#new battles without honour and humanity

[blood-orange-juice]

Ok, Childe as a wuxia/xianxia trope. It's honestly a bit embarrassing how well this fits.

(blame @a-yarn-of-purple-prose for this post and if anyone here is a wuxia fan feel free to correct me, I'm new to the genre)

Wuxia is a Chinese martial arts fantasy genre you are all familiar with. An adjacent genre is called xianxia, "immortal heroes", it ramps all the fantasy elements up to eleven and skews tropes a bit (we'll get back to that).

A common trope is some kind of unorthodox school/sect or technique, allowing to achieve greater power without the usual decades of training. It could be straight-out evil or just revolving around chaos.

Such a martial school is usually called an evil/demonic sect (sect is more like a clan in that setting, not the modern concept of sect) and their techniques tend to drive practitioners to insanity. Either because they are inherently corrupting or because getting too much power without growing as a person is really not the best thing for your mental health. They are also often cast from hp points.

And then there's the archetype of a demonic sect heir. The best pupil or simply someone who has inherited a lost art. Proud, always greedy for more strength, often noble in some weird way.

*points to our calamity of a boy*

Common elements of such stories include:

Falling into some weird realm or meeting a weird person who teaches the hero a Forbidden Technique

Learning a technique too quickly through some sort of magic/alchemy/memory manipulation

Some people are so singular in their pursuit they become insane (走火入魔)

Ambition bad, loyalty and family good

Conflicting loyalties, generally a conflict between a chosen path and personal weaknesses/attachments (could be both ego and familal love, and this is more of a xianxia trope)

Fits like a horoscope so far but wait.

There's a very interesting case of Korean murim genre (their version of wuxia) where sects are less varied (I recommend this post for a basic introduction) and we get three paths:

Justice/Righteous/Orthodox/Light — theoretically they keep the Evil Faction at bay, and protect innocent people, but usually are corrupt to the core

Evil/Unorthodox/Dark — these try gaining as much power as possible and attempt ruling the whole world

Demonic Cult — usually dont take part in evil and justice battles, follow their own code of conduct based on their religion, value strength above all else.

(I'm sure there's a similar distinction in wuxia too, I just can't find it in the deluge of lore)

"Demonic" is closer to "pagan" or "heathen" than Christian idea of demonic here, their beliefs are often based on Zoroastrianism and worshipping a sacred flame. Do you remember all the Persian themes used for Khaenri'ah? And Surtalogi being the flame on Surtr's sword in Norse mythology. I also had the impression that Genshin gnostic references are based on the Zoroastrian-flavoured branch of Gnosticism.

In murim the trope of demonic sect heir is called "heavenly demon" (I believe, a more correct translation would be "supreme heathen"), they are utterly badass, live for the glory of battle, seem more like forces of nature and follow a very strict honour code often conflicting with normal human ethics.

(do I need to spell it out)

TvTropes also says this about Korean stories:

(do I need to spell it out pt.2)

I'm not sure why a Chinese studio would focus on the Korean version of this trope but I'm sure something like this exists in China as well or maybe there's a popular manhwa that inspired authors.

Xianxia extends the fantastic element further, focusing on Taoist concepts and practices and adding all kinds of magical realms (celestial, demonic, etc) and magical beings and making immortality achievable. I still need to read more about it but if I understand that right, demonic heir trope turns into a demon prince in this case. An actual visitor from the demon realm or a practitioner who achieved immortality through dubious means.

These are fae-coded in a way very similar to Childe and have a certain nonchalance towards things most humans would consider traumatic. They are simply not bothered by them, having a different set of morals or faring from a realm that is much worse.

Our boy isn't that (he's still very much human) but he's aesthetically coded like one, same as Scaramouche is yokai-coded, despite not being a yokai.

So. When people say Childe's arc is a reference to Journey to the West, it's not entirely untrue, JttW is the classic of xianxia genre and Childe does belong to the same genre. He, however, is not Sun Wukong but a different, darker trope.

This also explains why he has that "shonen anime protag but not quite" vibe. Shonen was heavily influenced by wuxia but this trope never quite made it to anime or maybe never became popular enough. It's not a deconstruction, it's a different story. Or perhaps a deconstruction of that different story.

[undersakit]

{ ...The War...}

-UnderSakit Prologue-

Trigger Warning/TW;

°may be disturbing

°mentions of SH (self-harm)

°mentions of gore and death

Hope you enjoy \[•^Π^•]/

The war ragged on as the sounds of swords and weapons alike collided, sweat and blood poured into each strike and perry. Even as they grew exhausted from the constant battle, they wouldn't give in to their opponents, their pride and honour keeping them from showing mercy or holding back. Holding themselves together as they held their stance high. A barrage of arrows rained down upon the unfortunate ones below, each and every archer there, stood behind thick metallic shields that were held by heavily armoured soldiers. The rim of the shield has a slight curve to set their advantages straight. The sounds of metal scraping the granite-mix below each step the backup soldiers took. Spells were tossed around, their blasts loud and increasingly terrifying to the naked eye, the impact caused everything in its range to be buried in burning light until it was all but ash, it was all too much causing many misfortunes to befall to both their opponents and themselves. It weakened the trees until they bear no fruit any longer with their leaves withering whilst the others fell and succumbed to the harsh environment. The smell of rot and decay evident in the air, the land suffered by the flames of the ongoing war. Both tribes were aware of the damage they caused, the lives that were lost due to their doing, however.. they seem to be more focused on winning against the opposing group, without showing mercy or giving the other a chance to redeem their own misdeeds, staying oblivious to the damage they have caused. It was.. chaos...

The war rarely had any survivors, and if there were.. they were found collecting everything that was left from their homes, searching for any supplies or recourses that could help them in such a dire situation. Though, no matter how one struggled or tried, if they cannot fight, they're killed on the spot. Pitiful if I may, the corpses of children and adults piling up day by day, diseases spreading as the air grew thick with greed for power. It was.. a cruel act of torture, the corpses weren't buried or burned and weren't respected, just thrown to the enemy's boundary to spread the disease there. Oh how cruel do you think war can get? The cries of children who deeply feared death as rivers of tears poured out of mothers who lost their children, fathers who cannot see their family until it was all over? Dear, it was just like a silly game the Lords played with.

No one would be spared, the only thing both sides desired was the death of their opponent, no matter how many children died, no matter how they destroyed each other's lives and homes, all they wanted was for it to end. However, their actions could never be accepted by their own citizens. Monsters feared being killed since they were weaker than humans, tears of dread came to their eyes, even if they tried and calculated every attack, it always ended up with more losses than winnings. The humans always had the upper hand because of their DETERMINATION... That's when they grew a more.. efficient way of ending it all.

Each human soul they would obtain, they would absorb it before it would shatter. Each time they did it, they grew stronger and more vigilant of their surroundings, their eyes sharpening and height slightly changed. New abilities but.. it was accompanied with a price. Their souls will weaken significantly and eventually crack. Their sanity slowly fading, the memories they have will be forgotten, hearing voices, and the most common, suicidal thoughts... It was odd for such to happen, but they do as these symptoms, due to the increasing guilt they'll experience every kill or every second of their lives, the voices and screams of the dead humans.. echoing continuously into their heads. Making every second of the day like living hell. A cycle of guilt and pressure being pushed onto them until they break.

Due to the blood spilt upon the ground, the rivers upon rivers of blood with piles of corpses rotting, the environment grew.. oddly as well. Flowers sprouted amongst these mountains of decay, their beauty unmatched to any flower many have seen.. yet..... it wasn't safe to just touch it. The flower was poisonous and deadly, inhaling its pollen is highly toxic, being around it was already a problem. But instant death to whoever ate it.... What a beautiful flower.

[flyingspacewhale93]

Jing Yuan/AFAB!Reader pregnancy headcanon

CW: Pregnancy, childbirth, some spicy kissing but otherwise its sfw (Also might be a bit OOC but men crying is hot af)

No Beta I decided to yeet this out into the world

Word Count: 732

From the minute you announce your pregnancy to Jing Yuan he never leaves your side. His lips trail up and down your stomach. “My seed… your eggs...are creating new life.” He says in a reverent tone as tears fill his eyes. “It's a miracle.”

He is obsessed with the child growing inside of you. He reads pregnancy articles on his phone practically every night. “Look, from the minute our DNA joined cells have been growing and dividing inside you. They all joined together to create a little creature the size of a  small berry.” He kisses your stomach. “Even human fetuses can briefly grow fur and tails while in the womb.”

When that little creature causes you morning sickness, Jing Yuan is right by your side. “Easy, sweetheart. This trial will help our child grow.” He brings you a cup of water and a damp cloth for your face afterwards. “Your body is so strong for being able to support two lives at once.” 

“I don’t think I’m strong. I can barely smell food without puking most days.” You murmur weakly. “Just when will I be able to eat again?”

Jing Yuan is strict about your diet for the good of your baby. He has the medical staff recommend you the best prenatal vitamins and only cooks what would be healthy for them. Spicy foods are forbidden, a fact that makes you grumble. However when the pregnancy cravings arise, he lets you have whatever you wish within moderation. He constantly  checks the list of safe foods every time you are hungry.

“For such a lazy general, you sure monitor our health better than I do!” You joke.

“It is the duty of a general to make sure that his army is prepared for the battle ahead.” He smiles.

“It’s a battle to convince you to let me eat unhealthy food once in a while.” Your hand rests on your baby bump. “Still, I can’t believe our child is growing so fast.”

When Jing Yuan sees your child on the ultrasound and hears their heartbeat for the first time, he cries. He goes to every medical appointment with you and listens intently. When you do your exercises to prepare for labour, he helps you through them. Sometimes birds land near you while you work out and Jing Yuan lets them perch on his hand.

One night, you wake up crying from a bad dream. He sleepily places his arms around you as you sob. “I-I dreamed I-I grew fat and ugly and you didn’t love me anymore! You had them give me the ‘husband stitch’ and now I woke you up and made you sad!” You wail, tears falling down your cheeks.

Jing Yuan shushes you. “Sweetheart, being able to enter you is both a privilege and an honour. You don’t need to be tight for me to enjoy you. As for your body, well,” His lips draw close to your ear. “I find it even more sexy by the day.”

He marvels at every new change your body goes through, making sure to kiss every mark that he finds each night. “These marks remind me of rivers.” He murmurs. “Indeed, it's like I’m staring at a topographical map of you.” A devious smirk crosses his face. “Where would be a good spot for the general to attack? Here, or here?” The noise you let out from his kiss proves to be a direct hit.

Your baby gets read to everyday by him, often when he’s busy babyproofing the house. He recites stories seemingly off the top of his head. He wants your baby to grow up well read and compassionate.

“I wonder what our baby would choose for their path.” You say.

“No matter what they choose, I’d love them all the same.” He says.

When the Big Day finally comes, Jing Yuan is all action. He grabs the overnight bag that you two made together and races off to the medical center with you in his arms. He holds your hand through every contraction, humming little songs as you prepare to push. Jing Yuan is used to long sieges so he’s always alert. He encourages you to push strong and hard for his family. Finally, the baby takes their first cry and he smiles serenely with tears in his eyes. Jing Yuan whispers “May you be a thoughtful, strong leader.”

[sigyn-foxyposts]

Do you have any headcannons for Smite! Logyn? 👀👀

I really want to play the game but i have no idea how it works-

I do actually, thank you so so much for asking!! I don't know what you mean by that but to hopefully be helpful, smite is a third person multiplayer battle arena game. I have it on steam but you can get it through other platforms like Nintendo Switch, ect. ✨👀

Onto the head cannons!! 🐍✨

Despite Loki's harsh and broken nature after his torment, he still has a huge soft spot for Sigyn and is loyal to her!

Whenever they're in battle, Loki will do everything in his power to assassinate whoever touches a hair on her head.

This is because Sigyn is always his support, both in their current battles and in the obvious past!

Sigyn before every battle will nag Loki about getting the right items, this can be annoying but Loki reminds himself that she just cares about his safety!

Teasingly, whenever Sigyn is trying to figure out what she should get, but is taking long Loki will make intentional nagging remarks about how slow she is.

Once while Loki was drunk, he told Ratatoskr to tell every pantheon how much he loves his wife! (Chill we know!)

The next day when everyone asked what the deal with that message was, Sigyn felt both emmberesed and honoured.

When they're training together, sparring and such! They like making up as they go what the other one has to do if they loose (how fun and..spicy!?🌶 👀)

There has been more times than Sigyn can count where she and Loki will see and catch up in the jungle only for Loki to almost be killed by another god!

What Sigyn finds funny is that he isn't offended that someone just tried killing him, but that they could've hurt her in the process! (Interrupts their flirting! 😈)

Sigyn sometimes find herself missing the old version of Loki, that was kind, mischievous and playful. So different from how unhinged he has become.

Yet, that doesn't mean she loves him any less. After all she's not any better in the head mentally either!

Both Loki and Sigyn laugh like crazy people.. They are crazy people (⊙_◎)

They're both very aware of how broken they are as well, and feel like the only way to continue life is to stick together.

Their deep bond, trust and support is all they have left. Family and sanity is what was left behind as tragic as it sounds.

Sigyn is almost Loki's guilty pleasure, because he knows he doesn't deserve her but can't help but need, depend on her and obviously treasure her!

Without her he would feel so lost, helpless and empty. Truly the only thing holding him back from genuinely going fully insane for good was his beloved.

It's the same way for Sigyn, but instead of insanity getting to her first, it would feel like she served no purpose other than to kill everyone in her way until she herself is killed. She is already numb!

Loki feels very guilty for never being able to truly express how much she means to him, especially after the huge sacrifice she made staying by his side.

Sometimes he just likes looking at her, turning away when she feels his eyes. He is secretly reminded of simpler times, the less painful memories.

This is both so comforting and annoying to him because he gets very emotional. Hence the real reason why he turns!

When Loki found out Sigyn was pregnant, he was afraid of history repeating itself. That his new children would be like the last three, monsters!

Luckily for him the twins looked human enough and he for once felt peaceful, full of relief that the gods had no reason to take his new sons away. (About that..)

While Sigyn recoverd from the after birth, Loki was very consistent in making sure her and their boys had everything they ever needed!

He kept checking in on all three so often it got to the point Sigyn had to remind him to take care of himself too!

Loki honestly admires how Sigyn is still able to have such close bonds with their oldest children, who won't even bother to look in his direction anymore.

Despite this, he still puts some effort into their ghostly son and wolf child, trying to learn from his mistakes and check in on them. Which doesn't go unnoticed, Sigyn is always so proud!

Even though she knows why Loki killed Baldr and refuses to truly blame him, whenever the topic is brought up she can't stare Loki in the eyes. She just gets so pissed off at him and Odin!

When you're plagued by dark thoughts, nightmares often follow! Both Loki and Sigyn struggle with this at night.

Loki is mostly haunted by his actions and the hatered he faced, while Sigyn keeps seeing that dark, cruel cave.

To soothe each other Loki will always spoon, cuddle or hold Sigyn close to make her feel protected. Kissing her scared burnt hands or wrists gently, letting her know she can rest like she used to, there is no bowl to hold.

Sigyn in return usually strokes his back or runs her fingers through his dark hair. Kissing his forehead, nose bridge and lips to remind him that he isn't bound.

They even stroke the outlines of their scars on each other, either after an emotional session or out of boredom.

Sigyn is still very clearly upset and sensitive over what their sons had to go through, including what happened to herself and Loki. (It was unfair tho!)

Sometimes Loki makes unflattering remarks about himself, thinking his looks were ruined by the snakes venom.

Sigyn very much disagree's with this statement and insists he is still as handsome as the day they met.

Loki still enjoys the efforts in trying to make his sad sack of potatoes for a wife to smile or laugh! It works every time, no matter how much Sigyn protests.

Loki turns invisible to scare Sigyn and what's exciting with this game is that sometimes he actually manages to catch her off guard, or it's the other way around and he tastes his own medicine!

If Loki ever needs to go anywhere but wants to stay with Sigyn, he makes a decoy to do the trick or job for him!

(Which one is real though? 😏)

Thank you for reading everything!! This is what I have so far, I might update in the near future if I get more 💚✨

[darth-mortem]

My friend @g8se translated my new COD fic. It's ancient Egypt AU with medjay!Soap and Anubis!Ghost.

After a great victory, the commander of the Medjay regiment and the chief guardian of the sacred city of the dead, Jonahkt Bay, is visited by the high priest of Anubis who informs him that the God desires to meet the hero in person. Jonahkt Bay becomes the first mortal, aside from priests and Pharaohs, to be honored with the privilege of seeing the earthly manifestation of the God of the dead and receiving a reward from him. With dedication and reverence, Jonahkt Bay enters the temple, unable to even imagine how the God will reward him. 4886 words.

Ancient Egypt AU, human!Johnny, Anubis!Simon, 18+

The noble commander of the medjay*** sa-u*, Jonahkt Bay, listened to the reports of his squad leaders about the losses. The bloody battle with treacherous mercenaries who tried to seize Hamunaptra – the sacred city of the dead, the storehouse of countless treasures of the Pharaoh, and the earthly abode of the God of death, Anubis – had ended with a remarkable victory. Jonahkt Bay had never seen the God himself in five years of his service as the chief of the guard of the city, but that didn't stop him from being completely dedicated to this honourable duty.

Rumours say that Anubis chose a person to be the vessel of his divine essence, wisdom, and strength. However, only priests and Pharaohs knew the truth, as they occasionally visited Hamunaptra for an audience with God. Nevertheless, it didn't happen very often. The current Pharaoh seemed to prefer visiting the city of the living Waset and the God Amun Ra, whose earthly abode was in Karnak. Or perhaps Anubis preferred to attend to his affairs in peace and quiet, not wasting time on chit-chat with the ruler, albeit mortal, who would eventually face his judgement like anyone else.

You can keep reading on Ao3 or here

After listening to another squad leader, Jonahkt Bay nodded, indicating that he had accepted the report, and raised his hand, summoning the next one. Suddenly, the massive doors opened, and into the hall where the medjays held their meetings, discussed strategies, and analyzed the moves of past battles, entered a man. He appeared without a knock and without a warning, and anyone else in his place would have already been beheaded. However, the high priest of Anubis could allow himself to appear not only here but also in Jonahkt Bay's personal quarters without facing any punishment.

Seeing the priest, the medjays lowered their heads in respectful bows. But without paying any attention to anyone, he approached the sa-u commander, looked at him with his piercing black eyes, and spoke:

“The God has seen your bravery and dedication, medjay. He wants to see you and reward you for your service. It's an honor that no mortal has received, aside from priests and Pharaohs, for over five centuries. For your own good, medjay, I sincerely hope you won't disgrace yourself or act foolishly. Now, follow me. We must not keep the God waiting.”

Jonahkt Bay followed the priest, feeling the gaze of his squad leaders. Excitement, envy, reverence, and fear were evident in their looks. Apparently, there was more fear than anything else, as there were countless rumors about the grim God of death – each more terrifying than the other. However, Jonahkt, for some reason, was not afraid. Maybe he understood that if Anubis wanted to take his soul, he could do it anytime and anywhere, without summoning him to the temple for a personal audience.

Soon, Jonahkt realized that the high priest was taking him not to the main temple but to one of the buildings on the outskirts of the temple complex. To the medjay's silent question, the priest of Anubis slightly rolled his eyes but still said:

"You cannot present yourself to the God in this state. First, you need to be properly washed, purified, and dressed. While the slaves attend to you, I'll have time to tell you how to behave in the presence of the God."

It all sounded condescending, but Jonahkt was already accustomed to the arrogance of the priests, so he didn't pay much attention. Moreover, he found himself inside the building, and several young boys and girls with slave collars around their neck took him by the arms and led him somewhere into the depths of the building, where the scents of various oils and herbs burned on large round braziers wafted through the air.

Naively, Jonahkt thought they would take him to a bath, and that after he would be given clean clothes and sent back to the high priest. However, the ‘purification’ process turned out to be much longer and more complicated. The bath did take place, but only at the beginning. Afterward, the slaves led the medjay to several baths, each with water of different temperature, aroma, and even colour.

The first bath turned out to be black, ice cold, with water as thick as mercury. The room was almost dark, the braziers barely glowing and filling the air with dense smoke with a strange scent. When Jonahkt was allowed to stand up and leave the bath, the black water droplets didn't drip, but rather rolled off his body. However, it might have been just an illusion, as the smoke and aroma left the medjay's head spinning.

In the second bath, located in a more conventional room lit with windows, two slaves entered the water with Jonahkt and meticulously rubbed his entire body first with some herbs and then with aromatic oil, not hesitating to touch places where no one, except a lawful wife, should touch. Here, it smelled fresh, and the dizziness quickly dissipated from Jonahkt's head.

The third bath repeated the process, but while Jonahkt was pampered by pleasantly warm water, the slaves shaved all of his hair, all over his body. Everything would have been fine, but the high priest observed this procedure, monotonously listing countless rules of behaviour that the medjay must adhere to in the presence of the God.

“You must kneel, touch the floor with your forehead; do not lift your head, do not look into the eyes, do not speak unless the God asks to, only do what he commands...” the priest was babbling on and on.

“And what if he commands, for example, to raise my head?” Jonahkt asked, feeling strong discomfort from what the slaves were doing to him right now.

“He won't command that,” the priest sternly cut him off and continued. “Receive the reward with reverence and gratitude, no matter what it is. Thank at least three times, preferably seven times. Do not touch the God, do not look around...”

Before inviting the medjay to immerse himself in the fourth bath, his body was yet again rubbed with some oil. While he was in the water, the slaves had massaged his neck, shoulders, head, face, and legs, and it was so pleasant that Jonahkt almost forgot about the priest who continued to meticulously list the rules.

After that, the medjay was taken to the fifth room, where, fortunately, there was no bath. High above braziers roze smoke with a strange scent of roses, and in this created mist, Jonahkt was thoroughly dried. Then, he was dressed in a black shendyt, similar to what the priests wore, only shorter – not ankles length, but only knees length. It was fastened with a wide belt, and after that numerous ornaments – bracelets, collars, and necklaces – were placed on Jonahkt’s neck and wrists.

“The sun is setting,” the priest finally spoke, glancing out the window. “I think you are ready for the meeting.”

At the exit from the building, another priest approached Jonahkt and handed him his khopesh, which he hung on his belt. In reality, he expected not to be allowed to appear before Anubis with a sword, but the high priest explained that the mortal weapon could not harm the God, but it also would demonstrate that a true warrior had come.

In the twilight, they approached the dark assembly of Anubis's temple. The entrance was guarded by medjays from his sa-u, who respectfully bowed, allowing their commander and the high priest inside. They passed through several rooms and finally stood in front of massive doors, or rather, gates to the main hall where the God received mortals who came to pay homage, bring gifts, or discuss important matters. The latter, however, was a privilege reserved only for the Pharaoh and the high priest.

“From here on, you will go alone,” Anubis's priest informed. “It's dark inside. Just go straight until you see. And then you already know what to do.”

“Yes, fall on my knees and touch the floor with my forehead,” Jonahkt replied, a bit irritated. “And what will I see?”

The priest cast a long gaze at him, then turned away and waved his hand to the younger attendants, who took hold of the levers of the mechanism that opened the gates and began to turn them. Despite his bravery, the medjay felt a chill run down his spine. His heart jumped almost to his throat, and cold drops of unpleasant sweat rolled down his back. In a few moments, he, Jonahkt Bay, would see a real living God, the master of death, the guide and judge of the dead, the supreme commander of his terrifying army that rises from the sand and returns to the sand when its is accomplished. Honestly, Hamunaptra did not need protection from medjays. The fact that this duty fell on the shoulders of mortals was a manifestation of the God's mercy and trust in them. It was already a sufficient reward for each warrior of the sa-u, including Jonahkt himself. So why does Anubis want to see him here, in his temple? What is he going to say to a mortal? What reward does he want to give?

His legs became like cotton, but Jonahkt did not show his fear and, with all his bravery, entered the vast dark hall of the main temple. The gates behind him began to close, and from the other side, this process was accompanied by a loud creaking, but here, in this dense, bonechilling darkness that seemed physically palpable, the sounds vanished and quickly disappeared, leaving not even a hint of an echo.

Jonahkt moved his legs, slowly navigating through the darkness, but he could not hear his own footsteps, unlike the beating of his heart and the wheezing uneven breath. He walked forward, but it seemed to him that he was motionless, hanging in the midst of boundless darkness, where there were no directions, no top or bottom, nothing and no one. The medjay thought that he had been deceived, thrown Beyond the bounds of the familiar world of the living, and now he would hang in this terrible cold emptiness for eternity – motionless, defenseless, helpless.

The fearless Medjay's legs trembled, his eyes began to sting, and at the moment when he was ready to collapse and curl up in a pitiful cry, his gaze unexpectedly began to distinguish something other than darkness. It turned out he was walking along a wide corridor with tall statues on either side. Underneath each burned brazier, giving weak and dim but still light. The sounds returned, and Jonahkt suddenly felt the coldness of the stone slabs under his bare feet as he stepped on them.

Light flashed unexpectedly and very closely. The medjay stopped and saw that flames blazed up in a few braziers ahead, illuminating the massive throne standing between them. And on this throne sat...

Jonahkt didn't have time to complete this thought because he remembered the priest's instructions, so he quickly fell to his knees, bowing so abruptly that his forehead hit the floor. His heart jumped to his throat again, and the medjay held his breath, hoping that the God would not consider his delay as disrespect and would not destroy him on the spot.

For several long moments, nothing happened. Then Jonahkt heard the rustle of fabric, a soft ringing – probably from jewelry – and heavy footsteps accompanied by a clicking sound, as if from claws touching the stone floor. These sounds approached, making the medjay's heart race even faster, and ceased, as he felt, right by his head. For a few moments, nothing happened again, and then a shadow fell on Jonahkt, something clinked, and he felt the cold and, at the same time, very hot fingers taking him by the chin. Sharp claws – and now the medjay was more than certain that the God's fingers indeed were clawed – pricked his cheeks. A large hand, much larger than his own, lifted Jonahkt's chin, forcing him to raise his head and straighten his back.

The medjay closed his eyes, feeling cold sweat running down his temples. The God's hand threw back his head so that he would probably be staring straight into Anubis's face if he dared to open his eyes. However, the priest's instructions were firmly settled in his memory, so Jonahkt had no intention of testing his fate. Then he heard a voice. Low and powerful, it sounded as if from everywhere, filling all the voids of the gigantic hall, echoing off them and penetrating the mortal's ears. These sounds enchanted Jonahkt so much that he did not immediately grasp the meaning of what the God had said to him.

"Open your eyes, child," Anubis repeated with inhuman patience and unearthly wisdom. "Look at me."

The high priest ordered to do everything the God commanded, so Jonahkt slowly obeyed the command, feeling hot tears rolling down his cheeks. At first, everything before his eyes was blurry, but then his vision cleared, and Jonahkt saw the God leaning over him.

Anubis was unnaturally tall and robust, dressed in a long and luxurious black shendyt with exquisite draping embroidered in gold. It was held by a massive belt made of golden plates engraved with symbols unknown to the medjay. The God's skin was extremely pale, almost white, covered with scars and myriads of black hieroglyphs and unknown symbols that seemed to emerge from within. Anubis's neck was adorned with a massive gold necklace. Feeling parched in his throat, Jonahkt dared to lift his eyes even higher and saw that the God's face was hidden by a mask made from a bone of what seemed like an exceptionally large jackal skull. In the eye sockets, the God’s eyes burned – bright, almost red, but the strangest and most horrifying was not their color. In each eye of the God, there were two irises and two pupils, one larger, and the other one slightly smaller.

"Stand up," Anubis commanded again, not taking his gaze away from Jonahkt's eyes, peering through them straight into his heart and the most secret and darkest corners of his soul.

"I... dare not," the medjay whispered, unable to control his voice.

The God let out a sound very similar to an ordinary human chuckle. Then Anubis pulled Jonahkt's chin again, forcing him to rise on trembling legs, which barely supported him in an upright position.

Anubis released the mortal's chin, crossed his arms over his chest, and in a somehow very human manner tilted his head slightly to the side, continuing to pierce Jonahkt with the gaze of his horrifying eyes. Jonahkt wanted to kneel and bow again, but he could no longer look away from the living God standing before him. Now he could see that Anubis's hands around the forearms smoothly transformed from pale white to sheer black, absolutely inhuman hands with long fingers and sharp claws. The same transformation affected the God's legs. It was now clear what that strange clicking sound when Anubis was approaching the medjay was caused by. As Jonahkt had noticed before, the God was simply extraordinarily tall, probably at least two heads taller than himself. And because of the sharp triangular ears of the bone mask, he seemed even taller.

All this left Jonahkt with no doubts that a real God was standing before him. He radiated an aura of strength, otherworldly wisdom, and majesty, unreachable for anyone, even the mightiest Pharaoh. Anubis evoked feelings of reverent fear and a desire to bow before him. However, the longer Jonahkt looked at him, the more he realized that the God was not as terrifying as he was unbelievably, incredibly beautiful.

Anubis moved again and slowly extended his hand to the mortal. And Jonahkt, now without fear but rather with absolutely sincere enthusiasm, placed his palm in it, gently gripping the black fingers.

"Come with me, child," the God spoke and led the medjay somewhere behind the throne, through the secret doors into the intricate maze of dark corridors.

At some point, the darkness thickened once again, and Jonahkt began to lose the sense of time, but fortunately, it did not last long. Entering through the next set of doors following the God, the medjay realized that he had been brought into gorgeous chambers with a personal bath, numerous shelves of papyrus scrolls, a table with writing tools, and a huge luxurious bed under a semi-transparent canopy. This room simply could not be as large as the main hall of the temple, yet it seemed just like that – the ceiling vanishing into darkness, the smoke rising from the braziers concealing the walls, and the shelves seeming to extend into infinity.

Jonahkt understood that the earthly manifestation of the God requires rest – maybe not as often as a mortal, but still does. And now Anubis brought him, not a priest or a Pharaoh, into the chambers where he rests – reads, writes, or perhaps even sleeps, eats, or drinks wine from those amphorae that Jonahkt noticed near the table.

"Curious?" Anubis asked, and this time his voice sounded almost ordinary, though still absolutely non-human.

Jonahkt became nervous, realizing that the God had noticed him glancing around, maybe even reading his thoughts. However, Anubis didn't get angry; instead, he took the medjay by the shoulders, pricking him with his claws, and gently nudged him forward.

"Go, take a look," he allowed. "Pour yourself some wine if you wish."

Jonahkt wanted to but, of course, didn't dare. He simply took a few steps forward and took a closer look at the table. There was a noticeable disarray; papyri were scattered, writing tools were placed haphazardly, and in the center lay a massive book with pages made of some unusual black metal. Jonahkt didn't dare touch it, but he noticed it was open, and the right half of the page was filled with hieroglyphs and diagrams, while the other half was blank.

"The Book of the Dead," Jonahkt heard the God's voice just behind him and startled in surprise. "Almost completed."

A clawed hand rested on Jonahkt's shoulder again. Anubis pushed him closer to the table, and Jonahkt felt the heat of the God's body against his back, standing as close as possible. Leaning forward, the God extended his other hand, and with a claw, he added a few more hieroglyphs to the page. The metal of the page heated where the God's finger touched it, yielding to carve the written symbols.

"Well, Jonahkt Bay, noble medjay-warrior," Anubis whispered insidiously into the mortal's ear, leaning so close that his mask touched Jonahkt's cheek, "are you ready to receive your well-deserved reward?"

Before Jonahkt could respond, the God swiftly turned him to face him and pushed him in the chest as if not hard, but Jonahkt could not stand on his feet either way. He fell backward, expecting pain from hitting cold the stone floor, but for some reason, he found himself on the bed. Before he could move, Anubis was again looming over him. He growled softly, and his black hands greedily slid over the medjay's tanned body, each touch delivering a pleasure Jonahkt had never felt in his life. He trembled, arched his back, as his fingers clawed at the sheets, crumpling them. The God's eerie eyes were very close, and his claws tore the shendyt, which the slaves had put on the medjay. Jonahkt's breath caught, he moaned weakly, twitched, and then the God's palm covered his eyes as he removed his bone mask.

Medjai felt Anubis's breath on his neck, and then his skin burned at the touch of his lips. Jonahkt caught his breath, and moaned weakly, writhing in ecstasy, not knowing what he wanted more – for the God to stop, or for him to never stop, for this pleasure, so sharp and strong to the point of pain, to last forever. For the two of them to float in this eerie void of the temple, for Anubis' hands to hold the mejai, for his lips and tongue to caress the flesh of a mortal, and for all of this to last for eternity.

Consciousness began to fail him as Anubis covered Jonahkt's lips with his own, and his inhumanly long and flexible tongue slid into the mortal's mouth. Medjay could no longer perceive everything that was happening, he managed to catch only fragments, but even that was more than enough for him. Here the palm of the god disappeared from the eyes of the mortal, but he could no longer see anything, because everything was floating in front of his eyes and bright lights were flashing. Here, the God's black hands again eagerly caressed and fondled the trained warrior's body, which now became soft and yielding. Sharp claws scratched the skin, teeth sank into his collarbone, but the sharp flash of pain immediately extinguishes as Anubis traces the bite marks with his tongue.

At some point, Jonahkt realized they were no longer lying on the bed but were actually floating in the midst of emptiness, maybe just beneath the ceiling of the God's chambers. Anubis had overpowered the mortal, holding him under the back and under the thigh, digging his claws into his leg. With each powerful thrust, Jonahkt's head swayed from side to side, he groaned and cried out from the sharp waves of otherworldly pleasure, desperately clinging to the God's massive shoulders with his fingers. It seemed that Jonahkt was crying and pleading with Anubis either to end these sweet torments or, on the contrary, to never end them.

Worlds were born and died before the medjay’s eyes. He saw majestic pyramids and statues turn into sand under the influence of thousands of years passing by in a single moment. He saw buildings reaching the sky, then collapsing to the ground, engulfed in flames. He witnessed the terrifying wrath of the Gods, a blinding sphere of fire and light that, in moments, reduced hundreds of thousands of people to ashes and turned an entire city into ruins. Jonahkt saw the birth of new stars and observed how they aged – long, infinitely long, but still, their time came to an end, and when it happened, Anubis came to take the last rays of their light.

The God's hand gently cradled the mortal's head. His eerie eyes were very close again; he kissed medjay again, made another thrust, and Jonahkt surrendered in the hands of truly divine pleasure that he had finally achieved. His body twisted in convulsions; he, unable to scream, gasped into Anubis's open lips, clinging to the God's shoulders. The last thing Jonahkt felt was something hot filling him. Then the overwhelmed consciousness of the mortal left him, and he hung limply in the God's arms, not feeling how Anubis tenderly touched his temples with his lips before gently laying him back on the bed.

Consciousness returned to Jonahkt reluctantly and slowly. Weakness enveloped his entire body, but it was oddly pleasant. Several minutes passed before the medjay could open his eyes and realize that he was lying on his stomach on a luxurious bed, gently covered with a blanket. He moved slowly, rolled onto his side, and suddenly remembered everything that had happened to him last night, understanding where he was.

Today, the God's chambers looked different. It was a spacious but entirely ordinary room, flooded with light from windows that were just beneath the ceiling and that Jonahkt hadn't noticed yesterday. There were many shelves, but they didn't disappear into infinity at all. And sitting on a carved chair behind the table was a man who leisurely drank wine from a golden cup and read some papyrus.

"Who..." Jonahkt croaked and coughed, trying to regain his voice that had been strained with yesterday’s activity. "Who are you?"

The man put aside the papyrus, set down the cup, and turned his head to look at Jonahkt. His eyes were ordinary, just like his hands and feet. There were no hieroglyphs on his pale, scarred skin. The man had slightly tired brown eyes, regular facial features, and long gray hair down just to his shoulders, loosely tied in the back with a golden comb.

"Do you not recognize me?" he asked with a low but entirely human voice, and a cheerful smile appeared on his lips.

The man extended his hand, and darkness began to cover it; his fingers lengthened, and claws appeared at their tips. His eyes reddened, and irises slowly split into two. However, it didn't last long, and after a few moments, everything disappeared. But it was enough for Jonahkt to understand that he was still facing a God, albeit in a more human form.

"It's quite exhausting," the man smiled wearily, and then his tone became more serious. "My name is Simenhotep Ouserkaf. Long ago, I was a priest of Amun Ra. He chose my brother as his vessel, and Anubis chose me. I went through inhuman tortures, and by enduring them I became the earthly incarnation of the God of the dead. But enough about me. Tell me, brave warrior, are you satisfied with your reward?"

Jonahkt's face flushed. He remembered everything that had kept his consciousness from slipping away and suddenly sat up, throwing off the blanket. He expected to see traces of the God's claws and teeth on his body, but his skin was clean, except for a few old scars.

"It would be awkward if you left in such a state," Simenhotep explained and rose to his feet, showcasing his inhuman height. "So, will you refuse to share wine and breakfast with me?"

"Who would refuse such an honor?" Jonahkt was still terribly shy, but no longer scared.

"Then get dressed and join me," Simenhotep said.

Next to Jonahkt's bed, he found his clothes intact, as if Anubis hadn't torn them with his claws just yesterday. He had no strength left to wonder, so the medjay quickly dressed and approached the table. Meanwhile, Simenhotep pushed aside the scrolls and a massive metal book, then golden plates with bread, cheese, and meat, as well as another cup filled with wine, appeared on the table from thin air. Anubis, or rather his earthly incarnation, brought another chair, and Jonahkt cautiously sat down, again expecting unpleasant sensations and yet again being mistaken.

"Help yourself," offered Saimenhotep, taking a piece of cheese and eating it with wine.

Only now did Jonahkt realize how hungry he was, so forgetting about all etiquette, he attacked the food. Simenhotep just smiled, watching how quickly the food disappeared from the luxurious golden plates. He managed to grab only a little for himself, but he didn't need it to live; it was only for his pleasure in the taste of drinks and food.

"Thank you," Jonahkt finally said, taking a sip of wine. "Thank you for everything. Especially for yesterday's reward."

Simenhotep smiled again, seeing how the brave warrior blushed like a boy.

"May I ask?" Jonahkt continued, and receiving an approving nod, he continued. "What happens next? I mean, with me. With us. Because I won't be able to forget what you gave me, even if I really wanted to, and I don't want to!"

"He likes you," Simenhotep said, and his eyes briefly flashed red. "And I like you too. So, come again."

"Just like that?" Jonahkt couldn't believe it. "And... when? How?"

"Whenever you want," shrugged the man or God. "As for how... that will be my concern. Don't worry; my prudish priests will receive the appropriate instructions. By the way, tell the high priest to come to me, let's say, when the shadows disappear."

Saimenhotep stood up, pushing away his cup, and Jonahkt understood that the audience was over. He also got up, circled the table, and felt the God's incarnation embracing him by the shoulders, escorting him to the door. As a farewell, Jonahkt received a kiss that wasn't as overwhelming as yesterday's but still very pleasant.

Exiting the God's chambers, Jonahkt realized that before him was a short corridor ending with doors leading out of the temple. The latter no longer seemed eerie and spooky – it was a large and majestic hall with a throne and statues, but it wasn't filled with a horrifying incomprehensible void. Slowly crossing it, Jonahkt somehow thought not about the God but about Simenhotep – a person who gave up everything to become the incarnation of Anubis. Perhaps, he felt very lonely here, within the walls of this temple. Maybe that's why he opened up to the medjay, realizing that he could accept this gift. Jonahkt touched his lips, still feeling the taste of the kiss, and thought that Simenhotep was incredible, and the brave medjay wanted to continue getting to know not only the God but also his earthly incarnation.

Approaching the gates, Jonahkt knocked on them, and after a moment, he heard the creaking of the opening mechanism. In the temple's antechamber, almost all the priests awaited him, and the high priest stood at the forefront.

"Good morning, gentlemen," Jonahkt said, a cheerful smile appearing on his lips as he looked at the high priest. "The God said that he will be waiting for you at noon. As for me, it's time to return to my duties." Bowing briefly, Jonahkt walked past the priests bewildered by such behavior and left the temple, feeling absolutely happy.

*Setep pai – «my chosen» in ancient Egyptian, also taken from ‘The Mummy’ - 2017 **Medjay – elite forces in ancient Egypt. ***Sa-u – a regiment in ancient Egypt, consisting of 200-250 soldiers. ****Shendyt – traditional male attire in ancient Egypt, something like a loincloth or skirt. *****Khopesh – an ancient Egyptian sword with a distinctive sickle-shaped design.

[nailsofvecna]

Every race in the galaxy has its share of soldiers, mercenaries and pirates but, unavoidably, some species take to violent careers more readily than others. For space-faring adventurers looking to get into trouble, these are some of the races they are more likely to encounter.

The cravers are a race of bio-engineered cyborg killing machines that exist only to consume. A single, unarmed craver drone is more than a match for a full platoon of humanity's finest soldiers, and it only gets worse from there. The inexorable expansion of the craver empire strikes fear into the hearts of all other races - for as they well know, the cravers have no interest in anything that cannot be eaten or enslaved. It is true that those who get separated from the hive are a more diverse group, and some have even adapted somewhat to the cultural mores of the more civilised races, but their immense size and strength still make them highly desirable as bodyguards and enforcers.

No den of scum and villainy is complete without at least a couple of gnashast heavies with itchy trigger fingers. Gruff and territorial by nature, gnashast have little respect for authority and bottomless appetites for strife. They're not easy folk to get on with, for sure, but you'll be glad to have a few in your neighbourhood when the alien invaders show up!

Of all the warlike races of the galaxy, the hissho stand out for having made martial prowess a core cultural value. A hissho considers dying in battle to be the highest honour, and vastly preferably to retreat. Genetically modified by the Endless to be the perfect warriors, they now sail the stars in search of worthy opponents to fight and new worlds to subdue in the name of the sun god, Tonatsi. The hissho view pirates as a blight on the galaxy, and can often be seen hunting down criminal elements in the places where such dishonourable types tend to gather.

When the tikanan were first-contacted, they were a race of non-sentient insectoid beasts, the sort that might be kept as exotic pets by certain individuals who are not put off by the extreme aggression these creatures exhibit. Thus it came as a great surprise when, seemingly overnight, they started talking; building and trading, and organised themselves into a civilised society. They still prepare for war constantly, of course, and infighting between tikanan colonies never stops - it's just that now they're using tanks and tactics, instead of teeth and claws.

[agentnico]

Blue Eye Samurai - Season 1 (2023) Review

Don't think I've ever seen so much human genitalia in animated form all in one go. Makes me wonder if the production team had a designated animator of genitals who literally just spent his time drawing penises for the show. If so, I hope it was Jonah Hill as he already proved in Superbad that he is the perfect artist for this subject.

Plot: Driven by a dream of revenge against those who made her an outcast in Edo-period Japan, a young warrior cuts a bloody path toward her destiny.

Netflix consistently hashes out so much content every week, that it is hard to keep up with any of it, as such many great projects get missed and are forever lost in the streamer's endless library void. Luckily Blue Eye Samurai didn't pass my scrolling and evidently has its fan base, as this is one of the quickest examples of the streaming giant announcing a season renewal after release. Yep, Blue Eye Samurai will be getting a second season which is amazing as this is a superb new series that if you haven't yet discovered then you are doing yourself a disservice and should amend that behaviour immediately and go watch it! Still need persuading? Alright, sit yourself down and allow me to gush about Blue Eye Samurai!...

It’s hard to overstate just how stunning Blue Eye Samurai is to look at. The series uses a mix of 2D and 3D animation styles to create landscapes and characters who seem only a few degrees removed from live-action, even as the form allows for combat on a scale that would cost several large fortunes to craft with flesh-and-blood actors. In fact, looking at the behind-the-scenes the team hired an actual martial arts choreographer to support in creating the combat sequences in real life with real people, and then the movements of those fights were transferred to animation and used in the final product. In one episode (seemingly inspired by the 1978 martial arts film Enter the Game of Death where Bruce Lee had to fight his way up to the tower to get to the last floor) the main samurai Mizu must defeat multiple bosses on each level of the season's big bad Fowler’s impregnable fortress home, and each separate battle is a work of art in itself. Honestly, the show just looks like a moving painting, with every frame absolutely jaw-dropping gorgeous. Even without dialogue or characterization, it would be completely engrossing.

Luckily, writers Michael Green and Amber Noizumi are as interested in the people at the center of these crazy fights as they are in the many improbable techniques Mizu uses against her opponents. Mizu is presented throughout as both supernatural and deeply human. She can handle any odds, and come back from every injury that would cripple or kill a normal person. But the series never loses sight of what a life wholly devoted to revenge has cost her, and the ways in which she has turned herself into every bit the monster that her countrymen believe her to be.

It is then also the exploration of how Mizu interacts with the other characters in this world. There's the disabled would-be apprentice Ringo (played warmly by Masi Oka), who has learned to navigate life despite his lumbering size and lack of hands. Mizu has no interest in a sidekick, but Ringo gradually wears her down, as if he’s a peaceful stream flowing against a rock over hundreds of years. There's also Taigen (Darren Barnett), a warrior chasing after Mizu to collect a debt of honour, yet due to this honour he ends up helping her as in his eyes only he has the right to kill her, no one else, so ends up attacking those that attempt to harm her. Brenda Song voices the princess Akemi, who is just as eager to escape the bonds of Edo society as Mizu is, but who uses very different methods to achieve that. We follow her journey through an intimate tour of the area brothels, which is where the aforementioned heaviness of nudity comes in. There is, in fact, a lot of naked flesh on display throughout the season. The series can be just as graphic in depicting sex as it is in violence, yet both avoid feeling gratuitous. And finally, there's Kenneth Branagh as this season's big bad Fowler, a despicable arms dealer who has no sense of morality or empathy and is willing to destroy anything standing in his path. He's a massive presence and seemingly the only one able to hold himself in a fight against Mizu, hence why Branagh's British snark yet heavy tone fits perfectly here.

The whole thing is an incredible, utterly badass example of how animation can be used to create worlds, characters, and adventure every bit as vivid as live-action if not more at times. Even though I would say there are a few areas of pacing issues, which withheld me from binging this season all in one go and instead had me taking regular break intervals throughout, this is still a stellar show and one that you can tell was created by a team of passionate filmmakers and artists. Blue Eye Samurai would never have had the impact it did had it been live-action - using animation as its storytelling medium elevated it to a masterpiece in my opinion. Kudos to everyone involved in such an amazing project and I can’t WAIT to see more!

Overall score: 8/10

[elliemarchetti]

The Snake and The Wolf

Prologue - High Lord

I wanted to say something to explain why I choose this POV and make up some kind of excuse as to why I choose to start this story like this but honestly, I just hope you have the patience to read the next chapters and understand the vision I had for @erisweek2023

Chapter 1

Words: 1.136

“Valkyries?” asked Feyre from across the dining table in the river house, fork half-raised to her lips. “Truly?”

“Truly,” Cassian confirmed, tasting the red wine served for dinner. He’d returned to the manor to discuss what to do with the weapons made by Nesta and learn what his High Lady’s vote about them would be. Although Rhysand was against it, she hadn’t hesitated before saying that her sister deserved to be informed of her ability and even volunteered to do so, but the General stepped in, saying he’d rather do it himself in due time. The only one who hadn’t voted was Mor, who remained in Vallahan to keep coaxing its rulers to sign the new treaty, her absence marked by a place of honour set for her at the table.

“We never heard of them in the human lands,” Elain said. She’d been as riveted as Feyre to hear Cassian’s story about the female fighters that sparked Nesta’s interest, and all in all she believed she would be at ease among such fearsome creatures.

 “Some were as lovely as you, at least from the outside,” recalled Rhysand from beside his wife. “But once they set foot into the arena they became as bloodthirsty as Amren.”

The little female lifted her glass in salute: “I liked them. They never let a male boss them around, though I could’ve done without their foolish king. He’s to blame for their deaths as much as the Illyrians who walked away during the battle.”

“I can’t argue with that,” Cassian said, and the light in his eyes dimmed, showing how long it took him to get over what happened. Maybe he had a lover within their ranks, it was easy to picture the Lord of Bloodshed falling for someone so brave and reckless, but Nesta wasn’t really like that. For years Elain though she was born on the wrong side of the Wall, but she was the kind of person who turned ballrooms into battlefields, not the one who plotted to claim as many victims as possible. For Nesta, people were just pawns and social events a chessboard begging her to play.

“And you were afraid of being rusty?” said a voice in Elain’s head, a voice that didn’t belong to the convivial scene in front of her but which soon had a face and a name to connect it to. “You’re a wolf in disguise.”

“Eris, dear, I may be getting older but age hadn’t yet affected my ability to remember names and hold grudges,” Nesta joked, the relaxed expression of someone at ease with her interlocutor. Her hair were longer but still braided in her usual fashion, a golden tiara adorned with topaz and Citrine quartz sitting on top of her head, perfectly matched with a sumptuous pair of earrings that made the dangling gemstones look like droplets of blood.

 “We should thank the puppeteer instead of wasting our time with the other High Lord’s retinues,” he suggested, reaching towards the wooden throne beside him. “No amount of nannies would’ve sufficed to distract Lethe and Limos long enough for us to finish if he didn’t show up with all those characters.”

“I just hope he memorized his fair share of legends, because they’re going to pester him from here to the Day Court,” Nesta replied, her eyes so full of love that Elain undoubtedly knew she was talking about her own children.

 “Do you think it’s wise to make them go on such a long journey?” Eris asked, his voice so low that Elain almost struggled to understand. He seemed worried, just like a father who wants to give space to his offspring but can’t put his preoccupations aside.

“Don’t underestimate how scary your mother can be. Besides, Elain and Lucien will always be with them,” Nesta reminded him before straightening her back again to address yet another meaningless stranger. The throne room of the Forest House was bustling with people, still more small groups of guests passed through the tall wooden doors to exchange a few words with the royal couple.

“High Lord,” a Peregryn greeted, bowing just enough to follow etiquette. “Wonderful ceremony, if I may say so.”

“I couldn’t have done even half of what you see if it weren’t for my Mate,” replied the eldest Vanserra, the sharp smile on his angular face suggesting that the Fae of the Dawn Court should’ve also paid his respects to his wife before anything else.

“Lady Death, your impeccable taste is renowned even in our villages,” the male added, turning his piercing eyes towards Nesta, who giggled at the nickname.

 “I love it when people call me that,” she said to her Mate, thus dismissing the cause of their interruption.

“Well deserved,” he murmured, bringing one of Nesta’s slander hands to his lips to give her a light kiss.”And I grow gladder of it with every passing day.”

“Could you two wait until you’re in a more private place? I already struggle to get used to the idea of having a brother, but seeing him kiss my best friend is a whole other level of mental gymnastics,” said a beautiful female, her eyes as blue as the Sidra’s water. Her hair were the same shade of red as Eris’s but she wasn’t a High Fae, probably some half wilder being like Nuala and Cerridwen.

“I can’t believe you made it here in time!” Nesta exclaimed, ignoring any semblance of appropriateness at the sight of the priestess.

“My studies are important, but never as much as the wedding of a family member,” joked the other, stepping aside just enough to study Nesta’s immaculate outfit. The deep orange brocade was more revealing than anything Elain ever saw her wear, and although the sheer sleeves and the deep neckline of the gown showed off her shoulders and cleavage, it wasn’t vulgar but ft  for her role.

“No luck with Azriel?” she asked, scanning the room half hopeful. The female shook her head, a delicate hand instinctively running to her neck, where a beautiful pendant Elain knew too well rested in the niche between her protruding collarbones. As if Eris sensed the disappointment in his Mate’s gaze, he approached, silent and graceful, to offer words of comfort.

“Maybe next time,” he whispered in her ear, and she nodded, leaning on his shoulder, as if seeking for support.

Elain’s eyes brought the present back into focus, where Azriel was studying her every move. Beside the Spymaster, no one else seemed to have noticed her sudden silence, Rhys, Feyre and Amren distracted by a new topic and Cassian lost in his thoughts. Elain pitied him: it didn’t matter how much Nesta bit, bruised or scratched him in the bedroom, she just wasn’t his. She belonged to someone else, like Elain belonged to Lucien.

[holly-natnicole]

Here's (a part of) the canon info on the Hunters of Artemis:

Artemis said: "My Hunters follow me on my adventures. They are my maidservants, my companions, my sisters-in-arms. Once they swear loyalty to me, they are indeed immortal… unless they fall in battle, which is unlikely. Or break their oath."

"What oath?" I said.

"To forswear romantic love forever," Artemis said.

"So you just go around the country recruiting half-bloods–"

"Not just half-bloods," Zoe interrupted. "Lady Artemis does not discriminate by birth. All who honour the Goddess may join. Half-bloods, nymphs, mortals–"

"Bianca, this is crazy," I said. "What about your brother? Nico can't be a Hunter."

"Certainly not," Artemis agreed. "He will go to camp. Unfortunately, that's the best boys can do."

"Hey!" I protested.

"You can see him from time to time," Artemis assured Bianca. "But you will be free of responsibility. He will have the camp counsellors to take care of him. And you will have a new family. Us."

"I pledge myself to the Goddess Artemis. I turn my back on the company of men, accept eternal maidenhood, and join the Hunt."

For the Hunters, all romance is a nope coz of their oath (dating a fellow Hunter is confirmed in T.o.A. to not be allowed). However, the way that the oath is worded in canon is foolishly heteronormative. I think it should be:

"I pledge myself to the God of Chastity, Ártemis. I turn my back on romantic and sexual companions, accept eternal celibacy, and join the hunt."

That way, there'd be no ambiguity over whether the Hunters of Artemis can date and/or have sex with people who are female or in some way gender nonbinary.

Additionally, Hippolytus existed; the Hunt should allow people of any gender & sex and age instead of being limited to perisex cisgender girls (although, most members would probably still be dyadic cis girls coz that's the democratic that has the most motivation to be celibate with a dyadic cis female God as their teacher, leader, & protector). Hence me replacing the word maidenhood with the word celibacy.

In my Alternate Multiverse rewrite of the 'Percy Jackson' (2005) franchise, Nico would get the chance to join same as Bianca instead of being dismissed solely coz he's a perisex cis boy (actually, my version of Ártemis doesn't assume anyone's gender based on appearance coz She has for centuries corrected people who assume Her to be dyadic cis male solely coz of Her masculinity & Apollo to be perisex cis fem coz of His femininity and has met plenty of Gods, demigods, mortal humans, nymphs, etc. who are agender or genderfluid or in some other way transgender).

In my version of P.J. 'verse, it's the (okay with romance and sex) Amazons who are the ones who have a "gals only" policy whilst the Hunters of Ártemis have a "stay celibate" policy.

(Obviously, not every cis girl, trans girl, trans lady, and cis lady joins the Amazons plus not every celibate person joins the Hunters of Ártemis. People can be fem without being an Amazon and choose celibacy without being a Hunter of Ártemis.)

Plus Ártemis Herself is a perisex cis aro ace masculine fem Greek God who enjoys archery, hunting, dancing, seeing vegetation, running around in the wilderness, and seeing wild animals (especially bears a.k.a. Ursidae and hinds a.k.a. does a.k.a. cis female deer which is a broad term for red deer a.k.a. Cervus elaphus, fallow deer a.k.a. Dama of Cervinae, roe deer a.k.a. Capreolus capreolus,white-tailed deer a.k.a. Odocoileus virginianus , & reindeer a.k.a. caribou a.k.a. Rangifer tarandus). Besides the Hunt, Vegetation, the Wilderness, and Wild Animals (especially bears and does) being Her domains, Ártemis' domains also include the moon, chastity, childbirth, and care for children.

[canmom]

l'aventure de canmom à annecy - épisode deux - mercredi n+1 - Sand Land

bonjour encore mes amis!

no, there isn't a secret second annecy festival two weeks later. much as I might wish otherwise! I'm just getting back to writing about stuff I did and saw in Annecy.

to start with, let's roll back to Wednesday with Sand Land!

I went into this one knowing basically nothing about it except the thumbnail looked neat, but it turns out to be an adaptation of a manga by the late Akira Toriyama of Dragon Ball fame. It portrays a dystopian (ish) setting in which an evil king controls the water supply; an ageing sheriff teams up with a demon prince to try to find an oasis in the desert, but their journey takes them into conflict with the king's army, and it turns out that our sheriff was actually a military commander who, duped by his evil commanders, participated in a genocide.

Ultimately, our protagonists defeat the evil general in a big battle and destroy the dam he's using to block up the water supply. The military is won over by the honourable ways of our sheriff, and there's a new era of peace between humans and demons. etc etc

What I liked about this movie? The visuals are solid. It's using a cel shaded cgi style, but it's done very well; the characters move in appealing, lively ways, and it allows them to stage big complex tank battle sequences very clearly. I'm not familiar with Toriyama's manga here, but comparing the pictures I can find online, they seem to have nailed the look. Cel-shaded CGI will never look exactly like 2D animation, but it doesn't need to. It's increasingly a solved problem to make a film that looks good in the style.

Sadly, the plot kind of lost me. It's a kids' movie, fundamentally; heroes and villains are archetypal and heavily telegraphed, and the heroes are too uniformly OP to ever feel like there's a lot of tension to the fights. The main dramatic conflict is over Rao's realising his complicity in a genocide, but the way this is presented lets him off the hook far too easily, with all the blame falling on the schemes of the evil general. We never have to confront the survivors in any meaningful capacity, and there's never any doubt about Rao in the present - he is the type of character to use supernatural combat skills to defeat enemies without killing them. It comes off as this rather strange strain of military apologia: despite being a dystopian setting enforced by military power, all the soldiers are basically decent guys when you get right down to it.

Beezlebub, the demon prince, is an entertaining but highly static character - his main change of heart is to think humans like Rao can be pretty all right actually. The final battle sees him pulling out a bunch of Dragon Ball-like powerups, and it's kind of whatever. His grouchy servant Thief is kind of fun, and the party banter over who gets to drive the car/tank etc is charming, and the weird desert gangs are a great chance for Toriyama to stretch his character design skills, but it was not enough to carry the larger story for me. I actually think it would work a lot better as a game, where the characters always winning feels like your success as a player, and the control of the party would get you invested.

That's OK, though! The fun of film festivals is taking a risk on things, and sometimes it turns out to be... not a dud exactly, this is a solid kids' movie, but not what I was hoping for.

The designs actually remind me a lot of Ankama's style (from the thumbnail alone I guessed this movie would be French), though I'm sure the influence goes the other way - Toriyama must have been popular in France, right? Anyway, overall, needed more weird guys, and less reassuring us that the military are actually good at heart.

[cookiepie111]

honour

A/N: This idea came from an old post about a historical au with Killer x reader. I wanted to write a little introduction for him! I really loved writing this, so please enjoy! I might write more to this?

Im still new writing, so any feedback would be appreciated 👍🏾 Cathal means ruler of battle. I thought it worked well for a family name for Killer

Violins, clarinets, and the lighthearted conversation of nobles spread throughout the hall. To think that such a peaceful atmosphere could be ruined by one man. Boom. First it was laughter. Boom. Then the talking, boom. Soon even the music came to a stop.

Every step this man made sent silence through the room. Soon, the quiet was replaced with murmurs and whispers as their nervous eyes shifted around the room. "What is he doing here!? " Panic had swept through the ballroom.

If you were to look upon this man, you would not know that he was a son from cathal House. Metal studs took the place of buttons on his suit jacket, and traditional flat shoes were replaced by heavy army boots that reach his shin. Medals sat proudly across his chest, and chains drapped across the back of his suit. His manner of dressing, so close to the nobles yet so far away. A blue ribbon kept most of his hair out his face, though he made sure to hide half his face with bangs. Best (worst) of all that gaudy blue lipstick his father cringed and frowned at was nowhere to be found. 'You actually look like a human being' he sighed, remembering his father's words only made him angry, killer's face felt bare and empty without the colour.

Nobles rushed to make way for him, and as he continued across the hall, some men even shielding their lovers from the man, as if they could do any harm against him. The thudding boots only came to a halt when he found a quiet part of the hall walls to stick to, where no one would bother him. So there he stood glued to the wall for the rest of the night, unsure why his father had sent him of all people to this event. A quick glance was enough to deter any unwanted conversation. 'Wonderfull, just another 7 hours of this...'

[sea-side-scribbles]

Solas wakes up in the strange new world of his own making and it terrifies him. Ridden with guilt, he joins the Inquisition and begins his lonely research in order to correct his mistake.

He doesn’t expect to find consolation in the presence of a human who wields ancient elven magic without knowing it. Who is way too gentle for an elgar’thanelan, but doesn’t know that either.

Solas, for his part, doesn’t know how to stay away.

Dorian wonders if the mysterious elf just enjoys playing with a Tevinter. He wouldn’t expect anything else.

_____________________

Chapter 1- 13 | Right after uthenera, Solas is found by a Dalish clan. This goes well until it doesn’t. (Basically my excuse for world building and hilarious misunderstandings.)

Chapter 14 | Solas joins the Inquisition.

Chapter 20 | Dorian appears in Haven.

Chapter 22

When Solas finally saw Warden Blackwall again, he spotted him on the way through the soldier's camp, training young recruits. Solas didn't need to watch the man for long to notice he was right in his element. Neither did he attempt to scare the recruits into obedience nor did he paint the battle in glowing colours to blind them with its beauty. He acted like an experienced warrior who didn't waste any time or energy, who knew the costs of war. Who would honour the fallen but not glorify the battle itself. And most notably, he seemed to care for his recruits.

Solas watched the human, fascinated to see all these rare qualities in him. He was reminded that those were the people that disappointed their gods.

When the recruits left, Blackwall's gaze fell on him. “Ah, Solas”, he said calmly. “The Seeker's been looking for you.” Solas didn't like to be remembered of this, but he kept a straight face. “I have heard of it. Sadly, I would not have been much help. My knowledge of time travel is lacking. I did not know it is possible.” Blackwall crossed his arms and shrugged. “I guess that's not a shame. Even the Tevinter was surprised it worked and he helped researching this stuff.” “The...Tevinter....”, Solas repeated carefully. “I suppose you mean the man named Pavus?” “Right. You didn't meet him yet. But you heard of him?” “Yes. Varric gave me a summary.” The man nodded. “I bet he gave you a more exciting story than I would. Not quite the storyteller myself.” “What do you think about him?” “About Varric? He -” “No, I mean the Tevinter.” “Oh. Well...the less I think about him, the better. He's a...typical noble. Spoiled and full of himself and not ashamed to show it. I wonder how he survived that long camping in Ferelden, but I guess magic helped.”

Solas fell quiet for a while. No matter how he looked at the information, it didn't sound like good news. If there could be any good news at this point. So far, he knew the Tevinter was a mage with knowledge of a new kind of magic he never heard of. And he was arrogant, supposedly. Not a great combination. With a heavy heart, Solas realized he didn't know how to get himself out of this situation.

“Do you think he will stay with the Inquisition?”, he asked Blackwall. “Er, probably not. I don't think he likes Haven or any southern village. Guess he'll deal with that cult and then return to his comfy warm home.” Solas nodded quietly. That or he goes back to find out who his mysterious visitor was. Would it matter so much to him? Solas hoped it wouldn't.

“Don't worry”, Blackwall interrupted his thoughts, “if he stays here, he won't get his hands on you, or any elf. Firstly, because I'll break his pretty bones if he tries, and secondly, don't forget the Herald is an elf, too.” Solas gulped at the Warden's choice of words. He was surprised by his sudden outburst. The man must've noticed his discomfort. “I am glad that you think so”, he answered just to say something. “Naturally. Everyone can be a Grey Warden and do great things. Sadly, the scholars only focus on the human side of history. Did you know that Warden Garahel, who ended the fourth blight, was an elf? Most only remember his name, but not who he was. And he gave his life for them.” Solas always felt uneasy hearing about the Grey Warden's oh so sacred mission, but he was thankful for Blackwall's point of view. It felt like they both could look at Thedas from a different angle.

“Did you ever wonder what went wrong?”, he felt like asking. “Between our peoples?” Blackwall shifted, clearing his throat. “Er...don't you elves have a legend about it?” “Yes, but it is vague at best. Humans simply appeared in the world and destroyed everything for no reason. The Dalish believe that their ancestors began to age solely because of your presence.” Solas didn't hide what he thought of this legend. “Well...every time I'm in a room with Madame de Fer, I do feel like I'm aging faster.” Solas needed a second, but then he had to laugh at the unexpected joke. Blackwall joined him shortly after. “But honestly, I don't think I should be the one to ask about this. All I see is that countries naturally hate each other. Not the people mostly, but the nobles. And sadly, they are the ones to hold the reigns. Look at Orlais and Ferelden, they don't go well together at all. Tevinter and Orlais even less. It's all about power and gold. I can only guess that ancient elves and Tevinter didn't go well together, either.” Solas looked at him. “It is a good guess.” “You think so? Huh. Sadly, we'll never now the truth.”

Solas shook his head. These people abandoned hope so quickly. And they forgot their history even quicker. “Hey, uh, would you like to play some Diamondback later in the evening when we're done training?” “If I do not have to bring real diamonds with me?” The Warden laughed. “Do I look like I'd have diamonds on me? No, it's a card game.” “I don't know. You could be saving them for Wintersend. Then you get out your Pink Jubilees and Beau Sancies and Briolettes...” “Together with my white sea silk robes and snoufleur skin shoes ...” They chuckled together. “So, you're coming? The rules aren't too complicated and I'll go easy on you of course.” “That is very generous of you, Blackwall. I am looking forward to it.”

And indeed, Solas enjoyed the evening. Diamondback depended more on skill than on luck and it reminded him of a game that had been popular for a while in Elvhenan. Because he didn't feel like he needed to hide his skills, he won many rounds, much to the Warden's astonishment. The game made him forget about his various problems for once.

When the Herald finally came back from her fateful journey, Solas and Blackwall watched the welcoming ceremony from afar. “Here come the rebel mages”, the human muttered. “She won't like to hear it, but she worked another miracle.” Solas guessed he meant Ellana. And he was right. She had won a race against time. And supposedly an ancient source of power that wielded said time like a weapon. Because of that, he dearly hoped that she was truly successful. And he craved to hear her story.

Unlike Blackwall, he wasn't able to focus on the Herald or the mages at first. He was drawn to the man he had wished to never meet again. His aura shone bright, unlike any other in the party. For a short moment, Solas merely watched it react to his attention, swirling and changing form. He gasped as he finally pulled back and concealed himself. It was what he should have done all along and now it might be too late. As a consequence, Solas couldn't see the man's fire any longer, and for a second, he dearly missed it. Then he became angry at himself. Like a moth drawn to the light, stupid enough to burn itself.

It was frustrating. Every time he thought he was prepared, he made another misstep. And this one could cost him his stay in the Inquisition. Unwillingly, his hands curled around his staff, his knuckles turning white.

“Something wrong, Solas?”, came the Warden's deep voice. Before he could answer, Blackwall did it for him. “Ah, the Tevinter. I'm surprised he's back. Maybe he is genuine about this after all.” Maybe. Or he returned for a completely different reason. “Him and the Herald get along better now, look. He doesn't look like he'll try anything funny with elves.” Solas exhaled loudly. “You have an interesting way with words”, he informed the Warden. Blackwall needed a second to think, before he burst into uncomfortable laughter. “I didn't mean...I...Oh Makers hairy balls. I better keep my mouth shut...”

Solas had to chuckle too, just as uncomfortably. But he looked at Ellana. She smiled, seemed more relaxed than before. Unfortunately, he couldn't draw hope from that alone. They could all play a game: Clan Lavellan, Tevinter, the Hands of the Divine, the Chantry,...and he lacked the power to call them out. He had to play along, make do with small acts and hide himself away. And then there was the actual threat lurking in the shadows, that he still hadn't found. Suddenly, he felt very tired.

“I appreciate the effort”, he said anyway. The party was now dismounting. “Maybe we should go and say hello?”, Blackwall offered. “I will speak to the mages first”, Solas decided quickly. “They would want to know about the reinforcements.” Blackwall didn't argue. He went to see Ellana. It was hard to get through the masses of cheering villagers, but once they figured he was the Grey Warden, they made room for him. The elven woman eventually spotted him and grabbed his hand, happily mimicking human behaviour. Blackwall smiled as they greeted each other.

“Glad to see you back, Herald – er, I'm sorry, I mean Ellana.” She gave him a thankful smile. “Savhallan, Warden Blackwall. I hope everything is going well?” “It's going just nicely. No rifts so far.” “I'm glad. You won't believe what happened in Redcliffe. It's going to be a long story and I'll have to tell it at least twice.” She rolled her eyes. “I plan to invite everyone to a dinner in the Chantry for this evening.” “Everyone? That's a big lot.” “I mean only the inner circle. The people that travel with me. The group is growing fast and I want them to get to know each other. Please, will you come?” “Of course. I'll go tell the others.” “Thank you. By the way, have you seen Solas again?” “Yeah, he's fine. Talking to the mages right now.” She looked relieved to hear it. “I'll tell him too...” “Thank you.” She didn't have time to say much more because she had to move on with the group.

In the evening, Blackwall told Solas about it. The elf didn't look too fond of the idea, but went along. Actually, Solas felt beyond nervous about this meeting, but he saw no way out. He had already drawn attention to himself by irrational absence. Tonight, he needed to act unobtrusively. At least there was hope that he could stick to the Warden. The man didn't appear to be a party animal. And he could leave early. Pondering this, he followed Blackwall into the Chantry.

It looked like the Herald had spared no efforts for her special dinner. A round table was placed in the apse that usually served as consultation room. Hundreds of golden candles illuminated the place and a bard played her lute silently in the background. Surely the ambassador had been helpful for such preparations. The other guests were already present and talking to each other with hushed voices.

When they entered, all heads turned to them and they were greeted by numerous “Ahs”. Sera held up her arms and moaned: “Finally, I'm starving!” “Fashionably late”, Varric commented with a smirk when Solas sat down next to him. “Like opera singers.” The Warden placed himself between Solas and Sera. Solas' heart skipped a beat when he noticed the Tevinter sat right next to Varric. His gaze shortly brushed the man, who currently lowered his head to say something to Madame de Fer. He noticed white silk robes – the irony – with stitchings of golden thread. “Did we miss anything?”, Blackwall asked into the group. Laughter ensued while Sera whispered something in his ear that made him cough.

Amidst the mutter, Ellana tapped her spoon against her glass, so everyone fell quiet and turned their heads to her. She shortly exchanged glances with Josephine before she said: “Good evening, fellow Inquisitors. Thank you for following my invitation. I am so glad that we're finally meeting each other in one place. So much happened in the past … month? And many new people joined to help this common cause. It's still a bit overwhelming for me. It looks like...we are the only people who get up off our arses and try to save the world. The sky could explode any moment and everyone else is just bickering... I'm not exaggerating, right?” “Absolutely not, my dear.” “Not at all, Boss.” A spontaneous round of applause followed. Ellana looked at the group and a smile flashed over her face. Solas noticed that she really looked more comfortable now. Her gaze lingered a while on the Tevinter, implying that the man had won her sympathy, too.

“Right...” She paused shortly, putting her hands down. “So before we begin with the dinner, I would like to ask you to introduce yourselves to everyone...” She gestured around. “...because we probably haven't all met each other yet. As the host, I will begin myself...” Vivienne interrupted her: “That is hardly necessary, my dear. You are the most beknown person in this organisation.” “That is the problem. You think you know me”, Ellana replied, holding up a finger. “But all you know about me is that I fell out of the fade and I have this...thing on my hand.” Everyone could see the green glow as she gestured. “But in reality, I'm just a woman. My name is Ellana, I was born in Clan Lavellan and I am Keeper Deshanna's first apprentice, that means I have the gift of magic and I'm educated by my Keeper.”

“A gift that isn't to be underestimated, as you've proven in Redcliffe”, Dorian Pavus chipped in with a smirk and a voice like silk. Ellana smiled at him and pressed a hand against her chest. “Why, thank you, Dorian. I could say you weren't so dusty either, but it's not your turn yet.” “Already jumping the queue, Sparkler?”, Varric said, followed by a few laughs. “By no means. Please, continue.” Ellana waited for the group to fall quiet again. “Anyway, My clan sent me to the conclave to watch the negotiations because if they failed, it would've had consequences for my clan, too. And...you now how it went and I...” She sighed and looked at her hand. “Well, at least this helps me close the rifts.”

Bull knocked against the table and another round of applause followed. Ellana ripped her gaze off the unwanted mark and looked to the left. “Cassandra, would you please continue?” The Lady Seeker huffed, cleared her throat and began, sounding annoyed by herself: “My name is Cassandra Pentaghast...” “Actually, it's Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena Pentaghast”, Leliana corrected her happily. Over the amused whistles and “oohs”, the Seeker made an annoyed noise. “Of course you would know that, Leliana.” “You're so modest, Cassandra. Just show off a little.” The group gave another applause while the Seeker looked as if she wanted to crawl under the table.

The introductions went on while Solas just glued his eyes onto the talkers, avoiding the Tevinter. He could swear he felt the man's gaze on him. Now and then, he whispered to Blackwall or Varric, but always took care of where his eyes wandered.

“I'm Sera and I'm bored!”, the elven rogue threw her arms up again. “And I swear, the next one who's bragging about all their titles is getting a cake in the face!” “My dear, if you had achieved anything in your life, you would understand.” “Go achieve yourself! Doesn't sound like fun!” Vivienne sighed and wiped her brow. “How about the Red Jennies? You could talk about them”, Ellana tried. “Ph, yeah. It's just a name. The Red Jennies, that's different people. One in Montfort, one in Kirkwall, three others in Starkhaven and some more elsewhere and we stick it to the nobles. We're no cloaks or spy kings or Remy Rascals, but if you piss us off you risk your...” She snickered. “Look, someone little always hates someone big. And unless you don't eat, sleep or piss, you're never far from someone little. So, we help and everyone's happy.” “Could you repeat that middle part?”, Cullen asked in all honesty and gained laughter. Sera stuck her tongue out ot Vivienne while Ellana nodded at the noble. When she opened her mouth to speak, Sera leaned forward. “Strawberry pie. Whipped cream. Chocolate sauce. Three layers!” Vivienne went through her speech as quickly as possible.

When it was Dorian's turn to introduce himself, Solas understood what Blackwall meant. The man stressed every word as if he expected the group to throw flowers. Solas bit his lower lip until he noticed he looked tense. Out of all people he could've come across, it had to be this one. For his own speech, he mostly used the story he told Lady Nightingale. He was aware that her eyes scanned him as he spoke, but he wasn't the only one to be vague with his backstory. Cullen, Blackwall and of course the Tevinter had been superficial in this case, too. By all happiness, this was another game. Varric came right after him as the last one of the group. He was one of the few who were comfortable with this game and also already known by most members.

As the last round of applause faded, Ellana clapped her hands over her head and colourful sparks rained down onto the guests. “May the feast begin!”, she announced happily. Servants hurried into the room, bringing plates and bowls that were filled to the brim. Josephine excitedly listed all the meals she had ordered for this evening. It was a diligent selection of meat, fried vegetables, baked and candied fruits, bread rolls, cheeses and sweets, all served in one course. Sera grabbed a plate, but Blackwall held onto it before she could lift it. It was a delicious looking pile of whipped cream, honey, nuts and berries. Sera plucked a strawberry out of the cream and shoved it into her mouth, grinning. Blackwall eventually let go of the plate. Vivienne didn't grant the scene any glances.

Solas helped himself to his meal while chatting with The Iron Bull, who told him, Varric and Blackwall about the events in Redcliffe, occasionally with disgusted comments by Sera. When the Tevinter joined the conversation, he proceeded to Cassandra, surprised that he got away with it so easily. Pavus seemed to avoid him as well. Perhaps he had the decency to not make a scene. He showed no other attempts to use the odds for his advantage, either. His intentions obviously lay elsewhere. Perhaps that was worse.

Dorian, however, only felt vindicated. Exactly what he had feared did happen, because it was simply how it always went. The elf didn't look at him or speak to him at all and avoided him so cleverly, he might've done this before. Dorian could almost convince himself that he was lucky because he didn't become the laughingstock of the group and their night would forever be forgotten. The fact that the whole event had been highly unusual, not only because of the glow, remained engraved in his mind.

[toschiworlds]

5 comfort characters & 5 tags

Thank you so much for tagging me @sonderlativ​

I put this under a cut because it ended up being a litter longer and I don't want to just put a wall of a post on someone’s dash. So, in no particular order, my comfort characters are:

Nero (Devil May Cry)

It was a head to head race to the finish line between Nero and Vergil but I ultimately picked Nero simply because I can relate to him more. Absent fathers, not a whole lot of friends growing up, more or less ignored/disliked by most people around you, wacky uncles. I just like him a lot. And if I keep talking, I might dive into some very personal stuff that I’m not necessarily comfortable discussing openly.

Princess Zelda (Breath of the Wild, Tears of the Kingdom)

*quick disclaimer: I won’t mention anything about TotK here because it’s only been out for little over a week and I don’t want to spoil anything for people who haven’t completed the game yet*

Boy, where do I even start? Zelda spends the majority of her childhood and teenage years under extreme pressure to awaken her bloodline’s abilities and while she understands that it’s important, she just wants to study the ancient Sheikah tech. She wants to do what makes her happy but can’t because the entire world depends on her. Which leaves her severly stressed and if that isn’t a mood and a half I don’t what is. Wanting to do something you love but not being able to. While this is not my favourite incarnation of the character (that honour goes to Skyward Sword Zelda), she is definitely the one I understand the best in terms of stress and heavy expectations.

Erik (Dragon Quest 11)

Words cannot express how much I love Erik. He’s literally the best character in the entire game. His arc is amazing and heartbreaking. He is there from almost the beginning and stands with the main character without question, leaving behind his life of crime for not entirely altruistic reasons at first but staying because he really does want to help. I love how he rolls with the punches, looks at all the weirdness of a JRPG and goes ‘this is so weird, you know that? But we’re doing it anyway’. And he is a real doofus at some points. 

(I also happen to ship him with the MC).

Natural Harmonia Gropius (Pokémon Black/White, Black2/White2)

Ok, here we are. My OG blorbo. The one I’ve had for far longer than the others. This man has been living in my head rent free ever since I first played Gen 5. At the core of his being, N just wants to do good and help pokémon, protect them from abuse but the man who raised him just uses him for his own gains and made him think that all pokémon who are not living in the wilds away from humans are being mistreated. Over the course of the first game, he begins to understand that this might not be as true as he thought it was through his friendship/rivalry with the player character and seeing how much their team loves them. Then years later, N is able to stand up to his father and not only saves the new protagonist from being killed but also helps to end Team Plasma’s plans for good (more or less anyway, his arrival did enable part of the climatic battle). Also, he can literally talk to pokémon and understand them. I just adore his development over the games so much.

And last but not least, I’m gonna cheat a little and include an OC of mine because you can’t stop me

Morgan Julian Hale (D&D, and so many other things at this point)

Morgan started out as my very first dnd character and has since then cemented himself as a personal favourite, having been put into a lot of my favourite worlds over time. When I wrote his original backstory, I didn’t realise how much a self-insert I made him. I only figured that out when a friend literally pointed it out to me. Morgan was raised by a single mother, is a social outcast and not really a people person. Give him a book and he’ll be good for the rest of the day, leave him around people and he’ll shut down faster than you can blink. The last part being incredibly funny when considering that he’s a sorcerer, a class that uses the charisma stat primarily. He’s also being hunted by a cult that wants his magical dragon blood. I don’t know what part of my psyche is represented by that and at this point I’m too afraid to ask. (Also, the picrew didn’t have an option for pointed ears but just fyi, he’s a half-elf)

Honourable mentions: obv Vergil who just barely didn’t make it, Byleth from Fire Emblem - Three Houses and Dorian Pavus from Dragon Age Inquisition.

As for tagging, @queenmuzz​ and since I don’t know anyone else well enough to feel comfortable tagging them I’m just gonna open this up to anyone who wants to jump in.

[hxntresses]

The Stray

Name – Calico Felina Age – 18 (V1-3), 20 (currently) Race – Faunus (Cat) Height – 5'6" Affiliation – Vale branch of the White Fang (V1-5), none (currently) Occupation – Thief, spy, infiltrator (V1-5), wanderer (currently)

Semblance – Camouflage: Calico can activate a state of camouflage over her body, allowing her to visually blend into her surroundings. Whilst standing still she may be virtually invisible, but whilst moving, a trained eye may detect a shimmer or ripple effect.

Personality – Calico, like Emerald, tends to act nice to people in order to gain their trust. She tends to be nicer towards her fellow Faunus, not being very fond of humans, though her attitude shifts over time. She can be sassy and sarcastic, as well as sometimes cruel. She enjoys to tease people. Despite this, Calico is rather clever. She tries her best not to provoke those who could easily take her down, knowing how to size up her opponents and pick her battles. If there is a situation where it would be wiser to run than to stand and fight, she will run so that she can live to fight another day. She relies heavily on her semblance to get her out of trouble, being her most useful trick, and it has rarely let her down.

Backstory –

Calico was born in a lower-class district on the outskirts of Vale, one where life was hard and Faunus were still treated less fairly. Her parents had tried their best to make ends meet, to give their daughter a better life, but after her father was killed during a dispute between rival criminal gangs and her mother passed from illness, Calico was left alone. As an orphaned Faunus child living on the streets, she grew up being called names, having things thrown at her, having to steal food or eat from dumpsters to stay fed. Not once had she come across a human who was nice to her. They would walk past, blind to the suffering she was going through. Nobody helped her, nobody offered their spare change. She grew up unloved, without friends and without compassion. Her semblance unlocked during this time, giving her the stealth she needed to ensure her survival.

At some point in her early teens, she came across a White Fang faction meeting. Their words and their promises inspired her, and so she joined the Vale branch. With her existing skills of stealth and thievery from growing up on the streets, she was trained as a spy and infiltrator. Once she was ready to start running missions, they decided to assign her a partner. Flynn Reynard - a cocky fox Faunus who loved tricks and showing off. At first, they didn’t really get along. They argued a lot, but eventually - as they got more comfortable with each other - the arguing turned into playful banter.

One year before the events of V1, Calico and Flynn were given a new mission. They were to be sent to Anima to take Haven Academy's entrance exam and become students there, allowing the White Fang to have spies inside who would then feed back information about goings on in Mistral and anything that might be useful to the organisation. The first year was uneventful, but Calico did find herself somewhat... enjoying her time there, more than she thought she would. It was the first time she had been surrounded by kinder, more honourable people. During their second year, they attended the Vytal Festival Tournament with their team, and were there when Beacon fell. Even though she knew this was the plan, Calico couldn't help feeling somewhat saddened, conflicted. Their status as White Fang spies was outed once they refused to assist in the fighting, and both fled to regroup with their organisation, leaving their devastated teammates behind.

Whilst the White Fang were beginning to fall back after the arrival of the Wyvern, Calico and Flynn were pursued by beowolves on their way to the nearest airship. Calico, being smarter, quickly activated her semblance and made her getaway into the ship. Flynn however, who wanted to show off and pull one of his many tricks out of his sleeve, was struggling to evade them even with his multitude of strategies. The beowolves eventually caught him, and Calico was forced to watch him struggle in vain as the airship pulled away. Calico was devastated at the loss of her partner, her friend, but she knew she would have little time to grieve.

She continued to work with Adam Taurus's branch for a few months, remaining with them only because she had nowhere else to go - wanted to believe that what they were doing was the right thing for their people - but upon seeing Adam's descent into madness, the murder of High Leader Khan, the desertion of their people during the attack on Haven... She could no longer justify any of it. She no longer felt the desire to enact revenge on humanity - she just wanted to live in peace and, perhaps, find her true calling.

She evaded capture at Haven that night, and ever since has been laying low in Anima - unsure if people were looking for her, but nevertheless trying to never stay in one place for too long. She travels from village to village, picking up jobs wherever she can, aiding people when the opportunity presents itself. Still occasionally resorting to stealing and trickery to get by, though never calling too much attention to herself. Alone, conflicted, but at least she's alive.

[sir-tarhos-et-compagna]

Wish to know something more about the Ottomans and their descendants dear sir?

Well you would not like it but in 1453 A.D they did the impossible and conquered Constantinople, thus ending the Byzantine Empire and went on from the nomadic tribes of old to the most powerful Empire Eastern Europe had ever seen. Going as far as conquering lands in North Africa and many territories owned by the old Roman Empire. It wasn't until 1683 when there dreams of conquering all of Europe ended in disaster in the Battle of Vienna. When the Ottomans thought they could conquer the city, they were routed by the Winged Hussars of Poland. The most heavily armed and elite cavalry force Europe had ever seen. What made the Winged Hussars deadly was that all were of noble blood and were trained straight from childhood. In an age where gunpowder and firearms were starting to make armored knights obsolete, the Winged Hussars did the unthinkable and charged at the vulnerable flank of the Ottoman army. In the biggest Cavalry Charge the world had ever seen. 18,000 horseman charged the besieging Ottomans. In an era where gunpowder and firearms were common place, the Winged Hussars despite their loses charged on and smashed the Ottoman Army. So effective was the charge and so high were the Ottoman casualties that they fled.

The Winged Hussars cemented their legendary status in Polish History and to this day are revered and respected by the Polish People. And they are remembered for saving Europe from Ottoman expansion.

As for the Ottomans themselves, they never expanded again but would last until 1921 A.D and is remembered for being one of the longest lasting empires of all time. They last d for 6 Centuries. In the coming decades and centuries however they would lose more territory to rival empires and in one final hurrah, they would participate in what my people call, 'The First World War' which was considered as the war that ended the era of Empires. The Ottomans and their allies would eventually lose but not before committing one of the most heinous acts in history. During the War, they started the systematic deportation and murder of ethnic Armenians. the Armenians for centuries were despised by the Turks and Ottomans as a whole and were suspected of supporting the enemies of the empire. As a result many were left to starve and die in the deserts of Arabia and Syria. How many died Sir Tarhos? It's believed that 1 to 1.5 million Armenians died in what became known as 'The Armenian Genocide'.

What makes things worse?

Even today, the descendants of the Ottoman Empire or present day Turks still downplay the events and at times deny that such a horrible atrocity took place. Their schools likely never teach their children of the true scale of the carnage.

Today, the Turks and their nation are a shadow of what it used to be but the remnants of their past empire and those of their enemies still remain. Even today, the Turks and the Greeks are still bitter rivals over control for territory and the Turks of today want some Greek islands for their own while the present day Greeks wish that Constantinople was theirs once more.

Thou remindeth me of Vittorio... in a good sense. T'is curious how human nature nev'r changeth despite seemingly progressing. Doth it define, though, the direction of change? I think so. People of new age developed means to annihilate all life, yet remaining as mortal, vulnerable and flawed as people of my age. Creation for destruction without honour and virtue meaneth doom. No gods or even The Entity shalt spell the judgment day... but men. Thou mention'd million of victims in one country... thousand thousands... I think this many victims some countries had during Black Death... impressive, but not even surprising. For war... War nev'r changeth.

[lauvra]

I'm realising in different contexts that closure comes from within ourselves. It's not enough to hear that said, I need to understand what an internal solution looks like. I'm speaking to a friend whose partner has broken up with them, they're wondering how possibly to move on without closure. Dr. Beth Ribarsky says, “Closure might vary from person to person. However, closure ultimately is an understanding and acceptance that a relationship has ended and often includes a rationale for why it ended.” I ask what closure looks like to my friend because if a man says they don't want to be with me, I'm out, far too proud to reason. Sometimes a couple come together again stronger -- I've experienced that to beautiful ends, but often the relationship has simply been plugged into a life support system and croaks once one or both of you are finally finished with it. It's hardest when there's still romantic love, we can't make sense of why that isn't enough especially when combined with an ongoing desire to possess. We want the security of a binding 'through sickness and health' pact provided by tradition. We know we aren't perfect; want to be loved anyway, we know our partner isn't perfect but love them anyway. We beg; stay. I want to fix my friend's heart. They understand why it ended, but don't accept it. I'm a romantic, fearing often we don't fight hard enough for those we've loved and lost -- but I don't say this, knowing we should pick our battles with a prudence that is, during turmoil, made either unavailable or too painful to regard let alone live by. I consider all my past relationships and whether I felt closure; if so, what it looked like. I reason, I've had relationships end over text message that felt resolved, but I'd been primed for their end. So closure is not determined wholly by delivery. My last one ended before I was ready for it, but knew it needed to. I knew why, but didn't accept it. Knowing it had to happen was of no consolation, I was devastated, which is precisely why it lived on in my heart and drove me to pen so many pieces inspired by that person. I was and was not moving on and though distanced, spent years writing devotionally and in that sense, it was as if he never left. Whether that approach were right or wrong, whether it hindered my capacity to love somebody new, I was compelled. Each time I was surely done, more would come. I still loved the person, knowing nobody else would hit the spot and stayed alone, processing (worrying it would last forever) and working (worrying it was useless) to develop into someone who could love again humanely. I stopped trying to escape pain, wrote to honour the lessons available there, and in doing, found treasures I'd buried within. I've stumbled upon a kind of bliss where no more information is required to accept what's been. I have closure because I understand why it didn't work, that it needed to end and now I accept it. There's no hack. Reflecting on this makes me sad only because I don't want this prolonged suffering for my friend, but I know that I'm grateful for mine, for all my time in limbo. I am a better person for it, less prone to self-destruction, no longer dependent on approval, more creative and have realised the stakes in dating; how to respect somebody, be respected and be honest in ways I couldn't before. I've been alone long enough to know not only that I can be, but that I cherish my own company; that I like myself and still will if somebody doesn't or does and still needs to leave. If I like myself, I don't go where a shadow of doubt is cast upon whether I should. I know my words won't make much difference, that the only path out is? I come to the truth that there's no immediate hack for coming to acceptance, it's earned through an individual journey that looks different for everybody. I do know from experience that it helps (significantly) to have at least one friend in your corner who knows you deeply, loves you beyond condition and is willing to insist as many times as you need to hear it that: you are not doomed.