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fallendev0tionvn · 7 days ago

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Im slow.. when it comes to lore of Clive lmao but hey its interesting, so may i ask what's Nietzsche philosophy.. so like i can watch his philosophy, so i can understand! :D

i've been stalking your account to understand Clive but I just realize i am slow when it comes to lore LMAOO, oneee... question that is a Slight NSFW (Maybe..?), is Clive gentle when it comes of Him and MC do it for a first time?

(i just realized i change topic to add one question which is not related to Clive's lore :P)

I'll answer the second question first, Clive is always gentle! He only wants to bring you pleasure, not pain. The only time he gets a little rough is when he's feeling jealous🏃‍♀️.

ANYWAY.

I'm SORRY for the person I'm about to become, but get ready for a LONG yapping session (I was Dostoevskij in my past life) that probably won't make sense (keep in mind that I wanted to be either a comic artist, a psychologist or a philosophy professor...explains a lot). Half of this is from my notes when I was studying for my graduation exam💀

First of all Nietzsche is one of the most misunderstood philosophers. Why? He's either "idolized" by those red pill/looksmaxxing guys without realizing that he actually goes against their morals, or edgy wannabe "nihilists" for the quote "God is dead." (Nihilism is a form of extreme pessimism, in simple terms, it's the belief that there's no true meaning in life, nothing can be known or communicated. But if Nietzsche is telling you to destroy the old meanings of life TO create your own instead of listening to what others say, would he still be considered a nihilist? Sure, active nihilism is a thing- but in my opinion he is NOT a nihilist).

His philosophy has also been used historically for the worst things that I won't even mention. Why? his sister edited some of his last unfinished works based on HER own beliefs when he ended up in the asylum. Many think he was a "....", when- let's be real and study a bit of history- if Nietzsche's mental health deteriorated the year THAT political figure was born (1889), how could he possibly be associated with him? Literally, tf.

The reason for this is because I think many don't read or study his philosophy in the correct order, nor do they know the timeline of his ideas.

To understand the concept of the "Übermensch", you have to start from the very beginning, when he first mentions the Dionysian and Apollonian spirits- the übermensch is supposed to bring back the rebirth of the "tragic spirit". (Übermensch= overman, the highest version of oneself a person can become, the "better" version of you, basically).

What key concepts did I take inspiration from? (I say inspiration because not everything is directly related to Nietzsche, I started from his main concepts to create characters, lore etc.)

ETERNAL RETURN:

(Bad ending: The cycle ends here)

See Clive's necklace? The symbol on his bicep and the main menu? The ouroboros.

It's such a deep concept and it asks: "What if every moment of your life had to repeat itself endlessly, in the exact same way, forever?"

This means everything, every pain, every joy, every regret, would return again and again and again. This NOT about whether it's scientifically true, we don't know if we're destined to relive the same life after death. It's a thought experiment, a way to ask yourself "would I still want to live my life if I knew I'd relive my worst moments forever? How would I act?"

If your answer is no, you're not affirming your existence. If yes, you're embracing life fully. In a way, you'd try to be more yourself and live with fewer regrets, right?

DIONYSIAN VS APOLLONIAN:

(The intro of the game, Silas and Clive's conversation)

To simplify it: Think of the two hemispheres of the brain.

Right brain = Dionysian (chaos, passion, music, imagination, intuition, emotion). This side is emotional, creative, raw, deeply human. It's the spirit Nietzsche believed humanity lost.

Left brain = Apollonian (logic, structure, rules, order). This side is rational, clear, less human.

Why did Nietzsche use greek gods to describe this? Because he rejected the "classical and elegant" image of Greece we learn about in school. To him, archaic Greece was the perfect society because it embraced chaos, suffering, and the tragic. (That's why I added greek mythology :3)

He also saw greek tragedy (a form of ancient drama/theatre that expresses human suffering, fate, and moral conflict) as the perfect fusion of the Apollonian and Dionysian. This fusion created a form of art that embraced life in all its beauty and suffering.

With Socrates (ancient greek philosopher), the Dionysian spirit was killed. We began to exalt reason over everything, meaning everything had to be explained, justified, or made logical. This made humanity obsessed with truth and control, disconnecting us from the fullness of life.

"And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music."

Clive tried to force himself to lean more towards the Apollonian, he suppressed his emotions, tried to follow "moral rules", and tried to look "normal".

To explain the change between his younger self and current self there's an iconic quote:

"Become who you are" In the sense that in life, we constantly follow models that are necessary- because we grow through imitation. Children grow by watching, by imitating. But then, we must detach from this imitation and become who we truly are, a process of self reckoning.

After his "death", Clive starts being himself. There's a balance now, but you can still influence him to lean more towards his Dionysian or Apollonian side.

To live a full, healthy life, we need to embrace both sides:

"The tree that grows to heaven must send its roots to hell."

GOD IS DEAD:

(Who helped Clive?)

Nietzsche's most misunderstood quote.

Saying "God is dead", as he writes, implies that God once existed, or at least, that he was once central to the way humans explained the world. After all, only something that has existed can die; things that have never existed don't die. That's why Nietzsche has this declaration spoken not by an atheist, but by a madman. The atheist and the believer ARE part of the same system aren't they? One says "yes", the other says "no", but they're both within the same structure of thought, a world where God is STILL a reference point.

The madman on the other hand, speaks from outside that system. When he says "God is dead", he's not just denying the existence of God- he's saying that the world is no longer ORGANIZED around God. There was a time when everything was explained through God, when God gave order and meaning to existence. But today, that's no longer the case.

We must understand that Nietzsche, often read in an oracular and overly dramatic way, is actually a profundly coherent philosopher. His thinking is rigorous; If churches are now empty, if they became museums, tombs for god (visiting them for the "Affreschi", example: "La cappella sistina"), it's because he is dead. We killed him, or more precisely, we forgot him- because already with the scientific revolution, and even earlier with Renaissance, man placed himself at the center. We no longer live in a world explained through God, but through human reason, science and self determination. (That's why I chose literally the "forgotten God" from greek mythology. If you figure out who he is, you'll learn he actually died.)

Now if you want to learn more about Nietzsche:

His philosophy goes through THREE major phases;

- The youthful phase: Influenced by Schopenhauer (another amazing philosopher, highly recommend reading about him too), celebrated ancient greece, wrote "The Birth of Tragedy", Introduced the Apollonian and Dionysian spirits.

- Enlightment phase: Distanced himself from religion and idealism, embraced critical thinking, dismantled traditional values, wrote "Human, All Too Human".

- Mature phase: Developed his core concepts -> eternal return, übermensch, death of god, wrote "Thus Spoke Zarathustra" "On the genealogy of Morality" "Ecce Homo"

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princehendir · 2 years ago

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#not the cock ring necklace. varric core. (via @hale-of-stiles-heart)

Mean To Me..............

Hobbyless. Wenchless. Forsaken. Beastlike.

#sniffles. you KICK ashland. you kick ashland in their lucky ouroboros necklace. jail. jail.#(lighthearted)

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r0tting-rat · 6 months ago

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DCA PROMPTOBER 2024

Can I please talk about my God AU? Please please please the worldbuilding is simply delicious please

Day 13 - Night

Pairing: God!Moon x GN reader Warning: None Words: 2400+ Summary: You're a thief and Moon is the God protector of thieves and liars. You strike a deal.

On Ouroboros, a world of wolves, lions, sheep and bunnies, you were a fox. Sly, cunning, evasive and stealthy, a jack of all trades but master of none, doing everything it took to survive no matter the cost. You stole, mostly, and did odd jobs, but for a reason or another everyone in the region knew your name. Or, to be fair, one of your many names. You had made up many aliases during the years—many of which were still spoken like a curse, along with insults and blasphemies—and you would continue to create new ones for each name that would get reported to the guards.

You were wanted in many cities, looked down upon in multiple villages and beloved by… none, actually. The authorities of each place you had visited in the past had been given orders to arrest you on sight—dead or alive, no one really cared—and for that reason you feared you would need to flee the region of Lumen soon. A pity, honestly, because you were beginning to grow fond of the infinite plains of green grass, immense forests and prosperous cities, but you had to leave them behind and all because of a misunderstanding. You hadn’t stolen the King’s ring, not at all! He had actually hired you to retrieve it after it had been taken by a group of bandits. The king promised you a fortune were you to succeed, but something went wrong while you were rummaging through the criminals’ bags and most recent loot. The ring wasn’t there, but you found many other jewels in the mix which you knew had been stolen along with the ring. You guessed it could have been lost, or maybe they had already sold it, but you thought the king wouldn’t complain too much about it, so you brought back the whole bag. Inside were tiaras, necklaces and golden coins, all belonging to the king and queen of Lumen, but between them there was no ring.

The old man sitting on the throne had stared at you, eyes filled with venom, as you told him everything.

-It just wasn’t there, believe me, they must have sold it already,- you shrugged, pretending not to see the animosity of the guards surrounding you and pointing their polearms at your throat.

-Do you even know the importance of that ring, thief?- spat the king, but you shrugged once more.

-Not really,- you replied, -Was it a gift from your wife or something?-

-That ring,- hissed the monarch, -Has the seal of Lumen on it! It has been passed from generation to generation of kings and queens, it has been used to sign laws and documents ever since this city was built, that ring alone is older than history!-

Despite his age, the man stood from his throne to tower over you, imposing in all of his regal glory, and looked at you like you were a mere cockroach which had learned the human language.

-That ring was a gift from the Sun God to my ancestor, it is proof of the divinity of my role, and I don’t believe you.- The king’s words were spoken in a hateful hiss.

-What?- you asked, taken aback, -What do you mean?-

-I said that I don’t believe you. What I think is that not only you knew about all of this already, but you have also decided to steal it from me and lie so blatantly about it being “sold” away.- Your eyes darted to the doors of the large atrium, trying to remember if they had been closed behind you after you entered, but the more you thought about it the more you began to panic. -Guards, arrest this thief!-

Before the king could finish barking orders you turned around and ran as fast as you could towards the only exit, slamming your shoulder against the wooden doors decorated with golden flowers and praying they would open. The Luck Goddess was once again on your side and you managed to slip out before any of the guards could lay their hands on you, and before anyone knew it you stole the first horse you found—a beautiful white mare belong to the queen, who had just returned from a stroll—and you left the golden castle behind you.

Just hours later, at the border between Lumen and Umbra, the neighboring region, you jumped off the horse and took a break from riding. There was no time to waste, you knew it well, the king would have your severed head severed on a plate if you didn’t leave immediately, but you needed some time to catch your breath, and you also had a plan to escape. If you managed to leave Lumen you could restart from scratch in the region of Umbra, under a new name, maybe you could even find a dignified job and put an end to your life as an outlaw! The king’s guards couldn’t follow you in the other region, if you crossed the border you would have been safe from them.

Unfortunately, humans couldn’t cross the wild borders between the two regions due to a magical wall that separated the land in two perfectly identical portions, and the only way to cross said barrier was through official roads. Those roads however were guarded on both sides by armed guards, who checked every carriage and requested a permit for each person and animal being transported. Why animals as well? Because of shapeshifters, of course.

That option was completely out of the picture, many people before you had already tried and failed to cross the border via road. Invisibility, faking a permit, corrupting the guards; nothing worked, and you didn’t want to risk being taken back to the king were you discovered. During your many hours of riding however you had remembered about some legends you had heard in the city slums. People spoke of a man, many years before, who had managed to cross the wild border unscathed, after making a deal with the Sun God. Said man was a musician who had been accused of casting a spell on the queen and making her fall in love with him, so he had fled the capital city of Umbra looking for an escape route. At dawn he stopped running and sat on a rock, admiring the sky, and he began to play his lyre, certain that his time was coming to an end.

The legend said that, right as the first rays of the beloved Sun began to peek through, a man clad in a white hood stood in front of him, attracted by the beautiful music. The musician didn’t stop playing despite being terrified of the figure, which towered over him with its inhuman height, but suddenly the hooded stranger spoke to him in a gentle voice.

-You are talented, human,- the voice rumbled in the air, coming from everywhere around him, -You wish to cross my border, don’t you?-

The musician found the strength to answer soon after, bowing his head as he recognized the God standing before him.

-Yes, my Lord,- he spoke, trembling like a leaf, -I have been accused of a crime I didn’t commit by the tyrant of Umbra, there is no place for me here anymore.-

-A crime? Which crime have you allegedly committed, my humble servant?-

-Adultery!- replied the man, -They claim I have used sorcery on the queen, making her fall for me with my music, but I have done no such thing!-

The God hummed, and from under His hood a gentle smile blessed the eyes of the musician.

-I am the Sun. Love, music and passion are all part of my domain, so I understand your troubles well. Play a game with me, human, if you win I’ll allow you to cross my border.-

The legend didn’t say which game the two played. It could have been chess, a game of cards, no one knew, the only thing the legend tells is that the musician won, and the Sun God allowed him to leave Umbra and his crime behind. People began to speculate that the Sun God and the Moon God walked the mortal realm during the dawn and dusk, but those that tried to search for Them were rewarded with nothing whatsoever.

As you sat under a tree, looking at the iridescent hues of the magical threshold in front of you, you wondered if it had anything to do with being “worthy” of seeing the Gods. Night was beginning to fall, the Sun was setting in the horizon and from your spot in the soft grass you could see a myriad of stars illuminating the darkening sky.

☆

You weren’t sure of when it happened, but you fell asleep. You dreamed of nothing, waking up less than 10 minutes later to a full night sky and a cloaked figure standing before you. You screamed, startled, and immediately your hand flew to your belt, closing around the handle of your dagger. Your wide eyes couldn’t understand what you were seeing, it felt similar to reading in a language you didn’t speak, but your brain was trying to make sense of what was before you nonetheless.

The stranger had a dark hood littered by silver and golden dots, like a piece of the sky had been taken and sewn into the fabric, but the rim of the cloak turned into something akin to vapor when it reached the ground. The fabric which at first reminded you of satin looked almost alive, moving like black sand in the desert during a storm, and just looking at it for too long made you feel dizzy. The figure was way taller than you, forcing you to crane your neck to look at it, but under the hood you saw no face. Still, you felt watched.

The stranger didn’t say a word, you simply stayed there and stared at each other, so you understood that he was waiting for you to speak.

-Am I in the presence of the Moon God?- you asked in a feeble voice, -I… I wish to cross Your border and enter Umbra.-

-What do you think you can give me in return?- asked the hooded being, and his voice was so profound it seemed like it came from the ground under you. You stayed there, puzzled for a moment, before realizing that there wasn’t going to be any game. You weren’t in the presence of the Sun, after all—you were standing before the everlasting Moon.

-I don’t have much,- you said, -But I promise to do what it takes to pay You back, if You let me escape, my Lord.-

-So you’re asking me a favor based on… a promise?- He laughed, -Don’t you know that promises made by a thief and a liar are less worthy than a handful of dirt?-

-My Lord, are You not the patron God of thieves, liars and wanderers?- you asked, showing far more bravery than you actually had. In reality, you were shaking in your boots just by standing in front of a creature like Him. -Don’t you protect those who walk under your night sky?-

-I’m the God of many things, mortal,- He replied, and you could feel the irritation in the Moon God’s voice beginning to rise, -What you mentioned is just part of my domain. I am the patron God of liars, but I’m also the Law and Justice, or do you not remember?-

You took a step back, ready to flee in case the situation turned sour, but the mist falling from the God’s hood began to envelop you, pulling you closer and making you shiver.

-I protect those who act hidden by the shadows of the Night I bring, that which you call “Luck” and “Fortune” has been me all along. I have protected you from the harm others may have caused you but I will not stand in the way of justice, for that will be simply the consequences of your own actions.- The God looked down upon you, and your hands lost their grip on the dagger you were holding. You had never felt so afraid in your life, and soon found yourself on your knees in the wet grass.

-Please,- you begged, -I’ll pray, I’ll make sacrifices in your name and forever be devoted if You let me cross, my Lord! I’ll lead a honest life!-

For the first time in your life, ever since you were small, you weren’t lying, and considering the domain of the God you were speaking to you were sure that He was also aware of that. Still, the idea of it seemed to amuse Him greatly, for He began to laugh loudly. Shocked, you stayed still, on your knees, and waited for the divine being to stop taunting your desperation. You uttered a last, choked “please”, which went unheard in the chaos around you.

-Foolish, oh, so foolish of you!- the Moon God barked, -If you so desperately want safety, then so be it! I’ll save you from an imprisoned future, but I demand a payment.-

The God pulled the hood of his cloak back, revealing His form to you and blinding you with the ethereal beauty of immortality. His dark blue skin gleamed, iridescent like the most precious pearl, and His hair—straight and white—were so long they must have reached His waist. The eyes were red, beautiful and haunting, but the face was a half-blue and half-white mask. He spoke, words came out in His deep voice, but His lips didn’t move, not a muscle did. His expression remained unchanged, stern and serious as it had been ever since the Beginning, just His eyes betrayed His real emotions, and what He was feeling in that moment was amusement.

-You will come with me, human,- he ordered, -You will work as a servant for me and my brother, that is the payment I request in exchange for the safety I will give you.-

Large, beautiful hands covered by silver chains came to grab your chin, tilting your head up and stopping your lips from quivering. His touch was cold, so cold, but at the same time it filled you with joy, elating like a drug.

-Do we have a deal, my pet?- said the Moon God, -What place is more safe than the side of a God?-

The Moon was offering you more than anyone in the world would have asked for, He was giving you on a silver platter things any other humans would have killed to have, and you…

You looked in his eyes, of the same color of blood, and swallowed. You agreed.

-Okay,- you croaked, -Deal.-

-Good,- purred the God, -Very good.-

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lineffability · 1 year ago

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The Serpent Files 🐍

chapters: 5/5 rating: M/E wordcount: 13.9k au: human, the magnus archives

summary: Aziraphale works as the head archivist at Eden Institute. Crowley has been supplying them with potentially cursed artifacts over the years -- until he himself gets entangled in a case that turns him from associate to client...

[ art credit and support credit and 1000 hugs to: @chernozemm my beloved ]

start reading:

“Ouroboros. Yes. The introductory statement is meant to be concise, though, akin to a title. You can describe the necklace in detail in your statement, Crowley. Also, I need you to state your name. It occurs to me I don't actually know it. I mean. I'm not saying I want to know your full name, or anything. Just, all these years– erm. You'd have to state it anyway. For formality's sake. We have a system.”

“Sure. So. Name's Crowley.”

“I… know that part. [sighs] Full names, please, throughout.”

“Ah. Anthony J Crowley.”

“I said full names, please. What's the J stand for?”

“Erm. Uh. Just a J, really. Thought it added a certain gravitas, y’know, flair. Je ne sais quoi. Makes people treat you serious, a J like that.”

“Uh. Alright. Well. Anthony J. Crowley, then. I suppose. Seriously? [clears throat] So. Please start from the beginning.”

“Mmmmhhhh wellll. I’ve been coming to Eden for, what, now, six years maybe?”

“I believe so. Yes.”

“Anyway, not like I go here often. We’ve met a handful of times, you and me, maybe nine, ten? I mean, it was ten times. I know. Uh. Not like I counted or anything. Just, coming here, it stays with you a bit, doesn’t it? All that occult shit. Which is why I come here, of course. I’m – what should I call it? A… supplier. Of sorts. I work with – this is confidential, right?”

“Yes. Internal use only. We don’t give out those files. Your words are safe with me. Erm. Us.”

“Good. Right. I work with the Doomsday Group. Can’t really talk about it much, but you’ve heard of them. Shady stuff, crime, theft, trade, religious artifacts, apocalyptic jazz, all that. Supernatural stuff, too, sometimes. Or claimed supernatural. You know I don’t believe in all that. Well. Didn’t. I didn’t believe in it. Now… uh, anyway. Sometimes we get those weird artifacts, right, apparently cursed, so I bring them to you, to, to check, or verify, or call bullshit. Or to lock them away, or whatever you do with them when you buy them off our lot. That’s how we met. Best part of this shit job, really, if I’m being honest. I didn’t ask to be– hm. Wish I could just– ngh. Confidential, right? Wish I could just be done with them. Run off. Can’t, though. But erm. Forget I said that, alright? Please.”

[pause] “You're rambling a bit, de- Crowley. Or should I, should I call you Anthony now?”

“Hell no. I mean – Crowley's fine. You've called me Crowley for years, haven't you? What, now you don't like it?”

“No, no, I do in fact quite – well, for propriety’s sake, the official documentation, I thought – nevermind. So, Crowley, while the background information on your…job is reasonable, might I politely remind you why you’re here? Please talk less about our personal relationship, or at least only insofar as it pertains to the case, and more about what happened to you since… since you put on that necklace.”

“Right. Righty-oh. S’ just, never been in this room before. The tape recorder, all that. I’ve only ever been here as a sort of… co-worker? Nah. You’re not my co-worker, you’re better than that. As a tradesman. So to be here as a client , it feels… surreal.”

“That is understandable. I trust you will muddle through, though.”

“Hey – remember the first thing I said when I came here? Today, I mean.”

[continue reading]

#good omens #ineffable husbands #azcrow #good omens fanfiction #my writing #inefficable #the serpent files

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daily-emunene-vitamins · 2 months ago

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EmuNene Vitamin - Day 117

today's vitamin is wedding emunene by ganada_404 on the bird app !! ehehehehe they're so cutee..

#emunene vitamins ˚✩彡 #emunene #otori emu #kusanagi nene #nene kusanagi #emu otori #wonderlands x showtime #wxs #project sekai

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doledition · 1 month ago

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OUROBOROS

A necklace, a girl, and the feeling of vengeance beneath your rotted flesh- this is all you are, now.

( a IWx PC fic i did way back when for @dolmimi for the dolgl halloween event! be warned this version of Ivory Wraith is not meant to be canon compliant-I take artistic liberties in regards to the canon of the game, so do no expect this fic to be extremely in line with canon. TW for descriptions of decaying flesh, depictions of assault, unreality, etc)

kɨnthaβ̃

There was a woman smoking by the beach. She’d been there for fifteen minutes so far, pacing up and down the strip of corpse gray sand, heeled boots squishing with each step. Every few minutes, she’d stop, face the water, and take a long, slow drag of her cigarette. Deep breath in, and she’d hold the smoke for a bit, as though tasting it. Deep breath out a moment later, and the gray vapor would swirl in the cold fog, twirl and twist into the mush colored sky before fading into condensation.

She’d gone through five cigarettes so far like this, simply by pacing the length of the beach. It was a cold day, deep in the heart of winter. The sun’s rays had disappeared, replaced by clouds that rumbled and roiled far above. Heading into December, it usually snowed, a downpour of white covering the town proper. It usually turned into a wet slurry by the end of the day, trampled over by hundreds of boots covered in slick and grime, sludge and piss. No fret though; by the next day, a new fleet of fresh snow had replaced the old, pristine and untouched, glimmering in the dawn.

The beach was one of the only parts of town spared the constant barrage of snow. This was around the time when the fog would roll in from the ocean, thick and heavy, bringing with it the scent of brine and salt. It covered the beach like a thick coat-it felt sluggish to move through in human skin, sticking to flesh with greedy fingers. The air prick, prick, pricked at one’s skin with clumsy, cruel fingers, eager to undo the weak bindings of flesh. You couldn’t see past your own two feet in the fog, so thick was it. It was a perfect cover for all things unseemly, ghastly, with bodies hard and cruel.

No one in town thought of the beach during the winter as a pleasant experience. Of course, there were still parties held there, deep into the freezing night. The occasional dog walker would pass through, dogpeople lapping at their nervous heels, one second away from breaking free of their leashes. The beach wasn’t deserted during the winter (no area in the town was ever truly deserted) but it certainly wasn’t frequented.

The woman, though, had been coming to this one spot on the beach for a week at this point. It was fairly easy to trace her path: first, she’d emerge from the thicket behind the orphanage, the ruined one with dead trees and burned grass from bonfires. Sometimes, her pockets would be laced with arrowheads, foraged berries, roots- she’d look positively medieval, an ardent of a nomadic lifestyle long since lost to Britons. Other times, her fingers would be laced red with blood, and her maw would be wild, white splattered about and a bit of something dried and ugly laced around her neck, glimmering in the sun.

From there, it was one of two options: on the weekdays, she’d walk down a particular formation of alleyways and crosswalks until she came across Connudatus Street. The day market would be forming starting from eight that morning, and she’d always choose the stall at the very back of the formation, facing the intersection between High Street and the Temple. It would always be stocked with fresh produce by the time she got there, farmed from her own hands. Daisies, roses, cabbages and onions, all separated into neat little rows and set out underneath the peppermint striped canopy. Sometimes, she’d bring bottles of baby milk with her, and the bottles would clatter together in the roiling winter wind.

On the weekends, she’d instead walk to the bus station down the road from the orphanage. It had a rust colored awning and glass that held imprints from watery angels, cold to the couch. She’d lean on them, face pressed and turned into the pane, hand shoved tight into her pocket. The bus would rumble in five minutes later and she’d be the first to hop on.

Twenty minutes later, it would stop at Oxford Street, and the woman would get off. Her body would be tiny, curled in as she walked past the ornate iron fence walling off the school and into the adjacent museum. As she walked, her left foot would meet the pavement first, then the right, and then the left, until she’d climbed inside and had slammed the doors behind her shut.

The innards of the museum were scarce, and had been scarce for years now. You didn’t go to the museum to see the three arrowheads locked behind glass cases, or the cabinets that sat undisturbed and filled with dust. You went there for the exhibitions: for the waterboarding, the Spanish Horse, to see a woman writhe and scream, to see a sinner punished for her misdeeds, to see a thief get her due diligence.

Each day at 1pm, she’d take a lunch break. The town was a small town: it didn’t take more than 30 minutes to get from one end to the other. The walk from Connudatus to the beach was 10 minutes, and the walk from Oxford was similarly short. She’d go along a side alleyway, stopping at Sam’s Cafe first to get some sort of lunch before continuing her walk to the beach. It was almost always a fruit salad, except for when she had cash to spare. Then, she’d get a stack of pancakes, laden with pats of butter and syrup. She had a particular spot she liked to sit in: the dark corner near the employee loo, covered in shadows and as far from the shop window as possible. Her eating was quick, sparse. She ate not to enjoy it, but to feed her animal body as fast as she could, before she could poison her lungs with smoke.

Then, it was to the beach. She always smoked the same brand of cigarettes: Lucky Strike Red, and once she’d finished a pack, she’d fiddle with the packaging before launching it into the ocean. The white box would hit the water with a wet smack and would float upon the waves before sinking, and the woman would watch. Her eyes would be dazed and uncaring, fingers fiddling with the dying cigarette clutched in her hand, before sighing and walking away. That box would turn into mush and melt into the water, to be later swallowed by some poor creature and then regurgitated up.

Be it to thieves to not care about such small, superfluous details.

From there, she’d make her way back to work. She didn’t take the bus back in either scenario- instead, she simply walked back, eyes trained on the ground. She’d stay at the market, or the museum, until six. Then, it was to the orphanage, room 4B on the ground floor near the back door which rattled in the wind despite being bolted shut, and with windows that lay cracked in their frames.

The woman would rob others on the way back. It was an indisputable fact of her miserable existence- her fingers would pass over opened pockets, filching at bare wallets and stealing pennies from paupers. When night struck, she’d slip out of the poorhouse and into the houses of Domus, fingers scrabbling against loose change and the last of some struggling mother’s paychecks, all to save her own skin.

Thief, filcher, burglar, grave-robber, cut from a cruel cloth sewn by greed. She had lungs that sucked the air from the sky and left birds to plummet to the ground; eyes that fixated on glimmering, shimmering things, with a burning desire to rip it away; and hands made for deception, for ripping off a strand of silver once placed there lovingly, never to be seen again.

Her wrists were fragile. Thin and weak, like a baby bird's neck. They danced upon the air, twisted against restraints and brusquely knocked back against rushing arms. Her wrists were small enough to fit into the smallest of alcoves, such as the ones buried beneath the Lake surface. The home of the Wraith, defiled and destroyed by wrists and hands such as those, her jewelry box raided and memories snatched away with each stroke up to the surface.

She would pay. Her wrists would shatter, and her body would rip, and she would pay.

Soon.

Ėl

The Ivory Wraith’s body had laid upon the Lake’s ground for millenia.

At first, it had simply laid there in a perfect fullness that spoke neither of rot or decay. To the untrained observer- if they were able to get down to where her body lay- she looked almost as though in a deep sleep, eyelids fluttering and hair floating against the water's currents. The sea creatures were not at all taken by her beauty, however: the fish dared not swim near her, and the seaweed would grow around her body. The water would churn her body around, as though contemplating her taste. In the darkness of the lake ground, she illuminated like a torch, with the wany paleness of the moon.

Now though, the skin had sloughed off into the ground, leaving behind a canvass of frail, brittle bones. The creatures played amongst its burrows, hiding behind the bones made rock. Algae clung among the spires, the green bright against the dirty calcium. The skeleton had been half eaten by the rocks in subsequent years, until only a skull jutted out. Deep inside the tunnels of the lake, the Ivory Wraith’s skeleton had become simply just another rock of the ecosystem, another footnote to grab onto for swimmers to haul themselves up.

The Ivory Wraith couldn’t quite remember what she looked like in life- she remembered long, moon pale hair, that twirled and twisted along the breeze. The Initiate would run her fingers along the strands, twirl them around her fingers into pretty braids, plaits, whatever her heart desired. The Wraith remembered pale skin and freckles emblazoned upon her cheeks, ones the Initiate would count when the two lay in the fields outside the town proper. They’d sit there for so long the Wraith’s skin would burn crimson, and the Initiate would dip her long fingers into pots of salve to smear across her skin. It had stung cold and harsh against the rashes, and after that was done and the Wraith had her fill of complaining, the Initiate would laugh and press her lips against each portion of sun–burnt skin. Her lips would be cracked and each kiss left behind a faint tinge of vermillion on her flesh, stark even against the irritated skin.

The Wraith didn’t remember the smaller details though. She didn’t remember her nose, the shape of the bridge or the way her nostrils would flare out. The Initiate would say that when she was mad her nostrils turned red and fanned like a rooster, and that it was perhaps the cutest part of her. The Wraith had a birthmark on her knee back when she lived- it was gone now in her ghostly form. Any imperfection was gone, burned by Virgo’s feathers off of her skin. It had been shaped like a star, and the Initiate would wish upon it.

The Initiate. She’d had a name. It started with an H- or maybe an A? D? W? Aine, or Fiona? Bronagh? Maeve? None of them invaded her mind, bought her face to face with the Initiate. After all these years, she still remembered her: the way her nose scrunched up in disgust whenever almond milk would be had during the midday meal- she’d hated it, said it tasted like dirt water- or the way her eyes would shine in the dawn, as though absorbing the light around her.

The hill the two used to herd goats on was gone now. With the schism, it had sunk down deep into the lake. The Ivory Wraith couldn’t remember what formation it was now, whether it had become one of the alcove’s many caves or fused with the lake floor. Any identifiable landmark that could be used to discern where it had gone had faded into the coldness of the pond, into the winter sky with each flap of Virgo’s wings.

The Ivory Wraith used to head into town. In the days after their death, when the town was more of a village, they’d stand on what would become the Temple proper for hours. In those days, the Temple was a formation of trees- Sycamore Trees, the ones the acolytes would tend to. It was only later, during the arrival of St. Augustine, were the trees cleared to make way for the Temple. The Ivory Wraith had watched the landscapers tear at the trees and replace them with Apple trees. Soon, they became heavy with pink fruit, and the Ivory Wraith spent days cursing each tree so when the monks would awake the next day to collect the fallen fruit, they found only charred bark and maggot ridden cores.

The Jeweler had been long dead by the time the Wraith had managed to find him. The old man had sought refuge in one of the nearby villages after the Schism, and was moaning weakly in his bed when the Ivory Wraith arrived at his hovel. He had corroded over the years, weak and trembling in his yellow cot. Maggots and flies had overtaken the village, leaking out of each and every house along the way. Above Head, the cloud of volcanic ash that had plagued the world for years, which the Ivory Wraith would later learn hailed from Indonesia, covered the sun like a brutal fist. The crops had all been dead by then, and it was only a matter of time before the people would die too.

The Wraith had used to keep post over the Mausoleum. It had been evacuated sometime in the 19th century, and the creatures inside laid to waste. The Wraith had not found out until the 1930’s, when the streets were filled with wastes and men turned into nomads, booze in one hand and a clenched suitcase in the other.

In their youthful optimism, the Ivory Wraith had appeared at the Mausoleum everyday, praying- to whom she knew not- for another spirit. Another soul, another vagabond such as she. She didn’t know where any of her friends had gone: whether they had survived the Schism, or if they had turned into food for Auriga. Half of the village had fled for greener lands, but the Wraith had stayed.

All they could do was stay, and sit outside the Mausoleum.

One hot Tuesday, a woman had crawled out of the Mausoleum. Flies were eating the crops, and the Wraith’s children were disappearing, one by one, stolen by wandering hands and pushed into the rumbling black beetles that clogged the roads. Her fingers had turned into bloodied messes, and her clothes were half gone, webs entrapping her thighs. Black streaks- mascara, perhaps- cascaded down her cheeks, and her nose was scrunched up, in the same dizzying way the Wraith had remembered of the Initiate. The sun hit her eyes and the rays were consumed by her irises, and the Wraith felt whatever remained of her heart drop into her stomach.

The same woman who had stolen her necklace was crawling out of the Mausoleum, pockets weighed down with riches stolen from the dead corpses of all the Wraith had known and loved long ago, with the face of the Initiate.

The Wraith had dug her bioluminescent nails into the ghoulish wind of her palm and screamed. The wind crashed into the trees and the pond had foamed over, crashing over the shore bed and bursting out of alcoves that had once held mementos of days long gone.

The Wraith didn’t know how long she’d stood there for, just that when they fully came to, the woman was gone and rain was beating the land. The thief, the murderer, the defiler- she was gone.

She had the Initiate's face. And she was gone.

The Blood Moon was at the end of the month. It would bathe the town in its crimson embrace and the Wraith would feel air fill sunken lungs, and her eyes would gain an almost supernatural clarity back to them. And that day, the Ivory Wraith would have her revenge.

It was only a matter of time.

Trɨdɨð

The woman hadn’t slept in two days.

It was the Blood Moon tonight. A wave of crimson had descended upon the town, the stain of blood upon the air. The town at night looked almost like the vip section of Briar’s brothel, with the red filtering through black smoke clouds in rivets. The town looked as suspect from the outside as it was on the inside, finally.

Some out of towners had arrived. For once, they weren’t interested in the town’s ‘trade’, but in the natural phenomena surrounding it. Telescopes, binoculars, sonar technology, the whole nine yards had been installed in the park for them. The revelers that met in the park hadn’t been there the whole past week, and the streets had been swept of their filth just for the occasion.

The woman didn’t give a shit. She’d only seen the outsiders twice- once when their van had pulled into town, clanking up the rubble road, and once in the town proper buying supplies for their stay, towed by a retinue of Remy’s farmherds. Their equipment was worth a pretty penny, more than enough for Bailey’s rent that week. She’d entertained the notion of stealing it- all she’d needed to do was slip off her shirt, show them a bit of skin- but she’d looked into the eyes of one of the women, and her face had been turned into something grotesque, pale with blood red eyes and hydra tentacles and an empty chest where once lay a gem-

Suffice to say, the woman dared not steal from them. In fact, the woman had dared not leave her room. It was locked shut, and a chair had been propped up against the knob. Robin had asked her to open the door, but it had stayed shut, and at some point, Robin had sighed and stopped asking.

There was a tree right outside the woman’s window. The wind had been strong lately, and whistled through the trees' barren branches. Each gust of wind caused a branch to scratch against her window, like nails on chalkboard. They came in three second intervals, long enough for her to pull in a breath and hold it. The air tasted like iron, as though the sky had begun to bleed, and the air was the sticky remains within.

The world always seemed to shift during the Blood Moon. It wasn’t anything perceptible to the naked eye; more of a gut feeling than anything else. The shadows seemed to drag along the walls, turning into slathering beasts with claws that scraped the ground. Food was meatier, juicier, the fats and juices trailing down your chin and to the earth below. The harvest was always better during the blood moon- turnips were ripped out of the ground with gusto, about as heavy as a pumpkin and with shuddering flesh. Berries were succulent, fat, ripe- they popped in your mouth, with a freshness that spoke of spring.

It only lasted a day though, sometimes three. The Blood Moon rushed into town and just as quickly rushed out, gone with a flick of The Head Priests robes. The world would return to normal, and almost shrink, shrivel up like a prune. The woman would sit by her bedside and watch with melancholy as the pale moonlight returned, and pop a berry between her teeth.

Sometimes, she’d go on a walk in the forest during the Blood Moon. Usually, the woman would be inside her room during the late hours of the night, windows locked and buried in between her sheets. The forest during Blood Moon, though, was silent. The creatures of the forest lay in their abodes, hidden from the red reys. The writhing trees and vines lay asleep, their figs ripe and heavy. The babbling brook, the laughing lake, the shivering shore, all lay in a quiet domesticity, a peacefulness that spoke of peaceful mornings and brewed coffee.

The woman liked to sit on the shore and dip her legs into the water below. It was cold, ice cold, and raised goosebumps against her flesh. There was a certain stillness that prevailed in the area, a calm that made the woman flutter her eyes close and untense her shoulders. A faint buzzing could be heard in the air, and when the woman would open her eyes, lightning bugs would be dancing on the blades of grass, and she’d wonder if this was what peace felt like.

She hadn’t left her room in two days. Not for anything: not to use the bathroom, not to get food, nothing. Her nose had gone numb a while ago, but she was sure the stink was overwhelming, overpowering. The water bottles and snacks she’d stashed in her room had all gone to waste, wrappers and cans rolling around the room floor. She hadn’t moved from her bed in hours, and her body felt almost grafted to the sheets.

There was something stalking her. Kylar always stalked her, would always gaze upon her flesh with the look of a hungered dog. The townspeople would follow her sometimes, heckle her and grab at her skin with mirth. Everything in this town seemed to follow her, as though stuck to her like miasma. At some point, she’d become numb to it.

This following was different. It stalked in dark corners, rotated with each phase of the moon. It whispered in the wind, and had arms that sprung from walls. It had faces, thousands of them, and voices to match. Whatever was following her now was far from mortal…far, far from mortal.

She didn’t know when she’d started looking in the mirror. Was she looking in the mirror the whole time? Her reflection had turned dark in the reflective glass, backlit by the stream of red coming from the window. The mirror was dirty, always had been, always will be- she saw no use in wiping it everyday. Maybe twice a week she’d wipe it down, but that was the extent of it. The mirror was clear now, shining and cool, almost wet looking.

There was a woman staring back at her from inside the glass. Her eyes glowed red, and her skin glimmered pale. A long braid of white flickered behind her- no seven braids. Seven braids of white danced behind her head, flicking against the confines of the mirror and slithering against the frame. The scent of salt and brine followed each twitch of the braids, and the woman could swear she saw a barnacle underneath one.

There was a knock at the door. The woman startled, and the reflection in the mirror was gone. Of course it would be gone; it wasn’t real. Just a trick of the light. A sleep addled hallucination, caused by stress and paranoia. She needed sleep. She needed to rest.

But first, the door. It was Robin, or Bailey there to collect money. Maybe another one of the orphans yelling at her about missing her chores. Something normal, expected. Despite how odd the town was, nothing unexpected ever actually happened.

She opened the door. No one. She looked down the hallway, left and right. No one. The hallway lay dim and empty, dismal, the only sound the scratching of the trees upon the window. Some red light seeped into the hallway from beyond her door, casting long, writhing shadows, tentacles sprouting from her back and licking at the door frame. The scent of sulfur filled her room, and distantly, the woman could hear the faint scream of Thief flying upon the wind.

When the woman woke up, she was floating inside a cage. Something pale had grabbed her, slimy and thick upon the water like an oil slick. The reflection from her mirror stared at her like she was a betrayal, a destroyed secret. Her braids were tentacles, whipping against the woman’s skin. Seaweed clung to her arms, and the currents beat down against her chest. Sea Otters, mollusks, fish, krill, barnacles, surrounded her, as though the whole lake ecosystem had come to see her drown. They glowed with a red glow, the glow of the blood moon. Amongst their chattering voices, a whisper of Burglar bit against the salty gloom.

The woman screamed.

Her face felt wet. It might have been tears, or it might have been the water suffocating her- there was no way to tell. The pale figure’s hands burned against her skin, and her tentacles swirled against the woman’s fear stricken flesh. Hard, gripping, as though trying to break into the sinew beneath, to stain the water red with shark feed. The woman felt her chest constrict and she choked back a sob. Her arms beat against the figures frame, but to no avail. She would drown tonight.

The pale figure hissed. Her prodding grew more brusque, sharp, invasive. The figure’s thick arms pried open the woman’s mouth, and saliva streamed past her lips. The pale figure’s fingers were like ice, pale as the moon and slightly freckled. They looked like they’d been crafted years before, from stardust and moonlight.

She was on a hill. It was lush and green, and there was a bushel of Sycamore Trees growing in the distance. A small group of people congregated on the base of the hill, donned in dark brown robes and golden clover necklaces. The sun was bright, and the air smelled of roast duck. Someone was cooking, far below.

Goats pranced below. Gray goats, one, two, three, hightailing over knolls and rocks. Each jump in the air was a sudden spike, and their hoofs made a clack sound against the gray rock. A woman ran down below, chasing after them with the speed of a wild cart. Her robes were the same drab brown as the group below, tied at the waist with a brown cord of felt. Her hair was blinding in the sun; her body was the color of stardust, freckles staining her body like brown paint; her feet, when emerging from behind the hem of her frock, became a blur as she ran across the green expanse. A necklace of solid blue and silver bashed against her chest, and the woman felt a phantom shiver go through her arm.

The pale figure down below glanced up at her. There was a grin on her face, teeth glimmering white in the spring day, and her forehead was slick with pale sweat. Her eyes met the figure’s, and an awareness gleamed inside, a sharp pinprick of knowledge that appeared in a flash and made her red eyes shine all the brighter. The woman’s hand flew up to touch her face as the red ate up the world around them, as smoke hissed into the air and orange flames licked at the braying goats. The ashes floated upon the air, thick and cloying, and the clouds ate her up.

She woke up.

Her bed was wet. The woman lay there, entrapped in her blankets, smelling of slime and rot and wet. The detail she was most cognizant of, besides her numb face and aching torso, was the wetness of her bed. Something inside her felt empty, drained, as though it had been torn open from her chest and consumed. A growing abyss, shaped like an alcove worn into rock, ached inside her. A name resonated from within, a voice from eons before. A spire grew from her spine, and saltwater rioted in her lungs.

The woman didn’t remember if she had a name or not. It felt as though it had washed upon the ocean, buried with one of her cigarette cases into the thrashing waves. The name inside her swelled up, as though eager to answer the query, before sinking back down.

Up- the hallway door began to shake, cave in, transform. Barnacles bloomed upon the coral wall, pink and purple, as a redness began to seep into the room. The wallpaper began to stink, and bruise-like stains appeared on the white cracks. Dirty water began to leak up from the floor, and the woman's face in the dark water had turned into sludge.

Down- the moon outside began to wane. As the water rose, inch by inch, the moon’s reys began to flicker. The red turned into a light pink instead, the color of salmon and pink eye. There was a churning outside, as though the earth was changing course. A humming floated on the breeze, the sound of machinery and weaponry, as pink bled onto trees and roofs.

Up- The water below her rioted. It sprang up high, high as a building, blasting against the roof and splattering on the walls. The dark brown liquid sprayed the woman in the face, and seeped into her mouth. It tasted foul, like sewage, and as she doubled over trying to choke it out, she could swear she heard a laugh, sharp and cruel, ring out into the night.

The walls shook. They began to shrink in on themselves, collapse. She was a doll in a dollhouse, too large for this space. The photo of Robin on her bed stand cracked as the wall rammed into the bed, and her closet fell down onto its side, clothes spilling out onto the filth water below.

The sun peeked outside. Golden reys spiked the town. It rolled over the snow banks outside, awoke the animals from their slumber, and singed the lake shore with its brightness. All the things that thrived in the night had been banished, and the water hissed and dried as the sun touched it. Her eyes glowed, dizzyingly, and she blinked furiously. When her vision cleared up, the water was gone, the laughter had ended, and red eyes flickered in the mirror before receding into the glass, as though it was never there at all.

The next week, the necklace would disappear from the Museum. Winter mourned it, of course- the woman would see Winter’s glaze turn longing, sometimes, and she’d run a finger across the dust ridden case slowly. The woman didn’t know why Quinn had wanted it, and truthfully, she didn’t care. Whenever she looked at the case, a measure of guilt would bury itself in her chest and she’d hurry away, trying not to think of a pale girl with long, white hair.

The red eyes were everywhere now. Sometimes, the woman would squeeze her eyes shut, and the red eyes would be there. Watching, always just watching. They’d appear behind the reception desk of the Museum, staring down at her from the high ceiling and melting into her soul. Other times, it would be in the eyes of all she crossed on the street, large, encroaching, unnatural. She’d walk away in a hurry, now, and head into her room, making sure the door was triple locked.

She wondered about the name. Maybe once or twice she’d think about the group clothed in brown at the bottom of the hill. Her mind would often drift to the white tentacles foaming in the waves, and a gnawing chasm would bite at her. But mostly, she thought about the name. She thought about its echo, its imprint in her mind, and would rub at her chest as though her heart were on fire.

She heard it on the wind, on occasion. When she’d smoke by the sea, she’d hear it whispered to her on a salty breeze as she wound her arm back to discard her cigarette case. She would focus on it, ears straining to hear. It was too faint though, always, always too faint, always just out of reach. And so, she’d throw the case out into the water (aiming further than the day prior, for extra measure) and walk back to town, red eyes staring at her all the way.

#degrees of lewdity #fanfiction #fanwriting #dol #dolgl #pc #IW #ivory wraith #IW X PC #ivory wraith x pc #ivory wraith/pc #degrees of lewdity game #writing

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gee-arid · 1 year ago

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ok, sorry if question is a bit long and if you have answered, please put the link for me to see please. Well... what are the names of the heroes? What was each heroe's first choice? (I mean the ladybug and cat holder). I know that Marinette is with the Fox and Ivan with the turtle, but for some reason I think that if they swap it would combine more (I speak more in symbolism, ivan who cannot lie with the "miraculous of lie"). What is the weapon of each carrier? About the turtle and Ivan, I think a purplish blue would match more (that leatherback turtle). What are the camouflaged forms of each miraculous? Do you have the reason why every person has every miraculous?

A big ask, but thats okay! I'd love to answer! Note that some answers like names and weapons are subject to change, im not great with names and im less familliar with some characters than others so, opinions and other ideas are awesome :)

Names and weapons, left to right:

Aliase Rouges (red wings), Cartoony sledge hammer

Veilluese (night light), Grappling hook

Bison? Hyland?, Guitar- its electric but doesnt have to be plugged in..

Adora (play on Adore), Frisbee

Ouroboros, Mirror shield (play on the medusa myth)

Tack (to temporarily fasten something together), Big Needle

Captain Stinger (shortened to Sting), Cutlass

Jockey?, Reins? maybe a whip

Alectryon, rooster body (i guess?)

Jack Rabbit (shortened to Jack), Pickaxe

Ridley (a type of turtle), Detatched shields- Bonus purpley-blue version: honestly it works just as well.

Tora (Japanese for tiger, i think), Sythe

R.A.T (acronym for Rodent Assist Team? idk, funny bit based on pokemons F.E.A.R strat lol, also sounds like a dj name??. also based on his purpose being mostly assisting pedestrians), Glow sticks (almost like a pair of lightsabers, without the deadliness. Basically glowing battons)

Boar, Boomerang (shaped like boar tusks).

Cirrus (a type of cloud, Aroure and Mirelle share the name and the miraculous), Lightning rod/ wind sock

Caprix (Play on Caprine), Chunky roller blades

Gibbon? (a type of monkey), one of those silly stretchy sticky hands

Reasons for each holder are here!

First choices are also listed there, if there isnt an alternative listed, they either had the same idea or no strong preference for a different holder. Regarding swapping holders based on symbolism (i.e. Ivan with the fox, Mari with the turtle) that would be super cool and i may draw them at some point in the future, but wouldn't fit with my au. This is because my bug and cat holders choose them based on preexisting relationships, traits, and talents.

Camouflaged forms are these:

Struggled with Alyas rabbit miraculous tbh, it doesnt quite fit with my au for it to stay a pocket watch anyway (the Rabbits power being swapped from Burrow in a time sense, to Burrow in a dig way) so i guess its normal activated form would be some kind of keychain? Alyas disguise currently is a tamogachi :)

Nino wears the mouse necklace wrapped around his wrist like a bracelet.

Max's snake bracelet turns into a smart watch.

Markovs claw connects to his existing claws, and mimics what claws he already has.

Mirelle and Aroure have similar chokers with the charm changed. Aroure has the lightning bolt, Mirelle has the rain drop. They have the chokers replicated by comission with Marinette so they can swap the actual miraculous between them when needed.

Sabrinas sunglasses are prescription. They could also be just normal glasses, no black tint, when appropriate.

Marcs ring, where rainbow, is iridescent!

The butterfly and peacock are still unavailable to our heroes.

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hinamie · 6 months ago

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the picture of your atla!au Gojo holding his betrothal necklace covered in blood has me actually feeling so mentally unwell i want to turn inside my skin like a human ouroboros. The concept of this Au has me rabid feral.

GHFDSJFHJDF YA that one was a hit :) also happy to report that @philosophiums and i are locking back in on atla!au production so FINGERS CROSSED we can get part 1 up and running sooner rather than later

#thehorseshowgay #answered #ty fr ur patience cries...#jjk atla!au #atla!au: misc #lmhs

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gryphis-eyes · 9 days ago

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hi there! Can you tell us about your experience with lord leviathan if you're open to it?

Hello~ sure I can !

Honestly Léviathan is the being I'm the closest with (I think). He has been the most tangible one throughout my whole practice

I've mostly called upon him for works related to alchemy, mostly the ouroboros symbol since he is great for closing and opening cycles. Protection, works that relate with the concept of the abyss (if I resume it in a grotesque way it's kinda shadow work) and snakes symbolism in general.

In my experience I figured out that he is quite fond of the demonolatry concept he truly enjoy being worshipped (in all forms really). Loves having altar and big offerings as well as just having things brought to his altar (from a seashell to a whole snake figure that I wasn't supposed to purchase but did 👀) there is that necklace that I dedicated to him for a certain purpose that I need to wear everyday and I think it's what made the bond stronger.

He is a really quiet entity ; if he got a message it will be straight to the point and if he doesn't want to continue the conversation it just end. How many times did I started communicating with him through trance work and divination and once he thought he was done he just leave, no goodbye, no last advice he just disappear (at least it's impossible to overthink his messages).

But this quiet side can turn a bit gentle sometimes it will be just his presence without words and he is the only entity I'm able to reach out to when I'm in really bad mental state (tho it doesn't guarantee words from him but the presence alone is often enough).

Surprisingly after multiple years of working with Léviathan I discovered that he does enjoying sneaking a bit in every domain of my life, out of nowhere he'd give his two cent about my love life or even career (in my opinion it's kind of what happen when you spend multiple years forming a bond with an entity honestly). However in those cases his advices more sounds like orders but he was never wrong so i can't complain

Léviathan ended up really involved in my art I think it's the entity who asked me the most about drawing of himself, for himself.... So much that I might end up dedicating a whole sketchbook to him I think, eh.

In a quite explicit dream I've had I got the info that he doesn't like most of his representation throughout history, especially the ones that gave him a canine like face. He seems to like Gustave Doré's vision of him as well as his representations in final fantasy. Tho I still don't know if it was just a silly dream, an actual remark of his or a way for him to ask for an other drawing.

I've seen people talk about him having an humanoid appearance but I've only saw him as a gigantic snake / sea serpent like creature. So big that I often see only one part of his body (most often face) when I use scrying methods, so I'd see a big eyes or big teeth. I've worked with him since a long time now so I'm not intimidated anymore but it can be scary, he kind of remind me of those vids about thalassophobia because his presence does makes you feel like you're floating in the middle of point nemo and there is this gigantic sea serpent around but you can't really see it

If it can help I did a lil list based of my practice with Léviathan ;

Offerings ; sea related items, like just go to the beach and pick up stuff to bring him even just sea water. Tea, arts of him, some fruits, meat anything snake related, silver things, simply clear water. Bonus point if it's black or blue . He does like khernips but mostly for the fire meet water part. Like to have his candle in water (cuz let's remember he is also associated with fire people tend to ignore that part) I'd simply fix the candle with wax in a bowl and then fill it with water. (Why not making a tea light candle float on the surface if you can't classic candles)

Plants I use for his "khernips" ; lavender, mint, he seems to like anything that smells fresh

Favourite way of communicating ; he is ok with tarot but his favourite seems to be scrying especially with a black mirror but the best is black water ;

The best one I did was putting a hot charcoal in water so it does make the water boil a bit (so fire + water method)

You can also simply put black ink in the water that's what I do most of the time. And finally the classic black mirror but since I started doing the water based one he just ignore me if I use the black mirror or tarot :|

I think overall that's it if you got more question feel free to send more asks.

also note that I've been working with Léviathan since 9+ years and I interact with him every weeks almost everyday so that's why I got so much stuff going on.

#Léviathan #demonolatry

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ya-boi-haru · 1 month ago

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Assigning Fable Characters Miraculous Part 3!

Part 1

Part 2

Tldr/ recap:

Rae - Ladybug - Earrings (Creation)

Athena - Black Cat- ring (destruction)

Will - Ox - nose ring (determination)

Arisanna - Turtle - braclet (protection)

Ulysses- Peacock - brooch (emotion)

Momboo - Dog - collar necklace (Adoration)

Ocie - Tiger - panjas bracelet (Elation)

Centross - Goat - hair clips (Passion)

Caspian - Pig - pearl anklet (Jubilation)

Ven - Fox - necklace (Illusion)

Fenris - Snake - Ouroboros braclet (Intuition)

Rabbit - Pocket Watch (Evolution) has no holder and takes place of 'As it is'

Tbh, part of me doesn't think Icarus would be a miraculous holder, then I looked at the Rooster Miraculous and went, "That one." With the Rooster miraculous, I feel like it's a good power for a "why not just do this to complete the task" thought process and it almost reminds me of Icarus' curiosity with potions. 'What happens if we mix this' or 'I could make a potion to do that'. Icarus giving themselves an ability to help with whatever the situation is makes sense to me, it can also play into their need to trying to be a better person - or whoever they need to be for their goal. The idea of giving themselves an ability to try and help and not every ability working, or even making things worse, again plays well into their need to trying to be better and even their insecurity of not being able to be.

(Rooster - Thumb Ring - Pretension)

You can not tell me Eastons' mischievous nature isn't a good fit for the monkey miraculous. The ability to mess up someone else power... just fits so well for them. Easton and Xuppu are a chaos duo.

Their silly personality works well with the power and I really can't think of much else to say, cause I just know based off vibes alone this would be great for them

(Monkey - Circlet - Derision)

Admittedly, I do not remember much on Galahad, however I do think the Butterfly miraculous could suit them. They're a loyal soldier, kind, smart, so I think the ability to give people abilities to assist you could work well for them

Jamie having the horse miraculous I think would fit well with their arc of running away and then growing to stand their ground. I think itd be cool to tie in the ability of Voyage to the Portal Gods

(Butterfly - Brooch - Transition

(Horse - Glasses - Transportation)

Giving Aax the Dragon miraculous seemed like a silly idea at first - as the Dragon miraculous represents 'perfection' so giving it to the person who would grow to be the Patron of the Unknown, didn't really make sense - however, I like to think that with the ability to chose which element to be and when, it kind of gives the concept of choice and control of your power. Unlike other miraculous, you don't have 1 thing it can do, so you don't know what power you'll be needing next. While this miraculous represents 'perfection' I think Aax would be a good example of why it doesn't need to be perfect.

(Dragon - Choker - Perfection)

Unfortunately, I do not remember much about Addies character, however, given her shy yet curious nature, I think the mouse miraculous would suit them. While I don't believe she'd use it for combat, I do think she'd use it for exploration and hiding

(Mouse - Coin necklace - multiplication)

And last but not least....

Im not sure if Seven can wield a miraculous - with him being an Android - but if he can, it leaves him with the Bee miraculous. 'Venom' is a good ability that is neutrally offensive or defensive, so if he was in his "passive mode" I think he would still be able to use it. The Bee miraculous represents productivity and growth, so I think that sits nicely with Sevens "need for tasks" and also his arc of becoming sentient.

Finally done!

What do you guys think? Who would you assign to what? Or do you agree/have add ons?

You bet there's designs and headcannons and maybe even some edited audios posts coming soon!!!

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fallendev0tionvn · 4 months ago

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get ready for the nerdiest and most confusing ramble probably🏃‍♀️

Nietzsche's philosophy inspired me into creating the game, mainly ideologies from "thus spoke zarathustra" and "the birth of tragedy".

Who is Clive? What is he?

Let's talk about the duality between the Apollonian and Dionysian spirits, two important concepts in Nietzsche's philosophy. The Apollonian, as the name suggests (after the greek god Apollo), represents the rational component of every individual. It is a form giving source, the force that creates order.

On the other hand, the Dionysian, named after the god Dionysus, represents the impulsive and irrational component. Instead of creating order, it destroys forms, it's negative yet necessary.

Clive's older form is Apollonian, while his current form is Dionysian. The fact he "duplicated" is meant to represent the duality between the two.

Health and ancient greece are also concepts the philosopher has discussed. Who is the god of medicine in greek mythology? Asclepius.

Asclepius was capable of bringing people "back from the dead" and is the reason Clive respawned. Since Clive always helped animals and saved many as well, he wanted to grant his wish to come back just for you. Though the act of duplicating somehow cursed him for life.

Many of you might be familiar with the concept of the ouroboros, the symbol on Clive's arm and the main menu. In Nietzsche's philosophy, life flows in a circular motion (just like Clive's necklace).

You're destined to relive the same life over and over again ecc ecc.

Clive is willing and glad to go through all of that to be with you again and again. We will find out more about how he uses this "power" in the game.

So he isn't a ghost. In a way, Asclepius tried to heal him, but Clive's injuries were so bad he was at a point of no return. He had to split his consciousness in two, and that's how Clive respawned HDJSJA. In essence, Clive represents the duality between both spirits and is the personification of eternal return.

More details and hints will be found in the full game, if this was too confusing let's just pretend he's just some silly guy and that's all🕴️.

@nepxnth3

#fallendevotionvn #fallendevotion #clivedonovan #clivefallendevotion #cliveanswers #visual novel #horror vn #itchio #yandere vn #itch.io

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offtorivendell · 2 years ago

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Elain's engagement ring may be Made; a theory 💍

Does it mean she is a witch? What about Nesta?

🌸 Elain Archeron Week 2023, Day 1 - Seer/Powers

Please don't screenshot or share this post without credit.

Disclaimer: this theory is a bit all over the shop, sort of like my life right now. The textual evidence might be a bit sparser than usual, sorry. 🫠

Spoilers: the ACOTAR, CC and TOG series to date (2023).

This theory probably wouldn't exist without the lovely @123moiaussi, who messaged me after I posted this theory suggesting that Elain may have Made the necklace that Azriel gave her on Winter Solstice in ACOSF. She wondered if Elain had possibly Made her engagement ring, in addition to/instead of her necklace - which is a solid theory and could definitely still pan out! - but a little later I had a thought; what if the Cauldron already Made Elain's engagement ring when she became High Fae?

She was wearing it when she went in, so why not?

It would then parallel other Cauldron Made items, such as Gwydion - and very likely Truth-Teller, if it is fully confirmed to be Made in a future book - which was dipped into the Cauldron by the High Priestess Oleanna. Metal (and pearl) goes into the Cauldron (in this case iron, not meteorite, which could always make a difference in how it reacts to the Void within) and, hypothetically, comes out imbued with the Cauldron's own magic.

Elain's refusal to give the pearl and iron ring back to Graysen then makes a lot of sense in this new context, beyond her understandably grieving the end of their relationship - could a human even hold it and survive? - as she may hear it calling to her, singing to its kin, as I often wonder if she hears Truth-Teller, and possibly even Azriel's "beautiful" siphons (as Bryce from CC hears a certain sword, one of many parallels that exist between the two).

Rhys winked at her. Feyre rolled her eyes. But then she said to Nesta, “Elain will need time to dust off her powers to try to See the Trove. But you, Nesta … You could scry again.” Rhys added, “As swiftly as possible. Time is not our ally.” - ACOSF, chapter 21

When Rhys spoke of Elain needing time* to "dust off" her powers, it sounds like he's referring to an item. Her ring? What might it do? And how?

* As an aside, the wording in this passage is strange. "Time is not our ally" made me look twice this time around. Could Rhys unknowingly be referring to a god of time, similar to Chronos or Aion? From whom Elain may need help with her powers? Both are associated with cyclical time, which brings me straight back to my theory that Elain may need to collect the Ouroboros from the Bone Carver's Prison cell to Look further than she has before, or to even use it as a portal.

There's no confirmation that Elain still wears her old engagement ring either way, at least not since Feyre remarked on it in ACOWAR. Has Elain put it away somewhere safe, possibly not knowing that she is drawn to it, finding herself unable to part with it even though she has moved on from Graysen by ACOSF, as demonstrated by the following quote:

Elain cocked her head. Didn’t dissolve into the crying mess she usually became when Graysen came up. - ACOSF, chapter 17

Or has the hypothetically Made ring glamoured itself such that it is forgotten, as Made items are able to do, and that's why nobody has mentioned it in two books even though she still wears it? But I digress; if it is now a Made item, what might Elain's engagement ring be able to do?

Trove of Dreams

I mentioned earlier that I have previously theorised that Elain could have Made her rose necklace on that emotionally tumultuous winter solstice night in ACOSF, a book in which Nesta Made her own trio of weapons: sword, greatsword and dagger. Now of course, there is still the distinct possibility that her necklace will go the way of Cassian's Sidra-bound ACOFAS solstice gift to Nesta and barely rate a mention in the next book, but there's also a chance that it's Made (or even came to her with powers already instilled in it, like the knives and necklaces that exist in the catacombs under the Hewn City).

So, to mirror Nesta's Trove of Nightmares, what if Elain will Make a Trove of Dreams? What would such a trove even entail? A rose necklace, possibly a pearl engagement ring*, and another item or two that she'll Make in her own book? Such as:

A staff, to parallel Iris, the messenger of the gods (and provide defence if required).

A ring of light, possibly acting as an external power source or for protection against vengeful Beings; perhaps, as @ladynightcourt reminded me, like Silba's ring protected against the Valg in TOG? Rhys did say that females preferred gold or silver to iron. Maybe that offhand remark contained some hidden depth.

A cuff, spindle, or something else entirely? I'm eyeing her baked goods, ear plugs and possibly some homegrown medicinal powders...

* There's a good chance that a ring Made by being dipped into the Cauldron will be a little different than one Made directly by an elemental faerie, so it may not count as part of Elain's own trove.

Many of us suspect that Elain will search for the illusive fourth part of the Dread Trove, the item that Lanthys showed to Nesta as a bit of age worn bone, half shrouded in shadows. Could pearl be mistaken for age worn bone? Unlikely, but worth a mention. I do think it's tricky, though, as there are multiple ancient Troves appearing, and the Dread Trove is only one of them. Gwydion (aka the Starsword), Truth-Teller and possibly Narben seem to be another trove, though maybe not Made in quite the same way as the Dread Trove (ie. dipped in the Cauldron vs imbued with power by a more elemental faerie).

Protection

We all know that I suspect Koschei* might have used the Cauldron to give Elain a bonus mate bond after orchestrating with Jurian to shoot Azriel with a poisoned ash arrow. And we know that the Cauldron has a dark maker, who made the Book of Breathings. Could there be a light maker, and is this hypothetical being working for or against Koschei? Are they the Mother (and maybe Urd)?

* I really think that Koschei could need Azriel out of the way, and needs Elain as a stand in for the Mother, or someone else important, somehow, in order to work some massive spell.

Could they have gifted Elain her Sight, or any other powers, and even put a little something special in her engagement ring. Something that would provide protection*, as Silba's ring did against the Valg in Erilea? The latter is less likely for an iron ring, but still plausible.

I've said before that I'd love to see the Archeron sisters create their own version of Midgard's Archesian Amulets, with one ring made from each of their magics to protect their loved ones and hide them from danger, and that still stands. This post goes into more about the rose necklace providing protection, if you're interested.

* Unless Koschei, or whoever orchestrated the Making of Elain and Nesta, stored something they needed to access in the ring instead, to free it from the Cauldron's grasp and make it available to them?

Witchcraft

One of the first thoughts that came to me almost two years ago, upon wondering what purpose a Made ring would serve Elain, was the possibility that it could be a focus for her power, something to tether or ground her while she was wandering the murky realm. This is backed up by the witches' use of iron throughout the TOG series, which @wingedblooms has discussed in many of her witchy posts, and I'll mention a little later on.

Could the pearl ring be Elain's focus, and ground her? Or might it function as a siphon or invoking stone does? Given she rubs the ring, I wouldn't be surprised if it helped her focus her being, or control her magic.

Some witches in ACOTAR are said to be able to amass powers beyond their natural capacity.

Nesta drifted toward the desk, the maps atop it. “What is the difference,” she asked none of us in particular, “between a faerie and a witch?” “Witches amass power beyond their natural reserve,” Mor answered with sudden seriousness. “They use spells and archaic tools to harness more power to them than the Cauldron allotted—and use it for whatever they desire, good or ill.” Elain silently surveyed the tent, head tipping back. - ACOWAR, chapter 51

Could the ring "harness" her to an external reserve of powers?

Could this reserve of powers even be the Cauldron itself?

Could the ring provide Elain a living bond to the Cauldron, such as the one Feyre had while she touched it during the battle in ACOWAR, when she witnessed Elain assassinate the King of Hybern?

Iron

In SJM's TOG series, we witnessed iron's ability to both block someone's access to their own magic and provide a grounding point to the witches, who might have otherwise been pulled away from their world. The leader, it was said, was so powerful that she required iron and pain to tether her to their realm. In the same passage, we learnt that pain was a gateway to the divine, which I have theorised may be behind Elain's glove-free gardening habits.

Legend had it that all witches had been gifted by the Three-Faced Goddess with iron teeth and nails to keep them anchored to this world when magic threatened to pull them away. The iron crown, supposedly, was proof that the magic in the Blueblood line ran so strong that their leader needed more—needed iron and pain—to keep her tethered in this realm. Nonsense. Especially when magic had been gone these past ten years. But Manon had heard rumors of the rituals the Bluebloods did in their forests and caves, rituals in which pain was the gateway to magic, to opening their senses. Oracles, mystics, zealots. - HOF, chapter 12

In Seers, Blindfolds and Bloodbane, I posited that Elain - like the Seers in Erilea once did - may be able to open portals to See spirits from other worlds by imbibing in certain hallucinogens (possibly with experiencing pain), and we know from Feyre that witchberries exist in the Spring Court (ACOTAR). Witches, who in HOF were associated with Oracles, mystics and zealots. Elain is 2/3 of those so far, and being the only sister to take an interest in faerie religious customs, she's possibly closing in on the third. But I'm getting off track. If Elain - whose powers have been linked to the same void/murky realm as Azriel's, through which Bryce was yanked to Prythian - has witch-like abilities, then surely she will need something to keep her grounded in her body in Prythian while she traverses the murky realm, searching for visions and possibly help. Especially if Truth-Teller helps her to go further than before, breaking through mist and shadow.

Could the iron engagement ring keep Elain tethered to the realm in which her body/Prythian exists, when her waking dreams threaten to pull her away into the murky realm? Was this why Elain was constantly fiddling with it in ACOWAR, before she learnt how to block her visions with light?

Tharion eyed the bare-bones wooden hallway as he and Flynn strode down the worn planks, aiming for a round door at its far end. It looked like the entry to a vault, solid iron that didn’t reflect the dim firstlights. They’d been halted at the first door by the Viper Queen’s guards. Flynn had snarled at them, but the males had ignored him, their drug-hazed eyes unblinking as they radioed their leader. That Tharion knew of this door at all told her guards he was important enough to warrant a call. - HOSAB, chapter 64

In CC2/HOSAB, we learnt that the Viper Queen had a vault made from solid iron, guarded by males with "drug-hazed eyes"... which sounds too much like a coincidence to actually be one. However, the more relevant point to note here is that the solid iron didn't reflect the dim firstlight (donation of a faerie's soul magic made when taking The Drop). Does this mean that iron absorbs firstlight/magic, rather than reflecting it? Is this how iron functioned to block magic wielders in TOG from accessing their magic when worn?

Could an iron ring function to absorb and hold a charge of power, like the one Prythian witches were known to create?

Following on, we know the Cauldron is made from a dark iron, and it very likely contains the Void. The Book of Breathings considers the Cauldron to be its home. Additionally, Elain fiddled with her pearl and iron ring* constantly in ACOWAR (I've wondered if it was singing out to her, but maybe it has more than one purpose). Does the ring now see the Cauldron as its home, too? Would Elain, and maybe Nesta?

* Azriel's shadows have been described as "rings of darkness" around his fingers, which could tie him into this plot?

In addition to potentially providing a living bond to the Cauldron as I mentioned above - and wouldn't it be absolute crazy if the ring itself was somehow made from the same iron source as the Cauldron, only passed down through human lines rather than Fae - what if Elain's iron ring is a backdoor of sorts that she can use to channel or even control it? Conduits are an increasingly common theme among SJM's work - and I've been harping on for years now that Elain's Sight might be due to her ability to act as a conduit for at least one god/goddess.

If Elain's engagement ring did come from the same iron source as the Cauldron itself, could it act like the One Ring in The Lord of the Rings, controlling the other Cauldron-Made items?

In addition to (hypothetically) allowing Elain to become a conduit for the Void inside the Cauldron, what if Elain's iron ring being Made permitted her to track it easily? "Like calls to like," Made objects Singing to their kin and all that. This could make it a possible target for theft.

Circling back to iron's ability to both dampen magic and ground witches in TOG, I wonder if both stem from the same function; ie. that the grounding of witches in their physical realm is done by dampening their specific type of magic, or their access to it. And considering ACOTAR, where the humans have believed - falsely, apparently - for centuries that iron will protect against the Fae… maybe this was intentionally spread misinformation, and done to convince humans to wear iron in order to block their magic. That would achieve an easier to control populace, all thanks to a little lie. This would mean that - if @wingedblooms, @silverlinedeyes and I are right about the Archeron sisters being descended, albeit distantly, from the Starborn fae - Nesta* and Elain were actually being contained by wearing their iron bracelets. I wonder what effect, if any, that may have had on their mental wellbeing? It could explain why Feyre was considered wild, even.

Could this mean that Elain's ring functions as a tether because it dampens her ability to access the murky realm?

Alternatively, does the iron ring contain the power that the pearl may have absorbed from the Cauldron's endless Void?

Another absolutely cracked theory is that it turns Elain into a walking embodiment of the Cauldron when she accesses the murky realm while wearing the ring, when she is physically contained by the iron. Void inside iron, like the Cauldron.

* Nesta having a Trove of Nightmares should count as an amassed external power source, imo, which also fits the definition of witch.

Pearl

Pearls are said to be associated with water, the moon, healing, honesty and integrity. Apparently they are also useful to centre and calm one's self.

This makes them sound perfect for use in a magical object that is used to ground or tether a Seer while she sails the Void.

Mother of Pearl (which isn't included in Elain's engagement ring, but is worth a mention) is even said to have protective properties, and be able to heighten intuition and psychic sensitivity.

Due to their ties to the moon and moon magic, pearls are said to be both a representation of the moon and linked to Selene and Luna - goddesses that embody the full moon. Apparently they can be made into pearl essences, and can be charged with intent.

Her gaze shifted to the carved wooden rose she'd placed upon the mantel, half-hidden in the shadows beside a figurine of a supple-bodied female, her upraised arms clasping a full moon between them. Some sort of primal goddess-perhaps even the Mother herself. Nesta hadn't let herself dwell on why she'd felt the need to set the rose there. Why she hadn't just thrown it in a drawer. - ACOSF

This sounds like a certain effigy next to which Nesta placed the dark wooden rose that Papa Archeron carved for Elain.

The name Selene is linked with Helena, which is a derivative of Elain.

Charged with intent sounds almost exactly like an object being Made. I am desperate to know what Elain experiencedbin the Cauldron, as that may affect the essence that the pearl hypothetically took on.

Pearls are said to be appropriate offerings to spirits, goddesses, and the sea.

"What are you looking at?" I asked Elain, keeping my voice soft. Casual. Her face was wan, her lips bloodless. But they moved barely-as she said, "I can see so very far now. All the way to the sea." - ACOWAR

We know from Amren that Narben was thrown into the sea; maybe a trade will be necessary.

Pearls are said to be useful with transformation magic and associated with wisdom.

I hope we can all remember this brilliant post by @wingedblooms, and note the evidence that suggests Elain may shift.

Mor said, back in ACOWAR, that Elain was wise.

Pearls are sacred to Aphrodite, and can be used in love magic.

Sounds appropriate for someone who may or may not end up Making her own mating bond.

There are a lot of possible uses for a magical ring, whether or not it is Cauldron Made, and I can't wait to see what happens with it!

Thanks for reading!

@elainarcheronweek

#elain archeron #elain archeron theory #elain #pro elain #elain's powers #seer elain #witchy elain #elainarcheronweek2023 #elain archeron week 2023 #elainweek2023 #elain week 2023 #elain week seer #acotar #sjm #acotar cc tog crossover theory #elain's ring #hosab spoilers #acotar theory

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