#sub world state: dark origin

[daughterofhighever-blog]

Castle Cousland - Spring, 9:28 Dragon

[for @icewolfcaptain ]

The night air was delicious and light - Ferelden had come into the end of winter; with warm, sun kissed days and crisply chill, windy nights. The beating of bodhran drums, the whistles of tin flutes, and the bright and bouncing vocal harmonies all floated into the air and on the wind as the post-hunt celebration drew on.

The tables at the head, and along the sides of Highever's castle hall were laden with stews and seethings, dumplings, roasts, and even fish pies - perhaps not the same as the more well known variety in Starkhaven, but unique in its flavor, and a pleasantly delightful effort nonetheless. It was a celebration unique to this country - most other 'civilized' nations, and certainly the Chantry, marked of note the sun-driven holy days of the year - not the moon's. But in Ferelden, when warm days were precious, the the season of new life even more so - the first days of spring were some of the best.

This year was a bit more colorful and vibrant than perhaps may have been usual... The Couslands were hosting a guest of import, and Bryce had never been one to skimp when it came to matters of hospitality. The laws and mores of guest rights and hospitality were woven deep into the fabric of Ferelden - since days uncounted long before the land had even been called 'Ferelden'. It was something they undoubtedly still shared with their more "rustic" cousins.

'Ferelden is but one foul day away from reversion to pagan barbarism.' Or so said the Empress of Orlais, when advising her most recent Ambassador to Denerim.

Elissa waited at the head table with her mother - a few flowers braided loosely into her dark hair, in a coat and dress of differing shades of blue and trimmed with gold. In both her hands she held a two handled cup, carved and inlaid with images and icons of wolves and laurels. Her eyes flickered about the end of the room as the other attendants and servants milled about, but they were always drawn back to where her father stood, conversing with her brother and their guest of honor...

Thane Isolfr of Skjeggestad...

She was not ashamed to admit her fascination had taken a firm hold of her since being informed of her father's plans to host the Avvar leader and a few of his companions to discuss trade and passage through the lands he controlled in the Frostbacks. With how much she'd been in the castle's library, reading and studying what knowledge they had on the Avvar - Aldous had wryly commented that the Teyrn ought to 'invite barbarians to sup more often'.

"I don't know why his Lordship wastes his time with so much extra frivolity - They're just Avvar after all... you could impress them with huts made of anything better than mud, shit, and twigs..."

The sneering condescension in Arl Howe's voice to the left of her sent an unpleasant shudder down Elissa's back. She whipped her head around with an openly indignant expression and had opened her mouth to speak, but Eleanor reached out to grab and squeeze her arm.

The elder Lady Cousland then looked at the good Arl and arched a brow - her voice was superficially sweet, but her look was cold and sharp.

"Speak of your own guests in your own hall however you wish, Rendon - But you will keep a civil tongue in your mouth while you're here in ours."

There was a darkness that passed over Howe's expression before he forced a smile and inclined his head deferentially.

"Of course - as your Ladyship commands."

Elissa sighed and shook her head trying to clear away the sour feeling being around her father's friend often caused. There was distraction enough, and her expression was more relaxed as her father and Fergus finally approached with their guest.

"... would like to introduce you to the rest of my family. My wife, Eleanor... and my daughter, Elissa."

A warm smile spread across her face, the corners of it reaching up to her glittering blue eyes. She took a step forward, and lifting the cup with both hands, she offered it to him in, and with, the traditional greeting.

"Ver heill ok sæll, Thane... Welcome to my father's hall."

[daughterofhighever-blog]

"That's a fancy way of saying you're going to try to kill him, Sebastian," Carver said with a sharp edge. He may not have let Marion tell him what Anders had planned, but she had told him how angry Sebastian had been, and what threats he had made.

"The Commander is going to be your best hope of finding him, either way. Marion did say he had a plan, but I don't know him really, or how his mind works."

Heat gripped Carver's chest and he found himself wanting very much to be anywhere else but there at that moment. He strode past Sebastian towards the door gesturing further in the direction they'd originally come.

"Kitchens are down the hall that way, on the left. Or you can grab one of the serving boys in the grey and black liveries."

Pausing in the doorway, he half turned back to look at Sebastian out of the corner of his eye.

"Word of advice? Try not to let it slip just how much you might want to kill Anders on sight when you talk to her. There's history there."

Anger flashed through Sebastian's eyes. "He will face justice," he repeated as Carver stood in the doorway to the room, "whatever that may look like."

"I'm just trying to tell you - you're not the only one this is personal fo-"

Carver bit his tongue and made a clicking sound against his cheek as if chastising himself.  Something passed over his face, and for a moment he almost appeared sad.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but instead of speaking further, he turned his head away from Sebastian and walked off.

Children. Sebastian felt his throat tighten. For the children at the Gallows whom Hawke hopefully had saved, and for the ones in the Chantry who never had a chance. He wanted to look away from Carver, to close his eyes and spend a moment grieving them and thanking that at least some were spared a horrible death, but he wouldn't allow himself to avert his gaze. He swallowed and hardened his resolve. He was doing this for the children who had been in the Chantry that day, who had been in the homes and buildings near the Chantry and were caught in the explosion. Not all of them died. It might have been kinder to some who hadn't. He couldn't save them or change the pain of the ones who survived—nor of the adults—but he could at least try and bring the one who did it to justice.

The thought of justice and what it had warped into through, or because, or, Sebastian found he had to allow, despite, Anders, helped set his gaze to steel again. It refocused him away from how raw the loss still felt if he dwelled on it overlong. He didn't need the details of what happened at the Gallows. He wasn't sure he could bear it.

"Yet you eventually parted ways," Sebastian said. Did his voice sound hoarse or was that just because he felt it should? "Do you know where she went? Or where she was headed?" Do you know if the mage was with her? was his unspoken question.

"I," he began, before clenching his jaw as if fighting some innate block. Everything in his head was screaming against telling Sebastian the whole of the truth. That he wanted to kill Anders was as certain to Carver as the fact that Marion would die to protect him.

But he had already answered much the same questions when the Warden Commander had asked. That Sebastian would find out eventually was all but guaranteed.

"I got her... got them both out of Kirkwall and into Ferelden. After that, no I really don't know where they went. I wouldn't let her tell me."

Sebastian's mouth pressed into a firm line. It would have been too easy if Carver had known, he supposed. Now he did allow his eyes to close, and exhaled audibly through his nose: a contained sound of frustration.

"I understand," he said, opening his eyes to look at Carver squarely once more, "your loyalty to your sister. But you have to know I intend to find him and bring him to justice for his actions."

[eldragon-x]

Tried my hand on making some Fakemon based on existing characters! To be specific, Mabel Pines, The Thing (1982), Homura Akemi, Amalthea (The Last Unicorn), and Bill Cipher in that order. Information about them under read more!

Carild - Fairy This childish Pokemon loves to play but can get caught up in its games and become reckless. It desires to bring joy to all and is bummed out when someone around it is unhappy. Some people believe that shooting stars are actually this Pokemon flying across the night sky and that it creates rainbows.

Impome - Ice/Dark This Pokemon was discovered by researchers in the arctic ice and originated from space. It seems to be closely related to Ditto and can perfectly imitate both people and Pokemon by coming in contact with them, though it always remains its ice-typing. It commonly takes the form of a scared Dog-Pokemon to garner sympathy, only to then cause problems. It takes an experienced trainer to handle an Impome. Its unruly behaviour may stem from homesickness, since this Pokemon usually becomes much friendlier under the right care.

Homurhyme - Psychic/Fire Scientists hypothesize that this Pokemon is a sub-species of the Gardevoir line that is related to Celebi. It attacks with fire whereas its psychic power is reserved for floating and traveling through time. This Pokemon is very protective of its trainer and will do anything to ensure their safety.

Raridash - Fairy/Water - Mythical Legend has it that this Mythical Pokemon was once the last Rapidash in the world after the population vanished into the ocean, and that it grieves for them. Many people admire this Pokemon for its beauty, and believe that spotting it in the foam of the ocean waves it rides will grant eternal youth.

Provistringe - Psychic/Fire - Ultra Beast This fun-loving Ultra Beast is the embodiment of chaos. It burns down planets it deems boring and parties across dimensions, wrecking everything in its path. It has appeared to humans in dreams throughout history and is surrounded by many legends. Some believe it to watch over the universe and worship it as a deity, others believe that the universe will fall apart if it enters our world. One prophecy states that Carild is able to stop its rampage, despite being much less powerful.

[chronic-escapixt]

His Rose ~ Details

(Kai Parker x Bennett OC fanfiction)

content warnings/tags ~ Dark fiction, dom/sub dynamics, abuse, murder, childhood trauma (mentioned). Minors DNI

I don't claim ownership of The Vampire Diaries or its characters. All credits go to the rightful owner(s). I only own my original character(s).

K.P. Masterlist

This fanfiction is born from my dissatisfaction with the way Kai was criminally underutilized in the TVDU. Honestly, I found him annoying at first, but he grew on me as season 6 went on. Thru Chris Wood's charming performance, Kai stole the show for me. I'll never forgive the showrunners for a lot of things, including underutilizing Chris Wood in this role & not allowing this broken king to have a real redemption arc.

On the topic of the showrunners, I'll never forgive them for how they did Bonnie Bennett or the Bennetts in general with how they were limited to magical plot devices for everyone else's use without any appreciative focus on their power & how it could really benefit them. Even though I love Bonnie & Kai, my otp endgame for her has always been Bonenzo, but I also adore Klonnie ❤️.

My AU changed and added plenty of lore around his coven & certain events. The plot follows the life of Bonnie's younger sister, Rosalina "Rose" Bennett-Ruiz. I go on to describe her below, but I'd like to state that she acts as Kai's antithesis as an innocent, fledgling witch. She's also Bonnie's support system. I always hated how the show often ignored that Bonnie lacked family around her that were unconditionally there for her. Bonnie's mom left when she was small, she lost her grams in season 1, and her father was a non-factor in her life until he returned... just to get killed off in front of her.

I wrote Rose & Bonnie's dynamic keeping in mind everything I hate about older sibling/younger sibling dynamics, like the one between Buffy and Dawn in BTVS. Bonnie deserves family that consistently supports her, encourages her to prioritize her well-being, and actually tries to lessen the existing load on her shoulders.

Another thing I kept in mind when adding Rose to my TVD AU is not to have her replace or take away Bonnie’s space in the plot. Now, I do give her Bonnie's plotline of being sent to the prison world in season 6, but this is essential to the story, and the way Bonnie was treated that season made me so sad that I have no problem taking traumatic experiences from her (of which she has more than enough) and giving them to Rose.

Okay... if you made it through my rant, congrats. I also want to offer my inbox as a place where anyone can offer up requests, scenarios, ask questions, even if you want to roast my cruddy writing... my inbox is open.

🌹Rosalina "Rose" Bennett-Ruiz:🌹

Born: March 18th, 1994 (18yrs)

Gender: Female | Height: 5’1” | Hair color: Brown | Eye color: Hazel

Race/ethnicity: Black and Latino/Hispanic

Species: witch (Bennett)

Titles: Rosy (Kai), littlest witch (by Kol), kid (by Damon)

Characteristics:

Rose is a gentle and kind-hearted person, always looking for the good in people and situations. She can be a people pleaser and overall naive when dealing with people, often seeing the best in everyone and believing in second chances

Family is important to her, so bonding with Bonnie means a lot. Due to her naivety and weakness, she can be easily manipulated and taken advantage of. Like Bonnie she’s compassionate and tends to selflessly help others. But still with spells due to her insecurity & inexperience with magic

She enjoys singing, gardening (honing her nature-based magic, making potions & studying herbology), fashion (sewing & thifting) and cooking (food is her love language)

She has a strong aversion to blood & violence so spending time with vampires took a lot of getting used to

Trilingual: fluent in Spanish & Portuguese

Despite her demure demeanor and virginal innocence, with her stuffed animal collection, enduring love of cartoons and a lack of dating, she’s a hopeless romantic that harbors the hidden desire to submit herself to a powerful dominant

Background:

Family: Bonnie Bennett (half-sister), Jamie Ruiz (half-brother), Abby Bennett-Ruiz (mother), Matteo Ruiz (father 🕊️), Sheila Bennett (maternal gm🕊️)

Rose was raised in Summersville, North Carolina. She was a child model until 13 when her father tragically died. She was the captain of her high school majorette dance team. Her life drastically changed when Bonnie arrived on her doorstep.

Rose was 16 when she & Bonnie would finally meet. Bonnie and Elena came to Abby for help with a spell. Rose was shocked to find that she had an older sister as Abby never mentioned Bonnie or the life she left behind in Mystic Falls. She was even more surprised upon finding out about her magical bloodline and that supernatural creatures walked the earth. Unlike Grams, Abby never mentioned magic throughout Rose’s life and even went as far to suppress her magic with by binding it.

After Abby is turned by Damon, she decides to leave her family to gain control as a fledgling vampire. Rose moves to Mystic Falls with Bonnie where she learns magic from her.

Magic doesn’t come naturally to Rose. But she often helps Bonnie with powerful spells, offering herself as a conduit for channeling together.

Admittedly having a 50% accuracy rate with her own spells. Rose’s confidence & focus are hindered when chanting and spells drain her much quicker even when she tries channeling the energy around her. Despite this, Rose is determined to improve, valuing her one-on-one time with Bonnie and spending late nights on her own practicing & memorizing spells. She uses her magic for good and wants to prove herself as a capable witch.

She excels at herb studies. Often experiments with potions and creates charms using the herbs they grow in their garden.

Her role in the Mystic Falls gang is the “Bennett witch in training” or “the bringer of baked goods” (according to Damon), since she often supplies their gatherings with fresh pastries. Everyone underestimates her power, even Bonnie. She tries to keep Rose out of danger unless she can’t help it.

🔪Malachai "Kai" Parker:🔪

Born: May 9, 1972 (22yrs)

Gender: Male | Height: 6'0" | Hair color: Dark Brown | Eye color: Blue-gray

Race/ethnicity: white/non-Hispanic

Species: siphoner (Gemini Witch coven)

Titles: abomination, black sheep, the defective twin (his coven)

Characteristics:

Charismatic with a charming smile. Upon meeting him, his charisma operates as a façade to hide his lack of empathy and his sadistic tendencies

Can be hard to read but that’s because he struggles with expressing his emotions which stems from his abusive childhood. He’s cold and relatively unfeeling with people, but once he lets someone in, he’s fiercely loyal and protective.

He can be observant, calculating and manipulative to taking advantage of someone and get what he wants

He’s a sassy man, often comes back with quick quips and has a natural sense of humor (typically dark humor)

When he’s comfortable, he never shuts up, has no filter and sucks with certain social cues. After being alone for nearly his whole life, will talk anyone's ear off without realizing they are not willing to listen

Kai can siphon all of a witch’s magic without killing them. He controls how the process feels - at its worst, a fast searing burn to a slight tingle. Overtime, a witch will regenerate their magic

High libido!!- He’s starved for touch and affection (though he would never admit that he needs anyone). Sexual desires reflect his sadistic personality as he enjoys dominating another person through absolute control and pain infliction

He likes raunchy comedies and media with half-naked women such as Bay Watch and MTV videos. A major foodie with constant cravings for sweet and salty snacks. He prefers snacking throughout the day but when he does bother to cook, it’s really good

He is fluent in old Latin, often found in grimoires and other ancient texts. When he was young he’d get his hands on old grimoires and study them, all the time to himself allowing him to hone his knowledge of witchcraft and technique

Background:

The Parker family is the head of the Gemini coven. Its patriarch, Joshua Parker is the coven leader. Kai is the eldest child, being half an hour older than his fraternal twin, Josette. Unlike Jo, Kai was born without the ability to generate his own magic, instead siphoning magic from lingering spells, objects, or other witches. When he was young, he would naturally gravitate toward the magic of his sister, so Joshua quickly decided to physically isolate Kai from everyone for fear of his son's "defect" hurting others.

As fraternal twins born of the coven leader, Jo and Kai would be set to merge on their 22nd birthday, where the winner takes the other's magic and coven leadership and the loser dies and is absorbed into the other but with the risk of Kai's siphoning ability giving him an edge in the merge, Joshua and Viviane continued having kids until she birthed another set of twins that would merge instead.

Kai's upbringing was lonely, spending most of his time locked in his bedroom up in the attic. Following his father's lead, most of his family excluded and demonized him. As he grew, Kai learned to internalize the cruel labels they gave him. If they wanted a monster, they would get a monster and on his 22nd birthday, May 9th, 1994, he would finally act on his boiling rage and resentment toward his family, unleashing the hatred he accumulated through a lifetime of torment onto his siblings when Jo refused the merge. To protect the twins, she would relent to merge with him but the coven was waiting and with the help of Sheila Bennett they banished him to a prison world of complete isolation.

Each year that passed only added to his hunger for revenge, left with nothing to do but plan his escape and seizer of coven leadership. He grew to take pride in what he had done to his siblings and his status as a sociopath capable of killing anyone who gets in his way without remorse.

AU-Specific Lore:

Prison world Lore:

Prison worlds are created by Bennett blood sacrifice, meaning a Bennett must be bled to death so the gemini coven can channel her blood magic.

A prison world resets with the eclipse every 3 months.

Time works differently, so no one ages throughout their time there.

A prison world cannot create life so the only living inhabitants are those sent there or arrive via ascendant.

Kai is linked to his prison world so he can’t die. If something kills him, he’ll be out for a while depending on the damage but the magic will heal him back to life. Without Kai, the prison world falls apart so while he’s there, it sustains his life to sustain itself. Once he leaves, it ceases to exist.

The Ascendant - an ancient device created by the Gemini coven and a Bennett ancestor that only responds to a living Bennett’s blood magic. The ascendant is sensitive to magic in general, so even when the spell is done right, it will activate then fall apart. You only have one chance at the time of the eclipse to correctly do the spell, which Kai knows from experience because early on he tried collecting a vial of Bennett blood that he hunted down in a hospital and using Josette's magic he siphoned from a hidden dagger. Disappointment boiled over into rage when he did the spell beneath the eclipse, the ascendant disassembled, but he was not transported out.

The Gemini Coven Lair:

Exists as a interdimensional where the coven keeps ancient texts, grimoires, enchanted items (talismans, gems, ascendants, etc.), and materials for spells & potions

Infinite space that can be utilized by the coven leader: often includes a space for magic instruction, a library, spell casting, a gathering area for the coven, etc.

Accessed only by portal, which is summoned by a spell entrusted to high-ranking Gemini members

[cienie-isengardu]

Bi-Han and Shang Tsung - sidenotes

I’m not done with my research for any bits of Bi-Han & Shang Tsung’s relationship through the years, as I’m pretty sure the lore & game mechanics have much more to offer about those two characters. However, as I'm not a player myself, finding proper sources will take much more time and energy than previously needed, so in meanwhile I'm sharing my random observations and notes about Sub-Zero and Shang Tsung.

POWER and FREEDOM

Some time ago I made a post about reputation vs reality of Shang Tsung and Bi-Han's life situations - how despite being praised for being cunning and strong, both either fulfilled high expectations of their masters or would be killed/harshly punished for failure.

Thinking more about that, alternative timeline’s Shang Tsung and Bi-Han/Noob share an additional trait - patience to bid their time. Mortal Kombat 11: Aftermath is the best proof of Shang Tsung’s dedication to seize the power and with it, freeing himself from the servitude (enslavement) he was stuck in for centuries. Bi-Han as Noob Saibot also had his own goal of ascending to power and with that, getting out of control of others:

Mortal Kombat 9's BIO:

"Noob Saibot's origins are unknown, but he is likely a revenant: a fallen warrior resurrected by the Netherrealm sorcerer Quan Chi to fulfill a dark objective. Noob has been assigned to aid Shao Kahn in his acquisition of Earthrealm. A faithful servant and a recent addition to the Brotherhood of Shadow, he will obey his master, Quan Chi, and complete his mission. But he is biding his time. Noob Saibot has a dark objective of his own.

Mortal Kombat 9's ENDING:

"Quan Chi should never have resurrected Noob Saibot. Nor should he have enhanced his power to defeat Shao Kahn. The revenant he created had broken free of his control. Noob had secretly formed an "understanding" with a cleric from the realm of Chaos and opened for him a portal to the Netherrealm. Shinnok, Quan Chi and the Brotherhood of Shadow were unprepared as the forces of Chaos overwhelmed them, leaving the Underworld severely weakened. Satisfied with his work, the cleric, Havik, returned to the realm of Chaos. Noob Saibot remained to seize control of the Netherrealm."

Mortal Kombat 11's BIO:

"Shadow of the Netherrealm. In life, Noob Saibot was known as Sub-Zero. Unjustly murdered by Scorpion, he was resurrected by Quan Chi and granted power over darkness, but as Quan Chi’s slave. Now, Quan Chi is dead. Noob Saibot is finally free to reclaim the honor that was stolen from him."

Mortal Kombat 11's ENDING:

"Kronika said I would lead the New Era's deadliest clan. But she made such promises to many. She could never keep them all. So I betrayed her, before she could betray me. When Kronika's sands fused with my shadows, my ambitions grew. Why be a ruler of mortals, when I could rule destiny itself? Mortals resisted, but could not stop, my blanketing history in cold, endless night. All is dark. All are shadows. I have had many names. Now I am become Death, destroyer of worlds."

Furthermore, MK1’s Bi-Han fits this scheme too (although he lacks the patience), as for him power and freedom are tightly tied to each other, as one can’t exist without the other. Personally I think this is a very neat detail when it comes to those two characters, as they seem to operate on a similar mindset.

Additionally, MK11 and MK1 Shang Tsungs share the same key word: INFLUENCE.

MK11!Noob had RECOGNITION while MK1!Bi-Han has POWER,

however the BIO itself imply that this version of Bi-Han too wants recognition for himself and his clan:

Under his leadership, the Lin Kuei will come out of the shadows and fight for its place as one of Earthrealm's great nations

which is pretty shame NRS pick “power” for Sub-Zero's key word.

SELLERS

MK1’s Shang Tsung is stated to be skilled seller (though why, I have no idea):

"Shang Tsung grew up in Outworld's backwaters. Too lazy for hard labor and too shifty for honest work, he eked out a living selling quack cures and fake magic. Though his wares were useless, Shang Tsung's easy charm always closed the deal. Shang Tsung was resigned to to this hardscrabble life. But then one day a mysterious stranger came, promising to make Shang Tsung a powerful sorcerer. Though suspicious of the offer, it was one he couldn't refuse."

The old card game presented Sub-Zero to be the best seller out of three ninja characters:

Friendship With an amazing sales pitch, Sub-Zero convinces his befuddled opponent to purchase a Sub-Zero doll.

For comparison, below is Reptile and Scorpion cards

SIMILAR GEAR - sharp edged metal protection of fingers

MK11's Shang Tsung

MK11 Noob Saibot

Dark Sub-Zero (Order of Darkness)

MK1: Khaos Reigns - Noob Saibot

MK: Onslaught (comics & game)

MK1's ANIMALITY in which Noob Saibot is alligator and Shang Tsung a cobra. Thus spiritual animals of both are reptilian. (In contrast, Bi-Han as Sub-Zero has a mammoth as his spiritual animal).

At the same there are some vital differences between Shang Tsung and Bi-Han.

For one, Shang Tsung is openly interested into technology. Magic is his main domain, but he does not look down on technology and may even adapt it for his own plans. Perhaps in the cloning process itself. We have various timelines' intro dialogues and MK11's Krypt to support his interest:

MK1

Shang Tsung: Once you are dead, I'll study that armor at my leisure. Sektor: What does a sorcerer know of engineering?

MK11

Shang Tsung: Perhaps technology is superior to magic. Terminator: Magic is an artificial construct. Shang Tsung: You’re not from around here, are you?

MK11 Krypt*

Shang Tsung: Sorcery isn't my only vocation. I'm also an inventor. While a modest endeavor, this forge is my finest. It can transmute collected items into new items you might find more useful

[* quote taken from MK wiki]

In previous timelines, Bi-Han did not utilize technology

[...] The Sub-Zero you saw killed was my older brother. He was stubborn in many ways. Refused to utilize modern technology on his missions.

but he was capable of using it (as seen with Noob Saibot and Cyber Smoke). In new era, Bi-Han will praise Sektor's technological genius

[...] but trafficking in such strong magic would surely draw Liu Kang’s attention. Sektor advised me that we avoid detection by building our army using science, not sorcery. We’ve invested much time in this endeavor, and we are beginning to see results. Once again proving the depths of Sektor’s genius.

and won't mind Lin Kuei using technology to gain additional advantage, yet he himself won't use any power suit (as was seen during Khaos Reigns).

The second difference is based on how Titan Shang Tsung and Dark Sub-Zero "solved" the problem of reincarnated characters. As in, Dark Sub-Zero made others part of his clan (Lin Kuei blood) while Titan Shang Tsung treats them as his minions.

And the last difference that catched my attention is how Dark Sub-Zero from Invasion would refuse to yield, even when given a chance to surrender

In contrast, Shang Tsung from Invasion Season #7, tried to run away once his invasion has failed and life was in danger

which makes me think Bi-Han, at least in the oldest timelines, is much more reconciled with death than Shang Tsung who will do anything to stay alive (begging to be spared, for example). Which makes sense, as Sub-Zero was an assassin so being killed was a much more probable outcome for him, than for Shang Tsung who could hire people to do his dirty job for him.

[daughterofhighever-blog]

Any relief at not being immediately recognized was short lived, as the sound of Cullen’s recognition and stuttered words reached her ears - just as she was getting ready to nod her head in quiet thanks and turn away. Instead she gave a bit of a heavy sigh and let her shoulders sink lightly. A dozen different thoughts and strategies races through her mind in the time it took her to blink, glancing about the courtyard as if assessing it for tactical positions and possible escape routes. It wasn’t always a deliberately conscious habit, but any experienced fighter would likely recognize the action on some level. It was simply what one did in every place one went, when living that sort of life.

Hakkon barked, and Elissa gave a sharp whistle and a firm command. The dog whimpered just a bit and cocked its head, before flattening his ears and sinking down to lay on the ground in a sternal position. Standing straight, she resigned herself to her blown cover and looked Cullen in the face.

She was taken aback, though any surprise in her eyes was muted and passed quickly. The last time she’d seen him, he was young; wounded and angry, but still just barely more than a boy. Now? Maker’s breath, he looked tired - hollow eyed and hardened beyond his years. "No need for apologies - I've not been a Lady for many years, Ser...'Rutherford', yes?" she said, letting her eyes flicker around them yet again to see if anyone else had noticed the two of them. Her… aggressive and deadly response against the Order in Amaranthine after the discovery of their spies among her ranks had ensured that 'Elissa Cousland' was not a name spoken of very favorably among Templars anywhere in Thedas. The sooner she could conduct her business here and leave, the better.

'...you're dressed rather incognito.'

Reaching across her chest, she pulled the edge of her cloak aside just enough to reveal to just him, the sigil on her breastplate - the distinctive double headed griffon unique to the vestments of any given region’s Warden Commander. Incognito yes, but for certain, she was on Warden business. "By design, I'm afraid. I am here on a matter of recruitment if you must know - and I'd hoped to keep my visit discreet... Might I count on your aid in that regard?"

Even if Cullen hadn't been assigned patrol duty he'd still be out, laboring away for threats while his mind never stopped twisting and rolling. Kirkwall had become a haven for chaos over the years and Meredith's right hand didn't know who or what he actually believed anymore. His hatred for mages had dulled over time, replaced with caution and distrust, but he no longer saw them all as evil, not like his teenage self once had after the tower's fall. He was a man grown now, someone who could form his own opinions and realize that not all of one people were bad. It was a lesson harshly taught after years of rutting out the bad eggs of the order.

It was a haunting realization to realize that the establishment he had once believed in was filled with bile and corruption. Men and women who used their power to hurt, ensnare, assault and kill. It disgusted him deep down, and the guilt he felt was as heavy as the armor he wore. He wasn't blameless, he was just as guilty, and the complicit were said to be the worst sinners. All he could really hope was that Andraste would forgive him should lifeblood ever drip from him permanently, and the way Kirkwall was going... death didn't seem such a strange possibility.

Following his usual path, he glares down at the murky waters surrounding Kirkwall, filthy and disgusting unlike the bountiful rivers and lakes near his homeland. His thoughts were far away now, far from the Champion who he admired, or Meredith who he once admired, who now frightened him, or the mages whose power still send shudders down his spine and yet the idea of another mage being struck down under false accusations haunts him. Nothing was what once was, he wasn't the same person, and so he patrols, lyrium feeding his brain and falsehood of surefooted steps bringing him on his path.

He never thought his stoic guard would be put off by a rather strong Ferelden canine. Eyes the color of honey, wide, and yet his lips are curved into a pleasant smile, gently running an armored finger along the top of the beast's head as the old creature greeted him more warmly than most did in Kirkwall. It was refreshing, and the sight of the mabari made a homesick man long for the thick forests of Ferelden even more. A laugh in his tone, forgetting his templar severity for a moment, he's quick to brush off the apology, glancing down at the woman for merely a moment before a far off memory itched his brain. He couldn't place it, her voice, her eyes, they were familiar and yet he couldn't recall, and rather than making a scene, he clears his throat. Propriety returning as his posture straightens up.

"No need to apologize. He is a strong warrior of a dog. You should be proud of him." The pin of her cloak catches his eye, and for a second he nearly stumbles over his words, memories locking together like a puzzle once realization swept in. "My lady..." He begins, not exactly sure how he should address her. Even if she wasn't a Cousland, she was the famed hero of his homeland, and someone he had met during his darkest day.

"I... I apologize for not recognizing you right away you're... you're dressed rather incognito."

[digitalgate02]

(Rough) Fact Checking on Rui & Ukkomon's statements in 02TB

Tbh I'm kinda concerned about people taking Rui's statements for granted and not realizing the movie is unclear what is legit and whatnot.

This is not Kizuna-like levels of screwed up, but this is still bugging me as i've been discussing about this movie with friends who managed to watch it before me, and once i watched it by myself i completely understood their thoughts and theories regarding the movie and the Rui & Ukkomon lore.

We still got no actual news of digital releases or EN subs (tho i believe fansubs might appear once the JP Blu-Ray/DVD is released in May) or any other country digital release (or Blu-Ray/DVD ones) so i can’t completely make a detailed lore busting post about Rui’s statements and what we know or were presented in the original Adventure’99, 02 and their extra materials like Drama CD and movies.

But i do remember tiny bits of the movie… And stuff said in the pre-release stream.

I’ll do my best here.

[WARNING FOR SPOILERS AHEAD]

The movie staff released a timeline for this movie, which indicates Rui met Ukkomon in February 29 1996 → I don’t think this is a contradiction, because if the Korean interview with SekiP is reliable (i mean, we can’t check what she said in JP, and the telephone game from JP to KR and to EN means something might have been lost in the process!), she said they changed a bit of the lore for this movie. Btw, the OG lore of Digimon Partnership count starts in 1995 and then it doubles year by year is still present in the movie, as there’s a scene where the current number of partnerships in the year of 2012, but the number stated is not exact since the movie takes place in February only. So of course the count wouldn’t be the full year number, which is 131,072 partnerships in total.

Rui and Ukkomon form a bond, and Ukkomon grants Rui the wish of having many friends, which he tells the 02 group that partnerships with digimon were the result of this wish → This is completely uncertain, and it is also doubted by the 02 kids in the movie. In Adv’99 and 02 we learn that there’s multiple sources for becoming a Chosen Child: Homeostasis (Adv Eight, possibly their predecessors); Holy Beasts (Daisuke, Miyako & Iori); unknown sources (Menoa, Meiko, Ken, Wallace, Worldwide Chosen, Dark Seed Children perhaps?)

Rui claims he’s the first person who was partnered with a digimon → Well, this is not wrong! Now, if he were claiming to be the first to have met or interacted with a digimon… He would’ve been wrong: The first human to get in touch with the Digital World and the digimon were actually two – Oikawa Yukio and Hida Hiroki (yes, Iori’s late dad), in the 1980s. Despite that, they never had digivices at all. Then in 1995 we possibly had a double digimon encounter happening: Wallace meeting Gummymon and Chocomon briefly ¹, and the Yagami siblings meeting a Koromon. This could mean Rui and Ukkomon were actually the fourth digimon encounter in the timeline. But what is correct is that he became Ukkomon’s partner first because he got the very first digivice in the world. Taichi and Hikari weren’t partnered with that same Koromon ², but they got their own partner digimon + digivices in 1999. And Wallace probably became Terriermon’s partner years after, possibly in 1996 and after Chocomon’s disappearance ³, or post-1996.

Rui claims Ukkomon is a special digimon because he can grant wishes → Okay, but i definitely remember the 02 Kids going like “sounds cool bro but we doubt it” when he said that. And the movie itself quite shows the opposite later: Ukkomon did not cure Rui’s father, and he was possibly manipulating everyone else like puppets (besides Rui’s parents i meant) – so what kind of digimon who can grant wishes is this?! He has no magical god-like powers at all! And his null lore (Bandai’s) profile points out that part of granting wishes are just rumors. But you know what said profile mentions too? That Ukkomon is able to hijack the opponents’ minds. It’s his species’ special move – Liar Dream – besides spinning like a beyblade to attack (Whirlpool Spin).

Rui claims he killed Ukkomon a long time ago → Also not totally true. Rui tried killing Ukkomon, but he couldn’t commit to it. He tried to destroy the digivice, which resulted in his injury in the right eye. Ukkomon did not… “die” apparently. Yes, he was melting, but one detail you might not know is that when a digimon dies, everything from their body, or their weapon is also erased too. Check Adv’99 death for Pumpkinmon and Gotsumon. The eye Ukkomon slapped into Rui’s face was still there after his “death” so this was the biggest hint for the audience. It was also implied in the Audio Drama #3 (released in the Japanese theaters, and soon in the BD/DVD deluxe box as bonus with the other two theater ones) – But it’s okay, he possibly never had a contact with another digimon or even a Chosen Child before meeting Daisuke & co, so we can’t blame him for believing he had killed Ukkomon.

In a flashback, Ukkomon tells Rui that he’s connected to something bigger → This might be the only legitimate truth he had told Rui, besides that Rui was the first person partnered with a digimon. Somehow, Ukkomon is connected to some god-tier entity because once BigUkkomon is destroyed, the digivices are not needed anymore. This part might be completely confusing for everyone else, but it’s not confirming Rui’s claims that the digimon partnerships were caused by Ukkomon, and yes the part of Ukkomon’s claims to be related to some higher up god-like entity.

The notes within the text:

To my biggest surprise… Wallace never mentions when his mother found the egg. But he definitely mentions when Chocomon disappears – 7 years before, which means 1995. I’ve seen many people think this movie goes against the canon in different ways… But now i’ve reached the conclusion that what Wallace meant is that he met Gummymon and Chocomon in the same year Chocomon disappeared in the flower field. Plus, Wallace is shown in those flashbacks as a 4 years old kid (stated in the Memorial Chronicle) and we know via a CD bonus card that Wallace’s age is 11 years old in 2002 (same as Daisuke, Takeru, Hikari and Ken) – so i guess if he had gotten the egg before 1995 he would’ve been too young to remember it (unless you opt for 1994, but i think this wouldn’t be possible…)

The Koromon who met Taichi and Hikari is implied to not be the same who was partnered with Taichi 4 years later in Adventure'99: the TV series Agumon knew Taichi’s name because of the data inserted on his egg by the Agents, which were also manufacturing the Crests and Digivices, according to Homeostasis’ analysis on the children from the Greymon vs Parrotmon fight.

Since Chocomon went missing, i suppose Wallace became partnered with Gummymon only, but if we go with Adv’99 and 02, the Chosen Children can evolve non-partnered digimon as well: Leomon mentions he only managed to evolve into SaberLeomon because of the Chosen Children’s digivices being used on him previously in the series, and in 02 we witnessed the Digimon Kaiser using his digivice to dark evolve Agumon into both SkullGreymon and MetalGreymon virus (the latter only when he created the Evil Spiral, of course).

[randomdelusionalgirl]

What is AOTTMNT?

AOTTMNT- referring to 'Adventures Of The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles'- is a TMNT original iteration made by me. It contains the main characters and some of the sub characters of the other TMNT iterations, but designed in a different way.

Summary: The Hamato Clan is a legendary hero clan that defeated the world's greatest threat, The Spirit of Darkness, a long time ago. And now in New York, 2024, this is the story of the Hamato Quadraplets- the Hamato Clan's newest generation- growing up from immature teenage ninja mutants to legendary heroes who save the world from another great threat.

More explanations about the iteration

-The Hamato Clan is a turtle mutant clan that was chosen as The Spirit of Light's decendant and was given part of The Spirit of Light's power. Thanks to that, they are able to transform between mutant form and human form.

-Human form shields them from getting chased, hunted, abused, or experimented by humans. Mutant forms are way stronger and more useful than human form, enabling them to deal with remnants of The Spirit of Darkness.

-Every member of the clan gains a power called 'Spirital Powers', though when they gain those powers isn't specifically stated. Yoshi(=Splinter) already gained his at a young age, but the quadraplets haven't yet.

-Besides humans, non-human beings live on Earth, too. They mainly call themselves 'Yokai' or 'Other Species'. There are many other species like Ghosts, Witches, Superhuman, Mutants and stuff- it's just that humans don't know their existence. Some of those Other Species even live between humans either with the help of disguise or thanks to their appearances already resembling a human's, but no one has noticed yet.

Or have they?

Masterpost

[canmom]

Animation Night 179: Unicorn Wars

Hey everyone! Real brief blurb tonight because I talked about Alberto Vázquez last week - tonight I'm going to be re-running Unicorn Wars since last week it was way too late for people to attend!

Unicorn Wars could be roughly described as Apocalypse Now with teddy bears. We encounter a world in which a militaristic country of teddies is locked in a revanchist forever-war against the unicorns who now occupy the Magic Forest. It is a conflict in part religious in nature: the bears are convinced that whoever drinks the blood of the last unicorn will enter into a transcendant state of being.

Our story concerns a fresh batch of recruits, sent on a mission that none of them know is sacrificial. Led by a sergeant who has no idea what he's in for and a reserved priest, they set out with grenades and bows and arrows to find out what became of a lost unit.

Our main characters are a pair of brothers, Azulín and Gordi, or Bluey and Tubby as the English sub renders it. Both of them are deeply screwed up by their parents separation and their mothers' death; Azulín in particular, who took more after their father, has a determination to prove himself at whatever cost, and a contemptuous, bullying relationship to his brother.

But we also encountere the rest of the doomed bears and there are some real characters. The bear culture is a fascinating blend of cute fluffy signifiers and militaristic ones, joined into one nihilistically eugenic competition for status. There's a real fascination in the animation with the physicality of the bears' bodies, the way they squish around, messy scenes of eating, and of course a great deal of gore. You see quite a bit of teddybear pp.

Naturally the mission goes south fast. A lurid trip on colourful bugs brings the first casualties - a fantastic blast of psychedelia - but the teddies are also completely unprepared for fighting the unicorns. Or their willingness to murder each other. In the end, Azulín and Gordi are the only survivors, surviving off the land - and then things really take a turn.

Of the unicorns, we learn much less. One unicorn, María, is something of a deuteragonist - desperately searching for her missing sibling, she finds an old church, where the apes of the forest worship a strange, morphing fleshy entity. We do not immediately see what becomes of this - but María ends up falling afoul of the two surviving bears. Azulín attacks Maria while Gordi can only watch; Azulín hits María multiple times but is ultimately pierced by a young unicorn and cast into the river, leaving María alone with Gordi. (In contrast, in the original short, the Gordi analogue kills the Azulín analogue after they kill a unicorn.)

Azulín, horribly injured, washes up back at the main teddybear base, where the military higherups attempt to make a figurehead of him - completely failing to anticipate his capacity to turn their own forces against them and stage a coup. Where the previous command was simply using the war as a way to stay in power, vengeful Azulín is a true zealot and mobilises the full teddybear army against the unicorns. Meanwhile, Gordi has managed to forge an unlikely friendship with the unicorn María who he has nursed back to health after Bluey's attack.

Vázquez is no stranger to blending cute imagery and extremely dark themes. In contrast to Psiconautas, which felt like a story of the forlorn hope of escape against the bleakness of the world, Unicorn Wars seems more bleak and nihilistic. You know none of this is going to end well; the ending pushes it into a direction of alchemical synthesis, and we'll talk about it when we get there in the film.

Unicorn Wars generally looks amazing, vividly coloured and elegantly blending 2D and 3D animation. And well, there's a reason for that: like I Lost My Body, which shared many of the same animators, this is an all-Blender production, using Grease Pencil for 2D animation, and a very inventive process for the unicorns where the 3D render is converted to a 2D grease pencil drawing which can be further edited by the anmiators. The result is that the unicorns get the sense of life that comes from the slightly imperfections 2D animation, and yet the precise perspective of 3D animation. It's a fantastic showcase of what Blender's 2D-in-3D can enable, and it honestly just makes me really happy to see from a tech-art perspective.

In short, Unicorn Wars is an intense, bleak and also very funny film, I loved it. If you have a reasonable threshold for gore, I hope you'll come to see it with me!

Also check out this cool pixel art of Azulín I found in the gif picker, by @none-dc. (He's such a little shit and this captures it so well.)

Animation Night 179 will be going live now at twitch.tv/canmom, going live now with the film to start in about half an hour (21:50 UK time) - hope to see you there!

[daibolik-lovers-encyclopedia]

Races of Daibolik Lovers

Demons World's Hierarchy

Highest<————In order from ————>lowest

Superior Demon Races: Ancestor, Vampire (Bat), Vibora (Snake), Wolves (Wolf) and Adler (Eagle).

Inferior Demon Races: Ghoul (Crow), and other numerous different inferior races not named.

Note

Please note that things they are able to do with their natural abilities and magic are two different things.

Also before you say it, witches are not a race and as far as I am aware are not mentioned.

Ancestors (Originators, Founders, or First Blood Clan):

Intro -

They are the ancestor race of all the demon kinds in the Demon World.

Though they don’t directly rule over the other races, as they have their own kings/queens, they are the highest in social hierarchy, giving them some power over others.

Abilities -

Possessing all the basic racial skills of the four superior demonic sub-races (Vampire, Vibora, Wolves and Adler), but they don't possess their weaknesses.

-Transform into bats, snakes, wolves, and eagles.

-Summon familiar’s(bats, snakes, wolves, and Eagles)

-High strength, smell, hearing, speed, and regenerative abilities.

-Teleportation

-“Read” consciousness/thoughts through mementos/objects

In the general prologue of Dark Fate, this is how Carla and Shin find Lord Burais Castle through “reading” Menaes thoughts connected to her pendant, in search of her after her death.

-Highest Magic Ability

Weaknesses -

-Decapitation is the only way to kill them, however, if their body is too damaged to heal fast enough, it can be life-threatening, even if not directly.

-All Abilities are weakened during a Full Moon

-They are susceptible to Endzit

Endzit is a sickness that only First Bloods can get but Karlheinz fears it may spread in the future to other races.

Food Source -

No direct information is stated but judging from their descendants it’s assumed that Blood can nourish them. Note that this is not definite.

And though there is no evidence that it’s beneficial, it’s shown that they can enjoy eating human food.

Cultural Traditions -

In BLOODY BOUQUET Drama CD "The Secret Behind a Demon World's Wedding Reception ~Vampires' Hospitality~", they reveal wedding/celebration traditions of the First Bloods.

-Weddings lasts three days and three nights in total

-They congratulate the bride and groom through a ‘never-ending’ banquet

-During those three days and nights, one must never have an empty plate. Once something has been eaten, it will immediately be replaced by a fresh batch

-Though the banquet itself does end after three days it is meant to symbolize that the marriage itself is a “never ending” celebration of the persons bond.

-One of their traditional dishes is called the Founder’s special ‘Four Species Pudding’. They mince and combine wolf, snake, eagle and bat meat, bake it all together, then pour a special sauce on top. It signifies the eternal bond with those four bloodlines.

Other -

-All Abilities are Heighten During a Lunar Eclipse

Vampires (Bat clan):

Intro -

One of the four sub-races under the Ancestors, and second in the social hierarchy of the demon world.

Abilities -

-High strength, speed, regenerative abilities, increased vision, sense of smell, and hearing

-Transform into bats

-Teleportation

-Summon familiar’s(bats)

-Average to High magic ability

Weaknesses -

-Pureblood vampires can only die by having their heads cut off, however, if their body is too damaged to heal fast enough, it can be life-threatening, even if not directly.

-Silver

-Their vision diminishes in sunlight

-All powers are weakened during a lunar eclipse

Food Source -

They can eat human food, but it doesn't nourish them; blood is their main source of food.

And though it is stated that it is not beneficial for them to, it’s shown that they can enjoy eating human food.

Other -

- During a full moon, pureblood vampires can fly

Impure Vampires (Bat clan):

Intro -

Impure vampires are similar to pureblood vampires, except that they were turned, meaning they weren't born as a vampire.

Abilities -

-High strength, speed, and regenerative abilities, increased vision, smell and hearing(not to the same degree as a pureblood vampire)

-Teleportation

Weakness -

-While they do have some of the same abilities are pure blood vampires they do not have them to the same degree making them weaker

-They have no ability for magic

Karlheinz grants some to the Mukamis, such as protective barrier and bat familiars.

-They cannot summon/control familiars

-Silver

Food source -

All human food nourishes them, but blood is still their main food source.

Other -

-During a full moon, pureblood vampires can fly

-Unlike the pureblood vampires, they see perfectly in the sunlight.

Vibora (Snake clan):

Intro -

N/A

Abilities-

-Transform into snakes

Weaknesses -

N/A

Food source -

N/A

Other -

There isn't much known about this race, but we do know that they were allies of the vampire race.

Wolves (Wolf clan)

*No information yet*

Adler (Eagle clan)

*No information yet*

Ghouls (Crow clan):

Intro -

Ghouls are humans that have stayed in the demon world for to long, or they are the children of two humans that are already ghouls. Ghouls are compared to humans and used as slaves by other demons races (Ancestor, Vampire, Vibora, Wolves and Adler).

Abilities -

-Transform into crows

-They possess no ability for magic

Weaknesses -

N/A

Food sources -

N/A

Other -

-They have a vary long life span (it is unknown if they are immortal).

-Ghouls are humans that have stayed in the demon world for to long, more specifically have breathed in Miasma for to long. Ghouls can also have ghoul children.

-In the manga Younge Blood, it’s hinted that ghouls are prone to going “feral”. Where they are overwhelmed by bloodlust, hunting for higher rank demons to kill, and eating there flesh. In hopes of gaining their magic ability.

-One clear physical attributes of a ghoul is black Sclera.

Note: All races suck blood, but only for the vampires is blood the main source of food.

Trivia:

-Vibora in Spanish (vìbora) means viper; Adler in German means eagle.

-All demons race are inspired by animals, except for the ancestors (because they are all demons races in one being).

-In official websites the Tsukinami and Kino are intentionally wrongly classified as "vampires" to avoid spoilers (Tsukinami are ancestors and Kino is an unknown race).

[lore-of-mobius]

Metal Sonic Is Sonic Roboticized Debunked

There is a hypothesis that Metal Sonic is Sonic Roboticized and sent back in time from a Bad Future, I am going to be arguing why this is not the case

In Sonic Triple Trouble it is stated that Metal is a "handmade ultimate robot," built by Dr. Eggman. We also know that Sonic Triple Trouble is canon thanks to Sonic Superstars and Tailstube.

In Knuckles' Chaotix Manual it tells us that Metal is "a Sonic-shaped robot created by Dr. Robotnik." It also tells us that "the main and sub CPUs were recovered from the body that was destroyed in a previous confrontation with Sonic."

In the Roboticized Sonic Hypothesis it is argued that Eggman can't build or rebuild Metal Sonic and the best he can do is Mecha Sonic. However, this confirms not only can Eggman build Metal Sonic, but he can rebuild him as well. Knuckles' Chaotix is also canon according to both the Encyclo-speed-ia and Tailstube. Some people have claimed there are multiple and as well as rebuilt Metal Sonics in Sonic Rivals, however I have not checked to see if that is true. If it is this further proves the point that Eggman can build Metal Sonic.

Finally once again in the Encyclo-speed-ia on page 35 it outright states that Metal Sonic is "Dr. Eggman's answer to nature's perfect hero, and that Metal's main CPU is a LIPS A.I.EGGMANA, run by three Dr. Eggman custom chips." Once again confirming Metal was built by Dr. Eggman.

There is also the main issue that roboticization is canon to the games and only exists in non canon spin-offs. The closest we get to roboticization is possible cyborgs such as what we see with Tails in Sonic Lost World, and maybe Rusty Rose from Sonic Prime. But still not roboticization. Some may argue that robotomies from the Sonic Forces promotions is roboticization. However, this is just Eggman's basic trick of putting animals into Badniks.

The closest we got to canon roboticization was from Sonic Chronicles: The Dark Brotherhood containing it. However, Sonic Chronicles was removed from the canon as stated in the Encyclo-speed-ia under the section about the origin of the Gizoids.

It's also noteworthy that even in material where roboticization does exist such as the Archie Comics, there does exist a roboticized Sonic. But even in the Archie Comics, Roboticized Sonic and Metal Sonic are 2 separate characters.

[daughterofhighever-blog]

Storm Coast, 9:41 Dragon

(Starter for @kaaras-adaar)

Elissa crouched low as she crept slowly along the ground, more than half a dozen of her best Wardens at her back. They did not leave the safety of Soldier’s Peak often, but their duty still needed fulfilling and the land needed protecting from the Darkspawn - False Calling or no. More desperately though, she searched for signs of Loghain. In spite, or perhaps because of everything that had passed between them over the years... distant though they had grown, the thought he might be lost to Clarel's madness and machinations put a greater knot in her throat and stomach than any spawn or False Calling. The rain had abated somewhat in the late afternoon hours, but the banshee-like shrieking of the wind was ceaseless. It served to cover any sound of their approach well enough.

They did not need their ears to track the darkspawn they hunted.

  Sharp sounds - the ringing of clashing metal, and the sounds of shouting voices… Elissa’s eyes, along with the other Wardens’, flared with a smokey white pulse of light - the Darkspawn were near. Her palm jerked up in a signal to stop, her lips pursing against a pressed tongue to imitate the shrill trilling of a coastal bird. The spine chilling shrrrk of unsheathed steel was drowned by the howling winds and the pattering of rain from the ebbing storm.

  Moving more swiftly, the small company snaked its way down the steep hill to a shallow overlook that afforded a wide view of the shore. What the Commander saw drew a hissing breath and pushed a wave of frustration up from her belly into the back of her throat. The Darkspawn weren’t alone.

The Inquisition…

  She had no qualms with the supposed ‘Herald of Andraste’ - a Qunari of all things, if the rumors she heard were to be believed. Elissa of all people in the world could appreciate the burdens of a Hero who didn’t ask for, or want such a mantle - but that didn’t mean she was eager to complicate her own business by inviting their interference. Still, duty required what it required…

With an unnaturally loud and piercing whistle, Elissa drew her sword and dagger, signalling the others to attack. And in what would likely be out of nowhere for those on the beach, the Wardens burst forth from the foliage with a great cry, jumping from where they were concealed and into the fray…

[daughterofhighever-blog]

(@wywardprince)

Elissa had been in the middle of opening her mouth to speak when Sebastian's joke caught her off guard. Her brows knit, and she closed and opened her mouth twice before dissolving into a very sudden fit of giggles. She pressed the back of her hand more firmly against her mouth this time, trying and failing to stop her growing laughter. At a certain point, she started laughing at herself as much as his self-deprecating quip.

It didn't take long for her to compose herself again, but she still had to wipe at her eyes. When was the last time she'd laughed like that? She couldn't immediately recall. "We've met once before, you know - in Kirkwall. I was ten. No... eleven. Dumar had just been installed as Viscount, and it was the first time I'd ever left Ferelden. I remember you laughed when I scolded Duke Prosper de Montfort of all people for insulting Fereldans as..." Elissa paused, concentrating on the distant memory. "Hvað var það sem hann sagði nákvæmlega? Ah yes - 'alcoholic, barbarian dog-lords', I believe."

Another little titter, and she murmured with obviously imitating affectation in her voice of her younger self. "At least we're not Orlesian."

One corner of his mouth twitched upward in a cousin of a smile. With a past like his, he could only imagine where such a story might go. Would it be some joke about his rakish past, where he knew no boundaries about himself and partook whenever and wherever of whatever he could? Would it be some sly comment about going from that into the Chantry for years? Or perhaps how he ultimately couldn't keep to his oath there, either (nevermind that Elthina had never actually let him take the oath; he'd wager most people didn't know that part). Had she heard of the escapades with Hawke for those handful of years? Or, seeing as how she was a Cousland, some political teasing about how his soft cousin Goran had sat the throne in his absence while he dithered about even considering getting it back?

He pressed all those thoughts to the side, acknowledging them, but then moving past them. Tried to, anyway. If he told himself enough times, perhaps he really could.

"Hm, I think I know how this joke goes. A rogue, a Chantry brother, and a prince all walk into a pub. The bartender looks up and says, 'Good to see you again, Sebastian!'" he said, the half-smile still perched lightly across his lips.

[mask131]

Egyptian mythology: Off a chaotic start

A good way to understand the nature of Egyptian mythology is to take a look at its various creation myths.

Egyptian mythology was created by uniting, fusing and cumulating rites, beliefs, legends and theologies coming from different sub-realm, city-states and history eras, and trying to stitch them together into a cohesive whole. Terry Pratchett beautifully summed it up in his book “Pyramids”: the Egyptians never threw away a god, just in case he could be useful later, and so they piled on gods and myths and stories and rites, even though they contradicted each other. 

The creation myths of Egypt work in a similar way. Egypt didn’t have one, but several “religious centers”, specific cities with each their own pantheon of local gods, each their own set of legends and beliefs, each their own take on religion. If you think the myth-variations of the Greek city-states were complex, oh boy, get ready, because compared to the Egyptians, the Greeks are a piece of cake. Each of those major religious center had its own creation myth, that by default entered in conflict with each other, and yet co-existed in the people’s mind and religious practices. 

The most famous and widespread of those creation myths, the one people are most aware of today, is actually the creation myth of the city of Heliopolis (in the original Egyptian, “Iunu”). The Heliopolis theogony was based around a group of gods known as the Ennead (”pesedjet” in Egyptian), nine deities forming a family through whose genealogy the world was created. A reason this creation myth became so popular is because it is very similar to the way the Greek cosmogony work. According to this myth, in the beginning there was just the Nun, the primordial ocean, the endless dark and lifeless waters. From these waters a mound appeared, and on it appeared the primordial, creator-god Atum (later identified and fused with Ra). Atum, the All-Deity, then gave birth (either through masturbation or by sneezing/spitting) to the deities Shu and Tefnut, the air and th humidity, who mated together to give birth to Nut and Geb, the sky and the earth, who in turn had four children - Osiris, Isis, Seth and Nephthys. (A variation of the myth includes “Horus” as the fifth child, but that’s... a complicated business). So far so good.

But then, you have to confront and compare the Ennead of Heliopolis with another group of gods supposedly responsible for the creation of the world. The Ogdoad of Hermopolis (in Egyptian, “Khemenu”). According to the cosmogony of Hermopolis, before the world existed there were eight deities, four primordial couples each the manifestation of one of the pre-creation elements: Nun and Naunet (primordial waters), Amun and Amaunet (the primordial air or the hidden/secret power), Kuk and Kauket (primordial darkness), Huh and Hauhet (shapelessness or infinity). These eight abstract deities suddenly joined together, gathering their power and essence, and in a great explosion of energy they created the world. From this point forward the texts disagree and split into two traditions. Everybody agrees from one of the first created things the sun arose - but for one group the sun was hatched from an egg placed by the god Thot on a mound coming out of the waters ; while for another group the sun arose from a blooming lotus flower (which was a manifestation of the god Nefertem). 

These are however but two of the numerous cosmogonies of Egypt. Beyond these two stories of groups of gods creating the world, either through their family tree or a cosmic gang-bang, there are also several Egyptian cosmogonies which rather present one lonely creator-god who manifested or shaped the world one way or another. In Memphis for example (Inebu-hedj in Egyptian), it was thought that the world, the gods, the elements and every living being were created by the god Ptah, who conceived all of them in his mind/heart as ideas, and then made them exist by pronouncing their name out loud. This tradition is similar and yet opposing the one of Elephantine, where the primordial creator-god is called “Khnum” and is said to have shaped and modeled physicaly the world, the gods and every living things out of clay. Hopefully, the Egyptian themselves tried to link together and unite those conflicting theogonies into one more cohesive ensemble: for example the Memphis creation myth evolved to include the Ennead, by claiming that Ptah was the secret power behind the manifestation of Atum and the formation of his descendants (Ptah was notably identified with the mound that came out of the Nun before Atum appeared). Another “tie-in” cosmogony would be the one of Thebes (in Egyptian “Waset”): the city had taken as a patron-god the deity Amun, and as it rose into power as a new religious capital/religious center, it took “away” from the Ogdoad ensemble Amun, and claimed that he was creater, vaster and older than the other Ogdoad members. According to the Thebes belief, Amun was THE primordial power and creating force of the universe - while he was part of the Ogdoad, he had created it around him, AND he also was the one who created the Ennead. 

The list could go on and on, but these are the five most common and brought up creation myths when it comes to Ancient Egypt, and they perfectly show how, despite each legend contradicting the others, they still were worked on so that they could eventually be tied and linked together into a vaguely cohesive mythology (if you can close your eyes on minor and secondary unlogical details). 

[chromiumagellanic06]

The Silver Knight: Warrior, Princess, Wife

Daemon Targaryen/Original Fem [Targaryen] Character

Chapter 13: Brilliant

MASTERLIST

Summary: Naera has a vision. Unrealistic erotica. An uncomfortable family breakfast.

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: NSFW, smut, incest, dom/sub dynamics (very minor?), cunnilingus, creampie,

Long, flowing golden hair, tossing in the wind, in the darkness, in the light. Twin braids, that crept from a brow and behind. A face most carefully made, with the right shades, and the correct lights, with a long nose and a beauty all in all, with the most splendid expressions ever seen. Curls and spins and winds rolled down her shoulders, below a crested necklace of pure gold.

Her chin was held high, her eyes narrowed gracefully, her lips curved in a smirk only described as superior, stained with wine.

Pride.

Then, lower, and lower, and she wore satins and silks of the finest merchants. There was red, and gold, and a southern-styled gown, with sinking sleeves and bared shoulders, and flurries of curves and height to it all. There was gold, jewels, and intricacy in her.

Wealth.

A crown, of iron and gold, crested with blood, adorned with ash and rubies, winding through the hair of dark suns. The woman was dressed in red, with a crown of gold. Banners hung behind her—banners of velvet, with an adorned lion roaring through.

Regal.

“Do you know why all the world hates a Lannister?” A Dornish accent, aged and experienced, mocking and untethered. A Martell's voice.

Lannister.

House Lannister.

Golden lions.

The Queen?

No.

House Lannister. Golden Lions. The Usurper Queen.

Usurper. A Usurper King?

A running stag, running through fires and despairs, and blood and grime and fallen worlds. Ours is the fury.

Baratheon. Lord of Storm’s End. Lord Paramount of the Stormlands. The Usurper King. The Sack of King’s Landing. A Targaryen Bastard.

A child’s cries, screeches, a woman’s wails, a towering mountain, and the ringing of steel blades being drawn, and silence.

The Fall of the Dragon. The End of their reign, destroyed by their own blood. 

No.

The Dragon does not answer the Lion. The Dragon does not answer the Stag.

The Dragon burns them all alike.

Fire. The screech of a Dragon, the flapping of wings, great, dark, horrendous wings. One, two, three—obsidian and red, green and bronze, gold and cream. There shall be flames. There shall be blood. There shall be the age of dragons, returned, with a great, wakening light.

Dracarys.

Red stone, red foundations, and flags of red and gold and lions, all burned, and all fell.

There.

The Conqueror—silver hair, braids, and braids, and braids, and the neighing of a thousand horses, and the singular stepping of ten thousand marching soldiers, and on, and on.

There.

The Age of the Dragon.

Flags the colour of ash, with luminescent crests of blood-red dragons, being drawn over the ruins of the palace that once was. A throne made of swords, melted and moulded to never grant any sort of comfort, any sort of support. A King must never sit easy. A Queen must never sit easy, and yet, the Dragon Queen sat atop it with a grace unseen, and a state of completion unknown. A Queen must never sit easy, and yet, the Targaryen Conqueror sat atop the Iron Throne as though she was borne to do it. Indeed, she was. She was the blood of the dragon, and all knelt before her—wolves, eagles, stags, and lions, and even the very sun, the rose, and all that mattered. Even darkness, even death, ever devastation knelt before the conqueror.

Darkness knelt before the Conqueror.

No.

Darkness knelt before Azor Ahai, the forsaken warrior who tempered his own will in the blood and death of his lover. The warrior who ended the long night, the darkest winter, the coldest eternity.

The Conqueror was Azor Ahai.

Naera opened her eyes with a start.

She saw light, white and yellow and green, and a sky the colour of the sea. It was boundless, rolling on, and on, and on, forever, and then some more, behind the edges of the grassy hills. Grass, green and fresh and fragrant, rolled for miles, and acres in every direction, beneath the boundless skies.

Naera sat in a dress the colour of clouds, one that was loose and light. She was staring up at the skies, blue, blue, and blue, and her eyes made funny images of small translucent circles running through and past the skies. A hand reached forth, curled a strand of her silver hair and brushed it away.

Daemon sat behind her, holding her, kissing her, breathing her. His hands were wrapped solidly around her waist, his head carefully placed on her shoulder, and every breath of his taking send shivers down her spine.

“Are you awake yet?” He seemed to ask, hands drawling up, and down her front, her stomach, her breasts. Naera felt lethargic, as though someone had sedated her, tired her, and lazed her away.

"Hmm?” And she let him venture lower with his hands, crawling down to the hem of her dress and slowly, tantalizingly slow, dragging it up to her knees. His hands settled on her thighs, running small circles on her skin that made her throw back her head and sigh. One of his heavy palms crept back up, catching hold of her breast.

“You haven’t answered my question, Naera,” and through his dulcet voice, she felt heat, burning and boiling and toiling, build up from her core. Daemon pressed a kiss to her neck, and his hands found her cunt. Naera moaned, whimpered, really, and he drank it away as though it was his elixir. He set a single finger within her, revelling at how wet she was already, and breathed against her neck, again, in a way that made her wish to jump out of her skin and devour him all the same.

“What question?” And the sun burned warm along her face, her skin, her bones, but Daemon’s touch felt warmer, hotter and more refined than the sun. She heard him chuckle, a low, rumbling sound that travelled down her chest in waves.

“Are you awake?” She felt warm, warmer, and warmest, and Daemon kept on his actions. He curled one, or two fingers within her, circling her clit with his thumb, arduously slow, but it had all the same impact. Naera still thundered out a wheeze and a moan, but her eyes felt heavier and heavier. He repeated his words, the tune only adding to her ecstasy. He really did have a brilliant voice.

Wait.

“What d’you mean awake?” Naera felt cold, cold sheets, cold blankets, cold air, all over her, all around her. She sat up, fighting through the pain and heaviness in her limbs, to witness the light and airiness of chambers which were very certainly not hers. The sheets weren’t hers, there weren’t enough papers for these to be her quarters at all, and it was—oh, Daemon sat next to her, gazing at her with impertinence. Oh, and Naera cursed her first thought as having been carnal. His hair glowed in the morning light, and his eyes, and his—He had a brilliant voice, among many other brilliant things.

“There you go,” and his voice made her core warm up all over again, “You’re awake.” Daemon leaned forward, past the mess of silver hair, to press a kiss on her cheek, and her lips. Mistake, for the simple action made her clutch onto his neck, hot, heavy and reflexive, with a soul-crushing kiss. He did not refuse, of course—how could he refuse his dear niece? –and held her shoulders, driving her back onto the mattress. “Awake and eager,” he taunted against her lips, hands running across her bare body with blistering passion.

Naera wanted to taunt back, something along the lines of can’t say I’m the only one eager, or can you blame me? Yet, the words did not come that easily when her mind felt dazed with lust. Lust, for Daemon Targaryen. How in the world had it gotten here?

Daemon held her hands away from her, pinning them above her head, and his eyes spoke to hers his desires, his urges, all boiled down to promises. One day, I will bind your wrists and take you, and Naera cursed the shudder in her breath at his silent oath.

“Stay still for me.” His words had warning, and a deep, gruesome undertone to his words that made her want to obey, just this once. She let her arms go slack, hands grasped tight somewhere above her head, and she blared silent for his actions. She watched him, the mischief leaking out of his eyes, a haunted sort of eagerness in the lines on his forehead, the smile on his lips, the darkness of his eyes. Brilliant, he was, in more ways than she could count.

Daemon leaned close down, kissing her once again, this time soft, slow and temperate, and his hands dragged lower, and lower, and lower, nose dragging past the curve of her neck, and down, and down to the rise and fall of her breasts. He spared a kiss there but did not linger, and the thrill, the waves, the boil of anticipation in her heart did nothing to assuage her of the heat she felt.

Finally, his hands reached her thighs, pulling them apart, and he settled between them as he had the night before, though this time there was more comfort in his stature—the ability to leer, linger and lie in wait. God, she would both hate and love this—she would both hate and love him.

“Ah,” his grin made her cower, for no reasons defined, “Looks as though my Visenya has a lot of urges in her sleep,” and she felt the need to clarify, to defend herself, to tell him that it was the first time—the only time, and it had been after their night. Yet, what was the point? Somewhere in her mind, lingering, crawling and festering was the knowledge that it would not be the last time she dreamt that way of him.

Daemon ran a finger down her folds, through the slick wetness of hers, and she moaned breathily. He brought his finger up, and her legs twitched and shook, something of a spasm overtaking them.

“Careful, now,” and his warning resonated in her mind. Ah.

He repeated his actions, up, down, and up again, and she held her breath to keep herself from moving. Stay still, and he won’t deny you your pleasure. Daemon let his tongue run up her soaked cunt, muttering another comment about its taste which she could hardly register over the urge to drag his head in. Every careful breath of his collided with her clit in a way not at all unpleasurable, and she strained at the control.

“Good girl,” he praised her, cloyingly sweet, sickening, sugaring and brilliant. Daemon crept his tongue into her cunt, and a finger, and another, and Naera couldn’t help the shake of her hips to meet him in his way. He did not stop, however, as she had dreaded for so long, and only held her thighs with a stronger grace, and it went, his tongue, curling, winding and drinking her in. Naera broke away a hand, brushing it through his hair, revelling in its feel, and she tugged him closer, and closer to where she needed him.

Then, as a match stick does go out, as do a thousand candles in the wind, blowing, cooling, while darkness settled over it all, Daemon retreated, his eyes finding her pleading gaze, and Naera knew that she was at fault. Oh, but is it fault, if it felt as grand?

Daemon left her thighs, her aches and her needs, and he crept higher, taking her hands and holding them with a crushing grasp above her head. He stopped at her face, littering kisses everywhere but her lips, and she knew him—she knew his urges, his wants, his needs, to humiliate, to dominate, to make her give in—and she did not hate it at all.

“I am sorry,” Naera whispered, laying slack for his measure, for his leisure, for his pleasure, and he did not miss the glint of acceptance in her eyes.

“Are you, now?” He held her up, dragging, lingering and smirking, “Good girls don’t make such mistakes, dearest Naera,” and she shivered at his words. Daemon flipped her onto her stomach, running her hands down the smooth expanses of her back, acres and acres of ivory, scarred and healed and faded, and his. He heard her gasping breaths beneath, saw the pooling of slick by her cunt, and oh, she was perfection.

Daemon pulled up her knees, kneeling behind her leaking cunt, and watched, and watched, as she combated the urge to touch herself. He’d made her do it, one day, but not today. Or, not now, at least. He freed his cock, fully aching from the sight, and spread a hand around her ass. One day, but not today. There would be time—there would be endless time for their endeavours. Not today.

“Well,” he ran his hands up her back, through the smooth, saturnine texture of her skin, above the scars and wounds long healed and done, to her locks of dry, wispy silver hair that lay scattered around her neck. He caught hold of a bunch, wound his fingers around the locks slowly, carefully, lovingly, and tugged at it, harsh, painful and stiff.

Naera cursed the sensations, the hastening fairy-like tingles which ran through her back, down her body, through her cunt, at the endowment of pain and ache. She felt him lean close to her neck, whispering words she couldn’t decipher, though she trusted them to be nothing short of salacious.

He leaned back up, playing with her folds, slow, quiet and torturous, but oh, it was brilliant. He was brilliant. With no warnings, no indication and certainly no mercy, Daemon thrust in his cock, in, in, until he had fit himself into her heat by no means other than brute force.

Naera buried her face in the sheets, eyes closed, grunting at the stretch, at the pain, at the delight. She must’ve heard him sing a praise or two or three, about how tight she was, or how well she took him in, but they went unheard, his words went unconceived, but the rumble and thrum of his voice along her body send her reeling for more.

Daemon held her hips with bruising force, as though she did not already have bruises all over, and pulled out nearly all the way, before slamming into her with a grasping panic. Naera clustered as much of the sheets as she could, body writhing in pain, in pleasure, and some cursed approximation of their sum and Daemon went on, again, and again, and again, and Naera cried out a moan.

“Now, was that so hard?” Daemon mocked with hurried breaths, “Was is hard to just stay still for your lord husband?” But oh, she liked this more, he knew. He knew her, and her needs, and her attitude—she wanted roughness out of him, power, brutality, even, though not always—he’d figure her out eventually.

Naera whined out a cry, a moan, a whimper, at the feeling of his cock stretching her walls farther than before, grazing her womb, leaving her weak, wanting and wary for the next thrust. Daemon tugged at her hair again, harsher this time, and his movements lost rhythm as he groaned, leaning on her back. Naera whined when he tugged at her again, and there was a thrust particularly powerful, one that made her see stars.

He felt her tighten around him, close to her end, and he told her, “There you go, come for me, my—” and she took his words to heed, clenching around him in ways unfelt, gasping, wheezing, whining and moaning, mind blurred, but his name made it through. Daemon.

Hearing her chant his name in ecstasy, he followed suit, "My lovely princess," and he resisted the urge to call her his whore, "take my seed, yes? Take your kepa's seed, and we can begin our brood," and Naera did not know why she hissed out a heavy moan at the thought of being round, and full of child—full of him. Giving her a few powerful thrusts, Daemon held her hips tight against him, burying himself as far within her as he could. He filled her with himself, thick, hot, heavy seed filling her womb, holding her warmth, and Naera breathed in the sensation with a shadowing glee. 

Naera’s knees collapsed, and she was thankful that he retained enough sense to collapse beside her, and not over her. Her lungs felt deflated, and she flipped onto her back, heart hammering in her chest, searching for a clean breath. She felt his seed ooze out of her in drips and streams, and her cunt clenched around the remnants without her will. She stuttered out a moan, and a gasp, at the tip-tip-trickling of it out of her.

Oh.

Daemon pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek, warm and sweaty. He looked over her rising and falling chest, her full and rounded breasts, and her neck, red and purple with marks of his giving, but he’d do it all over again. He'd fill her with himself a thousand times if need be, until she was rounded with his kin, oh, until she was indisputably his.

“Morning, your grace,” Naera greeted her father, as she took a seat beside him. He looked weaker than the previous night, heavier, and less humane. His maesters had certainly failed again. She wondered if she should offer help.

“Ah, daughter,” but he smiled all the same when he saw her, and nothing mattered past that. He also did not mention anything past that, possibly to avert her from calling her by the name good-brother, or perhaps to avert himself from thinking about whatever surely happened following the feast the previous night. Oh, he did not want to think, but the remnants of red along her neck, behind her silver hair, told him enough.

He also learned far too much about their relations, as Daemon took a seat beside her—Laenor’s seat, by all means, but the Velaryon was too occupied by his children to care much. He leaned close to her, lips moving in near-silent whispers, tongue lashing in ways resembling their mother tongue, and no one could miss the way Naera blushed.

“Morning, good-father,” Daemon greeted also, much to his brother’s dismay. Laenor, on the other hand, gutted out half a laugh before catching himself. Viserys did not spare his good son a glare. Naera pressed her lips into a very thin line, chanting something along the lines of don’t, don’t, don’t, in her mind.

Thankfully, the towers do know very well how all joy can be destroyed. “When shall you be departing for Dragonstone, princess?” Alicent Hightower asked, but the glimmer in her eyes could easily be taken for hope, expectation and aspiration. She wanted them out of her way.

Naera smiled, “I believe we shall remain in King’s Landing for a while longer, yes?” We need to…you know. Daemon knew. The downfall of the Hightowers, but with a better plan. He’d take it more seriously this time. He had what he needed now.

“Yes,” he agreed absently, “We have much to do in the Capital.” Though, his words raised more questions than answers. Aemond looked the most perturbed, but the way his single eye followed Daemon’s words and actions could settle for some semblance of aspiration. The boy wanted to be the mirror image of his uncle—strong, unbothered, unpredictable and dangerous.

Naera sensed his predicament—questions were dangerous things, so she added, “I’ve gathered up far too many papers and correspondence. It shall take quite some time to go through it all.” Her manuscripts, her journals, her letters and Wisestone. It would be a tempestuous time, indeed.

“Shall I allot you a squire, to help you through?” There was no malice in the Green Queen’s words, but Naera couldn’t settle with a squire.

“Not unless you can find me one adept with Valyrian,” and she knew that that’d stump her also. Not many in Westeros were familiar with the language at all.

“And her horrid penmanship,” Daemon added, and though his words were playful, they weren’t wrong. Naera glanced at him, ready to mock something of his, but how could she? Her writing wasn’t the finest in the seven kingdoms, after all.

“Perhaps Grand Maester Mellos, then,” and the thought of the old, wrinkly mediator of the Small Council reading through her writings made Naera frown. She refused.

“I shall see to it myself, your grace,” and that needed to be the end of it. She must have had two score letters piled up, and she needed to send her scripts to the Citadel for storage also. It would be arduous and long, but it was nothing new.

“Nonsense,” her father croaked, drinking a cup full of cold water to revise his voice, “Aemond can do it.” Aemond can do it, and Alicent’s face darkened. Aemond himself looked apprehensive, ready to go prattling on about how he’s a prince, not a common knight’s squire, but the panic in his eyes as all at the table considered the proposal prevented him from speaking. “He’s a smart boy, he’ll learn something from you,” and that was not how anyone saw it at all. He was a boy, a young prince, not a pondering young man about to serve a princess.

“I do not think that would be appropriate,” Naera dismissed it already, not missing the way Aemond’s single eye calmed at her words. She’d be fine on her own—there was much to be done. Though, the memories of how Dornish princes are so often sent by their parents to serve the lower houses as a manner of ageing and learning did flicker past. The world was not Dorne, however, much to her regret.

“I’ll help you,” Daemon decided in the spirit of compromise.

“You will do not such thing, my Prince.” Naera stated with a smile. She’d never get anything done with Daemon breathing down her neck, making her burn with desire. There, another round of far too many questions due to her words, and she clarified, “It’ll drive you insane, kepus, it’s dreary work,” not fit for a soldier such as you.

He seemed to laugh, all in those pale lilac eyes that never seemed to leave her movements, “Is that a challenge?” He wanted to play a duel, not one of the swords, but one of the wills, but he had an advantage—he always had an advantage when it came to her, it seemed.

“Do you want it to be?” Naera did not attempt to stop the smile that overtook her—teasing, fighting, winning, and losing all the same.

“It’s settled, then,” he had grasped an early victory, “I shall be your squire, princess.”

MASTERLIST

[justforbooks]

In the mid-1990s the historian James Sharpe, who has died aged 77, wrote Instruments of Darkness, a book on witch-hunting in England that reopened a field of research that had been in the doldrums for a generation after the Welsh historian Keith Thomas’s brilliant Religion and the Decline of Magic (1971). Published in 1996, Jim’s book helped to make the study of British witchcraft what it is today: one of the most lively areas of historical writing.

Earlier historians had argued that whereas witch-hunting on the European continent was fantastical, dominated by beliefs about the devil, English witch-hunting was comparatively rational and down-to-earth, centred on beliefs about the practical harm that witches caused to people and animals. Jim showed that this was nonsense, and that English witch-hunting was also powered by fear of the devil and followed much the same pattern as many other European countries.

An archival hound, Jim surveyed every possible paper-trail in the course of his research, uncovering valuable sources for those who have come after him, including via his copious footnotes and bibliographies. In addition, he went to many conferences on the continent and made it his business to meet the leading scholars of crime and witchcraft, always developing the European dimension of his work.

He loved the detail – he was fascinated, for instance, by the phenomenon of familiars in English witchcraft, creatures who suckled on witches and carried out their bidding, one of the few features that do indeed set English witch-beliefs apart from the continent. He noted them all: Bid the ferret, a lamb, another creature that was carefully kept in a basket with wool, and a white-spotted cat ominously named Sathan.

Perhaps his most appealing book is his history of Anne Gunter, published in 2000, about a 17th-century girl who claimed to be possessed but was unmasked as a fraud. It is a classic of its kind, a marvellous micro-study that reveals the inner world of an unhappy individual who found herself used for other people’s agendas and who, Jim argued, just wanted love and attention. The book, Bewitching of Anne Gunter, explores the mindsets of the doctors, ministers of religion and even the monarch himself, James I, who did not believe Anne’s stories.

As Jim was well aware, at another level it is also a story about fathers – and patriarchal figures of all kinds – who fail their children. It is a gripping read, with lots of humour, and along the way speculates on the origins of football. In the style of a 17th-century broadside Jim gave the book the wonderful sub-title, A Horrible and True Story of Deception, Witchcraft, Murder and the King of England – wording that led the Bavarian State Library in Munich to refuse twice to buy it, on the grounds that it simply could not be an academic book.

Jim followed up with Dick Turpin: the Myth of the English Highwayman (2004), another fantastic read, and then A Fiery and Furious People: a History of Violence in England (2016), which upturned the idea of the peaceable phlegmatic English character.

This was a return to earlier preoccupations, for Jim started out as a historian of crime. From 1983 on he wrote a series of path-breaking books on the history of crime in the British Isles in the 16th and 17th centuries, inspiring others to follow in his wake.

In a field dominated by Tudor and Stuart monarchs and their courts, Jim brought ordinary people into history, in all their variety, by showing just what could be done with court records of crime. These rich sources have revolutionised how we write history because they take us as close as we can to the voices of the lower classes in the past, and Jim was one of the first to realise this.

Jim was born in Lewisham, south-east London, to James, a labourer, and Margaret, a cleaner. At Colfe’s school, in Blackheath, he won a place at Oxford University, where he did a history degree and then a doctorate under Thomas’s supervision. He spent all his career, from 1973, as a history lecturer at the University of York, where he was a marvellous and generous teacher and rose to be professor before retirement in 2016.

York became the go-to place for social history, with the three Jims, Jim Walvin, Jim McMillan and Jim Sharpe, all doing exciting new work on slavery, women’s history and crime respectively. He adored teaching and had a wonderful line in dry humour; his students all knew how proud he was of them.

He is survived by his wife, Krista (nee Cowman), whom he married in 1993, and their children, Guy and Freddie.

🔔 James Anthony Sharpe, historian, born 9 October 1946; died 13 February 2024

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?