. why has she not been kept informed?”

“well, your grace, the lady of a knight is only to be informed once official word is received from the battlefield and delivered to you sire.”

“official word of what—”

“which came through this morning and you are about to deliver the information to the lady.”

“king hyunjin!”

gasps fill the room from all but the king himself. he doesn’t falter, instead he turns to move towards you, his eyes growing more fearful, more earnest as he approaches. he shudders at the thought of delivering this message. he even scolds himself for attempting to delegate such responsibility. you are a friend. not only to the crown, but to the royal family itself. before heavy crowns kissed their heads. before rings ever kissed your knuckles. you were his friend. you had always been a friend to him, and the only time you had ever needed him was now and he had let you down.

“we received word that neo soldiers stormed our fortress in miroh. while we have received word from a few troops who were able to escape, we have yet to ascertain who of the full fleet have made it to safety.” when he pauses to gulp he sees your eyes gleam, breaths shallow. his hands then find yours, gripping your shaky, sweaty digits tightly. “we have received no word from changbin’s troop,” he stops when you gasp, your tears falling, cascading down and around your stained cheeks, your lip trembling. “but we have been able to track a number of our men back through the yellow wood, south of levanter.”

“i-is he there? is he okay?”

“we are yet to hear word,” the tears continue to fall, and he hates himself but all he can do is continue, divulge everything he knows. “they plan to set up camp on the edge of the wood, so i will make my way there now and have word sent back to you as soon as i find him.”

“no,” you refuse, snatching your hands away to drag them over your stained cheeks. “i cannot wait, i will join you.”

“as will i,” jeongin pipes up behind you, his voice an odd comfort once more. “your grace.”

“it is no place for a lady,” hyunjin tries, sighing when you just scowl, already mid curtsey as you preempt his agreement and dismissal. “i will have a carriage sent for you at once.”

“would taking just a horse quicken my arrival?”

“i-it would,” he discloses reluctantly, watching you ready yourself to decline the carriage. “for my sake though,” your scowl returns, ignoring the concern from the king. “i implore you to take the carriage. the yellow wood is far from kind..” you decode his meaning before he ever finishes speaking. the yellow wood is far from safe.

“but is this not the same wood my husband’s troop plans to take, sire?” hyunjin’s nod comes seconds later, shame tensing his jaw. hyunjin is visibly trying to appreciate your patience after having all this information dumped on you. but hyunjin also recalls the threats you readily made and followed through on in your younger years. so much so, he fears the worst of you when you bow before slowly approaching him, voice but a decibel higher than a nat’s buzz to threaten him. the king. before as many witnesses as it takes to have your head. “fine. i will take the carriage.

“but i regret to inform you i have fallen victim to the sick allure of hope. so if this carriage takes him from me? if i am too late? i will burn your kingdom to the ground, jinnie. mark my words.”

only once you leave does hyunjin breathe, noticably shaken by the violent rage existing within the women of his kingdom. “ready her carriage.” he suddenly commands, terrified of letting you down. “i want her there by nightfall.”

hyunjin had not embellished the treachery of this road. you had halted close to ten times in the first six hours of the journey. thanks to forewarning by the king and his council, your guards were prepared to be extra vigilant. weary from all sides of the carriage, bandits who fell from the trees and ambushed from the sides did not live long enough to prevail. from dawn til dusk, the wood falsified night with its woven rotted branches and the gradually setting sun, seeing was becoming more hopeless yet more crucial. without a maid for travelling company and jeongin busy guarding your personage, you were once again left with your thoughts. in times of dire woe, you called on memories of your love, though they read more like dreams. this dream is one that only longing for the man you prayed awaited you on the end of this perilous journey could conjure. because not only do you miss him, you fear for him. not much has changed.

‘you think i am going to get myself killed?’ he breathed, nipping at your clavicle as you rest in his lap. ‘have you no faith in me?’

‘of course i do,’ you defend, gasping as he clamps down, teeth rolling your skin. ‘i just-’

‘you just.. what?’ he doesn’t expect an answer. or so you suspect. especially following a slow drag of your thinly veiled heat over his firmed thigh. ‘you think i would ever abandon you?’

‘no, binnie,’ you start, rising from him with a sigh. ‘i just know you.’

‘you do?’ he ponders sweetly, gazing up at your shining eyes. ‘and what is it you know?’

‘you’re powerful, but far too stubborn.’

‘you know,’ he hums, crossing his thick arms as a small pout steals the lips of the strongest man in the kingdom. ‘for someone who claims to adore me, you tend to speak ill of me every chance you get, my lady.’

‘must the two be exclusive?’ when his frown only deepens, his folded arms tightening, you sigh once more. returning to his spread legs, you perch yourself on them, raising your steady fingers to the creases painting the forehead of the most stubborn man you’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. he softens only slightly, his pouted lip closing around yours when you lean in, silently asking his forgiveness. ‘for every ill spoken word, i make up for with countless good, bin.’

‘such as?’ he huffs, knowingly egging you on.

with a small smile, you offer a final peck to his lips before praising the knight beneath you. ‘i know you will fight valiantly.’ you admit, pride permeating right through you to the man you call yours. ‘you will bring honour to your family, to your country.’ with the pads of your fingers, you tuck his hair behind his ear, cooing as he relaxes at your touch. ‘you will be a hero, my love.’

‘and this all worries you?’

‘do you know who will keep your legacy alive, changbin?’ his frown returns at concern for your quivering lip, a sudden fear seeping into your tone. ‘me. your widow.’ he begins to shake his head, a half assed assurance on the tip of his prideful tongue when you remind, ‘it may vex you to hear this, but please remember your knighting was in part an award for your bravery, but also in large part to hyunjin’s love for you.’

‘how can you say that-’

‘since bang chan the brave, name a knight who lived to see his knighting. just one, bin. name one who knelt before their king and felt the sword atop their shoulders. name one who did not die in battle, leaving their grieving widow to accept a meaningless commendation of his honour?’

‘you call your father’s commendation meaningless?’

‘don’t make me laugh, bin.’ your scoff would wound him had you not uttered, ‘i would have rathered he be the one to walk me down the isle the day i married you. knowing my father loved me enough to protect his country is a nice sentiment, but don’t you dare assume i would take that honour over his life.’

‘hey,’ he calls, holding you in his lap as you try to move from him. ‘my love, i didn’t mean to offend.’

‘i know,’ in these seconds you see past the facade, the knight that your husband is. you only see what you fell in love with. you see the compassion, the understanding. ‘bin, i need you to understand. really understand.’ with his cheeks cradled in your palms, you plead with your love. ‘you mean everything to me, seo changbin. before i ever realised you did. i will not let this mindless war take you from me.

‘don’t be a hero, changbin. leave that to some village boy with a chip on his shoulder, with something to prove.’ he nuzzles into your palm as he listens to your plea, gazing into your warning eyes. ‘just come back to me, okay? don’t make me beg.’

‘what if it helped your case?’ he mumbled into your skin, his lips gently puckering as his palms glide up the side of your neck. his tongue slid betwixt your parted lips, trying to exorcise any and all tension from your trembling frame. with another soft pucker of his lips, a suck on your wet muscle has you loosening, falling into him as he moves to embrace you. ‘would you?’

‘do not mock me.’

‘i would never,’ you find this hard to believe as he smirks like a man with ten knives readied for your back. they come as kisses instead, they line the column of your neck, followed closely by his thumbs as he angles your head toward him. ‘you just seem ready to, so i would love to hear it.’

‘perhaps i will marry that lee boy, with the speckled cheeks. i hear the maids think he’s a descendant of fairies, born from the very stars that kiss his face-’ the words halt in your throat as he flips you, firmly pinning you to the goose down.

‘you seem to have thought this through..’

‘have i much choice?’ you huff, glaring at his thoughtful gaze. ‘one tends to ponder such things when faced with their husband’s imminent demise.’ he only sighs, eyes rolling skyward as he asks the gods, old and new, why they ever chose you for him. ‘i hear his line is filled only with beautiful men. who was his ancestor again? minho the something.’

‘you know,’ refusing to come to your aid, he gathering up the hem of your silks. ‘most men would have your head by now.’

‘-magnificent! it was minho the magnificent!’

‘maleficent.’

‘hm?’

‘his name,’ nipping at the exposed skin of your chest, his hand tugs at the starched fabric as he corrects you. ‘it was minho the maleficent.’

‘oh,’ you breathe, less in defeat but rather in sweet contentment. ‘and why is that?’

‘because, my sweet,’ he huffs into your chest, resting on the heels of his palms planted either side of your cushioned head. ‘he burned all of levanter to the ground when his queen died.’

‘yes, he did.’ changbin only strokes the skin of your cheek as you pout, his eyes rolling at your uncanny ability to bring everything back to his encroaching departure. ‘and my husband will not even skip one war for me.’

‘’one war’?’ he smirks, dropping his lips to your exposed breast, tongue sweeping over your teased nipples. ‘you speak as though war is like an evening in a tavern.’

‘both tend to end in regret,’ you jest, or attempt to. it is growing increasingly difficult to barter with him as he presses his lips to your stomach, his body lowering in kind with his touch. before he can disappear entirely from view, you rise. as he rises with you, you are stunned by his rosey cheeks, the flush journeying to his neck as you rest on your elbows. he sees your turmoil. your clear desire for him shadowed painfully by your love and fear. he drops a kiss to your hip, his knuckles dusting the veiled bead of your heat, eyes hard on you as you falter, head lolling to the side before you regain your strength. ‘bin?’

‘hm?’

‘stay.’ it’s faint. so faint he barely recognises it as a plea. he only sighs, his forehead pressed to your abdomen as he purges your wet eyes from his memory. ‘please say you will stay. i cannot bear the thought of a winter without you.’

‘my love,’ changbin speaks into your skin, lowly beseeching your understanding while praying for your peace. ‘a season might separate us,’ he hums, expertly parting your thighs as he offers a lone kiss to your mound. ‘but only a season could.’

“my lady?” jeongin’s voice is first to break you from your nostalgic nightmare. the second is the cries of injured men. “we have arrived.”

the edge of the wood is a wounded minefield. limbless soldiers, knights and footmen alike, are dotted around the dimly lit field. your eyes gloss over at the heaped bodies, and water at the stench. “how long have they been here?”

“just under a week,” jeongin recalls, holding his hand out to stop you as medics pass with a burnt body on a stretcher. “it is hard to believe this is the winning camp.”

“there are no winners in war, jeongin.” you whisper, watching a man close the eyes of his fallen comrade a pair approach to drop his body in a mass grave. a fight ensues. “only loss.”

“y/n?” you halt at the call, half sprinting at the sight of han jisung, wearing a smile warm enough to light the night. “i thought his highness was jesting when he said you’d be here.”

“han!” you cried, latching onto him with a grip that nearly winded him. “thank god, thank god.”

“more like thank changbin,” he wheezed, squeezing you back just as tight, lifting you a few feet off the ground. “had he not been here, i would have surely-”

“where is he?”

“-died.” he only grins as you stiffen, recognising his part in your terror a second too late. “oh! no! he isn’t dead! he is alive! very alive!” his eyes flicker to a scowling jeongin, gulping down an apology as he gestures to his left. “come.”

further from the wood and slowly decaying corpses are the tents. some somehow less grand than a teepee, some spacious enough for a few hours sleep. jisung guides you both up to the largest of the lot, where you find an ill tempered king hyunjin growing increasingly more so. “no, leave him be.”

“had we known you were coming your grace- we can have him moved immediately.”

“your king gave you an order, soldier.” jisung chimes in, tongue slotting into the swell of his cheek as he gestures to you over his shoulder. “now move out of the way or i’ll have you explain to lady seo why she can’t see her husband on account of your insubordinance.”

“yes, sir.”

hyunjin bristles at jisung’s ability to command his men with little effort before he softens at your restless gaze. “he’s been asking for you.”

the grandeur of the king’s tent suits changbin well, you think. a fire crackles at the furthest end, masked only by a large canopy where you know he rests. the four poster bed takes up most of the space, and around it lays tin bowls, rags, blankets and water. the room seems barely lived in bar the knight whose faint breaths float toward you through the warm air. you feel yourself stalling, too busy taking in the space to recognise your fear. what will you find when you pull the curtain away? what remains of your husband, your lover, your friend? will he still have the same warm eyes and full cheeks? will his hands still fit in yours? his feet still step in time with yours? will he look the same, sound the same even? you swallow down this fear, and instead bask in the joy that he’s alive. your husband is alive. and nothing separates you. not a season, nor a wood. not time or conflict. only your fears.

and then they don’t. when you pull back the veil, nothing separates you but air. a soft man made gust as you reveal the man you’d once called your friend, only to call your betrothed and then yours. the fire barely lights the room yet still he glows. he lies bare from the waist up, his abdomen bandaged in rolls of cotton, his chest exposed. you watch it, the slow rise and fall of the place you longed to rest your head, you dreamt of dreaming on. before you realise, you have lowered yourself beside him, careful not to disturb him, nor his wound. before you can call for him he smiles. even in his state of slumber, he leans into your touch. before you meet his eyes, you feel his on you.

“you came.” he whispers, a heavy breath of relief escaping him as your thumb dusts his cheek.

“of course,” you try, before taking your lip between your teeth, fearful your tears might dampen his skin. you kneel at his side, carefully ridding yourself of your outer garments, before returning your hand to his cheek. “how do you feel?”

“now?” he smirks, wincing as a laugh runs through him. “wonderful.”

“and before?”

“so, so.” he murmurs with a kiss to your palm. “a sword to the stomach will do that to you.”

“do i have han jisung to thank for that?”

“no,” he coughs, recalling his sacrifice. “only me.”

“well that’s good,” you hum, employing the upmost care when leaning over him. “because i would hate to think my knight was blindsided.”

“never,” his assurance fans your lips, as yours hover over his. “only by you.”

you almost forgot how it felt to kiss him. the feeling only coming in dreams. there was no memory strong enough to conjure the feeling of his lips pressed against yours. the slow melt of tender skin on skin, the warmth, his gentle caress. his kiss is slow, but even in his prime he took his time. his lips close around yours with such timing and precision, ushering a slow burn of desire from the heels of your feet all the way up to the crown of your head. he knew how to expunge pain and fear from you, to free you from your demons, to reinvigorate you. to love you.

he’s weak. in all the worst ways. his body, his will. he raises his hand to your neck, pulling you closer as he presses his tongue between your lips, connecting the muscles with little intent of parting. he swallows around you, drinking you in, keeping that same, slow and teasing pace. only to pull you closer.

“you need your rest,” you pant into his mouth, resting all your weight on your arms as he pulls you back down, pinning your forehead to his.

“no,” he refuses, sweeping his thumb along your jaw. “i need you.” his voice shakes then, unlike him. unlike the man you know. “only you.”

“is that why you called me here?” you tease, silently wiping his tears away, silently reading the fear in his eyes. he begs them away though warms at your easy dispelling. “to use me?”

“my love,” he laughs, ignoring the pain in favour of basking in your smile. “you know i did not call for you.” when you move to argue, he recalls, as if he were there, “‘would taking just a horse quicken my arrival?’”

“i might have been here sooner if-”

“this,” raising his other arm, he gathers your face in his palms, “is soon enough.”

safe.

“okay.” you agree, allowing him to tug you closer once more. you let him kiss you without restraint. you let him curl his fingers into your neck, ignoring his wincing and kiss him through it. you let his grunts mask his pain, his teeth rolling your lip between the rows, you let him share it. you let him have you, because despite the odds he stayed alive. he stayed alive for you. and that was enough. “i love you.”

he blinks up at your shining eyes, guiding your wet cheeks to his puckered lips. “i love you,” he whispers back against your lips, feeling himself heal at just the touch of your hand. “only you.”

because only a season separated you. but now, not even a season could.

[transfelid]

30 Day Fictionkind Challenge: Days 11-25

11). Have you ever met other fictionkin? In real life or online?

Yes! I have a group of online friends who are fictionkin, as well as people who I’ve met through forums and social media. Real-life though I’m not sure, I’ve had friends who claimed they ‘kinned’ characters but never really elaborated on that.

12). Have you ever met canonmates? In real life or online?

No canonmates, but I know a few sourcemates online. I don’t really put much weight on either of these things or look for people to fill character niches.

13). Have you ever met doubles? In real life or online? How did it go?

Yes, online. I don’t like it very much but I’m not going to attack someone for being the same guy as me. I’m uncomfortable with it but I’ll just remove myself from the situation. If they’re a dick to me about it that’s their problem I don’t really care.

14). What are shifts like?

We have a similar personality as it is, I see myself as Vergil but if he had better morals and was ever so slightly nicer to be around, so I don’t really get distinct mental shifts. I have phantom shifts of his Devil Trigger form though. Horns, clawed hands and feet, tail, and mandibles are the main parts I feel.

15). How do you deal with kin for fun?

If they’re not being rude to me for taking ‘kin seriously, I have no issue with them. I keep to my own space.

16). What are your thoughts on symbols, flags, etc.?

Not for me personally but if it makes other people happy go for it.

17). Does fictionkinity connect to spirituality for you?

A little. I’ve never been that into spirituality for myself, but some things do point towards that explanation. I don’t believe it’s reincarnation in my case but misplaced soul perhaps? It’s definitely possible.

18). Does fictionkinity connect to neurodivergence for you?

Yes, I think a big part of my fictionkind identity is that it lets me see the world through the eyes of a character and not through my own. It gives me a grounding force to hold onto, someone to see myself as. Not in a copinglink way, but it does help me to cope, it’s hard to explain.

19). Do other people notice your similarity to a character or species?

Yep. I’ve been compared to him a few times, either in physical appearance or in personality. I think most people who know him and know I either am him or like him see me as him.

20). How do you express your fictotype? Clothes, merch, cosplay, maybe even name?

We have the same name, not really used that much irl (other than close friends) but it’s my main name online. Other than that I don’t really do much? I have the same white hair, and I wear more blue than usual now I guess.

21). What’s something about the fictionkind community you wish was different?

There was a post about it a while back. I wish we had more serious writing and experience sharing on tumblr rather than just kincalls and moodboards. I also wish there was more of an active fictionkin presence on forums so there’s more threads and discussion and questions being asked.

22). What’s something about the fictionkind community that you appreciate?

How different all of our ‘types and sources are, and how different and unique our experiences can be. I enjoy hearing about other people’s thoughts and feelings on their fictotype and their memories or things they know about their source.

23). How do you approach consuming your source? Analytically, obsessively, casually, reluctantly, etc…

Obsessively, ‘tis the autism. I want to know everything about it and play every game a million times, I want to become an expert and an encyclopaedia of knowledge even if I don’t enjoy it or parts of the source upset me.

24). What’s the worst anti-fickin take you’ve seen?

I don’t know tbh, that kind of thing doesn’t really stay in my mind.

25). What’s the best anti-fickin take you’ve seen? Respond to it.

^

[brushstrokesapocalyptic]

Would Dark pit be Pit's Nobody? I wonder what dynamic would they have, does it mean they would share the same heart and keyblade?

i actually elaborated somewhat on the subject a bit ago. tl;dr, DP is some sort of replica-ish clone who has his own body and identity, but also shares pit's heart. hearts are nonsense, why shouldn't a single heart be able to inhabit two fully separate individuals at once. and yes, they kinda have the same keyblade, more or less.

so dp definitely isn't pit's nobody, but i have been doing some thinking and have decided that the chaos kin arc would be very fun in this au. since no one is around to stop me, i am now going to explain it in complete detail :) behind the cut, ofc.

i haven't worked out all the surrounding details yet, so this is subject to change, but the chaos arc starts more or less as it does in canon w/ the chaos kin getting inadvertently freed and possessing palutena. palutena uses her keyblade to yeet pit's heart, either because she was forced to or in order to prevent the chaos kin from eating it.

now, in KI, pit's consciousness follows his soul when it gets yote. in KH however, we know damn well that in a heart/body divorce situation, the resulting nobody is much more likely to attain custody of all the memories and whatnot. thus, rather than a pair of mindless puppets, we have a pair of brand new nobodies!

the two of them have Wildly Different Reactions to all this. pit doesn't actually initially realize what happened— he wakes up on some other world with no idea where he is or how he got there, and sure he's a little out of it but who wouldn't be? he's probably just got a concussion, just force a grin and go figure out what the fuck is going on! he only realizes something is really seriously wrong when he tries to summon his keyblade and fails, because you kinda... need a heart to do that.

dp, on the other hand, is hanging out with the forces of nature when that whole thing happens. one second everything is Totally Normal, the next he's unconscious on the floor because his Schrodinger's Heart suddenly has a definite location which is Not inside him. he's out for a while, and when he finally wakes up he's just kinda. blank for a while. he still has all his memories and whatnot, it's just that literally his entire existence has consisted of him doing nothing but follow his heart to make up for pit being an overly-loyal puppet, and now suddenly there Is No Heart To Follow. no little joys to pursue. so he just kinda... shuts down for a while.

eventually pit's frantic solo-investigation into what the fuck happened leads to him getting acquired by viridi, and subsequently the two pits meet. dp takes offense at how fake pit is being. pit thinks lying facedown in the grass for hours at a time is an extremely inefficient way of getting their heart back. dp can't muster the enthusiasm to try and beat pit up, so they just have to agree to disagree.

once more, i don't have Absolutely Everything worked out, but ofc pit manages to reclaim his heart one way or another, and goes to confront the possessed palutena. there's an epic battle, blah blah blah, dp arrives at an appropriately dramatic moment with great fanfare and BOY OH BOY he is so very glad to be able to be pissed off.

thus concludes "that time these two were nobodies for a while but they got better." thanks for watching, like comment and subscribe, this au is sponsered by raid shadow leg