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gurenismywaifu · 2 years

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Is Guren a narcissist?

Lately I dislike Kagami's portrayal of Guren as much as the next person and tbh there's absolutely no way you can make me think he's an innocent victim or a tragic hero we should root for (though I still do root for him cause he's just pathetic and gay I love him). However, the amount of times i've seen both the hispanic and english fandom call him a narcissist is kinda surprising 👀 Now the question is...

So since I'm petty and I like analysing useless stuff, let's take a look at Guren's behavior and at what makes a narcissist to try to give a more elaborate answer. I'll give as a disclaimer that I don't intend to attack anyone or force anyone to like Guren with this post, I'm just a psychology student currently investigating personality disorders and I thought this take would be fun to share.

Also, english is not my main language so do feel free to point out if you see I make any mistake so I can correct it, please ;u;

So for starts, if we're talking about the reasons for why people use to call him a narcissist I believe that pointing out his behavior towards Yuu is a very fair argument, especially his behavior towards Yuu at the beginning of the manga. Guren expresses himself with superiority, these airs and graces and apparent laziness and lack of thoughtfulness. However I believe that if you know how the story in the light novels go and even more if you've read them, you'll realize that all this "I'm your saviour, your god, you owe me your life, blah, blah, blah" crap that Guren tells to Yuu is a way of imposing authority and exerting some kind of control over him.

Guren needed to exert this control and authority as a way to protect himself, his subordinates and his investigations from the JIDA higher-ups, but also to keep Yuu at bay, not only because he was a part of Guren's experiments but also because Yuu used to be a very asocial and volatile kid when Guren took him under his wing. Having an angry kid acting impulsively at his leisure all around the JIDA was not convenient for Guren or for anyone, honestly.

And yes, I'm not gonna deny that Guren is kind of a jerk, but that has more to do with his personality and his sense of humor than with being a narcissist. He's sarcastic, super hard-headed, quite blunt and may come off as conceited, but he's actually extremely aware of all of his mistakes and shortcomings. He recognizes that he is not the smartest or the strongest out there, he knows how powerless he is in the grand scheme of things and most importantly, he recognizes his mistakes and is absolutely willing to take his share of the blame for it.

Sure, he knows that he is a strong individual but that's because he's worked towards the objective of "being strong" his entire life, he's cultivated perseverance and done sacrifices in order to achieve that strength, and while he does like to show off sometimes, recognizing one's merits and being aware of your capacities is hardly the same as having delusions of grandeur. Plus, his motivations are very much oriented to help others, protect others; and although Guren used to have a very strong sense of self-preservation, after the catastrophe he decides to let go of it if it means that it will help him to achieve those goals of keeping his loved ones safe. He starts doing what he 'has' to do rather than whe he wants to do.

After Nagoya's Arc, the shameless and overbearing side of Guren's behavior gets toned down. He becomes more serious, he doesn't play and makes jokes as often and he also stops trying to impose himself to Yuu in the same way as before. There's no need of that superiority facade anymore after all the things that came to light and now that the JIDA poses less of a threat and that Yuu has become less of a subordinate and more of a collaborator, exerting the same authority as before is just not necessary.

And now that we're referring to Yuu, we also gotta point out that a narcissist lacks empathy and doesn't go out of his way to try to help or benefit other people, but Guren does feel affection towards Yuu. When Yuu came to him as a child full of rage, resentment, guilt and lust for revenge, Guren genuinely empathized with him, he took care of Yuu, tried to teach him what he knew and he pushed him to build a support network with his classmates when he didn't really had to do all that. He could've simply taken advantage of Yuu's grief and solitude to control everything about him and force him to collaborate, but he didn't. Even when doing that would've been the best and most practical option for Guren's purposes, he still decided against isolating Yuu. Plus a narcissist wouldn't be capable of the affection and compassion that Guren feels for Yuu. And it is also made clear that Guren does not enjoy using Yuu or hurting him, but Shinya and his squad are Guren's priority, putting his options in a balance, he knows that he has no choice but to keep using Yuu to make his plan work. And it IS selfish and cruel and abusive, we're not going to deny that, but arguing that he doesn't care about Yuu or anyone else but himself is a pretty reductionist (and tbh also incorrect) statement.

Now, let's take a look at Shinya's opinion about Guren, taking into account that Shinya is probably the person who knows Guren the best out of all of the Catastrophe at 16 cast and probably all of OnS.

First of all we have this scene during the Nagoya Arc in which Shinya shows concern about Guren cause he knows that Guren suffers when people die and that he's not good at handling that.

Guren cares about his subordinates, he is saddened by the death of his soldiers and during this arc, he even makes the rather emotional choice of going straight into a trap in order to save other soldiers that Crowley is holding as hostages, even when Mito and Shinya warn him that they shouldn't do it cause it is clearly a trap.

I know there's a lot of material that I'm not covering, but for the sake of not making this post longer than it already is, let's go ahead and just check some of the behavioural criteria that a person has to meet to be diagnosed/classified as a Narcissist; of course, taking into consideration that meeting one or two criteria isn't enough cause it is very likely that everyone will present some of these criteria some times throughout our lives. For a person to be considered a narcissist they must meet various criteria which manifest constantly in various different contexts of their life for most of the time. Some of the criteria include:

•A grandiose sense of self-importance, being it fantasies or behaviors and the expectation to be recognized as superior without real reasons.

In Guren's case, he's not really the type that brags about his deeds or that goes about life expecting people to praise him, specially when there's no reason. The only times one could say that he sort of acts this way is in his interactions with Yuu in the early chapters.

•A narcissist is very often preoccupied with fantasies of unlimited success, power, brilliance, beauty, or ideal love.

Although Guren, does desire power and recognition, he is aware of all he's lacking and beats himself up because of all these things that he knows he isn't good enough to achieve. We can also notice that ultimately, his desire for power originates from his desire to keep his loved ones safe.

•A narcissist believes that they are “special” and unique and they only want to associate with, other special or high-status people (or institutions).

In Guren's case, he knows that he kinda sucks. A lot of the people around him belong to a higher status, have a higher military position or are better than him in one way or the other. What Guren does is working towards his betterment. He doesn't believe he's special, in the novels, he even seems to be a bit ashamed about the subordinates in the Ichinose manor thinking that he is a prodigy. We also have that although it is obvious that Guren regards his squad as the most important people to him, and is willing to commit atrocities and become very self-sacrificial for them it is not because 'they are the best' or because they have a high status that Guren's ego can feed on, but just because he loves them.

•A narcissist has an excessive need for admiration

Guren is indeed an admired character, however he doesn't "need" to be admired. Even before the apocalypse, the motive behind his goal was not to be admired but bring respect and dignity to his beaten up clan. He's had plenty of chances to show off, but he just doesn't really needs to be admired for that.

•A narcissist exploits their interpersonal relationships for their own benefit.

This point is a bit tricky cause Guren is undeniably using Yuu and he had the same intentions with Kimizuki and Yoichi to achieve his goals. However, besides from knowing that Guren would not be doing this if there was another way, when we take a look at the rest of his interpersonal relationships, specially with his squad, being exploitative of their relationship for his own benefit is just not there.

Some other criteria include an excessive sense of entitlement, a lack of empathy, constant envy and the belief that others are envious of them, and haughty behaviors, all of which we already tackled before.

So, taking everything in consideration, we come to the conclusion that although Guren has displayed some narcissistic attitudes, overall he does not fit the profile, therefore, Guren is not a narcissist.

This of course doesn't mean that we have to condone all the bad things he's done, but rather may help us gain a bit more insight into Guren's character. Exploring his relationship's dynamics, and other mental health conditions which's profiles he may fit would be fun as well. He is indeed a very flawed character, and maybe that's what makes him interesting.

And that's it, if you read the whole thing, thank you for sticking till the end :) If you enjoyed this do let me know and in the future maybe we can tackle some other ons characters and their issues from a clinical perspective, I would also love to know your opinion on this if you have one or for you to point out any contradictions, mistakes or important things I may have missed to make this post better. Thanks for reading ♡. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)

#owari no seraph #seraph of the end #guren ichinose #ons #gureshin #shinya hiiragi #catastrophe at 16 #yuichiro hyakuya #narcisstic personality disorder #character analysis #ichinose guren #catastrophe at sixteen #sote #guren's squad

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anonymityisfunwriter · 1 year

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hi! i love your work, and was wondering if you could make a readerxbucky fic for me? specifically for a reader who is really scared of the dark. something along the lines of one night reader is pissing in the middle of the night and on their way back to their room their fear gets so bad that they end up having a small panic attack and require (bf) buckys help to calm down. plus cuddles at the end ofc!

Hello! Thank you so much and thank you for the request!

This sounds really interesting and some of my favorite one-shots and scenes have been one's in the dead of the night.

I shall dub this:

In the Noon of Night

One thing that was rarely talked about was how fickle triggers truly were. There was no real way to tell what could be triggering.

All you knew it one moment, you were fine.

The next, you were crumbling in on yourself. Coping skills forgotten. Unresponsive. Unreachable.

Sometimes, it was a smell wafting through the air.

Touching metal that felt too close to the steel door that once held you captive.

Darkness.

Darkness was universal.

It was the same everywhere.

So you really thought nothing of crawling out of your warm bed to grab a drink of water. It wasn't unusual to stir awake, a little too warm from the super soldier sized radiator that slept beside you.

Without much conscious thought or effort, your feet instinctually guided you through your apartment to your kitchen.

Grabbing a glass. Pouring water. Taking a large gulp.

There was nothing unordinary or unsettling about any of it. You closed the refrigerator door behind you.

With the room no longer illuminated by the refrigerator light, it was now pitch black, your eyes strained trying to adjust to the dark room.

Purely by happenstance, the streetlights were out, not even remotely visible from your front window.

Still bleary eyed, you blinked once. Twice. Over and over, trying to make out any shape or shadow.

Perhaps it was your mind muddled by sleep. Perhaps it was just bad luck.

All you saw was darkness. A vast, unending void.

There was nothing.

Suddenly, the tile beneath your feet felt less like sleek ceramic tile and more like your old concrete prison.

The silence became a loneliness you'd thought you'd left behind long ago.

The cold floor sent a chill radiating up your spine that echoed and reverberated through your bones.

It was as though all your years of happiness and freedom were some delusions of grandeur developed as a coping mechanism. In the moment of intense vulnerable remembrance, it makes complete sense to you.

Found families were not so easily found, certainly not ones that incredible. There was not and never would be a person that knew you like you knew yourself. And certainly not one that loved you so wholly and fiercely.

It was more than being back in captivity. It was losing everything all at once.

The sounds of sobs being ripped from your throat tear Bucky from his sleep. He's on his feet before he even realizes it.

He's immediately on guard and alert as he bolts through the apartment toward the sounds of distress.

He smacks the light switch, suddenly illuminating the room. His frantic eyes wildly rake over the room. What he sees, tears his heart into a million little pieces.

The thing was, Bucky understood better than most. He knew what it was to wake in a cold sweat, chest rising and falling with panicked heaves.

He knew what it felt like, for even the shortest of moments, to think that all the light, love, and freedom was a figment of your imagination. It wasn't enough that the memories would live with you for the rest of your life, sometimes, you relived them. He did too. It was its very own trauma in and of itself.

He scrambles over to you. Your figure crumpled on the floor, huddled in on yourself as your tightly embrace yourself.

"Hey," Bucky drops to the floor with a second thought. You're huddled so tightly, he can't pull you out of the flashback. He shakes you, "Hey, hey, you're okay."

"I don't want to go back," you plead with Bucky, tears staining your flushed cheeks. "Please, I don't want to go back."

"Shhh..." he tries to console you, his hands cup each side of your face, finally pulling your eyes away from the floor and onto him. Your eyes are squeezed shut, shaking your head in desperation. "You're not going back. You're home."

"You're home. You're safe," he repeats in a whispered tone over and over again.

Your head sinks down onto his shoulder. After several long moments of kneeling on the floor with you, you relax enough for Bucky to slip you into his arms, locking you in his embrace.

"I don't want to lose you," you whimper into his shoulder.

"Never," he promises.

"You're okay," Bucky softly murmurs, stroking your hair while never breaking his secure embrace. The warmth of the words and the care slowly envelope you, seeping into your frozen, fear stricken heart. You can almost feel it start to beat again. "You're safe. I promise. You'll always be safe with me."

A.N: I never want to hear another comment about how I don't want these characters to be happy or let them know peace. At this point, it's not me. You guys want this. Readers only want love if it's torture. (And I'm more than happy to provide.) Thank you so much for the request! 💛

Grumpy Sunshine Series Grumpy Sunshine Drabbles

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated 💛

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez@ludicbouquetfromearth@matchat3a@famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff@valoraxx@blue786sworld@buckyandgeraltsupremacy@geminigengar@ansaturn@ecolle@lexhalstead3@ybflkmj@mediocre-daydreams@shanye1112@thegirlnextdoorssister@toomanyfanficsbruh@moonlightreader649@breathtaking-cynthia@mirikusashes@beans-and-toast@niyahcoca@katiechikin@elxvrr@antiheroxsblog@infamouslyclumsy@krissydclayton93

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mur-art · 2 years

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For Texas x Alaska:

Pre relationship: 2, 4

General: 5, 7, 8

Love: 2, 4, 10

TexSka, let's goooooooo

What was their first impression of each other?

October 18, 1867: (Texas:) "580,000 acres? Thirty-nine cents per acre? Pfft, acres of what? It's just snow and ice up there; no use will ever come of it. I heard he's a real strange kid, anyway. Those Russians can keep him for all I care."

1899: "Okay, so there's a lot of gold up there. So what? What's the big deal? If anything, it's just going to make the kid as obnoxious as California is. God forbid."

January 3, 1959: "So what, Alaska's a state now? The biggest state? No, no, It's fine. It's all just snow and ice up there, anyway. In terms of actual useful land, I'm still the biggest! And I don't have any polar bears! That's a plus..."

Alaska: "Whatever helps you sleep at night, Big Guy."

(Meanwhile, from the beginning Alaska thinks Texas is way too full of himself for no reason. He sees Texas as a deeply insecure person with delusions of grandeur. He thinks it's hilarious. )

Who felt romantic feelings first?

Texas definitely misunderstands his feelings and has trouble expressing them, so they manifest as negative emotions. Alaska is definitely not romantic in a traditional way but I can see him doing something "sweet" for Texas in his own way and Texas being all *heart eyes*. Examples may include: letting him borrow one of his parkas during Winterpocalypse '21 and checking in on him to make sure he's staying warm, giving him half of a deer he's hunted because "you looked hungry and I just shot this," and introducing him to Fat Bear Week which Texas is now obsessed with and watches religiously.

What's their height difference? Age difference?

I HC Texas as being tall, but within the realm of "normal," around 6'3 or 6'4. Alaska, on the other hand, is pushing the limits of being "abnormally" tall. He's around 6'8 or 6'9. He towers above most people, not quite basketball player tall, but definitely tall enough to get stares and feel uncomfortable in small spaces. (My partner is super tall and there's lots of things he experiences differently bc of it.)

It's kinda "canon" that states are the continuation of their territories (at least in Florida's case- "remember when I was a Spanish colony for like 200 years? That was weird, right?") So with that logic, Texas is *pretty damn old*. I don't think any of them have much memory of their earliest years, but Texas as a European colonial construct is definitely pushing 350 years old. Alaska is harder to pin down, but assuming the same "rules" you could argue he's around 200-250ish. You know Texas uses the "I'm older!" excuse with Alaska, even though in many cases, he's the less mature one... and Alaska just laughs.

Who takes the lead in social situations?

Texas 100%. Texas is Alaska’s adopted extravert. (Every introvert needs one.) Texas can make friends literally anywhere; like they’ll be shopping at a Home Depot and Texas will disappear for awhile, leaving Alaska standing in the middle of the aisle absent-mindedly staring at lightbulbs. When he goes looking for Texas, he’s standing in the paint aisle with three new best friends and an invitation to the bar later.

Who gets jealous easier?

Texas for sure. Alaska is much more secure in himself and in the relationship. Texas is a very insecure person, even though he will never admit it. Sometimes he’ll see Alaska in his element being a total badass and have a brief panic like “what does he see in me?”

What are their primary love languages?

Alaska’s are Acts of Service and Quality Time. He shows affection by doing *things* for people, helping them out and making sure they’re safe. He also enjoys just spending time being in the same space with Texas, even if he doesn’t say a word. (It’s okay, Texas does enough talking for both of them). Texas’ are Quality Time and Physical Touch. He understands that Alaska doesn’t say much, or openly express his feelings, but it’s okay; he has other ways of showing it.

How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA?

They don’t really do PDA, but in private they like to cuddle a lot. Alaska is just a massive bear of a man so I imagine he’s pretty cuddly. Their temperature dynamic is interesting too. When Texas gets too hot, he gets close to Alaska to cool down. Vice versa, Alaska always appreciates how warm and sunny Texas is, especially in the middle of winter.

Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?

As mentioned earlier, Texas is the talker of the two. But he understands that Alaska doesn’t really do verbal affection, showing his love in other ways.

#wttt #welcome to the table #welcome to the statehouse #headcanons #texska #wttt texas/alaska #i honestly ship them in a more jokey way but now i'm kind of obsessed #like they actually could work

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sebeth · 2 years

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The Self-Delusional Grandeur of Aegon the Conqueror

Warning, Spoilers Ahead…

House of the Dragon established as cannon that Aegon conquered the Seven Kingdoms to unify the realm for an unknown threat from the North.

I’m fine with that as its been a belief in the fandom for a long time. Attempting to weave the catspaw dagger back to Targaryens was lame. I give the creators points for trying to salvage the “Arya kills the Night’s King” nonsense but I will never believe a tiny dagger was the promised Targaryen weapon designed to kill an unknown threat – why would you choose a tiny dagger when you have Blackfyre or Dark Sister? The creators tried, it failed, moving on.

Before I cover the non-warring aspects of Aegon’s reign, I thought I would see if Aegon’s unification worked or whether it was the egotistical delusions of a man trying to put a noble spin on the deaths of tens of thousands.

We only have an actual ending in the books but we can speculate on upcoming events in the Winds of Winter and A Dream Of Spring.

The short answer is “no”. By the start of the main series, the Targaryen dynasty has been deposed and is down to an exiled prince and princess plus an unknown bastard. And the Seven Kingdoms will be at war with each other before A Game Of Thrones ends.

“Whenever a Targaryen is born, the gods flip a coin” to decide if madness or greatness awaits the individual”. A saying we here in the books and the show. I wonder when the saying entered the Westeros consciousness. Does it pre-date the Doom of Valyria? Did it occur after the Targaryens settled on Dragonstone or after Aegon’s conquest? If the saying was common before Aegon’s conquest if might explain why he so reluctant to share his vision with other people. No need to further the reputation of insanity.

On the other hand, Aegon descends from a famous prophetess – Daenys the Dreamer – which should lend weight to his claims of having a vision. The North and the Blackwoods are familiar with greenseers. Aegon’s lords (especially in the North) may have been more receptive than he anticipated.

In my opinion, Aegon shared his vision with Rhaenys, Visenya, and Orys – those were his “ride or dies” and his partners-in-crime. And we are told that starting with Aegon only the direct heir was informed of the upcoming threat. I don’t understand the logic behind the “only the heir is informed” practice.

Despite Jaehaery’s proclamation, the Targaryens are not exceptional – they die in the same ways non-Targaryens do: illness, injuries, drowning, drunk horse-riding, etc. Betting on the fate of the world by only imparting knowledge to the heir seems a risky way to ensure knowledge of the threat continues to later generations.

I still find it odd the knowledge of Aegon’s threat lasted in the post-Maegor years. How did Jaehaerys find out? Aegon, Rhaenys, Visenya, and Orys were long dead by this point. Aenys and Aegon the Unrowned were also dead. Visenya must have told Maegor but that leaves Jaehaerys. Aerea was Maegor’s heir but I highly doubt he told her about the Others. Did Maegor leave a letter in his belongings detailing the threat?

And as we saw in the Dance of the Dragons, only telling the heir backfires spectacularly when the family nearly wipes each other out, causing the later generations to lose all knowledge of the threat.

As for preparing for the upcoming threat, Aegon did nothing after conquering the Kingdoms. The North – more specifically the Night’s Watch aka the organization on the front lines of the upcoming threat – wouldn’t receive any aid from the Targaryens until the reign of Jaehaerys I. I would think Jaehaerys informed Alysanne of Aegon’s vision (despite not being the heir) as she was a very active partner in his reign. Alysanne granted the New Gift to the Night’s Watch though they didn’t have the personnel to properly use the land. Alysanne journeyed to the North and made a point to visit the Wall. Possibly scoping out the potential threat. We know she was unsettled by Silverwing’s refusal to cross the Wall.

Did Aegon’s conquering the Kingdoms aid the fight against the Others. A definite “no” in the tv show, a most likely “no” in the series:

Daenerys was the only acknowledged Targaryen to participate in the Long Night, round two. Her greatest contribution in armed forces were the Dothraki and the Unsullied (neither native to Westeros). Her dragons contributed to the battle but Viserion was killed and then used to bring the Wall down (not great).

The Targaryens could have contributed as much if they had simply remained as Lords of Dragonstone the entire time. Their contributions would have been greater as there would have been more Targaryens and more dragons as they wouldn’t have killed each other in the Dance of the Dragons.

The North, the Free Folk, and the Night’s Watch would have been involved with or without the unification of the Seven Kingdoms. They are on the front line either way.

Jon Snow”s Targaryen blood was irrelevant in the show and if Bran becomes King in the books, I don’t see it having much effect in the series. No one is following Jon because he has Valyrian blood, it has been his Stark heritage that rallied the North to him, and his own merits that have the Night’s Watch and the Free Folk following him. Hopefully, Jon is allowed to defeat the Others in the books – its only been his plotline since book 1.

The Westerlands. Jaime, Pod, Sandor, and Tyrion in the show. Most likely Jaime in the books as well.

The Stormlands. Brienne, Davos, Beric in the show. Most likely Brienne in the show. Possibly Stannis, and the remnants of his forces if they survive the Battle of Ice. The rest of the Stormlands are dealing with Aegon’s invasion and may end up battling the Daenery’s forces.

The Riverlands. The remnants of the Brotherhood participated in the show. This area is my big question mark. I feel the Blackwoods would gladly answer the call. They were a Northern house, they worship the Old Gods, and have intermarried with the Starks. The Mallisters are also strong Stark supporters. The remnants of the Tullys are the big question marks. Edmure is on his way to Casterly Rock, the Blackfish has esacaped and Lady Stoneheart is on a murder spree. The Brotherhood has split into multiple factions and the Riverlands has been annihilated as it was ground zero for the War of the Five Kings.

The Vale answered the call in the books and will in the show as long as Littlefinger is eliminated. But they won’t be aiding the North because of the unification but because of the close ties between the Starks and the Arryns/Royces.

The Iron Islands. Theon and a few Ironborn helped in the show. Assuming Theon , Asha, and the captured Ironborn aren’t executed by Stannis, they will aid in the battle against the Others. They won’t have a choise as they will be in the thick of the insanity. I’m not sure if Theon will be able to help as his mutilation is much more severe in the books.

The Reach didn’t contribute in the show and won’t in the books. The Reach has been coasting through the War of the Five Kings with minimal casualties but this is Westeros and no one is allowed to have nice things. The Reach will be too busy dealing with Euron’s attack, the arrival of Aegon (and later Daenerys) plus the madness/incompetence of Cersei Lannister. That is a three-pronged attack to ward off and we can’t forget the Golden Company’s insistence on “friends in the Reach” which implies a possible civil war within the Reach. The survivors of the insanity won’t have the strength or motivation to travel to the North.

Dorne. No contributions in the show or the books. The desire for vengeance will be the downfall of the Martells. It killed Oberyn and will destroy the rest of the family. The only Martells I anticipate surviving the series is Ellaria’s younger daughters and Sarella Sand (if she survives Euron’s attack). The rest are caught up in Cerei’s madness and the upcoming Aegon vs Daenerys war – and the Martells seem to be allying with the side that doesn’t have dragons which is a bad idea.

The Crownlands will not have any strength to aid the North. They are dead center for the Cersei-Aegon-Daenerys confrontation. Rest in peace, King’s Landing, it was nice knowing you.

As for Aegon and Daenerys, Aegon will not go North but Dany will. We know King’s Landing is going to be wiped off the map. The exact circumstances are unknown. Who’s to blame is unknown. But it’s going to happen. I don’t know if Aegon and Daenerys will receive requests to come North before the inferno of King’s Landing occurs but I think said destruction is the reason Dany’ heads North with her forces. She has a Stannis-moment where she realizes she needs to put the people before her own desire for the crown.

In Summary, Aegon’s Conquest did not prepare Westeros for the return of the Others but is did provide Aegon with a delusional justification for killing tens of thousands of people in order to obtain power.

#asoiaf #game of thrones #hotd #house of the dragon #Aegon the Conqueror #Aegon Targaryen #House Targaryen #a song of ice and fire

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parasite-core · 2 years

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This week in pathfinder, we entered the Eon Pit and retrieved a number of items of interest to our party as well as the key we were seeking, risking being aged to death by the winds of time and being driven insane by the Curse of Eons when we did. Then we travelled through time again and went for round two, this time within the Mother Statue of Atrosa.

@scarlet-the-girl

In the room where we’d fought the Gorgon, Calio checked behind the illusory wall and found a Wand of Tongues. He whispered to Nestian that he’d found something that would be useful to try to talk to Kostchtchie later. Unfortunately, Aenland overheard, and confronted them, saying he thought they’d agreed to leave the timeline alone. Nestian said he respected Aenland’s choice to leave things alone with Xanthadon because that was his business, but he was going to do something about Kostchtchie. Calio agreed, he wasn’t going to sit around doing nothing while the Crone Queens had mythic power and we had a potential way to remove that from the board. Aenland said that he’d already laid out why that was a bad idea and he didn’t get why we weren’t listening. Calio told him he’d only laid out why it was a bad idea in theory, he didn’t know any more than the rest of us. Aenland stated that so far his theories have always been right, so they should listen to him. Calio felt like Aenland is delusional and full of himself and that no amount of arguments will convince him since the universe seems dead set on upholding his delusions of grandeur, so he didn’t bother arguing that point. Instead, Nestian stated that none of them are experts on time, so none of them have any way of knowing which way things can go, so why cower from it? Calio jumped on that train of thought, and said that he can contact someone who is an expert on time. Nestian assumed Vigliv, but Calio disagreed—she’s and expert on fate. He was, of course, talking about Keisuke. Nestian and Aenland were wary of this idea, even if Calio could contact him through time, which was probably not possible. Aenland argued that if Keisuke was in this time it might be the same situation as Xanthadon, and they’d be giving someone information they don’t need at a time when they shouldn’t have it. Calio felt Aenland was being paranoid and overly cautious. Nestian asked Edeya for her opinion. She felt we should focus on what was in front of us—the keys—instead of trying to change the last in unpredictable ways. Calio relented that for now it didn’t matter since we were in the middle of a statue and not in a position to talk to Kostchtchie or Xanthadon, so we could save the speculation until after we’d gotten the first key and returned to the village.

On our way back to the locked door we had passed by prior, we came upon an iced over passage, which Nestian broke open. Inside we found three items frozen to the ground, which we broke free. A wand of invisibility, a necklace of fireballs type IV, and a helm of telepathy. I forget who took the wand (Aenland I think, I recall he was the one who broke it free and tried to use it to open the frozen door in the room thinking it was a puzzle) but Nestian got the necklace, and Calio got the helm.

The party returned to the locked door they had passed by prior, and opened it. Beyond a winding hall they came upon a room filled with dazzlingly bright light. Within were creatures that were invisible in the light—Lurkers in Light. Despite their advantage, the party cleared the Lurkers with little trouble. The bigger issue were the four wooden golems shaped like maidens that were guarding them. They shot splinters of wood into the party and we’re not susceptible to most of what the magic users had up their sleeves.

So the physical fighters plus Levi took them out—Levi with the help of a new spell Calio had been sitting on, Undying Rage, which buffed the skeletal dragon.

Then the party moved forward—into the chamber of the Eon Pit.

There they found Jadrenka arguing with another woman—who they soon learned was her mother, Caigreal. Caigreal had been the warden of Artrosa until a few days prior, but now Jadrenka held power over the dungeon, and she banished her mother. Caigreal tried to make a deal with us that should we want to dethrone Jadrenka, we could side with her, but Jadrenka shook the room when she brought her staff upon the ground, and Caigreal made a swift retreat.

Nestian had noticed that Caigreal appeared to have an illusion over her, and asked what she really was, but Jadrenka simply said she was ‘no longer a problem’. Then she invited us in to speak with her before the Eon Pit.

What we were seeking was at the bottom of the pit. The pit itself was deadly—it could age you to death if you stayed in it too long, and upon taking an object from its depths you would have to survive the Curse of Eons, which would try to break your mind. However before the party would even be allowed access to try to survive the pit, they would have to prove their worth against one last trial.

As Jadrenka said this, people entered from doorways in other parts of the room—all paths lead to the Eon Pit, and Kostchtchie and Xanthadon had both arrived in time to face challenges of their own. Jadrenka addressed them both—Kostchtchie had come seeking the pit itself, but perhaps he would find something within that he desired, and Xanthadon would find the cure she was seeking, if they could best the challenges placed before them.

Kostchtchie was given the challenge of the past, as an enormous frost giant rose up to face him. Kostchtchie flew into a rage and met him in combat. Xanthadon was given the challenge of the future, and a demon was summoned, a Hezrou, a swamp dweller from the depths of the abyss. Xanthadon sent her remaining men away, and faced the demon in single combat.

Jadrenka turned to our party. She said we had no past, as we didn’t even exist yet, and our future was still in flux, so she would give us the Test of the Present. She summoned from throughout the statue a corrupted Nymph and her twisted children—the mate and children of the fiendish Satyr we’d killed earlier. She told us to stomp out this infestation, and access to the Pit would be ours.

Nestian moved up and began the assault on the corrupted fey with his cold iron longsword. The fey stepped away and used Flame Strike on the party—doing some major damage to poor Greta and a decent chunk to everyone else. Calio attempted to throw the Nymph into the Eon Pit with Boneshaker, but she resisted—she still took a good chunk of damage however, and Calio painted a target on himself for the nearest two sons. Aenland killed one of the four twisted fey outright with four arrows to the head.

The first of the sons threw a bomb at Calio—hitting him spot on, and dealing a decent chunk of splash damage to Greta and Levi. The other brother tried to shoot Calio with a poisoned dart, but the nearly-undead man easily resisted the poison. Greta went after the third brother, who ineffectively shot a dart at her.

Nestian tore into the Nymph with two critical hits—but she was still up. She repositioned herself and hit Nestian, Aenland, and Greta with a Lightning Bolt.

Calio cast a touch spell and risked getting close to the corrupted Fey, placing a hand on her and casting Slay Living. He did a massive amount of damage, leaving her on death’s door.

Aenland took out another of the brothers. Of the remaining brothers, one hit Levi with a bomb and managed to destroy the undead for the day, and the other tried to throw a bomb at Greta, but missed.

Nestian attacked the Nymph, and threw her into the Eon Pit as he cut her through—her pieces ripping apart and scattering through time, never to be seen again.

Aenland killed the brother who was attacking Greta—for Calio’s sake, not Greta’s. And Calio took care of the final brother, using Boneshaker to throw him in the Eon Pit with his mother, to be ripped apart by the winds of time.

Jadrenka congratulated the party for completing their test, stating she’d believed in us. The other two combatants were still facing their tests—Xanthadon was holding her own again the demon, but Kostchtchie was bloodied, although still fighting furiously.

Jadrenka welcomed us to enter the Pit. Edeya said she had no desire to go into the Pit, and she’d keep watch up top. Calio was absolutely going into the pit. Aenland and Nestian followed suit. They went down the stairs, into an unsettling view in which they saw the same view infinitely any way they looked (think looking through a portal with a portal behind you in Portal and seeing yourself an infinite number of times). Each person had to make a fortitude save against the aging effect of the Pit—a few of us had to use Hero Points to save ourselves.

When they made it to the bottom, they found a number of items in alcoves. There was, of course, the blue dragon scale they required. There was a potion of Human Reincarnation—it would kill you and bring you back as a human if drunk while alive, or reincarnate you as a human if used on a corpse. It wouldn’t be pleasant if used while alive.

There were The Wrists of Winter, which would allow the wearer to use Alter Self at will.

There were spectacles that would allow the wearer to immediately learn Druidic if they took a rank in Linguistics, even if they weren’t a Druid.

There was a Stone of Farspeech, along with a +1 voucher to allow a second one to be sent to anyone in the world.

And there was a bloodstained pocket watch—The Nine-tailed Kitsune’s Pocket Watch, which would allow the holder to change a single numerical value in their spell into the nearest multiple of 9. Calio surmised this belonged to Keisuke due to having noted a quirk of his Sending spell usage earlier—he could use 27 words instead of 25.

Aenland decided to take the scale, since that was our objective. He passed the will save, and disbelieved the dragon that came out of the ground with the scale. He then had a vision of catfolk on a battlefield. He didn’t understand the meaning of the vision.

Calio went next—after an agonizing decision between the gauntlets for Greta or the pocket watch that belonged to Keisuke, he chose the gauntlets. He hallucinated a winter wolf leaping at him, teeth bared, going for the kill, but he disbelieved it, knowing Greta would never to that to him.

Last was Nestian. He chose the spectacles. He disbelieved his hallucination, then saw a vision of the Sylph we’d fought in the Pale Tower. She was angry, referring directly to Nestian and saying ‘he isn’t even a Druid!’, to which another person told her ‘You aren’t either.’ Nestian had the feeling this really happened, but he didn’t remember it.

We quickly exited before the pit could affect us further. At the top, Jadrenka was no longer waiting at the mouth of the Pit. Xanthadon was there, having bested her opponent. Jadrenka was at Kostchtchie’s side, holding the Frost Giant with one hand before telling him ‘you won’t do this to him again’, and casting Slay Living on him—killing the giant instantly, and saving the unconscious warlord. Xanthadon noted dryly that she thought Jadrenka couldn’t help us with our tests. Jadrenka sheepishly told Xanthadon she had passed her test, and could enter the Pit to take what she had come for—all while cradling Kostchtchie’s head in a gentle, loving manner, and beginning to heal his wounds.

Calio wanted to go back into the Pit to get the pocket watch. He gave Greta the gauntlets he’d retrieved for her. She said she would wait to use them until he’d returned, sane, for him to see her human form again. He agreed that he’d be back in a moment, and went to enter the Pit at the same time as Xanthadon. Aenland joined him.

Aenland noted that Xanthadon had been eavesdropping on them. Xanthadon hissed that insane people like them weren’t worthy of entering the Eon Pit. Aenland decided he’d prefer if she simply believed they were insane.

As Aenland and Calio entered the Pit, someone else darted in after them—Snezhinka. She ran ahead—failed to resist the aging effects and grew half her age category older, but still darted ahead of us in search of something, despite Edeya yelling after her to get back.

Calio used his last Hero Point to resist the aging effect.

They made it back down to the bottom of the Pit. Calio grabbed the pocket watch without hesitation. He failed the save with a nat 1. He used his Thread of Fate. He failed a second time. Nestian, who had been holding a rope to pull them up if something went wrong, used his own Hero Point with them connected to boost his roll just above the threshold.

Calio saw Keisuke, holding the watch at the same time as him. He looked at Calio, saying in a dark tone that no one else would take this. But Calio disbelieved the image, knowing that Keisuke had a fondness for him. Then he had another vision. Keisuke was standing over someone. He said ‘…you’ll never see Nestian again’, before bending down and ripping out the person’s heart.

Calio has no idea what *that* was all about. But apparently Keisuke knew Nestian before, even if Nestian doesn’t know Keisuke now.

Next up, Snezhinka took the potion of Human Reincarnation. She made the Will save. We saw flashes of what her vision was—colors, yellow, and four people standing over her—a raven winged tiefling, a plant being, a blind man, and a man in full armor.

Xanthadon went next. She grabbed a bag of herbs that hadn’t been there last time we entered the Eon Pit. She succeeded her will save, but she had the intelligence for us to not view whatever she saw. After she viewed her vision, she quickly opened the bag of herbs and looked through it as if to make sure it was real, then said to herself ‘you’re going to be okay, mother.’

Aenland went last. He had actually entered the pit hoping that entering with Xanthadon would pull a version of her from a time more aligned with him to talk to.

He didn’t get a Xanthadon to talk to, but he did see the version of the drow he recognized from their time. Looking into the strange infinity, he saw Xanthadon standing over someone, about to kill them. She stopped, and looked up at Aenland. Her demeanor changed. ‘I don’t want to do this.’

Aenland decided to take the Stone of Farspeech. He had an unusual vision of a person in a circus, who explained how the stone worked—basically like a walkie-talkie. This was a reference to a prior campaign where the Stones of Farspeech came from and this particular temporal clown made their other appearances, much to the fear of the players (or at least me, I can’t speak for anyone else but I learned to dread this temporal anomaly), although they weren’t antagonistic this time, they were just checking in.

With the items acquired, we exited the Pit. Jadrenka was still caring for Kostchtchie, who was now conscious and mumbling about something in Ioberian, to which she was assuring him ‘it’s okay, your father is dead’. Jadrenka informed us that the second key we needed was in the Mother Statue. It was not open now, it would open when the moon aligned properly—which could take a week or a century depending on the rotation of the planet and the moon. She noted that as we were Honored Riders, she was sure we would find a way to enter the statue.

We decided to take our leave. We exited the statue, passed by the Witch Tree (Calio fed it a few corpses), and flew back down the side of the statue. We spoke to Erdija, and decided to return to the Dancing Hut on our own while she waited for the others to exit the statue. We returned to the centaur village, where the chief asked us an odd question while we passed through: why had we come through a few weeks prior but never left the hut? To our knowledge we didn’t come through a few weeks prior, unless some future version of us did for some reason.

We returned to the Hut, made a save against the plague in the air of Ioberia, and then went to rest for a bit. Nestian tried to talk to Ratabor and Zorka about Ratabor and Kostchtchie being one and the same, but Ratabor seemed to be incapable of comprehending what Nestian was talking about whenever he tried to mention Kostchtchie, and Zorka had never known about such a thing.

Calio decided to contact Keisuke and ask him for advice, as the time expert. He used Keisuke’s watch to get extra words in the Sending—a gesture which was noticed by Keisuke and he gave a nod to it with his own reply also being 27 words.

‘We’ve travelled through time. I believe we can stop the queens from getting mythic power. Aenland is paranoid bad things will happen. You’re the expert on time.’

‘Time can be rewritten. Push too much, and you’ll create a new future. That’s not bad, but be sure you want it. Isn’t your new future good?’

Calio considered Keisuke’s words, and for now hasn’t shared this conversation as he’s now uncertain if he wants to try changing the future.

As the party got ready to rest, Edeya confronted Snezhinka about her running into the Eon Pit. Afterwards she told the others that Snezhinka said she wanted the potion ‘just incase Edeya needed her’, in an emergency, and Edeya would be holding onto it. Edeya was worried about Snezhinka, especially because she could actually tell that she’d aged, unlike everyone else.

The party rested for the night, and the next day they threw the clock back into the soup and hoped for the best.

They went back out into Ioberia and met with a number of centaur guards, who greeted us in a much more friendly and less wary manner than last time, and offered to escort us back to their camp to meet with the chief. We agreed.

When we arrived to the camp, it was not Korak Kaag who greeted us, but instead an older Erdija.

Apparently we’d jumped ahead a hundred years. Erdija was the new chief of the clan. She’d learned the truth about the clan’s purpose to protect the resting place of the Dancing Hut the day we’d left, and then been trained on the duties of a chieftain before Korak Kaag eventually passed away peacefully of old age—although she admitted he’d probably have preferred if she told them he’d gone down fighting a horde of Frost Giants instead of peacefully surrounded by family members.

Erdija told us that we’d not-so-coincidentally shown up just as the moon was aligned for the Mother statue of Atrosa to open. She assumed that was our goal. We agreed (except for Aenland, who joked that, no, we were here for the Crone Statue. We needed to go back and try again.) Erdija figured since from our perspective we’d only been gone a day, we likely remembered the way, if we just wanted to go ourselves. She didn’t have a young guide to send to test to be the next chieftain like Korak Kaag had for her, although if we needed a guide she was sure she could get someone. We declined, agreeing that we knew the way ourselves.

We made our way back to Atrosa, and once again flew up the side of the statue—this time the pregnant Mother statue in the center. There were no Will-o-Wisps this time. According to Erdija, in some previous expedition, someone had gotten so frustrated with them they’d spent an entire afternoon clearing them all out. She didn’t doubt more would eventually appear, but for now the path up was entirely clear.

At the top, however, we met a second Witch Tree. It started with its spiel about how it needed a sacrifice, but we interrupted and told it that we’d prefer the riddle. In frustration it told us it would give us the hardest riddle any being could possibly conceive.

It started to give us the same exact riddle the previous Witch Tree had given.

Calio interrupted, giving her the Black Rider’s name before she’d even gotten halfway through the riddle. Aenland told him that was cheating and he should have let her finish. Calio told the tree that they’d heard that one before. The tree screamed in frustration, but moved aside regardless. Like the previous tree she tried to convince Aenland to get in her mouth so she could eat him, but he once again refused since she would flat out eat him and not compromise and just take a taste. Calio considered bringing this one a corpse but he doesn’t like this one as much as the previous tree so he probably won’t bother remembering.

The party went down the stairs, and immediately came upon Jadrenka. She was in a room full of children. She was older, and appeared to be pregnant. She greeted us in a much more reserved manner than last time. She assumed we were here seeking what we had been after last time: the second key. We agreed. She told us we could guess where it was at. The Mother Statue’s Eon Pit. She gave us the key we would need, then said we would next see her in the Eon Pit.

When she vanished, the room changed. Like in the meadow of the Maiden, where the bull became a Gorgon, in this room the children became murderous little fey creatures.

We swept through them with little trouble. Even Levi had no trouble hitting their AC with all of his attacks—that AC was that low.

Once we’d cleared the fey, we went to the door out. It was locked. The key Jadrenka gave us didn’t unlock it. Nestian hit it with Baba Yaga’s Besom and unlocked it.

We entered what appeared to be a lavish bedroom—Calio, however, saw through the illusion, and much of it was just bare stone like the rest of the dungeon.

There was a woman trapped behind bars in the room. She spoke to us in Draconic, drawing a blade. Calio used the Wand of Tongues he’d picked up, and assured her that we weren’t her enemies, we had no reason to fight her. She noted that Jadrenka had no reason to use Tongues since she spoke all languages, so she lowered her weapon. She introduced herself as Marislava. She was once Jadrenka’s lover, but Jadrenka had gotten it into her head that Marislava was cheating on her with the corrupted fey we’d already killed, and she’d locked her in this room ‘to keep her safe’. Marislava asked to be let out.

Surprisingly it was Calio who immediately agreed. The idea of a lover caging the object of their affection had made his skin crawl—he’d imagined if any of his past relationships he’d left had ended like that. He said that it was twisted of Jadrenka to cage the person she supposedly loved. Greta was happy to hear him say as much—something Calio hadn’t been expecting, as he hadn’t really been thinking about himself and Greta when talking about this, but it’s something he’s going to remember going forward.

The others agreed that they should free Marislava. Nestian used the Bosem again and unlocked the cage. Marislava began gathering her things. As she did, she mentioned she was somewhat regretful that she had to go—Jadrenka was the reason she *was* Marislava, she owed her a lot. When the party asked what she meant, if Marislava was a title. She disagreed, no, it was her name, but she’d chosen her name. Edeya immediately said she understood, because she was the same. Marislava said that if someone stayed in the Mother statue for long enough, they would permanently become female. Edeya noted that being a lot more convenient than an expensive potion.

Marislava took her axe, her spellbook, and some valuables, and made her exit.

We continued further into the Mother statue.

Through the next hall we found a hidden door. As decided to explore it, and found a stairway down to the Torture Pit, where four Red Caps were sitting around talking.

We got the drop on them, and dispatched them before they could make a single attack.

Then we made our way into the next chamber.

A large dark chamber with black horse statues and tapestries of twisted forests. An alter Calio identified as being to Alazhra, the goddess of Night Hags, stood against the back wall. As we all entered the room, a spectral green fire in the shape of a woman began to emerge from the far wall—a Witchfire, the restless spirit of a particularly evil hag.

#pathfinder #reign of winter #PF weekly #if you think Calio isn’t going to try to Command Undead that Witchfire first thing next session then you don’t know Calio

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prettyboykatsuki · 2 years

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On the other side of the country, Osamu Miya is coming to terms with the fact he may very well be in love.

Which, isn't as easy as he thought it would've been. Whereas Atsumu is falling in love with anyone and everyone who pays any attention to him at all - Osamu has never really fallen in love. Not seriously, anyway. Aside from the occasional, blistering attraction - there's seldom been anything he'd even think to call love.

He never could picture himself so open with anyone. He's only barely open with his sibling, his friends. Osamu Miya isn't lonely, but he's seldom. A couple of nights drinking with friends is enough social interaction to put him in a proverbial deathbed.

So the prospect or logistics of falling in love have always been lost on him. It meant not only meeting someone he liked, opening up to them, but also wanting to spend time with them. He'd never given it much thought beyond a mild "how complicated," and what felt like his entire early twenties without ever once saying the words i love you.

It's always been a delusion of grandeur, in its own right. A busy, working man who helps take care of his mom. Who sleeps on the couch and wakes up too frequently with a crick in his neck. Who plays volleyball to workout, not longing but melancholy at the feeling of a ball in his palms. The question easily becomes who could ever love Osamu Miya?

And then, of course, there is you.

You're not his only regular. Onigiri Miya is a popular business. And his location, as the origin, is accustomed to sizeable patronage. He's been running it long enough to know the locals, their daily lives and faces through counter conversation.

But, you always had something to you. A charming, clumsy, carefree whimsy that made Osamu's heart swell and stretch like. In many ways, Osamu knows you couldn't be more different from him.

You caught his attention without every trying. Bending over your laptop, stressed - but always smiling when he walked by. Even your complaints were laced in gratitude, your huffs imbued with warmth, your heart always tender. You were and still are one beautiful imperfection. A coffee stain on your collared shirt, or spinach in your teeth. Nothing in the world has ever proved to be as charming as that.

You'd made lightwork of worming into his heart. One cup of tea became a phone number, became a date, became sleeping together, became just sleeping in the same bed. Underneath the morning sun, where he'd cooked breakfast in your apartment. In what feels like no time at all (but really happened over the steady span of 8 months) Osamu Miya had steadily opened himself up to you and tried to come to terms with the unfamiliarity of it all.

A partner felt like something Osamu couldn't ever have. A lover. But lately, when Osamu falls asleep on the couch he wakes up with a blanket and neck pillow - he thinks a lover is all it could be. Some weekends he goes drinking with his usual party and takes his prettiest plus one. And Osamu has never once flirted before but the word baby slips so naturally off his tongue lately, he startles himself.

He can only give credit to Atsumu to one thing. He'd made admitting love look so easy.

But, Osamu thinks falling for someone must be the most embarassing thing in the world.

He still hasn't told you yet. That he loves you. He should. He knows he should, but there's something about the whole thing that makes a blush rise into his cheeks. All these useless thoughts. You are his first love, but he isn't yours and he can't help but pointlessly wonder about the gap between you. Since when did it matter so much to him that you hang out with your male co-workers? Since when did he take pictures after getting a haircut and worry about all the grit in his face?

Really, Osamu can't help but wonder if he'd always been so stupidly embarassing about love. Whenever you reassure him with a soft laugh or a tender hand, Osamu thinks that maybe he's always been more of a bumbling fool than he understood. Maybe love makes people a little drunk with it.

And maybe this inexperience is what's making him confront it. You're having a long trip with your girlfriends, he knows.

( "They wanna meet you, Samu. / "I'm nothin' special." / "You are to me")

And it's the first time you've spent more than a week apart. You call Osamu when you can, said he's free to call you when he likes. And he wants too, which is why he's staring down his little device like it's going to reveal a long tombed secret. But something is stopping him, embarrassment like he's never felt in his entire life.

And Osamu is standing at the counter of his restaurant, staring down his cellphone with something turning in his gut. As the realization settles on him with a sudden, unmistakable force. On the other side of the country, far away from you, it hits him.

Osamu has fallen miserably, embarassing in love.

He doesn't have confidence when he hesitantly grabs his phone. Taking his hat off, pressing the call button next to your number, waiting for it to stop ringing.

When it does his breath hitches, his heart stops, and suddenly he thinks it again so suddenly, i love you.

"Hey, 'Samu. I missed you, baby,"

He breathes out.

"Missed you too, sweetheart,"

#osamu x reader #writing tag #haikyuu x reader #arisotle.txt

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halogenwarrior · 2 years

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So I’ve been thinking about how the warrior cats fandom usually talks about the power of three prophecy. People will always describe or portray in fan works the three as being figures blessed by StarClan with a great destiny to save the Clans and in the same vein refer to Hollyleaf as passed over by StarClan, even speculating on why StarClan chose to not give Hollyleaf powers and stuff like that. But in the actual books they make it clear that StarClan has nothing to do with the three’s powers (in fact they weren’t even aware that Hollyleaf wasn’t one of the three), it has more to do with the ancient cats and their ancestors, and that’s what makes the Three terrifying to cats like Firestar - that they have these unearthly powers from completely outside the Clans’ belief system that are MORE POWERFUL than the ones they worship, and the prophecy says nothing about them using their powers for good or saving anyone. Rock in Cats of the Clans also makes a point of saying regarding the Three that their power is morally neutral, whether it’s good or evil depends on what the cat does with it.

Of course, they completely messed this up OOTS and went with the much more cliched route of treating them just like typical chosen one characters. The driving mystery of why they have such powers is basically answered by “they have the powers because they are Good and they are destined to Save Everyone because the prophecy says so and they never could have chosen anything but being Good”. Dovewing even thinks that Hollyleaf was denied powers because she killed someone, and the narrative never says this was a big misunderstanding of how the prophecy works. But this is boring. Plus it makes the characters a lot more unlikeable. It’s interesting to see the three being brats who think they are above other “mere mortals” when there’s this tension over whether their arrogance will lead to tragedy and destruction, and the interest in seeing just what consequences these ambitious teenagers with delusions of grandeur could cause. But it stops being fun when the narrative is telling you that these cats are the pinnacle of goodness chosen because they are the best cats for the job of saving the Clans, so you have to root for them even if they are brats.

So what if the narrative had actually followed up on the setup of the Three’s powers being something alien, beyond StarClan, something terrifying? Jayfeather and Lionblaze’s arcs would play out the same as normal, with the tension resulting from Jayfeather’s hunger for power and knowledge to make up for his position as a cat demeaned for his disability, and Lionblaze’s tendency to violence and anger, and the question of where that would lead them. But Hollyleaf... Hollyleaf believes exactly what a lot of WC fans seem to believe, that the prophecy means they are chosen by StarClan instead of some other vague group, that they are destined to save the Clans. She just interprets “the power of the stars” in a completely different way than everyone else in the text because she sees it how SHE wants to see it. And the world around her is a harsh one, harsher than POT ever was in canon. The Clans are at constant war, and the code of refusing to kill in battle is very often broken. Hollyleaf, always the diplomat, dreams of ending the war and constant death.

And so when the Three find out about Leafpool and Crowfeather being their parents, the reason it disturbs Hollyleaf so much isn’t some vaguely defined blow to their social standing which never seems to affect them anyway, it’s the proof that they prophecy was always about them being the most unholy of cats, with powers that defy the natural order and all the Clans believe in, that will DESTROY all that the Clans believe in, because why would cats destined to by purveyors of the holy and good have their very birth be a violation of all the Clans hold sacred? Maybe bring up in the narrative how the last cat born from a medicine cat was Brokenstar, that there is a very real belief in the culture of the Clans after that such cats are evil beings in violation of everything. I feel like this would be a lot more powerful than just Hollyleaf realizing that she was never special because unlike Lionblaze and Jayfeather, Hollyleaf’s thing wasn’t just that she was ambitious and proud and believed she was special, but also that she believed she was destined to do good and be a hero and enforce the warrior code. And the understanding that her not having powers disproved that belief (because StarClan rejected her) is, as I said, a fan misinterpretation.

And what pushes her more fully into horror about her very existence is that her first instinct was to murder Ashfur. She saw a threat to her and her siblings’ reputation that might make the Clans see them as flawed and thus stop them from shaping the Clans in their own image, and her first thought was to kill and break the code she had valued to protect her social standing, caring more about the image she and her family had as good than how good they actually were. And she becomes more and more horrified with herself and how she has proven beyond all doubt by her own actions that she truly is an unholy being.

So going into this version of OOTS, Hollyleaf is desperate to prove she is anything but a monster from birth. And this is where I would have a bit of a “crossover” with what happens in TBC. Basically, Hollyleaf would take Ashfur’s place as the cat who tries to enforce the code at all costs. But while Ashfur’s powers and control over the dead were poorly explained by the narrative, Hollyleaf’s would just be the powers she got as part of the prophecy of the three, which she would actually have in this AU. She has the power of the stars in her paws. She can walk from one afterlife to another, easily prowl the Place of No Stars or find lost spirits, and at times she can even control the dead and make them do her own bidding. She is the Master of the Dead, the one who can shape cats’ ultimate destiny, and she uses her powers to appear to others like an envoy of StarClan to convince others to follow her lead on aggressively enforcing the Code. Perhaps something similar to TBC happens where StarClan gets disconnected from the Clans over a cold winter, and Hollyleaf steps in to tell the Clans that if they follow her lead, StarClan will be returned to them (This could be caused by Hollyleaf herself believing deceiving the Clans like this is for the greater good, but I like the idea of her not just being hypocritical like that, I think a better explanation could be Jayfeather inadvertently interfering with things or even Jayfeather doing it on purpose because of his disillusionment with StarClan as anything more than ordinary cats glorified after their death). Her ambitions are beyond just making the Clans follow the code, though she values that greatly for isn’t it the lack of following the code that has caused all the recent bloodshed? With her powers, she wants to bring the noble lifestyle of the Clans to as much of the world as she can, negotiating with spirits and groups of cats from far-flung places to try to force them into the code so they will not live like rogues with no meaning to their lives. She will go to any length to shape cats into their own Clans, even taking the spirits of their family hostage and forcing them into her own “mega-StarClan”. Even punishing the violators of her law in the afterlife by throwing them forcibly in the Dark Forest. And driving this all is the belief that she must somehow prove her powers can be used for good after all, that if she uses it in favor of such law and such holiness that even StarClan themselves were not capable of, then she could be accepted by them, that if she was not born from StarClan she could at least be their adopted child. That they could forgive her for her birth. That they could forgive her for murder.

Dovewing in this AU could be the actual “chosen one of StarClan”, given powers by them to try to give StarClan some measure of control over the Three situation. Ivypool would take Bristlefrost’s role, becoming close to and fascinated by Hollyleaf and becoming her enforcer, but eventually turning against her and being a spy. Hollyleaf would use her power to take Ivypool into the various afterlife realms, where she gets to have all of the adventures we know from OOTS, having to fight nasty spirits and make harsh choices so her true allegiance is not revealed. Instead of the generic threat of the Dark Forest cats trying to take over the Clans for ill-defined reasons that basically boil down to “we are evil”, we would have the spirits that Hollyleaf has messed with, some horrible cats there for their selfish motivations and others cats who had nothing to do with the Clans and were forcibly drawn into this world by Hollyleaf, and now want nothing but to destroy the Clans who ruined their lives. And so the final battle unfolds, the Clans for whom faith in the code has become fanatical for some and deeply shaken for others, versus the cats who, in some ways for just reason, want nothing but to destroy it. All begun by a cat more powerful than the stars, who wanted nothing more than to be part of them.

Anyone is free to make fanfics using this AU if they want.

#warrior cats #warriors #wc #hollyleaf #lionblaze #jayfeather #dovewing #ivypool

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sassyfrassboss · 3 years

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"the anon who broke M style through PR.. is it the fashion anon plant had?"

(Meghan's TedTalk anon here) No, sadly, I am not Plant or her old fashion anon. I'm just one of those old-timers who's been lurking around since the beginning. I learned a lot about PR from Plant, though, especially how Hollywood PR works and how much Meghan lives in PR. It wasn't until recently that I realized how much Meghan believes her own PR that she's the BRF's main character and once I had that lightbulb moment, it all clicked into place. (I always knew Meghan believed in her own PR. You don't cringe through the Megxit manifesto's "The Queen doesn't own service" without understanding that. I think I just underestimated how much Meghan truly believes in these delusions of grandeur.)

The thing about Meghan and her PR cycles is that she uses them to create these fantasy versions of herself that she controls through her clothes. But these PR storylines are set up to fail from the very start because Meghan can't maintain the illusion when she doesn't get the attention she wants. When she doesn't get what she wants, the illusion slips. When the illusion and her control slips, her mess begins to show and she's built such a house of cards out of these PR storylines to cover her secrets and lies that it can be easily blown down. So to protect this house of cards from blowing away, she relaunches herself with new PR and a new style as only a main character would. It's basically using shiny objects to distract from danger.

This is why Tom, Sam, Kate, and the UK press are so dangerous to Meghan: they contradict her reality and make her acknowledge she isn't the main character. (Tom can prove Meghan's childhood was better than she told everyone. Sam can prove Meghan isn't the kind and compassionate person she claims to be. Kate can prove Meghan is a nobody. The UK press can back all of them up.)

Now Kate also dresses/styles for PR storylines but she's much more subtle and organic about it that it sometimes takes years and her "restyles" are linked to natural life milestones. Kate is only on her fourth PR restyle in 20 years of being with William. By contrast, Meghan is on her eighth PR restyling in 5 years of being with Harry. She first mapped her "restyles" to milestones to obscure all the schemes but she couldn't maintain the illusions because of her threats (Tom and the press particularly), hence her "smash and grab" hustling.

[In case anyone asks, here's my breakdown of Kate's PR restyling:

Girlfriend: 2002 - 2007 (from St. Andrews to the breakup)

Newlywed: 2008 - 2012 (Anglesey years) (yes technically Anglesey was 2010 - 2013 but PR-wise, Kate knew she was marrying William when she took him back after the breakup and it was reflected in her outfits)

Part-time royal: 2012 - 2017 (Norfolk years)

Duchess: 2018 - present (London years)

Based on Kate's history, her next PR restyle will be when she becomes the Princess of Wales. One could argue that that transition is already underway, which began with that portrait from Philip's funeral, but I think it's too soon to tell.]

Whew...I thought I lost this!

I learned a ton through Plant myself. I was so naïve about PR until Plant.

Remember in her Mexgit manifesto about how they will continue working alongside TQ and other senior royals? Someone pointed out that, NO ONE works alongside TQ but FOR TQ. This really showed me that they, Meghan, felt she was on equal, if not higher standing than TQ herself.

Remember her PR about what her jewelry meant? All of those gold rings she wore and how each one, plus the placement of each one meant something? I also remember when Meghan’s style started to slip, the wedding dress. I was flabbergasted that is what she went with. It didn’t match any of her PR style to date and it was so loose on her.

I never have really thought about Kate and her PR style because she does recycle clothing and tends to wear the same looks, but you have brought up a good point. I do think she is slowly transitioning into her PoW looks. The funeral and the 007 premiere gold dress.

Love having you stop by and providing your wonderful insight! Sorry it took a while to get back to you. I wanted to write more but you are so thorough that I don't have anything to add!

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ohfugecannada · 3 years

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Oddworld: Role Switch au

So a couple of weeks(?) ago, @oddest-worlds posted an idea for an au where mudokons were an evil cultist species-supremacist power because of the mudokon moon incident and the glukkons were the enslaved natives. I really wanted to pitch in ideas/headcanons, but was busy with coursework at the time.

Fortunately, I just finished my project and now have more free time so I got to writing some stuff.... a lot of stuff... mainly just some points on the main trio of eusocial races (Mudokons, Glukkons and Sligs) and their role in the AU. So strap in!

(Fyi if you have/had other ideas that contradict the headcanons bellow, feel free to ignore those. Or pitch in some of your own ideas, I’d love to hear them!)

Glukkons

Were once a spiritually oriented race who practiced black magic, occultism and alchemy and were allies of the Mudokons thousands of years ago

When the mudokons declared themselves as the supreme race because of the mudokon moon, they were, understandably, upset and concerned

Fearing their once allies were drifting further away into cultist, species-supremacist behaviour, the glukkons set out to disprove the mudokons declaration of supremacy though their alchemical arts and unify their species once more

It’s said that some glukkon alchemists were successful in finding the answers they seeked out, but what those answers were have long since been lost to time

Now becoming more industrialised and realising the glukkons were a possible threat due to their alchemical powers, the mudokons orchestrated a war against them, nearly wiping the glukkons out in the process before thier surrender

After the war, disillusioned, outnumbered and on the brink of extinction, the glukkons began working for the mudokons, who belittled, oppressed and eventually enslaved them

Now most glukkons are born into subservience to the Mudokons, oblivious to their spiritual past, true history and culture

Still native glukkon tribes out in the wild in hiding from the mudokon empire

I mentioned this before, but I personally imagined the glukkons of this timeline walking on thier legs, which are still somewhat short, and retained thier long arms. Basically, they have the same body type to gibbons and similar long armed apes

Because they walk with their legs and not on their arms, most glukkons stand at almost half their canon height, roughly around 4 or 5 feet tall or so

In industrial captivity, most glukkons tend to have a grey or pale skintone like the glukkons we see in soulstorm

Native Glukkons born outside of captivity are much more diverse in skin colour, with their base colours ranging from brown to purple, red, pink or green etc

Along with This, they have the ability to change their skin colour like octopuses (which makes sense given their closest relatives evolutionarily are the oktigi and other octopus/cephalopod-like creatures)

Notably, they flash different colours across their face and skin when feeling strong emotions like sadness, anger, excitement etc. Similar to the mudokons in Abe’s Exoddus

Glukkons from certain tribes also have bioluminescent markings and patterns on their skin that are visible in the dark. Though, this trait is not as common

Using this colour changing ability, some glukkons are able to copy the colours and even textures of their environment and become one with the scenery. Essentially making themselves invisible. Of corse, this particular aspect of colour changing usually doesn’t come as naturally or involuntary to glukkons as the emotional-based changes. In most cases it takes years of training to master the art of invisibility

Much like the Mudokons in canon, industrial-born Glukks are born into captivity from a mother queen and their eggs are shipped off to be sold into slavery

Baby or young slave glukkons are raised alongside their siblings and cousins over a mudokon master and are usually kept together as something akin to a demented orphanage where youngling glukks are sent to work as soon as they can pick up a rag and bucket

@oddest-worlds, You described the mudokons as being cult like. I personally imagined this would ya know aside from the moon worshiping mudokon supremacy stuff manifest itself most in the way they control thier glukkon slaves

Glukkons in slavery, much like people born into cults, are indoctrinated at a young age to believe their mudokon masters are perfect, all knowing and benevolent beings, that the outside world beyond the factories is a savage, unforgiving wasteland where outsiders will try to lead them astray, and that they are better off and safer dedicating their lives to loyaly serving the mudokons

Glukks who challenge these beliefs, defy their mudokon masters or try and escape to the outside are often severely punished. Either from being removed from their glukkon group, being held in a cell for hours or days where they are interrogated and for their “crimes” or getting severe beatings.

Native free glukkons have a similar tribal society structure as the native mudokons in canon, with each tribe having their own distinctive culture

As said before, they practice the occult, black magic and, most prominently among different glukkon tribes, alchemy

As well as living in tune with nature, Glukkon alchemists often practice the art of transmutation, turning one type material or substance into another, and joining certain substances and/or materials together. Which they do in order to better understand the natural world around them

Nowadays, though, native glukkon civilisation is far from what it once was millennia ago

Thanks to the mudokons and other industrial societies either enslaving or killing off their numbers as well as building over their sacred lands, most native glukkon’s main priority is to hide away from the rest of society and to protect what little of their culture and traditions still remain

From my research I learned the practice of alchemy (or at least the traditional western version of it) could be traced back to Egypt and Thoth, the god of arts and sciences, so I thought it would make sense if at least some individual native glukkon tribes culture and overall aesthetic would be loosely based on the ancient Egyptians as a callback to this, with some small echos of the architecture we see with the glukkon aesthetics of the canon timeline plus the more native looking early concept art of glukkons

Also while researching alchemy I noticed one key aspect of it involved change and transmutation, I.e. turning base metals like lead into noble metals like gold. I thought about how this could also connect to their colour changing. Maybe some native glukkons believe the colour changing to be a glukkons most primal form of transmutation. And view the ability to blend in with the environment as a way of being one with nature, both in the figurative and literal sense. Or something else along those lines

In industrial propaganda, native glukkons are painted as savage barbarians and alchemists as swindlers and charlatans that lead gullable slave glukkons astray, filling their heads with doubt, or with the promise of bestowing riches and immortality for a price

Enslaved glukkon’s clothes tend to consist of whatever textiles they can get their hands on in the factories and what little the strict dress code implemented by their mudokon masters will allow

The main item of clothing worn by most glukk scrubs is a shoddily cobbled together shirt and overalls. Sorta like an even shabbier version of the basic glukkon pud uniform in munchs oddysee

Like many things, native or liberated glukkons tend to have a lot more freedom when it comes to what they wear

The more traditional fashions often worn by glukkon alchemists include long, loose fitting robes, sometimes with these thick ribbed shoulder pads. Pretty much the same as outfit worn by glukkons in the very early concept art back when they were still called “Oldger” or “Ociti”

Mudokons

A once spiritual race that possessed psychic powers and were allies to the Glukkons thousands of years ago

When the shape of a Mudokon pawprint appeared on one of Oddworld’s moons, some mudokons took this as a sign from the gods that they were the chosen race

Blinded by their self imposed delusions of grandeur, the first believers of the mudokon moon sign set out to prove the mudokon race’s superiority over all other races of Oddworld

The moon believers did this by recruiting more mudokon members into their tribe, slowly converting the many tribes into one unified empire, increased consumption of the planets resources and began to isolate themselves from the rest of Oddworld

Building massive towers that reached the skies, they began to spend most of thier time indoors, only looking up at the night sky to see thier sacred moon, the symbolic reminder of thier divinity over Oddworld

Gradually abandoned thier spiritual ways in favour of a more industrialised way of life. Only a few powerful figures within the Mudokon empire still use their psychic abilities such as possession

Growing more paranoid that their Glukkon allies and thier powers of alchemy would prove to be a threat to their rising power, the mudokons orchestrated a war against the glukkon tribes, nearly wiping them out in the process

After the war, the mudokon empire gave the queens of the last remaining glukkon tribes an ultimatum: give away thier children to the empire where they would be “employed”, “sheltered” and “safe”, or let them be born into a “primitive” tribal wasteland at the brink of extinction

The mudokons were able to enslave their once Glukkon allies and quickly rose to become the most powerful, and power hungry, civilisation in all of Oddworld

In terms of architecture and aesthetic, I figured many of those motifs from their spiritual/tribal past would subtly carry over to their current society, I’ll be it more metallic and industrialised. Like larger, dystopian dieselpunk versions of the huts, buildings and structures we see in Monsaic Lines and other native mudokon locations

The buildings they live and work in are also incredibly tall, with some structures in their urban cities reaching above the clouds (basically the opposite of the canon glukkons subterranean cities)

The Mudokons are the main industrial society with a stronghold over the planet

Having essentially brainwashed both thier mudokon citizens and glukkon slaves, the mudokon empire is singularly concerned with proving their dominion over the planet oddworld. with no reguard for the native creatures and cultures that inhabit it

Mudokon society is extremely dedicated to the idea they are the best civilisation in all of Oddworld

As far as they’re concerned, their empire is the supreme civilisation, unparalleled in architecture, politics, philosophy, military and art

And they are dead set on proving thier superiority to the other races of Oddworld, no matter the cost

Any historical records that makes mudokons civilisation and society look bad or less then perfect are either deeply hidden away or destroyed. Through this constant revisionism as erasure, their true history has been long forgotten

Only consistent part of their history is the mudokon moon, which they hold as a sacred symbol and a reminder of their power as the “chosen race”

Now, the sight of the mudokon moon is rare for any industrial borns due to the sky being covered by air pollution from the mudokons buildings and factories

Young mudokons are born as eggs by their respective queen and sent to be raised by a foster mudokon worker and, if they’re rich or well off, their many glukkon slaves

As I said before in the glukkon bit, the way glukkons are taught how to view the world is very similar to real life cult indoctrination and brainwashing. Young mudokons get a similar treatment in terms of their education

At an early age, mudokons are taught by their elders that oddworld belongs to the strong such as them, that the other races that cannot compare to the mudokons, And that all mudokons which as them are perfect and destined for greatness. (Provided they work hard and follow the rules of the empire...)

For a mudokon, lacking this sense of superiority over other races and drive to prove themselves as exceptional is frowned upon in thier society, and such mudokons are often either outcasted or placed in the lower ranking job roles

Like the glukkon workers in canon, adult mudokon workers are often employed as powerful bosses and rulers in the mudokon industries of food production, science, politics and/or religion to name a few

While some individual mudokon masters value mollah and material gain over other things, mudokon society as a whole isn’t quite as obsessed with mollah the same way glukkon society in canon is. They do hold monetary wealth and riches in high regard, of corse, but mostly as one of many status symbols to prove their superiority over others

Due to their belief of being the superior race, some mudokons are known to be extremely arrogant and self centred, to the point they’re often compeating with one another over who is the better mud

In terms of physical appearance, I imagine mudokons having a lot more angular features, like more talon like claws on their hands/feet to evoke a bird of prey

While mudokons are still omnivores, teeth such as their canids are more pronounced due to consuming more meat products such as scrab, Meech, slig and elum meats

I also feel like the slight uncanny-valley elements the mudokons already have should be subtly accentuated in the switch designs for creep factor and everything

unlike muds of canon, muds of the switch au tend to be on the lean, average and/or slightly cubby side rather then underweight and slightly bony in terms of their weight. Mostly down to having relatively better diet and quality of life, at least compared to their canon counterparts.

Mudokons also have way more feathers on their heads! Though, due to the airborne pollution of their industrial lifestyle, feather growth is mainly restricted to their head and face

don’t tend to grow as many feathers on other parts of their bodies like arms, legs etc

On top of this, as mudokons tend to live in colossal tower-like structures, they’ve evolved adaptations to life in higher attitudes such as naturally taking shorter breaths.

One popular form of dress for most moderate or high ranking mudokons consists of a shirt garment with a v-shaped neck (kinda like a Dashiki) a medium length skirt and long ornate robes or feathered cloak. Think more fancy versions of the native clothes worn by the mud shamins in canon.

How intricate, layered, extravagant and/or customised etc these clothes are depends on how high the individual mud wearing them is on the power/wealth hierarchy. Kinda like the wealth hierarchy with canon glukkons. Most lower class muds tend to look closer to the muds we see in canon with a short loincloth-like skirt and simple vest.

While the majority of mudokon society tends to be more industrialised, there are certain elite and powerful groups within the mudokon empire that still practice their spiritual psychic powers

One example of such a group is an elite task force of mudokon agents specifically trained to hone their psychokinetic abilities.

Fed on an exclusive diet of mind altering spooce shrubs, they are granted powerful and dangerous abilities (provided they don’t die from spooce overdose first). Such as the power to possess the minds and bodies of other beings

They are employed as black ops-like operatives by the mudokon empire to manipulate the affairs of other Oddworld nations and races behind the scenes with their powers of possession, as assassins to take out highly dangerous targets from afar with death via red ring explosion or possession induced head explosion, or as bodyguards to protect highly powerful and elite clients, usually mudokon queens. Essentially taking on a similar role to the Glocktigi in canon

Sligs

Race of amphibious/semi-aquatic swamp dwellers

Society not as complex or “advanced” as others like the glukkons or mudokons, technology wise

Somewhat nomadic as they tend to move around from place to place in colonies, though their preferd environments are wetlands, marshes, swamps, lakes and bogs

Were never enslaved by Glukkons, Mudokons or any other societies of mudos for that matter. probably since Sligs are seen as useless and impractical for such tasks anyway. I mean, what kind of peanut-headed chumps would have a legless species who can’t use their hands do their dirty work for them?! lol!

While functional on land, they’re a bit more adapted for life in water, with webbed hands and seal-like tails for swimming as well as gills in their mouths for breathing underwater

Walk with their hands when on land (similar to pantsless sligs in canon but slightly less awkward)

Use the highly dexterous tentacles on their faces to pick up objects and use tools while they walk or swim

Covering themselves up with dirt, moss, mud etc is a big part of their culture. Not because they think they’re ugly like the Sligs in canon, but because it provides good camouflage from larger creatures and predators wanting to eat them

If a Slig is spotted or about to be caught by anything that would want them as food, they can use their arms to leap away from their attacker

In terms of actual clothing, they don’t wear much aside from a covering that wraps around the middle section between their abdomen and their tail mostly so their butts don’t get cold when they go up on land. These coverings are usually either made of soft reeds weaved together, a leaf held together by a stick going through both ends or whatever they can get their tentacles on in thier surrounding environment

Even without fancy covering or camo, Sligs are pretty diverse when it comes to their appearance

Depending on the environment, their skin tone can range from light green to yellow, dark green, blueish-green, teal, brown or black to name a few

Some Sligs also have tiger like stripes similar to the ones on big bro Sligs in canon

And, of corse, there’s albino Sligs. How they’re treated tends to vary form colony to colony

Some outcast or even kill albinos, fearing their bright colour could attract predators

Other colonies are a lot more accepting of albinos, though they tend to be more protective of them due to, again, being more easy targets for predators

Most albino Sligs either take extra care to cover themselves with as camouflage as possible to hide their bright skin, or stay under the water for most of their lives, rarely ever venturing up to the surface world

Queens are also never seen on dry land, as their birthing process is significantly less painful underwater

While none of the queens in this timeline are as cripplingly obese as queens like Skillya in the canon timeline, most healthy queens are still rather large. Sorta like the size/weight of an average male elephant seal, or a salt water crocodile

Also, while some queens can still be jerkasses, they don’t usually eat their own young, as they don’t hold as much resentment towards them due to the less painful birthing process. Plus, their many drones usually bring them smaller fish and swamp dwelling creatures to keep them well fed

Baby sligs (or sliglets, as I like to call them) are born underwater and later take their first peek up to the surface after a couple of weeks

Raised by either one of their drone fathers or their many older siblings

baby Sligs are also born able to swim and walk on instinct, sort of like lizards. They only need to stick with their guardians for protection and to learn valuable life lessons from them like camouflage, avoiding predators, looking both ways before they cross the rivers etc

According to ex-Just Add Water employee Will on the Oddworld forums, Lorne Lanning originally envisioned Sligs having pig like fur, but this was cut from Oddysee due to technical limitations at the time. I headcanon that native Sligs had fur in the canon timeline but lost this trait due to their industrial lifestyle, similar to mudokon’s feathers. Hence in this timeline, some native Slig colonies do have fur.

usually more common, much thicker and more prominent on Sligs from colder climates as it helps them stay warm

The fur is also good for collecting dirt and growing moss and algae on, adding to the Sligs camouflage

I also have this headcanon that the noises sligs make for the BS and S’Mo BS commands in Oddysee and Exoddus gamespeak are remnants of their old language before they were enslaved by glukkons in canon. This is how Sligs communicate to each-other in this timeline: through a series of frog-like ribbit and croak vocalisations.

They do have the ability to speak language in the same way Mudokons and Glukkons do, I’ll be it in a limited capacity since they’re somewhat cut off from these language speaking societies and not used to talking in words. Think of it how, in canon, Gabbits like Munch can speak language with characters like Abe but can also call to other Gabbits through a dolphin-like “song”

Though they were never slaves, that doesn’t mean industrial societies like the Mudokon empire haven’t caused trouble for them

On top of occasionally hunting them to make high protein meat products and for sport, the Mudokon empire has also put their glukkon workers to use digging up Sligs swamplands for iron ore, as water that carried flakes of iron accumulated and settled in those swamps. As well as gathering peat from mires for fuel

These practices have been encroaching on the Sligs natural habitats. driving them out and disrupting their usual migration patterns

In a lot of cases, Mudokons purposefully try to drive off or exterminate Slig colonies. Viewing them as useless, dirty pests getting in the way of the precious resources that, much like everything else on Oddworld, the mudokons feel a sense of entitlement to

Alright, that all the points I got down for the big three. I do have some ideas for the other races like vykkers, steef, oktigi, meeches etc but for now, I’ll just leave it here. Again, please let me know what you think of all this and feel free to make contributions.

@southern-forests

#oddworld #au #aus #mudokons #glukkons #sligs #oddswitch #oddswitch au #role switch au #I had the most fun writing about swamp sligs

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deadmomjokes · 4 years

Text

First time Stormlight Archives Read-thru: The Way of Kings Part One

Since I actually somehow made it through the library’s waitlist to get my Icarusian hands on a copy of this thing, and because I am a completionist who cannot leave character arcs unfinished, I’m dragging y’all with me on this adventure that I guarantee you doesn’t need to be this long.

Yes I’m salty about it and it’s gonna take some serious literary magic to make me NOT salty about it because trying to hold this book at a decent angle activated my carpal tunnel issues and now I can’t feel my pinky finger and my thumb is tingling. So yeah. It better be worth it.

Anyway, we just finished Part One. Wait, “we” you ask? Oh yeah, my husband loves worldbuilding and hard magic systems, so we’re taking turns reading chapters aloud so that we don’t have to hold onto the book twice as long so we can both read it, and we can keep reminding each other of what’s what.

ANYWAY, we just finished Part One, so have my thoughts, positives, negatives, and overall impressions. Then get your road trip snacks because like I said, I don’t do things halfway and I already started this journey so here we mcfreakin go I guess.

The Good Stuff

There’s some pretty good lines so far.

B. Sandy actually appears to know what he’s talking about with drawing and sewing? Wild.

I’m digging how the currency system is, like, also functional. The pieces of currency act as lights and power sources and stuff. Neat.

The two main characters from this section are: depressed mom friend and his Conscience, and a snarky nerd with delusions of criminal grandeur, and between them they have exactly 0.84 brain cells. These all belong to Jiminy Cricket the literal airhead the Conscience.

Depressed softboy who just wants to be a good big brother? Well darn it, you found my weakness. I’ll pull up my “adoption papers” folder.

Each chapter from a new POV has a unique voice. Rather hard to pull off in writing, but very clearly and expertly done here.

I have some questions moving forward, which is always a plus. However...

The Bad Stuff

I really, REALLY don’t like feeling like I’m the dumbest person in the room. While he did manage to avoid infodumping, Mr. Sanderson also managed to make me feel like I’m missing vital information at basically every turn. And not in the “ooh, what a mystery” kind of way-- in the “what the freak am looking at, I have zero idea what you’re describing because you’re using in-universe jargon.” This piecemeal revelation thing works for the characters’ stories and plots; I’m all for that! I’m intrigued at what’s up with Ms. Davar, and exactly how Kal ended up where he is, what’s up with the war, etc. The problem is with handling the worldbuilding this way when you’re trying to situate these mystery plots in said world. It is not immersive for me; it is distracting, frustrating, and makes it hard for me to focus on the story. A few points handled this way would have been fine, but I lost track of how many times I had to stop and groan because yet another new term was getting lobbed at me and my comprehension of the situation depended on having an understanding of the world which he just hadn’t given us yet. I’m really over it.

I get that we were trying to establish her character, but I could have done without these lead-up chapters with Shallan. I wasn’t at all as interested in her as I was with Kaladin. We could have learned all that we needed-- her family situation, her big plan, her big mouth, her skills, her mysterious past and the weird stuff about her father that we still haven’t learned fully yet-- in media res when she’s already Jasnah’s ward. It felt kind of tire-spinny, though I admit it was fun at times.

The sentences and wording get sticky at times. Especially with reading it out loud, there are quite a few places that make my brain stumble because the words sound wrong next to each other, or the same word appears in the sentence too many times, and so on.

There’s a lot going on that just isn’t important. This ties back in to the first point, but we’re getting so much information about this world that it becomes tiring and tiresome to keep track of all the different things we’re learning about-- cultural rules around slaves, ‘safehands’, eye color, and so on; ‘fabrials’; the currency denominations; a whole religious system, some of which appears to be important but also has a bunch of tiddly little details that don’t; a caste system; a military structure; however the freak the ecosystem works and all the different animals and plants; the weather systems; etc ad nauseum. How much of this is important to know? I don’t know! That’s what’s frustrating about it! So much of it seems like by-the-way kind of stuff, but some of it could end up being important, so here I am wondering what’s gonna be on the quiz and what’s just for fun.

Impressions and Thoughts

Why must carcinization haunt me even in escapist fantasy?

Am not a fan of the phrase “skyeels” and “poisonous skyeels.” Don’t like that one bit.

Dudes are religiously required to be himbos, and girls are religiously expected to be scholars and nerds. Am love.

I’m getting increasingly concerned by the death-blood-collection ominous mystery quotes at the beginning of each chapter.

I’ve only known Sylphrena for a day and a half but if anything happens to her I would.... Not.... Not harm anyone or myself because she would be sad. 😭

I was warned about “suicidal ideation” being a thing, but I’m going to put a little brighter of a warning label on that and say that if anyone is about to read this and gets upset or triggered by suicidal ideation, plans, and attempts, be very careful and know that’s kind of all a thing. Not sure how much a thing it’ll be moving forward, I’m hoping “not”, but, yeah. That was an attempt, not just ideation, tho I’m grateful for the person who warned me because if it had come out of nowhere instead of just being a step further than what I expected, I’d be really, really not okay.

Yalb is the real MVP.

Verdict Thus Far

On a scale of 1 to 10 where 1 is “I will actually find strength to abandon this book because I’m so done” and 10 is “I’m willing to give up sleep to read more,” I’m sitting at a 6.5 right now. Good, and I’m looking forward to continuing, but I have a little ways to go before I’m hooked. But thumbs up, thanks for convincing me! (from everyone except my tingling numb fingers, I should have tried the ebook instead -_-)

#stormlight archives #stormlight #way of kings #brandon sanderson #writing #long post

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phantomato · 3 years

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Hello! It's nice to know another Voldemort/Tom Riddle appreciator :)

Is it okay to pick your brain about Voldemort and Wormtail's relationship? I know there's little fondness between them, but there must have been *something*. Peter is the self-serving coward who'd sold his best friends out to save himself, I don't understand why after escaping from Harry and the gang in PoA, he would risk his life to Albania, nursing a literally half-dead, helpless Dark Lord back to functioning corporeality, rather than running to an entirely unfamiliar country and living his best rat life.

Hello! I am around for your Voldemort needs. Well, mostly for my Voldemort needs, but yours, too, since I’m here anyway. And yes, it’s always fair to ask!

Pettigrew goes back to Albania because there would be no plot if he didn’t, though that’s the boring answer. I struggle with the second war because so little of it makes sense. The first book is fine and good, but then we jump through a muddle of plots that aren’t actually about Voldemort for two books before we get back to the big bad, and we still don’t settle there consistently for the latter half of the series. It’s a mess, and I can’t happily reconcile the idea of Voldemort fleeing all the way back to Albania (What is the airspeed velocity of an unladen soul shard?) with anything else we see of the character, since it’s a throwaway line upon his reappearance and he’s already back in Britain.

So, honestly, I could just as easily accept that Voldemort fucked off to the Forest of Dean for two years and Peter found him there. I don’t have a good answer for why Pettigrew didn’t decide to run and make a new life in a foreign country, because, yeah, pure self-preservation would suggest that’s a better answer. Let’s skip all that mess.

I just… don’t see Voldemort caring much about Wormtail. V’s in a bad way by the start of Book 4, he needs help from wherever he can get it, and for whatever reason (in my world, it’s self-loathing and embarrassment), V doesn’t seek help from the remaining members of his old inner circle. Wormtail forces his way back into V’s attention, so V sighs and says, “Well I guess I’ll have another go at this restoring-my-body-this-century thing.” It’s awful, he’s weak and mortified and compensating for that by lashing out at anything that comes near him. He’s running on the support of two men who have been in unnatural forms of confinement for the past decade, who might not be all that much more mentally healthy than he is. People like Lucius and Nott Sr. are right there with their money and connections and ancestral homes, but V doesn’t trust them to aid him when his power is so uncertain. Even if he trusted Snape after how the Potter thing went down, Snape’s locked up in Albus’ territory. Rat-Man and Imperio Boy are his rescue squad, and he’s theirs, and the entire Triwizard Bungle is a testament to how bad that idea was.

If I were more interested in Peter’s character, I could see building this in any of a few different directions. Maybe Peter joined the DEs for the sense of belonging/community that the organization offered and he sees this as a chance to restore it (plus maybe a position boost for himself in that community). Maybe Peter contains the same delusions of grandeur that motivated Quirrell to go seeking Voldemort, thinking that his name would be infamous. Maybe Peter viewed first-war Voldemort as a surrogate parental figure or a mentor, and he misses that (and the shock of Voldemort coming back so callous is a tragedy). I won’t write those stories, but they’re all perfectly wonderful ideas to pursue.

But yeah, no, we don’t have that information, and I admit that my Voldemort has very little interest in followers like Wormtail.

#voldemort #peter pettigrew #wormtail #ask

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

Text

The Night Oliver Branch Died

CW: Drowning, threats with a gun, discussed/referenced noncon of a minor, discussed pet whump/dehumanization, oliver branch is gross but hey he dies in this one so, related note: character death

Tagging Chris’s crew just because I feel like you’ll all appreciate this: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @stxckfxck , @slaintetowhump

READERS: Tell me if you guessed it before reading this!

TIMELINE: Takes place in the future of Chris’s timeline, when he has been free for years and has enrolled in college.

The night Oliver Branch died was absolutely ordinary.

He spent some time going over the notes for the trial, sitting in his nicely appointed but perfectly modest three-bedroom home, scanning his handwritten planned remarks for the press while he ate a light dinner of soup and salad. The cook left for the night, and Oliver was the only one in the house.

Well, or so he thought.

It used to bother him, but honestly he didn’t mind the solitude any longer. Years spent with a full staff, worries he had to constantly consider at all hours of the day and night, natural disasters and economic downturns and everything else. It was nice just to take a deep breath, smell the candle burning in the center of the table, a soft sweet magnolia smell that reminded him of his childhood home.

After the trial, perhaps he would move back home. He’d lived in this state for twenty-four years, was its governor for eight of them, but he felt… a bit tired of it all. He wanted to go back to a place where people moved more slowly, wandered the streets after church in pale linen suits in the summer with the ocean air a constant truth of everyday life.

They would know, of course, about his disgrace. But they would be polite about it, keep it to themselves. He had the sense that while the scandal would follow him, it would be easier to ignore in a place where people keep their secrets safely behind closed, locked doors.

Oliver had done the same, once upon a time, only to have the secret simply walk away when someone else opened the door.

He sighed, sitting back, looking at his half-finished soup with a wistful sort of sadness.

Honestly, he couldn’t complain. He was just grateful to be out of prison, living in his own house with his own cook and the cleaning woman who comes by twice per week. Almost back to normal. Once this trial was over, of course, he’d sell the house and move back home, and it would all be just fine.

He took a deep breath and picked up his notes, handwritten in a series of different ink colors to differentiate which part of the speech he was in. It helped him to memorize if he thought of the colors. The only one he didn’t like, but used, anyway, was a deep teal ink in the paragraph where he admitted to what he did to his beautiful boy.

His beautiful boy, who had ruined himself with freedom, just as Oliver had always known he would. Some people were meant to be kept, they could not be trusted to keep themselves. His Baldur had been one of those, he had known the moment he’d been shown the intake photo, of the pretty boy curled up in a corner of a plain white room, hands up over his face in some attempt to protect himself.

We believe this will suit your specifications, the email from Ms. Renfod had stated in flat, clean prose that could never have encompassed the perfect leap in Oliver’s heart at the sight, the excitement that ran through him from scalp to toes at the fear and tears in big green eyes. We have recently acquired this individual as a result of a deal involving a family member. No inconvenient missing persons report, Mr. Branch. Perfect confidentiality, no complications. We believe he will require three and one-half months of training, plus two weeks extra for final preparations. I have attached a price list for added fees.

God, what a sight, the pretty thing before they’d taken him from himself, before he’d been delivered smiling and silent and still in the dead of night to Oliver’s door.

Honestly, what a loss that he was roaming around like some wild animal now.

Some people needed a keeper, and every time he had seen his beautiful boy since his liberation it had only emphasized to Oliver how badly Baldur needed the right sort of keeper. This new one, the tall young man with his threats and curses, clearly wasn’t doing a very good job.

Well. That was fine. Not his problem any longer, and soon enough Oliver would stand up at a podium before the press, looking at all their little recorders, and he would tell everyone exactly who Christopher Stanton was and what he had been. Oliver’s disgrace would be total, but if he played this right, Baldur would never go anywhere again without no longer being able to hide behind his earrings and awful hair and the patch of scarred skin where his barcode once had been.

Baldur might have gotten away from him, all those years ago, but Oliver intended to ensure he could not get away from what he had been made to do, to be. One did not stop being a pet, once they were made into a thing to be used for pleasure, there was nothing else for them to be.

Baldur might have delusions otherwise, but Oliver could ruin those, for him, just like his boy had ruined himself.

Kicked out of his fancy little college for his fake identity, maybe even charged with it. All his new little friends would know who he was. It was the last bit of pettiness Oliver intended to allow himself to indulge in before he returned back to his hometown and let Baldur’s fragile new life come down around his ears.

Oliver smiled, trailing fingertips over the teal ink, the exact shade of Baldur’s hideous dye job. He still had a PI on retainer, taking pictures of his pretty boy out living his life. Oliver liked to keep tabs on his old flames, just to ensure they were keeping quiet, keeping to themselves, living nice respectable lives.

Lately, with his reduced income, he’d had to cut that down to tracking Baldur alone.

Christopher Stanton. Oliver snorted. Awful name. Hardly did any justice to the perfect line of his cheekbones, the still-gentle curve of his jaw, the nicely full lips that would no doubt still part just so with a press of the right fingertips-

“Daydreamin’, are we?” A strange male voice asked, and Oliver looked up to stare down the barrel of a gun.

His heart stopped, eyes caught by that circle of infinite black surrounded by unfeeling metal, and then he raised his eyes to see a man he had never seen before. He wasn’t very tall, draped in heavy clothing that disguised his body type, though he seemed a bit on the muscular side. Perfectly average face, difficult to describe to any law enforcement, blondish-red hair cut in a flattop, narrowed eyes, smattering of freckles. Too far to see the eye color.

Robbers, really? Tonight, of all nights?

Oliver put both palms carefully down on the table as his heart began to pound. “Can I help you?”

His voice was admirably steady, and he was more than a bit proud of himself for that. He did not visibly tremble or shake, but he was deeply, deeply aware of that gun. He could see the safety was off, the man’s finger resting lightly around the trigger.

“You can,” The man said, with a hint of amusement in the blocky lines of his face. It came out more like ye can, an accent Oliver couldn’t quite place. Irish, maybe? “Hearing some rumors, about someone planning to testify next week. I was hoping’ you’d be able to disabuse me of such a disturbin’ notion.”

Oliver blinked, caught off-guard by the man’s friendly, personable tone even as the gun never faltered but it’s position held pointed directly at him. “If you work for WRU-”

“Oh, I don’t. No, as heartbreaking as it is, lad, Rossi’s group got the WRU rejects pipeline all sewn up, don’t he? Clever fuck. And I am a good many things, but I’m not a man stupid enough to cross Giovanni Rossi. You don’t put that man in a bad mood and walk out alive, do you?” Once again, the word slipped into ye, and Oliver was sure now that the accent was Irish. Faded, with the local accent flattening the vowels and roughing up the consonants, but the Irish was there nonetheless.

It occurred to him that it didn’t really matter if he identified his accent, because he almost certainly wasn’t going to walk out of this alive if the man was so easily dropping names.

“I wouldn’t know. If you’re not with WRU, I don’t see why there’s-... there needs to be a problem,” Oliver said, without moving, barely even letting his lips form the wounds. His heart still pounded in his chest. His dreams of moving back home by the coast, to Charleston’s beauty and grandeur and age, were rapidly feeling like scraps of tissue paper dissolving in water.

“You’re not just testifyin’ about the company, now, are you?” The man sighed, pulling a chair out on the other end of the table, sitting down without lowering the gun, keeping it trained on Oliver, just shifting it slightly to aim directly into his chest.

Oliver had taken a few courses in self-defense, back in the day. Aim for the center mass, the easiest thing to hit. People in movies can nail an arm or a leg with accuracy but in real life it’s rarely so easy. Aim for something lethal.

“The trial is about the company,” Oliver said, voice shaking, his own genteel accent thickening the more the fear settled in.

“It is, at that,” The man said, nodding. “But it’s not only about that, either, is it?” He snapped the fingers on his other hand, and Oliver jumped nearly a foot in the air as he realized there were two other men standing behind him he hadn’t even noticed. They appeared on either side of him, one of them picking up the papers on the table and moving them over to the man, who gave a soft, polite thanks and looked them over.

Suddenly, Oliver’s different ink colors for different aspects of his speech seemed… superfluous. He was never going to give that speech.

“What else is it about?” Oliver asked, breathy. He was going to die, and he’d always hoped for one more chance to visit his parents’ graves. Spit on them once or twice, leave flowers, and go. He’d always hoped…

Something occurred to him.

“Is this about my Baldur?”

The man’s face twisted in an expression of utter, absolute disgust.

“Is that it? Did his new keeper send you to-”

“No. Oh no, fucknuts, no.” The man laughed, looking over the papers, flipping through them idly with one hand as his associate stepped back, one of them lurking on either side of Oliver, hands pressing steadily into his shoulders to keep him right where he was. “No, no. I’ve nothin’ to do with that young lib boy. Know of ‘im, though. We keep an eye out, on our own. It’s been a long, long time, but… I owe a debt.”

“A… A debt?” Oliver’s voice caught in his throat.

“Indeed.” The man set the papers down, and for a moment, Oliver could have sworn there were tears in his eyes, emotions that played openly across the man’s utterly nondescript face. Grief, anger, sadness all warred there.

The hands on his shoulders tightened.

“Long time ago now, but I don’t forget, do I? Ah, look, here ‘tis.” The man tapped his finger in the teal paragraph so carefully written on the third page of the speech. “Here’s our lad. Tristan.”

“Tristan-... are you talking about Baldur?”

The man snarled, and Oliver flinched back against the back of his chair, waiting for the burst of sound and the bullet and his own death. Nothing came, and after a moment he opened his eyes. The man had settled his expression, but it was with effort - the anger was still clearly visible. “I’m not talkin’ about your bullshite pet name in the slightest, you sack of shit. No, I’m talkin’ about my friend’s boy Tristan.”

Oliver swallowed, and offered, “I believe… I believe he goes by Christopher now. I could give you his address-”

“We know where he lives, gobshite.”

“Then why are you here-”

“I told you, my debt. You’re an awful thick, aren’t you? We’re not the type to abduct a wean, although that never gave your like a pause, did it?” The man tapped his gun on the table, the first time it had truly lowered since Oliver had first realized he was here. Oliver let out a breath of relief.

“What is your debt, exactly?” His voice was still airy, but he tried to sound calm, in control. Never moved his hands. “I still have some funds the courts are not aware of, perhaps we could work out a deal-.. I have a safe upstairs-”

“Not that kind of debt. I had to stand by when my mucker and his wife got his face shot in by our own boss, no less, but I’m the boss, now. Took a while, took too long. I’ve had to wait and wait and wait, but me and my lads here, we’ve all owed Paul Higgs a debt since, Lord, has it been nearly a decade now? And I intend to pay it tonight.”

The man smiled, briefly, at Oliver.

“Couldn’t stop Paul’s boy from the sufferin’ already inflicted, but I can ensure you don’t say a word about him ever again, can’t I? Ah, no, we can’t have that. He’s got a good life now. Nice boy, all grown up. Hair’s a bit bollocked but who are we to judge, hm? He’s got himself a nice life goin’ and I intend to ensure he does his da proud, just like he would’ve if he weren’t forced to fuck you, you depraved bit of dogshit on my shoe. Fucking a child. A boy. What’ve you got to say for yourself?”

Oliver didn’t even bother to open his mouth. He understood that any attempt at self-defense wasn’t needed or even wanted. He understood that probably there was absolutely nothing he needed to say, ever again. He closed his eyes, lips moving in some dim form of prayer.

“Ah. A man of God, then?” Oliver looked to see the man pull a rosary from underneath his shirt. “That’s a fuckin’ laugh, considering what you’ve done. But, hey, He’s forgiven worse, I imagine. Tristan might even forgive you, too, he was always too good a boy for it all. Too bad for you that I don’t forgive shite.”

“If you’re going to shoot me,” Oliver said, barely able to get his voice above a whisper, “then do it.”

“We’re not going to shoot you, idjit.” The man rolled his eyes, giving his companions an exasperated can you believe this? look. One of the men, the one on Oliver’s right, laughed. “They’d trace it, we’d have to deal with the law, and honestly I am just not in the mood to pay any cops off this week. I’ve already paid Rossi off to keep him from gettin’ pissed at me, although he’s a man who understands the value of family, I think he’d have let us anyway. Still, never hurts to grease a palm, does it? What we’re going to do, Mr. Branch, is drown you. Your bathtub’s chock full of river water.”

“What?” Oliver swallowed, jerking forward as if to push himself up, but the hands on his shoulders pushed him back down. “H-how-... why-”

“When we dump you in the Trelawney,” The man said, calm and easy, “your lungs’ll already be chock full of its water. Nothing unusual about that, hm? Just another child molester dumped in that chemical swamp where he belongs. My mucker’s boy-... I couldn’t help him. I’ve owed Paul for that, we all have. This is my organization, now, and I will ensure Paul’s boy’s name never leaves your lips again.” The man snapped his fingers and Oliver shouted as he was dragged to his feet by the other two, kicking out, knocking his chair over with a clatter.

Just beyond the window were a hundred other houses, lights on in some, families laughing in front of their televisions. Utterly unknowing as their neighbor was dragged upstairs to his own master bathroom, to a custom-made clawfoot tub absolutely full of disgusting, muddy river water dredged up and brought here and Oliver had never even known they were in the house.

They held his head over the water as he screamed for help.

The leader leaned back against the sink, lit a cigarette, took a long drag and let the smoke float over his face. His eyes were green, Oliver realized with a kind of hysterical panicked giggle. His eyes were green.

Like Baldur’s.

“W-wait-, wait-... one question, just one, one question-”

The leader held up his hand. They kept Oliver’s head a few inches above the brackish water in the tub.

“Paul Higgs-... Baldur’s-... the boy’s father.” Oliver could barely breathe, barely get out the words. He was going to die, why was this question so important? Still, he couldn’t stop himself from asking it. “The boy’s-... just a friend?”

The leader snorted, flicked his cigarette onto the bedroom carpet through the bathroom door. A trail of thin smoke began to rise. “Paul was my best friend, yes,” He said flatly. “His da and mine were cousins. The looks run in the family, don’t they?”

“Why… why now? Why not before? When he was-... why only now?”

The man’s lip pulled to the side in a sneer. “Had to wait ‘til the company couldn’t protect you, didn’t I? You’re not a client now, Mr. Branch. Just a bit of blood on Karen Renford’s shoes. Loose thread. You’re not the only one keeps tabs on runaways, you know.”

“What?” Oliver’s eyes widened, the muddy water giving him a strange, distorted, half-transparent view of his own reflection. “What, what are y-you-”

“Ah, it’s not worth explaining this shite to him, is it?” The man rolled his eyes. “Renford knew where he was. She knows where all the runners are. She’s not going to let you fuck the company just to get your fifteen minutes, gobshite. I hate that insufferable bitch and she’s the one who made Paul’s boy into a pet, but I know better than to look a gift horse in the mouth even if the one given’ it should probably be shot herself.”

“Wh-why-”

“Shut your feckin’ hole. We may not have the pleasure of a regular contract, but I was happy to accept this little job free of charge. Everyone gets what they want, don’t they? Paul’s boy gets his nice little life for keeping, Renford gets the blood out, and I get to make up to Paul what I couldn’t do back then. Ah, Tristan was a sweet boy. Bit of a wild thing, but…” The man sighed mournfully. “Well. We all lose people, in this business, Mr. Branch. I’m sorry to’ve lost him but I’d never think to take him from what he’s got. I’m no monster.”

Laughter bubbled in Oliver’s throat, and he barely held it back. No monster, but you’ll kill me, will you?

“Tonight, everyone gets what they want.”

“I wanted Charleston,” Oliver said, staring into the brownish silt-soaked water, thinking of the blue of the ocean, the waves battering the shore, white-capped on rougher days, the salt-smell of the sea. His mother’s hands holding him, sitting on his father’s shoulders, before it had all changed. “I, I wanted Charleston.”

The words were more plaintive than he intended them to be.

“Sad for you,” The leader said without sympathy. “The heart bleeds. Perhaps you should’ve kept your wee dick in your pants and not touched our friend’s boy, then, hm? Bit late for that, though. Hope the Good Lord’s feelin’ His mercy today, pervy fuck, ‘cause you’ll see none from us.”

He snapped his calloused fingers, and Oliver’s head went under the water. He’d jerked in a final breath just before, and as he held it - lungs burning, time running out - Oliver had only a single remaining defiance. His last thought, before he had to pull water into his lungs, before the thrashing and the choking and the final blackness that pulled him under, wasn’t of Baldur at all.

He was found in the Trelawney River, the water in his lungs a perfect match for the water around him. His bathtub had been recently cleaned, but that wasn’t suspicious, as his cleaner had been there only the day before and Oliver rarely took baths. His dinner table was clean of any sign of his final meal.

There were no papers on the table, or anywhere in the house, detailing his intended speech to the press. Those papers were burned and the ashes spread on the graves of Paul and Veronica Higgs, along with a fresh spray of daisies, Ronnie’s favorite flower.

Oliver Branch’s testimony could no longer be given, due to his untimely death.

The suggestion that he had killed himself because of the shame of his own actions made the rounds in the press, followed by certainty in certain spaces that he had been murdered to protect WRU on Karen’s orders.

Perhaps a handler had done it, the rumors went, sent by the strange emotionless Karen Renford, who sat on the stand and spoke with perfect diction and a total lack of feeling on the particulars of her job, and who had never once set off a lie detector in her life. Perhaps a pet liberation member had finally snapped - there had been an incident years ago with someone who had beaten Oliver nearly to unconsciousness, maybe that person had hunted him down again.

Maybe Karen had killed him herself.

The rumors went in circles, but no one ever guessed the truth.

Oliver’s final defiance was known only to him, and went with him to the grave he was eventually buried in. His final thought was simply of the crash of a white-capped wave against the shore.

Oliver Branch died thinking not of his crimes, but with the ocean behind his eyes.

#death of a villain #original fiction #drowning tw #gun tw #threats with gun tw #chris the strawberry blond romantic #oliver branch is gross #but also very dead now #so that's nice #whump #character death tw #creepy whumper #villain death #did anyone guess 'paul's mob friends'?#karen renford #wru #box boy #box boy universe #box boy multiverse

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