#spirit speech patterns

[thefadecodex]

Our first real exposure actually beings with the Grand Oak tree in DAO! (Thank you @meganooooooooooooooo for pointing this out!)

Players began to notice a distinct cadence in Solas's speech during interactions in DAI. Notably, when he recounts moments from the Fade, his voice occasionally takes on a rhythm and tone reminiscent of a hymn or chant, evoking the cadence of "Hallelujah," specifically the K.D. Lang cover.

(note: @the-northern-continent does a great breakdown of the Hallelujah cadence vs iambic pentameter in this post. And @liaragaming does a good breakdown of Solas speaking in that cadence in this post.)

This has led The Fade Codex to theorize that this cadence reflects a dialect used by spirits—an ancient, rhythmic way of communication that blends emotion and intent through a deliberate structure. The 6/8 musical framework of the K.D. Lang Hallelujah cover. This framework prioritizes reflective pacing, 1-2-3 / 4-5-6 measures, and allows secondary stresses to create an emotional cadence.

This concept is further explored in Dragon Age: The Veilguard through various encounters with spirits. Below are examples that demonstrate this rhythmic, almost lyrical, pattern in their speech:

The Anxious Spirit (A Spirit of Comfort) - Arlathan Forest

"Trapped. Can't get out. It hurts. It's dark. Please. They didn't know what to do. They didn't want to die."

TRAPPED. CAN'T get OUT. It HURTS. It's DARK. PLEASE. They DIDN'T know what to DO. They DIDN'T want to DIE.

"Stop the thoughts. Stop the fears. Quiet, please. Make it quiet."

STOP the THOUGHTS. STOP the FEARS. QUI-et, PLEASE. MAKE it QUI-et.

Eulogy (Originally a Spirit of Compassion) - Minrathous

"Something larger stirs. Calling the desperate. I cannot see what."

SOME-thing LARG-er STIRS. CALL-ing the DES-per-ATE. I CAN-not SEE what.

"Know the hope you bring Dock Town thwarts it. And may you continue."

KNOW the HOPE you BRING. DOCK TOWN THWARTS it. AND may YOU con-TIN-ue.

"As you found their names, I felt them whisper through the Fade."

As YOU found their NAMES, I FELT them WHIS-per THROUGH the FADE.

"My own name changed. I am now Eulogy."

My OWN name CHANGED. I AM now EU-lo-GY.

Hope Unyielding - Hossberg Wetlands

"Light glimmers the surface. Flowers break through snow. Hope unexpected. I am such."

LIGHT glim-MERS the SUR-face. FLOW-ers BREAK through SNOW. HOPE un-EXPECT-ed. I AM SUCH.

"No. But nor was I forever."

NO. But NOR was I for-EV-er.

Pluck - Hall of Valor

"What foul-hearted spirit tugs at the corners of your lips to turn them down so?"

What FOUL-heart-ed SPIR-it tugs at the COR-ners of your LIPS to TURN them DOWN so?

"Greetings, Mourn Watcher. You are a long ways from Nevarra."

GREET-ings, MOURN Watch-er. YOU are a LONG ways from Ne-VAR-ra.

Emmrich (to Pluck)

"Hail to you, child of Valor. As voice of our lightless shores, I pray your blade may never sunder."

HAIL to YOU, child of VAL-or. As VOICE of our LIGHT-less SHORES, I PRAY your BLADE may NEV-er SUN-der.

Pluck

"You honor me. Few remember the old ways."

You HON-or ME. Few re-MEM-ber the OLD WAYS.

The phrase "the old ways," as used by Pluck, is believed to reference this rhythmic, cadenced speech. It’s a pattern steeped in intent, echoing the emotional resonance of the Fade itself.

Grand Oak - West Brecilian Forest

(image source)

What manner of beast be thee that comes before this elder tree?

What MAN-ner of BEAST be THEE that COMES be-FORE this EL-der TREE?

Ahhhh, yes, I remember thy kind. So brief of life and all but blind to the peril you cause, the lives you take, such chaos is down within thy wake.

AHHH, yes, I re-MEM-ber THY kind. SO brief of LIFE and ALL but BLIND. To the PER-il you CAUSE, the LIVES you TAKE. Such CHA-os is DOWN with-IN thy WAKE.

This dialect may serve as both a form of communication and an expression of a spirit's essence, allowing them to convey ideas, emotions, and purpose in a way that transcends mere words.

This theory deepens our understanding of how spirits interact with mortals and each other, highlighting the unique and poetic nature of their existence.

[crossbackpoke-check]

find a blorbo (nhl tag game)

RULES: Go through the roster of each NHL team and find at least one player that you can root for.

tagged by @bondedpairs!! when i say too many teams to count and here for the narrative um. i may not have lied. this is not an extensive list of my blorbos but in order to make it not ten thousand years long i made up the rule that i had to do it straight from memory :)

anaheim ducks: as evidenced by recent events i DO like mason mctavish and trevor zegras but i have to honor laura and mention troy terry and beloved goalie gibbie*

boston bruins: oh for sure brad marchand… can i say patrice? one of the charlies got traded but i think mcavoy is still there because gryz is gone, brandon carlo is there still i think

buffalo sabres: cozens & thompson, owen power, rasmus dahlin, ukko pekka luukkonen

calgary flames: is chris tanev still here? is markstrom still here?? noah hanifin?? as a last resort i’ll say blasty

carolina hurricanes: aho & jarvy & teuvo teravainen & brent burns is still playing maybe? i know sepe got traded

chicago hockey: the bedsy narrative is compelling but ANDREAS ATHANASIOU MY BELOVED reunited with tyler bertuzzi… that’s the real story. also i like foligno

colorado avalanche: gabe landeskog, whatever ross colton & miles wood have going on, natemac + jo, mikko

columbus blue jackets: have long been on the merzlikins train, have been swayed to the darkside of umich boys (brindley, kent johnson, fantilli, blankenburg who is now on nsh)

dallas stars: seggy! mush! roope + miro and otter and robo and wyjo (rip ty dellandrea) and harls! etc.

detroit red wings: MOST players. dilly larks, moritz seider, jv, raymond, rasmussen, kitty, lyon, etc except for k*ne

edmonton oilers: mcdrai, ofc. nugent-hopkins, nursey, rip vinny & skinny

florida panthers: tkachuk, reinhardt, sasha barkov, verhaeghe (is there still?)

los angeles kings: adrian kempe… kevin fiala… danault… quinton byfield & alex turcotte

minnesota wild: kirill, marat, fleury, brodes, fabes, boldy, moose, middsy, spurge… god’s perfect idiots

montreal canadiens: going out on a limb here to say martin st. louis but also xhekaj (both), slafkovský, suzuki, my austrian reinbacher, yes fine cole caufield

nashville predators: MOST BEAUTIFUL D PAIR IN THE WORLD GRADY SKJEI AND ROMAN JOSI!! juuse, evangelista, isn’t stamkos there and also someone else who absolutely should not be

new jersey devils: nico… tuna (tatar), dawson mercer, siegenthaler, dougie hamilton, yes the hugheses whatever

new york islanders: barzy, zeeker & marty, anders lee, noah dobson lol

new york rangers: mika & chris, lafrenière & k’andre, shesterkin

philadelphia flyers: frosty & beezer and tk and sanny and the new baby michkov and coots and scooty loots and foerster etc etc. you know the Guys

pittsburgh penguins: the two headed monster but also compelled by rutger mcgroarty, and kevin hayes was there!!!

ottawa senators: timmy stü & brady! josh norris! the evolution of shane pinto! ullmark now and brännström and claude giroux and chabot

san jose sharks: ekky, thrun, mario, borde, logan couture, shakir, that other vaguely blond rookie

seattle kraken: brandon tanev, andre burakovsky! grubauer & d’accord also

st. louis blues: jordan kyrou, nathan walker (is still there?), rob thomas? is parayako still there?

tampa bay lightning: hedman, point, they dumped so many guys after the cup run… is kucherov still there or is he in nashville?? anthony cirelli (notable for being made out with by pat maroon)

toronto maple leafs: mitch, jt, willy, alex nylander, kniesy, dewar, et

utah hockey: crouse, keller, tuba

vancouver canucks: quinn, brock, petey, jt, garly, höggy, i want to say dakota johnson, elias lindholm?

vegas golden knights: brandon montour is here now… alex pietrangelo, so sorry to one i can’t remember who loves the lions it will come back to me

washington capitals: full of love and stupidity. oshie, nicke/ovi, pierre-luc dubois, dowd, vrána, milano

winnipeg jets: adam lowry!! josh morissey and kc and morgan barron, also vladdy my beloved

tagging @stillfertile + @colap1nto + @songsandswords + @moregraceful if they haven’t done it yet, i know they follow at least a couple teams. if anybody else wants to play i love adopting blorbos!!

[craptainkirk]

I don't think that society was ready for captain kirk. Common interpretations of him Ive seen in media are that hes a jerk and a womanizer and he has a big ego and hes dumb. They profoundly missed the mark. I think that society sees sexuality as so scandalous that he was branded as a whore. He is a man who is deeply sentimental and he feels and loves so deeply. He also fucks and that's a beautiful thing. He loves freely. He doesnt see women as objects. He sees them as beautiful and deserving of respect. He loves and admires every single woman hes with. Society just wasnt ready for that. They werent ready to see a man so comfortable in his own skin so romantic so sensual and so brave with his own heart. They said. This man is inappropriate

[books-and-omens]

Heyyyyyy I’d really like to talk more about the ball, who’s with me.

Because for all its glitter, the ball is dark. No, seriously, it’s dark. It’s eerie, it’s disturbing, and the narrative doesn’t shy away from showing us just how much. 

As in a classic fairytale, mortals are being spirited away into another realm to dance through the night. Here, however, we see exactly who is orchestrating the dance, and why.

And we empathize with him, but watching Aziraphale has never been so painful or so unsettling.

Nina arrives distraught and is immediately hit with the realization that she doesn’t feel distraught, even though she knows she should be feeling it. She confronts Aziraphale and he just tells her: oh yes! :) no long faces tonight! And she is disturbed throughout the ball, thinks she is losing her mind, questions and fights the enchantment… but from time to time, the enchantment still takes hold.

And just—

Aziraphale. Aziraphale, you do know that manipulating people is wrong, don’t you? You… do know that? And yes, of course, neither Crowley’s nor Aziraphale’s approach to morality is human. They are eldritch, they are otherworldly. It was Crowley who changed the paintball guns into real guns in S1, though of course, the humans still had choice in using them.

But the ball is still different.

We’ve never seen Aziraphale do anything quite so disturbing before, or go so obviously deep into his own delusion. There are moments during these scenes when even Crowley, permanently frustrated, is very nearly disturbed. (“Angel! What are you doing?” or “Making it rain is one thing, but a BALL?”)

I fully think that by that point in the story, Aziraphale is not all right. He is in an anxiety spiral, denying reality fiercely, obstinately, disastrously, not listening to any of Crowley’s hissed warnings. Yes, yes, he is giddy, he is in love. It’s so very important for him that everything go RIGHT this night, the night he gets to dance with Crowley. Is he even aware of everything he is conjuring up, of the enchantment he has woven? The humans who step through the doors of the bookshop change: their clothing, their mood, their speech patterns… By this point, is Aziraphale doing this consciously at all? Or is reality conforming to his expectations, forcing everyone into a replica of the nineteenth century while Aziraphale himself, distracted and smitten, works himself up to inviting Crowley to dance?

In the first few episodes, as fear and danger grow, as Aziraphale is faced with the danger specifically to Crowley (I don’t see why he would risk his existence for you, Shax tells him in the car), Aziraphale only denies reality all the more fiercely, only holds on to his plans tighter, only puts more force into them and exerts more control (really, rather like the archangels with their Great Plan).

And the ball, beautiful and otherworldly and eerie as it is, is also a dire warning. 

In the morning, it will be Crowley, not Aziraphale, who will get told off for manipulating Nina and Maggie. Aziraphale won’t reflect on this. He won’t be forced to reflect, and Metatron will manipulate him in turn.

There is a plan to follow. The show must go on.

GOD the ball is so dark.

[mistress-riddle]

thinking about cuteness aggression but with james and sirius.

james adores cute things. he's the type to see a cute plushie and immediately buy it because he likes it and he likes having something soft and nice to hold. so surely it's no surprise that he takes a likeness to your cuteness except what you should've realised beforehand was that he was most definitely a squeezer. and with his toned arms from all his athleticism, it was sure to knock the breath out of you every time you succumbed to one of his attacks. luckily, there is a pattern, his cuteness aggression strikes when you're in oversized (his) clothes and if your cheeks are full of a sweet treat. he just thinks it's so cute how soft you look and before he knows it, he's captured you, mid speech, in his arms and giving you an affectionate squeeze as he rubs his cheek against your own, cooing softly about how you're the sweetest and most adorable person to ever exist. he doesn't release you until the next morning when you need to go to the washroom, although very reluctantly because he enjoys being cuddled up in bed.

sirius has a different way of displaying his cuteness aggression and you're quite sure it has everything to do with his spirit animal. he gets random urges to nip at you when he thinks you're looking extra cute. his favourite places to leave a little bite are on your cheeks and thighs, your most supple areas that he adores. he just can't resist it, and it surely doesn't help your case that when he's in one of his episodes of gently nipping at you, you let out the most adorable and delightful giggles he's ever heard that just spurs him on to continue his ticklish attacks. he's obsessed with you and just loves leaving little marks to show how you grab a hold of his heart. (although he's absolutely on board if you reverse it on him and start biting him instead)

[sky-scribbles]

Next up on Things I Liked About Veilguard: the faction leaders. We all know some of the factions and their NPCs did not get anything like the amount of content and character that others did (Strife and Irelin I'm so sorry, I still love you), but sometimes I take a step back and realise how wonderful the stuff we did get was.

I mean - Evka and Antoine. Everything about them is so heartfelt. I hadn't read the supplemental material, but they barely needed to interact before I understood why this sweet, smart guy and this tough, smart woman loved each other. They affirm each other constantly. They respect each other so deeply. They have written letters for the other to take to their Callings: a cipher only Antoine could read. Je t'aime. Je t'aimerai toujours.

I love how Myrna and Vorgoth are introduced, suddenly and unsettlingly there in the Lighthouse. I love Vorgoth speaking in all caps. I love the fact that nobody knows what they are. I love that they raised baby Ingellvar. I love how Myrna is calm and polished while every so often coming out with the absolute wildest shit. They're fun.

The Viper and Tarquin? Top tier. They might be my favourites, just because of how much they have going on. Each of them has a backstory, and you can see exactly how those backstories produced their personalities. Ashur has a secret identity you can piece together from notes and codexes (and it's the funniest identity possible). I love their argument over Ashur's paranoid investigation into Tarquin, because it shows that the world goes on when Rook is not in the room, and the NPCs have relationships that go through ups and downs.

I'm mildly insane over the level of devotion, with Tarquin's desperate letters to the Wardens if Ashur is blighted, begging for a cure Ashur won't take. Him standing over Ashur to defend him in the final mission, or else his devastating reaction if Ashur dies: 'It should have been me!' God, these NPCs are alive. (fun fact: I wrote most of this post, and then Sheryl Chee confirmed these two were written as being in love with each other and stupid about it. I'm so happy.)

Speaking of NPCs who love each other: Teia and Viago, my beloveds. Again, I was coming in without the supplemental material, and I was sold on them so fast. The way Viago tenderly cradles Teia from behind as they mourn Caterina. The way they're so involved in Lucanis's personal quests - they're his family, they're there for him, they love him. I love Teia's fierceness and her heart. I love their banter - so much mutual understanding, exasperation and affection mixed together. 'We know each other too well to be strangers.'

Isabela is as wonderful as she always is - I especially appreciate how her depiction in Veilguard makes it clear just how loving she is. But can we also talk about Rowan? (I don't know if she's technically considered a faction leader, but meh.) I love her poetic speech patterns; I love that she's a scholar who wrote a bunch of codex entires; I love her calm, soothing voice. I love getting to see a Rivani Seer at last. And I love how she'll suddenly turn around and say, still calm and soothing, 'Spirit of Determination: may your enemies die bitter and in pain.' Perfect, no notes.

Strife and Irelin, sadly, drew the shortest straw when it came to being fleshed out in-game. But what I do love about them is their relationships with your companions. I love the tiny detail of Irelin, Bellara's ex, helping her pack for the Lighthouse; I love how she writes to Bellara to beg her to take care of herself, because she still matters to her.

And while I am a profound Emmrook lover, I appreciate Emmrich/Strife so much too. I love their shared curiosity and sense of adventure; I love thinking that Emmrich might give Strife tenderness that his life has lacked, while Strife could help nudge Emmrich toward boldness. I love the idea of two older men who likely think love has passed them by suddenly going, oh. If the Veil Jumpers didn't get a deeper relationship with Rook, at least they got relationships with Rook's friends.

Dragon Age games always give us a fun roster of companions, but honestly? Veilguard got me invested in the non-companion NPCs more than any other game in the series. Yes, there should have been more - but what we got was so much fun.

tl;dr: Faction leaders, my beloveds.

[merrinla]

Description of Spite from the game files

Character Description: The demon trapped inside Lucanis's head. Spite was once a Spirit of Passion drawn to Lucanis's will to live, but years of torture and a desire for revenge has twisted him into a Demon of Obession.

Speech Pattern: Taunting, sing-songy, creepy.

[daily-hyosatsu]

Back today with something different: some stickers spotted near JR Shinjuku Station. The top one reads #戦争と家父長制を憎む.

戦争 [せんそう] means war.

家父長制 [かふちょうせい] means patriarchy. - To break down a big word, sometimes it's best to start with a suffix. 制 (which is new to this blog) means system, law, or rule. It is always read セイ. - Next, the first character, 家, means one's home or family. The second, 父, means father. Combine them and you get 家父 [かふ], meaning one's father (not commonly used in speech). - Finally, 長 can mean chief, leader, or head. Combine it with 家父 to get 家父長 [かふちょう], meaning patriarch. - Putting it all together, 家父長制 means a system of patriarchy, or a system run by the father/men.

憎む [にく.む] is the verb to hate or detest.

How best to translate the whole statement is pretty context dependent. "[I] hate war and the patriarchy" is faithful, but decidedly milquetoast wording for an act of protest. I think we can say that the spirit of the statement is more along the lines of "Fuck war and the patriarchy." (And "fuck ___" doesn't really translate directly, so that may have been what they had in mind anyway...?)

The other sticker shows a 招き猫 maneki-neko (beckoning cat or lucky cat) beneath a Palestinian flag, whose stripes read "Ceasefire now / Save lives / Free Palestine!"

The cat's right paw is drawn to look like a raised human fist. On his left side, there's a dove holding an olive branch perched on his shoulder and he has a peace sign in his paw. He's wearing a collar with a keffiyeh pattern and its tag(?? I think) is a watermelon.

(Also, the colors of the sticker perfectly match the bus driving by in the background, which is very pleasing to me. Even the cat's eyes are accounted for!)

[s0fter-sin]

one of my favourite aspects of supernatural that you very rarely see in paranormal shows is that sam and dean are already versed in the world they live in. there’s no sudden discovery of ghosts and demons and now they have to learn about them along with the audience; they are born into it and already know all about it. it allows the audience to follow their personal story instead of also trying to figure out this new world and its rules

the first season is full of knowledge we never see them learn; “w*ndigoes are in the minnesota woods or- or northern michigan. i’ve never even heard of one this far west.” […] “great. well then this [his gun] is useless.” (1x02), “you don’t break a curse. you get the hell out of its way.” (1x08), d: “it’s a god. a pagan god, anyway.” […] “the annual cycle of its killings? and the fact that the victims are always a man and a woman. like some kind of fertility right.” […] s: “the last meal. given to sacrificial victims. d: “yeah, i’m thinking a ritual sacrifice to appease some pagan god.” (1x11)

almost every episode in the first season is a monster they’ve faced before that they then explain to the audience in a way that should feel patronising; like it’s the same speech given over and over again but instead, the audience almost feels included in the knowledge. it’s stated with such an innate confidence and comfort in said knowledge that it feels like we already knew it too; “spirits and demons don't have to unlock doors. if they want inside, they just go through the walls.” […] “the claws, the speed that it moves; could be a skinwalker, maybe a black dog.” (1x02), “it's biblical numerology. you know noah's ark, it rained for forty days. the number means death.” (1x04), “no no no, not the reaper, a reaper. there's reaper lore in pretty much every culture on earth, it goes by 100 different names.” […] “you said it yourself that the clock stopped, right? reapers stop time. and you can only see 'em when they're coming at you which is why i could see it and you couldn't.” (1x12)

they already know and, at least in the first season, already have what they need to kill whatever they’re hunting; already know to salt and burn bones for spirits, fire for a w*ndigo, exorcisms for demons, a silver bullet to the heart for shapeshifters. there’s only three times in the entire first season that they run into something new to them; 1x14 when sam gets his first vision that leads him to another psychic, 1x16 when dean calls caleb for help on the sigil he put together and he tells him about daevas, and 1x20 when they find out vampires are real- and they only don’t know that bc john thought they were hunted to extinction and not worth mentioning

(there’s also technically two half instances if you count one of them knowing something the other doesn’t - sam figuring out the tulpa in 1x17 and dean already knowing about the shtriga in 1x18 - but those still rely on sam and dean having prior knowledge)

even when they’re uncertain about facing something, it’s not bc they don’t know what it is; it’s precisely bc they know what it is and acknowledge that it’ll be a difficult hunt (“i don't know, man. this isn't our normal gig. i mean, demons, they don't want anything, just death and destruction for its own sake. this is big. and i wish dad was here.” 1x04)

so much of the tension in paranormal shows typically comes from the main character(s) not knowing what is happening to them/the people around them and having to find out how to resolve it. supernatural is unique in that it operates more like a police procedural. the tension comes from solving the clues and identifying patterns to figure out who (what) the killer is and intercepting before they can take another victim

it’s such a different tone to go for when compared to other shows that came both before, during, and after its run. it sets sam and dean on even footing with each other since they both have the same knowledge going in, and it puts them in a place of authority usually reserved for an outside character

the shows i compare spn to most is charmed, buffy and teen wolf; every main character in those shows are brought into the paranormal world knowing nothing, putting them on the same level as the audience, and they have their mc interact with others already knowledgeable about that world in order to overcome their problem/monster of the week. the audience organically learns about this new world as the characters learn about it. it’s a sound writing strategy that prevents “as we already know”-style exposition but something that complicates it is if your world building isn’t unique or intriguing enough, this slow introduction can become boring

we’ve seen shows like these before; sitting through the same tropes of characters learning to use their powers, struggling with no longer feeling normal/relating to the regular world around them, and not knowing how much they can trust the people already involved in this new world gets repetitive. all three shows eventually reach the same level of comfort with their new world that spn starts with but if the characters aren’t enough to draw you in, you can end up dropping it before they reach that point (and often, before the overarching plot can really kick in and evolve the show beyond the villain of the week format)

it’s the superhero origin movie in tv format; dragged out and overplayed. dropping the audience into an established world of course comes with its own problems but you also have the benefit of pre-existing established character dynamics that let the audience slot in like they’ve always been there instead of just getting to know all the characters while the characters also get to know each other

sam and dean already knowing about the supernatural lets the audience immediately get to the core of the story; the conflict between sam and dean, the search for their father, and the mystery of what killed their mother

[glow-worms-are-believers]

Mistaken Identities (dp x dc)

Danny had been doing his thing, looking around, making sure he didn't alter anything in the past, minding his own business. Officially, this was supposed to be a trip to gather more blood blossom samples for Team Phantom to study, but he had ended up being a little sidetracked. Apparently though, puritan times made for beautiful forests, sue him if he was enjoying a moment of peace in his otherwise crazy life. So here he was, relaxing for the first time in way too long when this guy just barged into the clearing. Danny straightened up with a yelp which had the guy stopping in his tracks before he turned to look at Danny.

"Be not afraid, child. I mean you no harm," the man said.

Danny squinted as he looked up at the half-shadowed face of the man that seemed vaguely familiar.

"Boy?"

"Uh-" Danny managed as he realized he was supposed to answer. "Oh yeah, no problem, man."

The man tilted his head which directed Danny's attention to his weird buckle-hat. Sobering up as he recognized the clothes from his previous jaunt in the past where Sam had almost gotten burnt at the stake, he mentally congratulated himself for turning back into a human before his nap. He really didn't want to end up trapped in blood blossoms by witch-finders again.

"Are you lost?" The man said, as he edged closer. "Do you require aid?"

The halfa jumped to his feet. "Nope!" Danny said before letting out a nervous laugh. "No aid, I'm all good. Thanks though."

The man opened his mouth to say something before another voice, higher pitched stopped him. "You are back!" A woman wearing a simple dress, with a few birds fluttering around her like a Disney princess approached them.

"Annie," answered the man.

"Come," she said before leading him away with only a glance towards the teenager. The man let himself be dragged away, but not before a last few words. "If you are ever in need of assistance, please do not hesitate."

Danny waved his hand. "Yep. For sure, dude. Thanks!"

Then before the man had turned away completely, the woman grabbed his hat playfully which revealed his face completely to the weak moonlight, and coincidentally to Danny's view. The couple disappeared between the thick foliage as Danny sat, struck dumb with what he had just witnessed.

"Oh my god," he whispered to himself. "That was Bruce fucking Wayne."

Danny had seen enough rag magazines and newspapers with his face printed on the cover to recognize the billionaire for sure. What the hell was he doing in Puritan times? Then, it hit Danny like a brick. Natural portals. They weren't common, or stable and they'd been known to spirit away people randomly. Clearly, they also had some pretty severe side-effects including amnesia considering the old-timey speech pattern Mr. Wayne was using.

There was only one thing for it, Danny clearly had to bring Mr. Wayne back to the present. Not only because it was the right thing to do, but also because a missing billionaire was bound to attract a good amount of attention and if anyone connected this to the ghost zone... Well if the GIW was bad now, Danny didn't want to know what other kind of unsavoury people would pop up if ghosts were better-known. Just imagining the Justice League getting involved was giving Danny the shivers. No, the best thing to do was get Mr. Wayne back to his time and hope he wouldn't remember much of what had happened and wouldn't dig into it further.

Just as he was nodding to himself, he heard a scream coming from not too far away. He transformed before flying towards the noise, only to find the woman he'd seen before with Mr. Wayne being captured by a bunch of men wearing the same kinds of hat.

"She's a witch! Burn her!" He heard someone yell. "Hang her dead!" Someone else said.

This was giving Danny some major flashback to Sam's very own witch burning and without wasting a second, he phased the woman right out of their grips and flew them away from the angry mob.

As soon as he landed and let go of the woman, she turned to him and gripped his arm instead. "You have to help him!"

"Help who?" Danny asked, wincing.

"Mordecai!" she said, her grip tight.

"Is that the man who was with you earlier?" the teenager asked.

The woman nodded before pointing southeast. "He is in the caves, fighting the dragon!"

Danny didn't waste anytime before flying in the direction she had pointed to. Going intangible helped with speed, and he phased through the ground, going straight for the aforementioned cave. He just phased through when he caught sight of Mr. Wayne. As he got closer, he could feel some sort of energy radiating from the man. Just then, the energy started building up and Mr. Wayne started to go transparent. Panicking, Danny did the first thing he could think of and absorbed the mounting energy to himself. It felt like a shot of adrenaline except way, way stronger and for a moment everything blanked out, before the world came into focus again. When he looked around, he couldn't find a trace of Mr. Wayne, but from the energy left over he could tell exactly when he had landed. The Golden Age of Piracy.

"Goddamit!" Danny yelled as he once again felt Bruce Wayne slip through his grasp as he stole away the potent energy from the billionaire's body before it could follow wherever he was going next. First it had been pirates, then the Wild West and lastly it was 20th century Gotham, clearly the natural portal had been all kinds of fucked up for Mr. Wayne to have been dragged from time period to time period. It was a miracle he was even still alive, the poor man! Danny let out a harsh sigh as he parsed out through the information the energy had left him with. This time he'd gotten the information for the two next time-jumps, which meant, Danny could get ahead of this for once and finally catch Mr. Wayne before he could jump again.

With a steadying intake of breath, Danny took out the Infiniv-map and set his destination before he let himself follow through. As he got through he could hear a bunch of different voices, all talking over each other.

"-distortions mean what I think it-"

"-not fair!"

"-time is breaking-"

"-only leave his body once he's dead."

Danny paid no mind as he locked eyes on Mr. Wayne who was lying in Wonder Woman's arms, in a black bodysuit, looking worse for the wear. The same energy as before was emanating from him, though this time it was even stronger. Danny approached carefully, invisible before he put a hand onto Mr. Wayne's chest and concentrated on drawing all the energy into himself. It wasn't like the other times, the flow was faster and he was having trouble staying focused as more and more flew into him. His brows scrunched in concentration, and unbeknownst to him, the invisibility dropped.

All the heroes in the room turned to look at the suddenly appearing white-haired teen who had a hand on Batman's chest. As they stared in confusion, the teen started to glow. It grew brighter and brighter before everyone had to shield their eyes as there was a pulse of bright light that died down almost immediately after. Wonder Woman had to blink the spots out of her vision as she felt the weight in her arms start to shift and let out a groan. "Bruce!"

She set him down and helped him put his head between his knees, as she gently stroked his back. Superman settled on his other side while Red Robin just sat in front of him, still half-believing Bruce was really back.

"What happened?" Bruce mumbled. "The omega radiation, I thought-"

"I'd like to know that too," Green Lantern said before he turned towards the glowy kid who was still blinking his eyes as if to chase away afterimages.

"His energy signature is the same as Darkseid," Raven said, her own eyes having not left the teenager since he had appeared.

"You don't mean..." started Superman as all the heroes turned to look at the kid slowly. The latter finally looked up as if sensing he was the focus of many eyes and cringed as he met the combined stares of the Justice League.

"Yes," Raven answered. "This is Darkseid's son."

[sandsorghum]

Clouds & Curtains

husband!Nanami x wife!reader

wc. 1.3k

summary. Perhaps Nanami's approach to...rousing you in the mornings has changed over the years.

tags. Established relationship, Domestic bliss | Romance | Smut | Body (& Soul)Worship | Mentions of Nanami wanting to be a father

a/n: Super soft, super indulgent piece. Have your cake and eat it nanami girlies. Sometimes i just need to write him a love letter ok

Prologue

Back when you'd just begun to be intimate with each other, Nanami tended to be a little embarrassed about his subconscious (but hardly subtle) desires for you. He would rather suffer his internal, infernal dilemma than disrupt your rest. But he couldn't quite control his urges, squirming between decency and depravity, not when you'd rub up against him, so innocuous and merciless.

It was a hard habit to shake; how Nanami felt he ought to earn your every quiver against him, every whimper, however much he yearned to feel you tremble at his moans at any given moment. It was codified in him, there was a time and a place and patterns to follow, before he could permit himself the pursuit of your shared pleasures.

Of course, you'd unveil him in the evenings, the privilege of your touch stripping bare the prerogatives of his flesh. You unraveled him, his reticence, his reasoning, his very capacity for speech, by braiding your breath and fingers with his, in the friction-begetting-friction tangle of your lips and limbs together.

Yet he still thinks of these mornings, that find the two of you entwined, as an undeserved luxury. So Nanami would do his best instead to focus on your face, how sweet your peaceful expression was. It would be wicked of him not to cherish this, he'd chastise himself for wanting more, for wanting to drown in your adoring gaze, for wanting to return it with his own hungry one, body and spirit beggared by the night, by the hours not spent beheld by you.

Nanami assumed the beauty and tenderness of your countenance would quell, or could sate his appetites, would tame the primal stirrings in his belly. But nothing could be further from the truth, in fact they had the opposite, compounding effect; a lump in his throat would rise, and his desperation would thicken till he could only helplessly rut his hips against you.

And then your eyelids would flutter open, and in the crease of your knowing smile, all his definitions, his distinctions, all that distance between need and greed would collapse with a single kiss.

Years later, and your husband is so absolutely shameless about his...early head starts to the day. He pulls you into him, snug against the cleft of your ass cheeks, content to let your scent and radiance seep through the thin fabric and warm him in a way the sun, in its reluctance behind the clouds and curtains, can never hope to.

He stares at the petulance drooping off the petals of your lips, rose bud coiled tight before daybreak can coax it to unfurl for strobes of gold. Nanami is a patient man, too patient you've often thought, yet you feel his phantom touch, a tender sweep of your mouth, a zephyr whispering in the wings, billowing brocade and swelling muslin, ghost pulling you through the gauze of sleep.

You shift against Nanami to hear him sigh your name, soft and distant, thick with slumber and affection and it's this which rouses you more, not merely his growing rigidity pressed to the curves of you. Although, it helps, feeling every inch of his hunger like this, in a slow swirl and pinch at your waist, the gentlest rocking as your breasts are cradled in his palms, familiar persuasion pebbling your areola. You know he dreams of them swollen with milk, that all your memories of his teeth are girded by the desire for them to be suckled by the most innocent of mouths, baring only gums and tiny wails. Your nubs stiffen and a small smile stretches across your face at the thought that with his wish to grow a family fulfilled, he might find also a small regret, of his monopoly of your mounds contested by another, to whom he owes the genesis of your body's generosity, that sweet fullness dribbling, stolen, into your husband's mouth, enticing in its envy.

This prospect of hypocrisy is to be savoured for another day, far down the road. This morning brings neither hesitation nor urgency, all syrupy light and his maple gaze, the languor of his limbs splayed around you to be treasured just as much as the gradual grind of his cock. There's a certain smugness in its slowness, as with the self-assuredness of his thumb circling a bare sliver of your skin.

A familiar motion that stirs a memory, fuchsia-tinted for the both of you. You remember your then boyfriend stammering and scarlet-tipped, matched to the rosy tips of his ears, excuses lost in the shuffle of sheets and stutter of hips.

"I-it's just-just the t-temp-ah-temperatuur," he'd slurred, the excuse as thin and transparent as the sticky film he laved across your throat, dangerously growing gossamer and feebler with every twitch and each strong buck against your body.

"Mmhmm," you'd hum, carnal ache turning you conciliatory. Such complacency. You had been the one to smirk back then, canines gleaming coy, as you offered ruin in the guise of reprieve.

"Want me to warm you up, darling?" Hands already reaching for him, mind already marveling before your fingers could be reacquainted with their hubris, his girth.

"P-please, anythin-nghing" he'd panted, all wide-eyed desperation to be devoured, sweet thing.

You'd been such a fool.

To not know not greed was a two-way street, this ravenous osmosis, this vicious ouroborous.

You think perhaps, in fact, you got the worse end of the deal, trembling against your spouse now, thighs clamped together.

"My dear," Nanami hums, a teasing timbre dripping honey as he sinks his fingers in, "always so ready for me."

You squirm, eyes screwed shut and fisting the sheets, trying to grasp the pale image of the boy who'd once writhed and blushed beneath you, a spectre all but vanquished. You miss him, sometimes.

You arch your back into Nanami, the way you know he's addicted to, just to hear him groan your name, ragged with the dregs of self-restraint or slumber, you're not sure which, but it's a close enough echo to send pleasure juddering through you, the recollection churning hot in your gut, of when he was wrapped around your finger, instead of your cunt around his.

"Sweetheart."

The tenderness of his tone pries your lids open. He doesn't have to ask, doesn't have to say anything but he does, because he knows you are too stubborn to ask for what you need to hear.

"My love."

He claims your gasp, in the crush and curl of his mouth, in the crook of his fingers.

"My girl."

Another smattering of kisses, chasing the flutters of your belly down, down, down to your creases weeping nectar. He licks a whine from you, pitching high into the air, his husky moan vibrating within you.

"My wife."

You feel the hot gust of Nanami's breath over your clit, as he pauses.

"My wife."

There's a reverence as he repeats himself, pathetic attempts to vanquish his disbelief, wonder glistening in his gold-flecked irises, staring at you in awe, searching for proof this isn't some frenzied fever dream of his.Of course, he finds it in your own unwavering eyes.

You've been such a fool.

There, in the locked gaze your shared history glimmers, that shy boy paralyzed by his worship of you, prostrate as the man before your parted legs now, offering his soul, his past, his future.

You reach for him, and he surges upwards. The collision is wave returning and rising from oceans, over and over, is starburst, is incandescence, is the fission of atoms never, ever meant to be split.

It burns away all notions of him as your acolyte or priest, any concept of deity and devotee.

"My life," he breathes into you, and you feel the throb in your ribs, the furnace of his lungs.

"My life," you repeat to your husband.

Adam. Prometheus. Kento.

This morning and many after, he lavishes you with irreverence, a ravishing of irrelevance; his goddess, his woman, his joy -all that matters is that you are his and he is yours; Together, you forge a paradise that exists for as long as the melding of your souls persist, boundless as horizons and sure as sunrises.

@houseofsolisoccasum

[zapreportsblog]

I'd love to request Emmtt with a mute mate, when she's changed he gets to hear her voice for the first time. She lost her voice in an accident just before she met him. Please and thank you!

Wow this is really creative, hope you enjoy it :)

↳ finding my voice ↲

➘ summary : Emmett’s mate lost her voice a while back but now as a newborn vampire will she find it once more

➘ a/n : you can not tell me this man doesn’t look crazy, like sir it’s giving yandere emmett

➘ emmett cullen x reader , twilight x reader

In the heart of the lush forests of Forks, the Cullen family existed as a unique coven of vampires who sought to lead a life far removed from their bloodthirsty nature. Among them was Emmett Cullen, known for his boisterous laughter and zest for life. He was a beacon of energy and strength within the family, his larger-than-life personality a stark contrast to his supernatural abilities.

However, it was a quiet and unassuming presence that would forever change the course of Emmett's existence. (Y/N), a human woman with an unbreakable spirit, had captured his heart in ways he never thought possible.

(Y/N) had been through more than most in her short life. A childhood accident had stolen her ability to speak, rendering her voiceless. Yet, her vibrant eyes spoke volumes, and the grace with which she moved resonated with the essence of her character.

It was during a chance encounter in the small town of Forks that Emmett first saw (Y/N). She was sitting on a park bench, reading a book, her fingers delicately tracing the words as if to hold onto every sentence. Intrigued by her quiet demeanor, Emmett approached, and as their eyes met, a connection sparked between them that transcended words.

(Y/N)'s accident had robbed her of her voice, but it hadn't taken away her ability to communicate. With the delicate yet deliberate movements of her hands, she wove intricate patterns in the air - a language known only to those who understood the power of silence. Emmett, captivated by this unique form of communication, found himself drawn into a world where words were unnecessary.

As days turned into weeks, Emmett and (Y/N)'s bond deepened. Their connection was formed through the silent exchange of signs, each movement carrying a weight of emotion that words could never convey. (Y/N) showed Emmett the beauty of patience and understanding, while Emmett brought laughter and adventure into her life.

The Cullen family embraced (Y/N) as one of their own, her presence bringing a sense of tranquility to their immortal existence. Alice, with her visions, often foresaw moments of joy between Emmett and (Y/N), and Jasper, with his empathy, felt the genuine love that radiated between them. Even Rosalie, known for her guarded nature, found herself warming to (Y/N)'s genuine spirit.

As their relationship flourished, the Cullens marveled at the profound connection Emmett and (Y/N) shared. They watched as the two of them communicated through touch, through shared glances, and through the intimate dance of their fingers in the air. The family respected and cherished this unique bond that transcended the limitations of speech.

And so, in the heart of the Cullen family's haven, an unconventional love story was written. Emmett and (Y/N) proved that words were not the only means of conveying love, and that sometimes, the most profound connections were formed through silence - through the quiet whispers of the heart.

Within the tranquil embrace of the Cullen family home, Emmett and (Y/N)'s bond continued to flourish. Their love story unfolded through gestures and expressions that spoke to the depth of their connection.

Emmett's boisterous laughter and playful antics were matched by (Y/N)'s radiant smiles and the light that danced within her eyes. He would often invent wild stories, acting them out with exaggerated gestures that made (Y/N) giggle in response. In return, (Y/N) would share her thoughts and feelings through a symphony of delicate hand movements, her eloquence in sign language surpassing the limitations of spoken words.

The Cullen family marveled at the harmony that Emmett and (Y/N) brought to their midst. Esme, the nurturing matriarch, had a soft spot for their unique relationship, seeing the purity of their connection as a testament to the power of love itself. Carlisle, the patriarch, respected the understanding they shared, acknowledging that true communication extended far beyond verbal expression.

Alice's visions of their future were painted with joy and warmth, while Jasper felt the serenity that emanated from their union, a tranquility that often eluded even the most harmonious of couples. Even Edward, with his mind-reading abilities, could not grasp the full depth of their emotions, for their love existed in a realm untouched by words.

As time went on, (Y/N) became an integral part of the Cullen family, her presence weaving seamlessly into their immortal lives. She brought a sense of serenity that balanced the frenetic energy of her vampire companions. The family gathered around as Emmett and (Y/N) recounted their adventures with animated gestures and subtle touches, their joy infectious and genuine.

But as with any love story, challenges arose that put their bond to the test. A threat from the outside world loomed, casting shadows over their peaceful existence. The Cullens' sanctuary faced danger, and the unity they had fostered was put in jeopardy.

Emmett's protective nature flared, a fierce determination in his eyes as he vowed to shield (Y/N) from harm. And through the intricate language of signs, she assured him that she was by his side, ready to face whatever challenges came their way.

As the Cullen family rallied together to protect their home, Emmett and (Y/N)'s silent communication proved to be an asset, allowing them to strategize and coordinate with a precision that transcended spoken words. The battles they fought were not only physical but also emotional, as they navigated the turmoil while leaning on the strength of their connection.

And so, as twilight bathed the tranquil forest in shades of gold, the Cullen family and their unique couple stood together, united against the storm that raged both within and around them. The echoes of emotion that passed between Emmett and (Y/N) resonated with a love that needed no spoken words to be understood. As they faced the trials ahead, their silent bond remained unbreakable, a testament to the enduring power of love and the strength found in shared silence.

As the threat to the Cullen family grew, so did Emmett's determination to protect (Y/N). He had witnessed firsthand the dangers that lurked in their supernatural world, and the thought of leaving her vulnerable and alone, especially considering her inability to call for help, was something he couldn't bear. He knew he couldn't protect her indefinitely as a human, and a sense of urgency pushed him to consider an unconventional solution.

One evening, as twilight painted the sky with hues of orange and pink, Emmett led (Y/N) to a quiet corner of the Cullen family home. He looked into her eyes, his expression serious yet filled with concern. Using the fluid language of sign, he conveyed his thoughts to her, his fingers forming each word with care.

"(Y/N), love," he began, his hands moving gracefully, "I can't stand the thought of you being in danger. I won't leave you unprotected like Edward did to Bella. I want to keep you safe."

He continued to explain his plan - the idea that (Y/N) could become a vampire, a creature like them, impervious to harm and capable of defending herself. His eyes held a mix of worry and hope, his love for her evident in every gesture he made.

(Y/N)'s heart swelled with emotion as she listened to Emmett's proposal. The idea of becoming a vampire was both daunting and enticing. She had already embraced the supernatural world through her relationship with Emmett and the Cullens, and the prospect of eternal life by his side seemed like a gift she couldn't refuse.

With a soft smile, she signed her response, her fingers moving in delicate patterns. "I agree. I want to be with you, Emmett, no matter the form."

Emmett's eyes lit up with relief and joy, his heart swelling at her willingness to share eternity with him. He took her hands in his, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles. Their silent exchange spoke volumes, a testament to the depth of their bond.

With their decision made, they turned to Carlisle, the family's patriarch and a skilled doctor who had experience in transforming humans into vampires. He led them through the process, explaining the changes that would occur and the challenges they would face.

For (Y/N), the transformation was a journey of physical and emotional trials. She faced pain and power, vulnerability and strength, as her human life faded away and her vampiric existence began. Emmett stood by her side through every step, offering his unwavering support and reassurance, their silent communication speaking louder than words ever could.

As the transformation neared its completion, (Y/N) felt the rush of new senses and abilities course through her, her body adjusting to its immortal form. Her eyes opened to a world painted in vivid colors and heightened details, a realm she had only glimpsed through Emmett's descriptions.

And as the first rays of dawn bathed the room in light, (Y/N) opened her newly enhanced eyes to lock onto Emmett's gaze. In that moment, their silent connection spoke of a love that had transcended the boundaries of time and form, a bond that was now sealed for eternity.

With a tender smile, Emmett extended his hand to her, his fingers inviting her to join him in this new existence. She reached out and took his hand, their fingers intertwining, a silent promise exchanged between them.

And so, as the sun's rays touched their skin, the journey of a new life began - one filled with challenges and triumphs, shared by a couple whose love had conquered the limitations of sound and words. In the embrace of their family and each other, they faced the future with a strength that defied the silence that once defined them.

In the days following (Y/N)'s transformation, a sense of renewal and exhilaration coursed through her veins. She marveled at the new world around her, her senses heightened to levels she had never imagined. The bond between her and Emmett seemed to have deepened, the unspoken connection between them now accompanied by a symphony of shared experiences.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the Cullen family gathered, a hush fell over the room. Emmett and (Y/N) stood at the center, their hands entwined. The air was charged with a palpable energy, a feeling that something extraordinary was about to unfold.

As everyone's eyes turned toward (Y/N), she took a deep breath, feeling a newfound strength coursing through her. And then, to the astonishment of all, she began to speak.

"Thank you," her voice, melodious and clear, filled the room, resonating with an ethereal quality that left everyone speechless. The sound was as enchanting as it was unexpected, a testament to the transformative power of their supernatural world.

Emmett's eyes widened in awe, his grip on her hand tightening as he listened to her speak for the first time. The joy that radiated from him was infectious, his laughter bubbling up like a spring of unrestrained happiness.

The Cullen family exchanged astonished glances, their eyes filled with wonder and amazement. Edward, whose mind-reading abilities were unparalleled, couldn't help but smile as he realized the extent of the change that had occurred within (Y/N). Alice's visions had not foreseen this, a delightful surprise that warmed her heart.

"(Y/N), your voice," Esme's eyes glistened with tears of happiness, her motherly love radiating through the room. "It's beautiful."

Carlisle, who had been studying (Y/N)'s transformation with a scientist's curiosity, stepped forward, his expression one of genuine awe. "It appears that your vocal cords have been restored during the transformation," he mused, a mix of fascination and delight in his voice.

As the room filled with applause and exclamations of joy, (Y/N) felt a sense of liberation she had never known. She shared laughter with Alice, exchanged words of friendship with Jasper, and even engaged in conversation with Edward, her voice a gift that allowed her to fully participate in the world around her.

But it was Emmett's reaction that touched her heart the most. His eyes shone with unbridled pride and love, his arms enveloping her in an embrace that spoke of a connection that had grown even stronger. They shared whispered words of love, their voices now harmonizing in a way that seemed to echo the bond they had always shared.

In that moment, the Cullen family celebrated not only the transformation of (Y/N) into a vampire but also the rebirth of her voice. Her words became a melody that resonated through the hearts of all who heard, a reminder of the remarkable journey that had brought her into their supernatural world.

And as the stars painted the night sky with their brilliance, the Cullen family reveled in the beauty of (Y/N)'s newfound voice, a testament to the enduring power of love and the extraordinary transformations that were possible within their extraordinary world.

[felassan]

What's all this about Solas speaking in iambic pentameter? English isn't my first language so I never noticed anything odd about the way he talks, but your blog is the first time I've seen it mentioned by anyone

hello! ◕‿◕ Solas sometimes speaks in a specific pattern or rhythm. It sometimes gets described as or compared by people to iambic pentameter. (which is a type of rhythm common in traditional English poetry. Shakespeare used it in his sonnets and plays.) Though, I'm not sure that it's actually literally that or always that. The main point is that at those times, he's speaking particularly poetically, with a specific poetic rhythm in his speech. (Like where the stress on syllables is and the 'beats' in his speech.) Occasionally, the Inquisitor's dialogue line[s] in response to him are the same.

When Trick Weekes wrote Solas in DA:I, they wrote some of his key scenes to KD Lang's cover of the song Hallelujah on a loop. They talked about some of their process and the reasons for the use of this technique in terms of Solas' characterization in this DA:I-era blog post:

Trick Weekes: "When Solas talks about things that he saw in the Fade, things that speak to a distant past, I needed him to sound ever so slightly otherworldly and wistful – someone remembering a dream with a sense of both sadness and inevitability. If you follow [that link] and look at some of Solas’s lines, you may notice a familiar rhythm come out. It would have been forcing it to give lines the same rhyme scheme, but giving the words the meter captured some of that wistfulness and made Solas sound ever so slightly otherworldly. (In the rare cases the player got into the same rhythm, there was always an approval bump from Solas. For that brief period, it was like the player was thinking like he did.) I used this a few times over the game, and I love what it did to his voice. Also, Cori (who edited Solas) is exceedingly kind for putting up with my request that changes to those lines keep this surreptitious rhythm."

[source]

An example of when it happens in DA:I is:

"I've journeyed deep into the Fade // in ancient ruins and battlefields // to see the dreams of lost civilizations. I've watched as hosts of spirits clash // to reenact the bloody past // in ancient wars both famous and forgotten. Every great war // has its heroes. // I'm just curious // what kind you'll be."

Compare this with the song's lyrics:

"I heard there was a secret chord // That David played, and it pleased the Lord // You don't really care for music, do ya? Well it goes like this: The fourth, the fifth // The minor fall, the major lift // The baffled king composing Hallelujah Hallelujah // Hallelujah // Hallelujah // Hallelujah"

An example from Trespasser is:

"I lay in dark and dreaming sleep [I heard there was a secret chord] while countless wars and ages passed [That David played, and it pleased the Lord] I woke still weak a year before I joined you. [You don't really care for music, do ya?]" etc.

Recent mentions of this are:

Q. Will Solas still occasionally or dramatically speak in iambic pentameter? A. “Massive kudos to Patrick, who always writes Solas so well. Again, Solas is a returning character. It’s the same Solas you know and love (or hate depending on who you are). The same writer. So I think the answer is yeah, it’s Solas.” – John Epler

[source: BioWare dev Discord Q&A on June 14th]

User: "you really went off with solas. but the iambic pentameter makes writing fanfic dialogue for him so treacherous..." Trick Weekes: "It doesn't always have to be in the cadence! Just when he's deeply feeling The Old Days! He's written in standard prose 99% of the time!"

[source]

I think he does it a bit in the gameplay reveal video [Veil ripping scene with Varric] too. hope this helps :>

[msg refs this post]

[For the developer Q&A from June 14th on Discord: Notes are here, re-watch link is here]

[genderqueerdykes]

A passage from Reclaiming Two-Spirits: Sexuality, Spiritual Renewal & Sovereignty in Native America by Gregory D. Smithers.

[Image ID:

A photograph of a page from the book mentioned above, which reads:

"Language reclamation and renewal is key to understanding Two-Spirit storytelling. From Mesoamerica to sub-Arctic tribal communities, Native languages routinely avoided the use gender pronouns. Lakota speakers for example, tended to use the linguistically neuter "it" instead of gendered pronouns. Throughout Indian Country, distinctions of animate and inanimate, thing and person, human and more-than-human kinship, carried greater meaning than Western-style gender pronouns. The Hopi, who speak an Uto-Aztecan language, distinguish people and things not according to gender but according to the categories animate, inanimate and vegetable. Athabaskan speakers didn't historically use gender pronouns and as a consequence had what Europeans perceived as confusing gender distinctions. Among Dakota-speaking people, gender is understood in lots of different ways, but historically the language has never involved the use of gender-specific pronouns. And Iroquoian speakers, like the Cherokees, did not use gender-specific pronouns either.

These examples only scratch the surface of linguistic and cultural understandings of how Native Americans blended gender roles in and identities and engaged in sexual activity they considered normal and healthy. Traditionally, Indigenous people tended to avoid using anatomy or physical appearance as crude markers of gender. They developed much more complex social and cultural systems that made room for gender blending and sexual fluidity within kin-based communities.

The idea that an individual might blend multiple gender identities into their conception of self is an alien concept in virtually every Western culture. But when Europeans began invading the Americas during the late fifteenth century, most Native communities did not connect gender to to anatomical concepts of "sex" in the way we do today. Instead, Indigenous people blended occupational roles, physical characteristics and clothing, speech patterns and jewelry, and spiritual and... (text ends here)"

End image ID.]

[lyreofchrysaor]

Clairsenses — A Theory

So, this post has been in the works for quite a while. I have contemplated making this post vs not making it, but with the amount of times I happen to repeat all this information anytime somebody asks for advice on how to improve their clairsenses, I figured I'd just make a big post for myself and others to refer to when needed. It also serves as a way for me to solidify a theory I've had about clairsenses for quite a while, so there goes two birds.

I want to preface this by saying that I am by no means an expert, and that this is just a theory in the works that makes the most sense for my experiences and what I've seen others experience. This theory makes learning any other clairsense so much easier in so many peoples' experiences (because I have shared it with many people and they have confirmed that it helps), but I am no scientist or expert. While I highly recommend using this theory in your practice to develop your clairsenses, in the event that it does not work for you, that is okay. But like I said, I strongly recommend it.

With that out of the way, let's get started.

First off, what are clairsenses? Clairsenses are, by extension, similar to the 'sixth sense' concept. They are extra senses that correspond with the 5 senses we already have, but they operate on a different 'plane'. Most people use them to reach beyond the veil and into the beyond, whether that be with ghosts, spirits, deities, or anything else. Each clair operates like a radio frequency where you can tune into one or more to receive information.

There are different types of clairsenses, each of them pertaining to the 5 senses that we already have. So there is clairvoyance, pertaining to sight, and clairaudience, pertaining to hearing, and so on.

There are many theories about how clairsenses even work, but for the sake of my theory, we will go with: clairsenses are extra senses that help the individual process energy from a different plane of being through sensory filters.

A common phenomenon in clairsenses is that some people happen to be naturally good at one or more type of clairsense. I will address this later in my theory.

So, by the definition of clairsenses are extra senses that help the individual process energy from a different plane of being through sensory filters, the question that inspired this theory and this post is, how can I develop clairsenses? Everyone has the ability to do so, but just how?

In short, my theory is that clairsentience is the base and foundation of every clairsense, and to learn any clairsense, it's much easier to start by learning and mastering clairsentience.

In accordance with my definition, clairsentience is the clair that allows an individual to be aware of any surrounding energies. You cannot necessarily see, or hear, or taste, or touch, but you know it is there. Clairsentience is often the most common clairsense that many people don't actually know they have.

It all boils down to the fact that if you're able to "feel" the energies, then it's much easier to put them through a sensory filter. That's how it makes every other clair easier to learn. It's a bit of wordplay too—without being sentient, you cannot begin to process any other senses.

But Chrys, how are people born with clairsenses that they are naturally adept at without having clairsentience?

Clairsenses work like translation. I'll use clairaudience as an example here. You tune into the energy, and you begin to notice small fluctuations in the energy that are conveying a message. Upon understanding what that message is, it becomes easier to associate specific words with specific fluctuations. When you sharpen this ability, you can begin discerning a faint voice from it—one that you may not necessarily be physically hearing, but one that accompanies the energy every time it conveys a message to you. Over time, you'll begin to notice how specific energies use specific vocabulary and have their own speech patterns.

This is how I learned clairaudience by using clairsentience as a foundation, and it's how I've taught others to learn clairaudience as well.

When you are naturally born to be good at clairaudience, this entire process comes to you easily. You do not even have to think about translating; it is natural to you. To learn clairsentience for this person would still be like learning how to translate, because they did not even know what they were doing involved translating in the first place.

I'll admit, this part of my theory is definitely still a work in progress, but it makes sense to me in a way that's difficult to put into words, unfortunately.

We can use this theory to learn any clairsense we want, because it all boils down to clairsentience. When you can feel that energy, you can apply it through a sensory filter. Does this mean anyone who learned clairsenses a different way is wrong? Not at all! This is just like... a "hack", if you will. A shortcut.

I hope this helps! Feel free to send me any questions.

Xaire ♡

[frraum]

The OurCats team

(a play on "outcast") unites characters bound by a common trait: rebellion against established rules.

OurCats is more than just a team; it's a group of unique fairies united by a desire to break the rules and live on their own terms. They are linked by a rebellious spirit and a yearning for freedom, a pursuit for which each has paid a price.

Kuro (20): (Silhouette in the art) For now, a mystery shrouded in darkness. Soon we will learn what brought this fairy to the ranks of OurCats.

Its founder is Alisa, a former angel, a fairy of cold flame.

Alisa (20): Alisa was Niru's guardian angel, but, demanding freedom, she went against the heavenly system. Alisa's banishment caused Niru's misfortune – an accident that cost him an arm and part of his memory. In the world of Magix, Alisa became Niru's caregiver, striving to be his true friend, sister, and protector.

Alisa reluctantly speaks of her past. Before life in the mortal world, she lived in the spirit world, born to a mortal mother – a keeper of cold flame. War destroyed their kingdom, and only those with magical energy entered the spirit world, gaining an angelic form. In Magix, Alisa finally unleashed her magical abilities.

Alisa is a hyperactive and cheerful girl, yet surprisingly modest. Her emotions bubble, bursting out in bright flashes of laughter (often nervous), irritation, or sudden embarrassment. An inability to control herself leads her to accidentally overstep boundaries or say something inappropriate, after which she instantly retreats into silent awkwardness. This expressiveness is her defining characteristic: Alisa expresses joy with leaps, and irritation with a torrent of rapid speech and clumsy jokes.

Sometimes an evening's joy is followed by a whole day of worrying about looking foolish. She sincerely strives to connect with everyone and is deeply upset if she fails. Awkwardness is her constant companion: falls, clumsy words that make her self-conscious – all part of her character.

Alisa's paradox lies in her love for brightness and brilliance: she adores cartoons and horror movies, hates fashion, but enjoys creating her own unique looks, using glitter and pastel eyeshadow, drawing patterns underneath, while avoiding full makeup.

She loves 2000s fashion but hates stilettos.

Her transformation outfit is pink and coral.

Emberly (19): A blue-eyed blonde with a bob haircut, a fairy of jewels and an heiress to the royal family, but she has no desire to be a princess.

This glamorous and active busybody, who adores dancing, dreams of becoming a dancer on a television show. Her cheerful and friendly nature is sometimes hidden behind a mask of arrogance – a tactic developed in childhood to protect herself from pressure. Despite this, Emberly respects herself and her freedom. Her wardrobe is an explosion of blues and pinks: trendy tops, mini-skirts with short leggings, bracelets, earrings, and sneakers.

Emberly can be too loud, although she tries to follow etiquette – childhood traumas prevent her from always controlling this. She's squeamish, afraid of insects and reptiles, loves gossip, horoscopes, and elaborate schemes.

Despite her craving for attention, she doesn't put herself above others. Her mischievous and goofy nature unexpectedly combines with the ability to roll her eyes and point out someone else's foolishness, making her resemble a typical princess (it's best not to mention this!). Sometimes she's a total tomboy!

Emberly's magical outfit is a blue shorts and mid-sole boots.

Sylvia (Syl, 19): A fairy of liquids, with blue-green eyes and red hair accented with yellow streaks. A former witch, banished from Pixieville for experimenting with blood magic on pixies. This experience, however, gave her a unique bond with the elf, Uni, who shares her love of mischief and adores fashion.

Syl is an intelligent high-achiever, but her sharpness and penchant for sarcasm hide her loyalty to her friends. She dreams of completely controlling her magic, including manipulating liquids and the blood magic available to her during the full moon. Her everyday look is a sleeveless rainbow sweater and a denim skirt.

She adores toads and frogs, constantly bringing them to her room after walks and training in the swamps. However, they invariably escape, and Syl loses them.

The girl is quick-tempered, but tries not to cross the line, limiting herself to barbs and cutting remarks. At other times, she might unexpectedly crack a joke, consult with her friends, or sincerely share something personal. She treats those close to her with respect, genuinely ashamed of her outbursts, although admitting this is difficult for her.

Sylvia strives to achieve maximum power to prove to everyone that she's not crazy or weird, as many believe. Although… maybe she is a little weird, but also powerful!

Her transformation outfit is emerald green, with a short skirt and boots.

Arian (18): A fairy of nightmares, a dark-skinned girl with white and coral hair. Unlike the others, Arian is the most level-headed member of the team. A former royal guard, she was banished because of the power of her magic, capable of harming those around her.

Arian is straightforward, kind, responsive, and sometimes amusingly pedantic. Her love of glamour contrasts with her rationality.

From a wealthy family, Arian adores luxury and glamour, yet remains sincere and natural. She's ready to support and advise, although she rarely asks for help, considering herself strong and without weaknesses. Her pride and joy is a pink limousine, which, however, she can't drive. When nervous, Arian heavily applies lipstick.

Brave and responsible, she isn't squeamish unless it threatens her expensive dresses and impeccable manicure; her hair is always perfectly styled. For Arian, a true beauty is someone who can stand up for themselves.

Therefore, she rejects any advances. Her goal is to be glamorous for herself and everyone, not for someone's attention. Even in critical situations, she strives to maintain calm and composure.

A former royal guard, Arian was banished after her powers were deemed too dangerous and traumatic for others. Skilled in combat, she prefers to fight with her feet to avoid damaging her manicure. At night, Arian accumulates the nightmares of those near her in her amulet. The stronger the nightmare, the more powerful the monster she can materialize from it in reality.

The presence of witches in her family has resulted in a partially dark nature to her magic, considered light only due to her fairy lineage. Arian herself doesn't want to be a witch, despising the mundane magic and tasteless fashion of witches.

Her transformation outfit is a vibrant purple suit with long boots.

Together, these five fairies form the unique OurCats team, ready to challenge the world, protecting their freedom and friendship.