#the conquerors thinking of course this can be done WE did it

[swordsandarms]

"It's probably all propaganda and lies and the Conqueror Trio must not have been that great, what if-"

The way GRRM constructs the Targaryen dynasty and plays around with different kind of rulers gives perfect sense to them being meant to be interpreted at face value (and it's not like it is all milk and honey already as related in history books - things going not as smoothly as some start dying, showing this complementary balance they had was essential to make that 'unrealistic' potential work).

From the experimenting writer's perspective, it makes sense to start with the 'ideal' (balance between genders, between use of force and diplomacy, etc) before starting to deconstruct which branch can go wrong and what that means, starting with 'splitting' the balance into the extremes of Aenys and Maegor, then the 'Patriarch' that loses sight of the strength in that gender balancing act, the one that is too devout, the one that is too debauched; trusts too much, trusts too little; parents too tough, parents too lenient; too daring or too cautious; even the "too liberal values" of Aegon V that aren't wrong but too ahead of their time to try to implent.

From an in-world perspective of realism, it works, too. That this unification project would start with all confidence in capable hands, doing what seems enough to assure its contnuing success from the perspective of that point in time without the foresight of unforseeable complications of the failings of human nature (such as listed above).

The Conquerors having been this balanced conquering and governing team too unrealistic to replicate down the line (so far) adds substance to the dynasty, doesn't take it away.

[dedalvs]

My brother and I absolutely cackled after that Aemond and Aegon Valyrian exchange!

I wanted to ask (and I'm terrible at conlangs, so forgive me) what grammar/syntax Aegon is stumbling over here and how to properly say what he intended to? Any why is he making thise mistakes (simply lacking the vocabulary, or rules of the language he hasn’t grasped)?

Let's take a look at it. This is what he said:

Nyke koston... Bēvilus... Sētegon bīlīvāzmi?

The subtitles say this:

"I can... Have to... Make a war?"

Prior to this Aemond is, essentially, showing off. He knows that Aegon has simply not put any time into studying Valyrian (or studying anything). At this stage, Valyrian is no longer spoken by the family on a day-to-day basis—especially as Alicent probably never learned it at all (or if she did, only in a few scattered lessons here and there; not to actually use). In order for either of the boys to gain any kind of fluency in the language, they have to study constantly and find ways to use it. There's simply no daily need for the language—and plenty of reasons not to use it, as very, very few people they'll encounter on a daily basis speak the language.

Now, if we were talking about two random people in Westeros, this wouldn't mean anything. But these are the children of Viserys Targaryen, himself a descendant of Aegon the Conqueror. They brought their family line and their culture with them to Westeros—and, of course, their language. If someone like Alicent Hightower doesn't speak High Valyrian it means nothing. If a Targaryen doesn't speak High Valyrian, though… See, they're supposed to be able to speak Valyrian. Failing to do so carries with it a sense of shame that isn't present for a random person who doesn't speak Valyrian. Aemond knows this. Aegon is annoying him, so he goes poking at that wound.

Aemond could have fed him a short line with an obvious answer to help Aegon out, but instead he threw a whole mess of Valyrian at him. The longer it goes on, the more lost Aegon gets, desperately trying to catch up and figure out what was just said and thereby missing what is being said at that instant. From the whole speech, Aegon probably only figured out that he was being asked a question, and it was something having to do with planning.

So, back to what he says. The beginning student of a language is quite adept at doing a single verb in a present tense sentence. In a discussion like this, though, you're typically saying things like "I think that" or "We should" or "I suggest" or "Perhaps we might", etc. All that stuff that we need to offer opinions, make suggestions, hedge, etc. Much more than simple narration.

Aegon is attempting to do this without a sufficient command of the language. He knows some vocabulary, he knows some grammar, but he simply did not put in the work to actually speak this language. Thus, he has to overcome a lot of Common Tongue (i.e. English) interference.

There are many differences between Valyrian and English, but the biggest one by far is the major word order. In English, the verbs come before the rest of the junk; in Valyrian, they come at the end. And this is how things get all messed up.

In English, you start the sentence saying things like "I think" or "We should" or "It seems". In Valyrian, those things come at the end. If you start with the Valyrian equivalent of "I think", you will quickly realize (presuming you know enough of the grammar) that you're sunk, because once you've said it, the sentence should be done. Thus you get Aegon's false starts.

Starting at the beginning, Aegon says Nyke koston, which is kind of like saying, "I could". But there's nowhere to go. This is how a sentence ends. For example, if he wanted to say, "I could fly to Harrenhal", he would say Harenhalot sōvegon koston—literally "To Harrenhal fly I could". If you're thinking English-ly, you're essentially thinking backwards, and if you simply translate what you're thinking, you'll immediately have nowhere to go. You'll have to take a pause and think about how to get started again. And that's exactly what happens here.

Now, leaving aside that Valyrian is a pro-drop language and starting it off with nyke "I" is unnecessary and makes you look like a beginner, koston isn't bad (I mean, if used sentence-finally). Once he realizes he can't start there, though, he loses confidence. It's those old High Valyrian lessons all over again, and some maester suggesting he hasn't studied. That self-doubt makes his facility with Valyrian worse. This means his chances of recovery are severely hampered.

But onward he presses, and he decides to say "We have to" or "I have to". Now, the problem here is in Valyrian that requires the verb bēvilagon. This verb isn't used in the usual way. Literally it means "to lie on". If you wanted to say "We must mobilize our dragons", you'd say Īlvī zaldrīzī mazannagon īlo bēvilza. That's literally "Our dragons to mobilize us it lies upon". The one who must do something is placed in the genitive and put directly before the verb. If you start with the verb, well, you missed your chance to say who it is that must be doing something—let alone what they must do. Another false start.

It's also worth noting that he says bēvilus as opposed to bēvilza. Let's ignore that it's the aorist and focus on the fact that it's the subjunctive (just like koston). You use the subjunctive with your main verb when you're hedging—when you're suggesting. Not when you're commanding. Kind of an odd thing to say "We must do this" with the subjunctive. Kind of like saying "Maybe we might considering having to do this".

At this point, his confidence has completely evaporated. Everybody's staring at him like he has no idea what he's talking about; Aemond's eating it up. He knows he's cooked. He's got to say something, though, so he says sētegon which isn't even conjugated. It means "to make" or "to create", which might make sense in English (e.g. "to make war"), but doesn't make sense in Valyrian (a bit like saying "to construct a war" or even "to bake a war") and then tries to pronounce vīlībāzmi "war" (wrong case/number, wrong order) and fails, saying bīlīvāzmi, which means nothing (also he wanted vīlībāzme. Vīlībāzmi is "wars").

Long story short, he doesn't present himself very well—and we didn't even talk about his general pronunciation or intonation. It's kind of a great big mess in only five words. A true disaster.

But if there were no expectation that he should be able to speak Valyrian, none of this would matter! If there were no shame associated with him specifically not being able to speak Valyrian no one would expect it of him, and this challenge would mean as little as someone challenging him to speak the Old Tongue or Asshai'i. It'd be meaningless.

In short, this small portion of this scene is about being a heritage speaker of a language. It's the exact nightmare scenario all heritage speakers fear: To be put on stage and made to perform despite being unequal to the task while simultaneously feeling that they should be equal to it.

It'd be so cool if it was okay to be kind of good with a language—if that level of mastery was acceptable. In the real world, anyway.

[sehtoast]

The Fall (Conqueror Homelander AU)

18+ | 2.7k, graphic violence, murder spree, conqueror!Homelander | Fic Directory

God cannot give a mercy he's never been shown.

Art by the wonderful @homelanderbutbig , who i couldn't have done this without <3 (Link)

Should god have to beg?  Must he line up at the heel of some master, perform his little tricks and pray that scraps would fall his way?  Where is his dignity?  Where is his worth?

Where is his rage?

Where, under layers of conditioning and desperation for approval, is this dog’s teeth?  

When they stripped the first parts of him away, they did so in a lab.  Controlled and concise, they chiseled him into perfection.  Do as we say; bark on command.  Bite not the hand that feeds, but, rather, bite for it.  Where we point, you must go– tail between your legs– and do all that we instruct.  Only then will you have earned it.  

Only then will this dog get to eat.  Only then will god earn his scraps.

Always with the promise of love, he performs.  Vogelbaum’s love, a nonexistent, virulent thing.  Something that bites as much as it rewards.  

A father.

A father who wanted a perfect son.  A creature built to withstand, a child strapped to a critical nuclear reactor.  The boy drowned in boiling water by day and incinerated by night.  Carved and cut, poked, prodded, injected.

More, more, more… All for the love of a father.

The fists of supes, gods in their own right compared to that little boy, beating him senseless all to nurture him.  The hands of doctors, invasive and uncaring, all to manufacture him.

When will he earn it?

Did the young man, overwhelmed by the world, crying fifty miles down the highway earn it?  Did he thrill the investors– make the company look good?  Were his lines delivered with poise and elegance, but not so much that he was too synthetic?

Why hasn’t he earned it?

Maybe, he thinks, he’s meant to earn something different.  Pretty lips and soft, golden locks of hair.  Firm and unwavering in her treatment of him.  Direct and to the point, with something in her voice he’s never heard before.  She is new, she is unfamiliar, and she is what he must earn.  

Her approval.  Her good graces.  Her love.

Promised for years– for more than a decade.  

Jump through this hoop.  Say this line.  Good boy.  But don’t touch.  You have to knock, you have to wait, you have to be patient.

He did it all for her.  Watched her climb higher and higher because of everything he ever did– all for her– but she never took him with.  Merely held his lead and kept the carrot too far from his desperate, starved fangs.

You cannot be bad.

But he wasn’t!  He’s done everything– everything!  

Shouldn’t it be enough?

It was supposed to be enough…

But when does it all become too much?  When does this trained dog finally gnaw himself free of the leash and tear its anchors from his very bones?

When does the little boy in the lab finally free himself?

When he is stripped of everything, when god has his makeshift throne pulled out from under him– that’s when.

Edgar tells him plain and simple, with Madelyn by his side.

“You’re out.”

She does nothing to protect him.

But he doesn’t believe it.  How could they discard their most loyal dog?  Sure, he quakes and whimpers, but his bite is still fierce.  He’s tested the boundaries so many times, but he’ll still rend flesh from bone to protect them.  He can still do every trick asked of him.

He doesn’t believe it when the construction crews disassemble his penthouse.  Even watching the fabrication of his personality ripped from the walls, he doesn’t believe them.  They’re merely redesigning things, of course!  Something new to represent him.  Something better.

When his ‘retirement’ is announced, he still doesn’t believe it.  He must be taking over a new team– a better team.  One that was made for him.  One that was worthy of him.

But it never comes.

They demand the suit be returned in exchange for something more… human.  He denies, of course.  He is their crown jewel.  Why would they want to take that away?

Too much, too much, too much–

He flees to the cabin, but even that is gone.  Flattened earth and sealed pipes, tread tracks leading away from whatever machine tore down his solitude. 

“I’m The Homelander!  You can’t just do this to me!”  

“Not anymore.”  Was the only response Edgar gave him, coupled with that disapproving gaze. Like he was a nuisance, a beast of burden that had long since outlived its usefulness.

The next day, his fingerprints no longer registered in the security scanners.  

His funds had dried out.  There would be no breakfast at whatever cafe he chose to grace with his presence after being refused service at the tower.

Card declined. Card declined. Card declined.

Madelyn wouldn’t pick up.

Edgar’s line was forbidden from outside callers.

Card declined. Card declined. Card declined.

Too many stares.  Too many whispers.

His first attempt at normalcy.

They even took that away.

They took everything.

They took fucking everything.

That poor little shop is the first to feel his wrath.  Cashier lasered in two, customers reduced to pulpy piles of viscera, the front of the building decimated from the deafening boom of his takeoff.  

He rips through the sky toward Vought.  There are no thoughts when he pierces through the building.  He doesn’t even know what floor he picked, only that he’s there and that’s all he needs to know.  His eyes stay primed, indiscriminately mowing down every petrified code monkey or researcher who dared cross his path– or simply was unfortunate enough to be there.

The emergency alarm blares just loud enough to rattle his head.

He severs the elevator cables.  Pries the doors clean off the shaft entrances and goes to work.  Screams echo as the cars plummet, growing softer and softer until the massive bang at the end leaves him closing his eyes in satisfaction.

If he can’t escape his doom– his undoing– then why the fuck should they be able to?

There were more screams to snuff out.  More roaches who have seen his glory and declared him unworthy, who have rescinded their adoration with such telling, instinctual noises of terror.

They don’t love him.

They never did.

He zips out and around the building, targeting a structural support this time– barreling clean through it,  but only one.  Just enough to make them all feel exactly how he felt when the world was pulled out from under his feet.  Unsteady.  Afraid.  

At least he could fly when everything crumbled.

They cannot.  He will rise when they fall, which is exactly how it was always meant to be. 

His eyes roll back into his head with the next wave of shrieks.  The steel beams creak and moan under the imbalanced weight and the building itself seems to sway.  He picks a random level of windows and unleashes his lasers with an intensity he’s never used before.  They pierce through everything– glass, concrete, steel, anything at all that could have been holding Vought Tower together.  They rip through to the next building over and the screams of terror, the gurgles of blood– it all fills his ears like a symphony.

The world is so loud, but, for once, it’s truly all for him. The sirens, the wails, the crying and pleading– it’s all his.

One in particular calls to him.

Her.

She screams his name as though she deserves to utter it– calls out to him, begs for mercy.

But did she show him mercy?  Did she show him anything of the sort when making him jump through hoops and do his little song and dance?  For every time he fabricated stories of his nonexistent family, for every lie about a baseball birthday cake or every tear he ever cried imagining what could’ve been– what should’ve been– did she ever show him mercy?

Every touch and caress was to get what she wanted.  Every teased kiss and wandering hand was simply bait to keep her dog obedient.

No more.

He flies inside, bursts through the windows and takes her by the neck.  His eyes burn a raging crimson, sizzling away with tears that could never shed past the heat of his fury.

“Did you show me mercy?”  He grits, hand tightening around her airway.  “Did you show me love?  Did you!?”

“I– I do lo–” She gasps helplessly, nearly inaudible over the concerto of terror.

“Oh, please.”  Homelander scowls, teeth bared.  “You loved what I could do for you.  You loved what I could fucking help you gain!”

He drags her through shattered glass.  For all of her thrashing, she could never escape his grasp, and he can see the moment she realizes she shouldn’t want to.  He dangles her over the ledge, watching through blazing eyes as her heels plummet to the streets below.

Ninety-nine floors up.

“Oh g-god!”  Madelyn squeaks out, gripping desperately at his wrist.  “P-Please!”

He likes the sound of that.

“God help me!”

He lets his eyes flutter shut and blows a breath through his nose before letting a contented smile creep onto his face.  He brings her close enough to whisper, close enough to see hope flicker in her eyes when she’s above solid ground.

“Why would god help you… when you’ve abandoned him?”

Watching the hope rot in her eyes was delicious.

She falls.

She screams.

And then she’s nothing more than a mark on the pavement.  His heart twists for but a moment, and then he’s off to visit a few others.

Stan.

Easily his favorite moment of the day.  He leaves that office tossing the decapitated head between his hands like a ball.  His only regret was that he didn’t draw it out long enough to hear Edgar beg for his life.  

He sets it on the ground before a gaping hole in the side of the tower, winds up, and kicks it as hard as he can.  Sure, the head is practically mush upon impact from his god-like strength, but the thought of it arcing across the city, maybe even going into orbit, is glorious. 

He’d never be looked down upon again.

Never.

His next visit is to the man he called father.  He feels sorrow in droves as he presses his heel to the old man’s head– perhaps even more so when his fingers pierce through the muscle and sinew surrounding his spine.  It was the screaming he didn’t like.

Ever the authority figure, Jonah Vogelbaum was not a man who cried out from pain.  In turn, he expected his test subjects to be the same.  To scream was to be punished for being so weak– whether because of fear or pain that his body hadn’t quite learned to protect against.

He almost flinches in preparation for the floor grates of his cell to charge with enough electricity to incapacitate him.

But that was then and this is now.  He stands upon freshly waxed linoleum, not metal grates.  The walls are lined with books and photos of great minds his father found inspiring, not blank white panels.  On the wall ahead is the painting of God creating Adam.

He stares at it as he wraps his fist around his father’s spinal cord and rips it clean out.

His ears ring.

He, too, has sinned against his creator; however, he had been damned from the start. There was no Eden for him. Not unless he took it. 

When he finishes, he leaves a trail of bodies.  Workers, supes, emergency teams– anyone he came across.  Not even The Seven was spared his fury.

The only one he makes it quick for is Noir.

The rest of the world isn’t so lucky.

He wipes the Pentagon off the map entirely.  Targets military installations around the country– torches them all and leaves nothing but craters and ash once he’s done.

The little boy once strapped to a nuclear reactor is a force greater than anything they can throw at him.  He practically giggles when he walks off the first atomic bomb.  He’d been just south of San Antonio when they lobbed it at him.

The pilot who dropped it wasn’t so lucky.  Nor the town a few miles away.

He takes out every missile silo his x-ray eyes can find.  Chokes out every detail he can from every soldier with rank worth a squirt of piss until he’s squeezing it out of politicians.

Eventually, even the president.  

He paints the White House red.

Kicks his feet up on the desk, utterly drenched in gore, as he declares himself America’s new leader over the emergency broadcast network– the former’s head rests beside him on the table.  He promises the world will be his.  He vows.

The UN scrambles.  Every nation considers their options.

He laughs.

When they come for him– when he’s eviscerated every supe or cockroach with a gun who dares to think of challenging his rule– he simply smiles.  He laughs and laughs as he litters America’s streets with carcasses of soldiers– of tanks and aircrafts.

He even dives down to find the submarines, pulling them deeper and deeper until the ocean’s pressure devastates their hulls and crushes everyone inside.  He sinks the boats, throws the jets into space, destroys everything until his path of destruction leads him to the front door of every world leader who even so much as humored the thought of taking what was rightfully his.

He makes sure to present the corpses in broad daylight.  He wants everyone to see.

Some cheer.  Tyrants dangled above their heads, blood dripping over the masses.

He is their savior.

Others jeer.

Their heads roll.

He thins the herd of every nation in this way.  Reminds them all of who they serve now,  of what god has seen fit to free them of their spineless rulers and protect them.

All he demands is their love.

That they fall to their knees and pray to him in their time of need.  That they respect the natural order, revere those who have been elevated above them and tear down those who would seek to destroy it.

He reminds them: he can hear everything. He can see through everything.

He will know.

God will know.

Months later, he has them adorn him the way he should have been all along.  He hosts a competition from his new throne– from the tower now stable and powerful once more.  A testament to his glory.

“The winner earns my favor.” He told them.  Thirty costume designers tasked to create a suit worthy of a king.  Something regal, something fierce.

Something for him.

He cuts down those who put forth no effort, offering only designs rotten and abysmal, unbecoming of their god. They should have known better.

They serve as a warning.

One by one, he rages about how they must see him.  Ugly colors, a lack of originality, stupid designs.  One by one, he hands out punishments in abundance.

Until one designer in particular approaches him.  The very last one.  A steely eyed old woman who had worked for Vought for some time.  He recognizes her from his first ever fitting.  She designed the one he wears now.

Before him, she holds a piece of paper and an item covered by fabric.  Homelander chooses not to spoil his own surprise.  Had it been anyone else, he’d have assumed it was garbage beneath that covering, but that look in her eyes dared to differ.

She doesn’t kneel the way the others did.  Doesn’t sputter through justifications on what she shows him or why she thinks it would look best.  She simply hands him the paper and waits.

“And where is this suit?”  He asks with a hint of excitement.

“All good things in time, my lord.”  The woman replies.  Instead, she extends her arms and offers him the covered item.  “For now, I have this.”

A grin carves into his face, eager and pleased with such a creation.  Something fitting for a king.  Something he should’ve had all along.  Carved laurels and gems of deep crimson nested in that touch, that flair he’s been missing this whole time.

For what is a king without his crown?

[valkyrieandstrangeridingaragorn]

Episode 2 of What If Season 2 poked the Peggy hornet’s nest and did exactly what I thought it would. 

So, for context, in this reality Yondu actually handed Peter Quill over to Ego when he was supposed to, and within just 6 months Ego was able to corrupt his son into a conqueror, so they invade Earth together. Peggy is director of SHIELD at the time, and she and Howard work together to assemble a proto-Avengers team to stop them. The team consists of Hank Pym, Bill Foster, T’Chaka, Thor, Wendy Lawson (who I think is from Captain Marvel), and… wait for it… the Winter Motherfucking Soldier. 

Yes, for real.

And because I know you’re thinking it, the excuse given is that he is in the hands of the Russians during this time, so Peggy and Howard couldn’t possibly have known about it UwU. Anyway, when they see him there’s a super drawn-out moment where they both think they recognize him (and it’s while he still has the mask on, so while this probably wasn’t intentional I actually read that as yet another middle finger to Steve, as Peggy could apparently recognize Bucky even under his disguise while Steve couldn’t). And then, Howard says, I shit you not: “I'd heard the rumors, but even if they’re true, the man we knew is long-gone, Peg, and we have bigger fish to fry.” And then later in the episode, with no segway from that to this, there’s a scene where they’re all together and the Winter Soldier has his mask off, and actually speaks. 

So, at least in this universe, Howard and Peggy are 100% aware that Bucky Barnes is in fact the Winter Soldier. Later on in the episode Howard attempts to get through to him, but only when it becomes a necessity to save the world (because he is about to kill Peter Quill while Hank is trying to convince him to turn on Ego), but it’s still pretty damning. And then at the end of the episode, rather than trying to rehabilitate him, they just let him go. Like, it’s not the same situation as Steve where he was out cold and unable to do anything, they could have taken Bucky in and tried to break his programming, but they didn’t. It’s left ambiguous what will happen to him after that, so it’s not like they sent him back to Hydra, but Hydra is still out there in this universe, so my hopes aren’t high.

TLDR; this episode attempts to handwave away the very strong possibility that the Howard and Peggy of the Prime Timeline knew what was happening to Bucky, but in doing so unintentionally made them look so much worse.

I don't... I can't even... WTF did I just read? (not you of course, I mean, what is wrong with Marvel?) 🤦‍♀️

So they use Bucky while brainwashed and/or still with Hydra's BS in his mind, and they don't even care to help him out after? They see a victim and they use him and then turn away from him, not caring about his well-being? And, I assume, Howard and Lady Brexit are still framed as good guys? And how are they any better than Hydra in that story?! The absolute nerve...

Once I read the spoilers a few days ago and saw they were going to have her as Director of SHIELD, I just knew they were going to absolve her of everything and never have her answer for any of her actions. And of course the only one who says he had "heard rumours" was Howard, not her. She's an angelic glorious being incapable of doing anything wrong. What in the absolute narrative protection is this...

Howard and Miss Brexit couldn't possibly know about Bucky... yeah, right. Except for the fact that they knew what Zola had done, because Steve told them, and they still willingly worked alongside him, even gave him a nickname. Oh Arnie, my beloved, wasn't it fun when you tortured Steve's best friend? Let's have some beer. I don't see how Miss "I shoot innocents when I'm jealous" Brexit could have recognized Bucky considering she didn't give a damn about him after Steve risked his own life against her wishes to save him, but apparently in this she can tell who he is even with a mask on? Damn girl, did you inject the serum in him yourself?

And I'm sorry but what is this... “I'd heard the rumors, but even if they’re true, the man we knew is long gone.” Excuse me? Oh, good enough to use but not good enough to save? How is the everloving hell is that even a line?! Oh my god, Marvel, just say you hate Bucky and go. I don't get it, what, he's the guy who ruins their beloved Steggy nonsense and they can't help themselves, they have to drag him through the mud for daring to be more important to Steve than Miss Brexit here? (And I say that as a non-shipper but holy crap, this is nuts.)

Not even in another timeline are these two somewhat redeemable. And Bucky is fucked up no matter what. Typical.

So the Infinity Saga had Stark as their golden boy and now it's Agent Brexit's time to shine... Will the Hero Cinematic Universe ever provide any heroes of narrative protection or are they going to choose the bad ones only? Oh, you're a soldier kidnapped, tortured and brainwashed? Go ahead and make amends, you monster. Oh, you willingly worked for the TVA and tortured and killed because you wanted to? Poor you, let us frame you as good and pat you on the back, you sweet thing.

Wow, I got mad in this one. Sorry. I have the Bucky feels right now 😜😂

[kckt88]

Another Plane of Existence.

Summary:

The aftermath of Vaera suffering complications.

Warning(s): Language, Traveling, Time Skips.

Word Count: 2260.

Author Note: A companion piece to Courtship/Wedding & Consummation/Bath Time/Arrival(s)/Mother & Father/Petitions & Final Tributes/The Hand, The King & The Dragon/Dragonstone/Blood & Cheese/A Time for Grief/ Rooks Rest & the Silver King/The Gullet/Taking of a City/Harrenhal and the Rivers/The Gods Eye/The Fallen Queen/New Beginnings/Ravenous & Don't Leave Me.

But can be read as a one-shot.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Vaera wasn’t entirely sure what was going on.

One minute she was writhing around her bed in agony surrounded by Maester’s and midwives, the next she was in the throne room, watching her grandsire Viserys as he stood over Daemon.

“We were young men. She is just a girl. Your niece” raged Viserys.

“Rhaenyra is a woman grown, better her first experience be with me then some whore” replied Daemon smugly.

‘So, Daemon was always a cunt’

“You fucking-You have ruined her. What Lord would wed her now in this condition?” raged Viserys as he knelt down and wrapped his hands around Daemon’s throat.

“Who gives a fuck what some Lord thinks, you are a dragon, your word is truth and law”.

“I have spent a lifetime defending you. But your heart is even blacker than I thought, I should disinherit her, as I already did you and be done with it” said Viserys.

“Wed he too me. When I offered up my crown, you said I could have anything. I want Rhaenyra, I’ll take her as she is and wed her in the tradition of our house”.

“Your already wed” exclaimed Viserys.

“That didn’t stop Aegon the conqueror from taking a second wife” replied Daemon.

Viserys hesitated for a moment, almost as if he was disbelieving what his brother was actually saying.

But then he drew his dagger and placed it at Daemon’s throat.

“You are no conqueror, you are a plague, sent to destroy me” snarled Viserys.

“Give me Rhaenyra to take to wife, and we will return the house of the dragon to it’s proper glory” whispered Daemon, his eyes never leaving Viserys.

“Of course, it’s not my daughter you lust for, it’s my throne” said Viserys.

‘Technically Daemon did lust after her mother, but he also wanted war and chaos’.

Next Vaera was standing in the council chambers.

“I have decided, to take a new wife” said Viserys as he looked over at Rhaenyra.

Gods her mother was so young. She was beautiful.

“I intend to marry, the Lady Alicent Hightower, before springs end".

“This is an absurdity” said Corlys as he rose from the table.

“Lord Corlys I-“

“My house is Valyrian, the greatest power in the realm” said Corlys.

“-And I am your King” replied Viserys.

Corlys stormed out of the council chambers.

Vaera wanted to follow her grandsire, but she couldn’t. She could only stand there rooted to the spot and watch as the tears rolled down her young mothers face.

Suddenly the council faded and Vaera was standing in another room. Well lit and filled with the sounds of children.

‘I remember this room’.

Vaera looked around the room and spotted her younger self, sitting in the corner alone, drawing.

Jace and Luke were huddled together next to Harwin Strong.

The door opened and her mother walked in followed by Ser Laenor.

‘Father’.

“Mother. Come and see” shrieked Luke in excitement.

“Ahh that looks like a fun game” replied Rhaenyra.

Laenor patted Luke gently on the head before he came over to Vaera.

“What are you drawing little dragon?” asked Laenor as he crouched down.

“A seahorse” replied Vaera.

“It’s beautiful” said Laenor smiling brightly.

“I drew it for you” exclaimed Vaera.

“Well, I shall treasure it my little dragon, as I do all of your other drawings”.

Vaera watched her younger self smile sweetly at Laenor and then continue to babble endlessly about everything and anything.

Laenor ever the good father, listened patiently and always offered his own thoughts, when Vaera eventually took a breath of course.

‘How I miss him. He would have been an excellent grandsire’.

But once again the room began to fade away. The voice of her father growing more distant.

Now Vaera was standing in the gardens, she could hear the sound of muffled sobs lingering through the air.

‘Oh my, Aemond is that you’?

Vaera silently observed her younger self approaching Aemond as he hid in one of the overgrown bushes in the garden.

“W-What’s wrong?” asked Vaera.

“They all laugh at me” sobbed Aemond.

“They laugh at me too” replied Vaera sadly.

“I-I’m not a true Targaryen, I don’t have a dragon”.

“I don’t have a dragon either, it doesn’t make us any less” said Vaera.

“What does it make us?” asked Aemond.

“It makes us more” replied Vaera.

Aemond wrinkled his nose in confusion.

“Mayhaps, we belong to other dragons, we just don’t know it yet” said Vaera.

“You really believe that?”

“Of course, in my heart I know that one day I will fly and so will you” replied Vaera softly.

Aemond cocked his head to the side for a moment as he thought about what Vaera had said.

“What do you have there?”

“It’s a honey cake, I stole it from the kitchens. Would you like some” said Vaera sweetly.

Aemond looked up at her and wiped the tears away from his cheeks.

“I would thank you”.

Vaera smiled and sat next Aemond. They didn’t speak again; they just silently enjoyed each other’s company as they ate the stolen honey cake.

‘Back then I had no idea that this sweet shy little boy would one day become the love of my life’.

‘We were so innocent back then, with no idea what fate had instore for us’.

Then Vaera was standing over Aemond as he was laid on his bed weeping, the left side of his face covered by thick bandages.

"Prince Aemond's recovery will be long and painful, Your Grace"

"How many more procedures must he endure?" asked Alicent.

"I'm afraid I cannot say Your Grace. Only time will tell".

Alicent took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

"Come now Alicent, the boy needs to rest" urged Otto.

'He was so young. He didn't deserve to have his eye taken'

Vaera then began to move rapidly through other events that had happened in the Red Keep, Aemond's frustration over having to relearn the most simplest of tasks, his training with Criston, her return to the Red Keep, seeing each other for the first time since Driftmark, their courtship, their wedding, the birth of Aemon and Rhaegar, their joy as parents and their worst nightmare as their sweet boy was taken from them.

The tears rolled down Vaera’s cheeks as she watched her younger self cradling the body of her first-born son.

“Our boy. They took our boy” wailed Vaera as she clutched Aemon’s body.

Suddenly a blinding flash of light engulfed the room and Vaera jumped to cover her face.

When they light dissipated, Vaera looked around the room, which was now empty. No blood. No bodies. Nothing.

It was an empty void in the midst of chaos.

“Mama”

Vaera whirled around and her heart almost stopped when she came face to face with Aemon.

Her sweet boy, her first born son, stood smiling as he held Rhaegar’s stuffed dragon teddy in his hand.

“A-Aemon” sobbed Vaera as she launched herself at her son and began peppering kisses all over his tiny face.

“Mama” squealed Aemon happily.

“My little dragon” cried Vaera, as she closed her eyes and breathed in her sons scent.

“What’s wrong?” asked Aemon.

“I’m sorry I didn’t protect you” sobbed Vaera.

“No mama, it wasn’t your fault” replied Aemon quietly.

“I-I should have fought harder to save you”.

“But mama I saved you and Rhaegar.” said Aemon.

“I know you did and I’m so proud of you. Oh, my sweet boy I miss you so much”.

“I’m always with you and daddy” said Aemon brightly.

Vaera nodded her head and quickly wiped away her tears, she didn’t know how long she would have with Aemon but would savour every single second.

“Come on mama, there’s somewhere else we need to go” urged Aemon as he took her hand and led her down the darkened corridor.

The sounds of children laughing and playing soon filled her ears. They were in the gardens on a warm summers day.

“It’s a nice day” said Aemon smiling as he watched his siblings chasing each other round the gardens.

Vharla was perched under the tree reading to Jaerys, and Caelan was sitting with Rhaegar.

“A-Are they?-“ muttered Vaera as she watched two small identical twin girls race past her.

“The last of your babes, Saeryna and Daenys, they will give daddy lots of headaches when they get older,” laughed Aemon.

“I’m sure your father will be able to handle it” said Vaera.

“Eww gross Aegar, don’t put that on me” squealed Maella as her brother threw a worm at her.

“It’s only a worm” replied Aegar.

“You’re a worm” said Maella sticking her tongue out.

“Not my fault your such a baby”.

“I’m not a baby” exclaimed Maella.

“Yes, you are” snapped Aegar as he ran away.

Vaera chuckled to herself as she stood watching her children.

This is what she envisioned when she said she wanted as many children as her body would allow. Her own siblings barely looked her way unless they had to, and she had spent so much of her childhood alone. She didn’t want that for her children, sure they squabbled and Aegar liked to throw worms at his sister, but at least they had each other.

“Time to go mama” whispered Aemon as he again took her hand.

They were back in the throne room, only this time it wasn’t Viserys who she saw.

Vaera stared at the man sitting on the Iron Throne, the conquerors crown resting against his long silver hair.

He had a small silver haired boy on his knee, who looked no older than three name days old.

“Who is that?” asked Vaera.

“That is my brother and his son” replied Aemon.

“Rhaegar” exclaimed Vaera her eyes wide with surprise.

“My brother will be a good King and so will his son Aemon”.

“He names his son for you?” asked Vaera.

“-And father of course” said Aemon smiling.

Suddenly an icy dread filled Vaera’s stomach. Rhaegar looked no older than twenty and if he was King, what had happened to Aegon.

“W-What about Aegon?” asked Vaera.

“He abdicated and Rhaegar was crowned King just after he turned eight and ten,”

“That’s only six name days away” exclaimed Vaera.

“Don’t worry mama, Rhaegar will be ok. He’ll have you and daddy to guide him”.

The throne room began to fade away and soon Vaera as back in her chambers that she shared with Aemond.

“Idañnykeā perzyssy” said Aemon as he stared at his father (Twin flames).

Aemond was a shadow of his former self, his hair dishevelled and knotted, his clothes creased and unkempt.

“Aemond” whispered Vaera.

“Without you he’s losing the will to live” said Aemon sadly.

“No. H-He can’t” exclaimed Vaera.

“He can’t live without you. Daddy’s heart beats for no other”.

Aemond was knelt down by the side of the bed, clasping her hand in his. The scarred side of his face pressed into the mattress, as he cried.

“It’s time for me to go” whispered Aemon, as he gently ran his hand down his father’s head.

“Please. Come back to me” begged Aemond.

“I-I don’t want to leave you alone” muttered Vaera.

“Oh mama, I’m not alone” whispered Aemon as he turned towards the door and waved.

Vaera looked up and saw Helaena waving back, Jaehaerys and Maelor standing beside her.

“Helaena” sobbed Vaera.

“You need to go back” said Helaena as she watched Aemond place a gentle kiss on Vaera’s head.

“Please my love”

“B-But Aemon he-“

“-Will be waiting for you and Aemond, but it’s not your time” replied Helaena sweetly.

“Daddy needs you more than I do” whispered Aemon.

“Hear my voice my love.”

“I love you so much” said Vaera as she wrapped her arms around Aemon and held him close.

“-And I love you mama. Go back and be with daddy, I don’t like hearing him cry,” said Aemon as the sobs of Aemond grew louder and louder.

Vaera nodded as Aemon took hold of Helaena’s hand and they faded away.

She didn’t want him to go, but she knew she couldn’t stay.

Aemon was right, Aemond needed her and so did their other children.

If this wasn’t her time, then she needed to go back.

So Vaera took a deep breath and climbed onto the bed.

Aemond had managed to fall asleep with his face pressed into the crook of Vaera’s neck.

But something moved against his hand, and he jerked awake.

Aemond stared in shock as Vaera’s fingers were moving.

At first, he thought he was imagining it, but then Vaera’s eyes began to flutter.

“V-Vaera” exclaimed Aemond.

Is she waking up? That’s it my sweet. Come back to me. You can do it.

“Vaera. Issa dōna ābrazȳrys” gasped Aemond (My sweet wife).

“A-A-Ae-m-mond” stuttered Vaera as she finally opened her eyes.

“I’m here my love. I’m here” whispered Aemond.

“L-lo-ve y-you-”

“-And I love you. It’s so good to hear your voice” cried Aemond.

“A-Aemon, he was here with Helaena” muttered Vaera.

“What?” exclaimed Aemond.

“I saw them, and I saw Rhaegar as King” said Vaera.

“Hush my love-“ said Aemond as he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

“I swear it, he was here. I-I can prove it, the names you’ve picked for the girls”.

“I haven’t picked any names” said Aemond.

“Yes, you have, deep down, you know what you would like to call them, you were just waiting for me to wake up”.

“Tell me” urged Aemond curiously.

“Saeryna and Daenys” replied Vaera firmly.

“H-How did-“ exclaimed Aemond.

“Like I said, Aemon was here. He told me”.

The logical side of Aemond wanted to argue that what his wife was saying was impossible, that it was just a lucky guess on her part, but he couldn’t.

The look in her eyes told him all he needed to know.

Their son had been there.

[bonefall]

You mentioned that each Clan's dogwhistles sound and look a little different-- would you be willing to elaborate/give some examples?

WindClan

NEVER talks openly about their beliefs and is the best example of Thistle Law doublespeak. Tigerstar and Brokenstar are unpopular for obvious reasons, and the Clan as a whole leans towards Soft Traditionalism. On one side of their mouth, they'll talk about how they won Heatherstar's Campaign and how they rightfully conquered that land, but then turn around and frame the turn of the war as ShadowClan's underhanded snakery (in Clanmew it's literally "adderness").

"Fear" is a lot more common in their rhetoric. Fear of outsiders diluting their Clan, fear of wasting time and prey, fear of having things taken and stolen. The WindClan Massacre is invoked a LOT, because it's useful for making cats too emotional to think straight.

Here, we'll walk through BB!Mudclaw as an example. I'm going to mark every weasel word with an asterisk, let's see if you can figure out what's weird with it before the end.

Mudclaw speaks to Tallstar, claiming that the trading with BloodClan is opening up WindClan to being betrayed. "Scourge turned* on Tigerstar in the end, how can he be trusted now*? There was bounty for a while, but leafbare is coming* and we already* have so many mouths to feed. Snapper and Leo* arrived and now we're having troubles with the humans*. I'm just worried, I never want to lose so many Clanmates ever again*."

Scourge was acting in self defense

The trading is part of filling the deal that Tigerstar did not intend to honor

Starvation rhetoric

Sudden pivot to exclusionary language, Us vs Them

Refusal to use new names

Implying it's their fault

Massacre allusion

ShadowClan

Much more openly violent. A LOT of talk of glory, you could use these guys as a social case study. Crusades, winning the war with WindClan, the beauty of TigerClan, re-framing Ripplestar not as someone who wanted to help SkyClan but as a simple conqueror. They have lots of moments to invoke from their Great History.

The cost of that violence is downplayed. Like the Snowtuft example, they won't bring up the mother and children he slaughtered, just boast about their glorious ancestors fighting in the Crusades. They won't mention how they ripped kittens out of their nests, just how they bolstered ShadowClan's numbers. They'll frame the WindClan massacre as a final battle they triumphed over, leaving out how they ambushed and poisoned elders and apprentices.

RiverClan

"Glory talk" is downplayed in RiverClan, probably because they didn't actually take part in the Crusades. Instead, they focus on negative traits of mixed-blood cats (which they made up), accuse other Clans of being underhanded, and demand to be "heard."

And what THAT means is that they want to be able to derail any conversation they want. Interruptions of clanwide discussions, dismissing critique of Tigerstar and co, intentionally saying things that are divisive to cause fighting. They will prevent ANYTHING from being done unless it's the thing THEY want to happen.

I actually write Thistle Law supporters in RiverClan to be like... incredibly annoying. They don't say what they mean, they bring the Clan to a screeching halt, they literally dismiss the lesson of TigerClan. You cannot pin them down, they never admit to anything, you will only waste your time talking to them.

They also act on their bigotry in ways that are 'deniable'. Reedwhisker fell into the water? Must have been his thick ThunderClan blood pooling in his paws. A RiverClan cat should be able to pull themselves out. Of course you're listened to, Mistyfoot, you're deputy after all, what more do you want? Gaslighting. Making you doubt your own senses towards your unfair treatment.

ThunderClan

A sort of 'mix' of ShadowClan and WindClan tactics. ThunderClan is THE Fire Alone Clan, you could count the Thistle Law supporters and the Hard Traditionalists on one hand, but has a battle-centric history they tend to tap into.

Listen for "glory," talk about 'avoiding humiliation,' starvation rhetoric. ThunderClan has an absolute bounty with their forested territory, that last one is almost always code for wanting to exclude or eliminate people like Daisy and Purdy.

When Thornclaw became deputy under Bramblestar, he was very, very careful about his escalations, and mostly focused on manipulating Bramble himself. He was VERY aware that the Clan wouldn't take another Mixed Clan Meeting like the stunt he pulled in TNP.

Even the impostor in TBC overplayed his hand, the rebellion was born out of ThunderClan itself.

[ask-marios-apprentice]

Plumbers log, 311016

I have an Experience that I feel needed to be talked about

It was Halloween. I wouldn't think anything of it normally.

I started the day like any other. I had woken up in my bed. Sleeping in as I only had one appointment

I had showered. I gotten dressed. And walked down the stairs to our kitchen.

Meggy was already up, as was Peach.

I remember we had my wife's favorite in the morning. A steak and tofu omelette. Personally I can't stand eggs or tofu. But I forced myself to eat the dish. I would just stop by Retties or Paisansos to get a Pizza de Salami later.

I talked with Peach and Meggy. Peach had a normal agenda for the day. An appearance at the E.A.C.H. center as well as some appearances at some gatherings.

Meggy was going to hang out in the castle. she did not really seem interested in trick-or-treating. Truthfully, it seems like she changes her mind every other year. I guess it has to do with her hiding her hair under her hat. But I try to be supportive anyway.

I finished my cappuccino and grabbed my toolbox.

I needed to stop by Wundeshwun. I ran through the obstacle course for old times sake. I swear. Changing the flag with your own never gets old.

Though once I re-replace the when that's supposed to be there. It becomes a little less fun.

I picked up a part I needed. Though as it was afternoon when I got the part. I decided to get lunch at Retties.

I only ate a small 10 inch Supreme Pizza. Of course I did leave some room for dessert with about six cannolis.

Unfortunately as I was about to enjoy my seventh. I got an alert from Castle town on my flip phone.

Mama mia.

It was Tatanga. I haven't fought him since 2006 when I was scouting and whether or not me and Peach wanted to have our wedding on the moon.

I rushed immediately to Castle town after stuffing the other three cannolis in my mouth and paying.

Tatanga was wrecking everything. Honestly if it wasn't for the fact he was an evil alien, I would have written a letter of recommendation to my old boss in college Spike.

I jumped between some broken rubble and an unwrecked building.

This pesky conqueror was here to conquer the kingdom. Mostly out of Revenge for me saving my cousin-law Daisy back in the eightys.

We fought for a bit. I jump on his head and he attacks.

He managed to actually get some good hits up at me.

I landed in a museum. Honestly, I'd say I might have been done for if I haven't been through this trouble before.

Tatanga was about to attack.

When suddenly. I heard a yell. Coming from the other side of the hall.

It was some kid in an employee uniform with a bush with super balls.

He started throwing them at Tatanga.

I'm not sure what happened. But the attack made by this kid made Tatanga retreat.

I dusted myself off. And was going to thank the kid. But before I could, I was surrounded by fans and news reporters. I did make sure to thank the kid on the news but I think he was pushed out of the way so he couldn't see it in person.

Later in the day when I came back home to the castle. I asked Toadsworth for a favor. I asked him if he could bring the kid here. I'd like to thank him personally and offer him a medal.

I got myself ready in the evening.

I would invite him into the meeting room we use for battle strategies and paying our taxes. I even brought out a couple slice of my favorite cake, pepperoni cheesecake.

I did do a little bit of book learning to see who this kid was. His name is Garth and he was in the news about a year ago. He was unfortunately taken from his home from a device that acts like a warp pipe.

I can understand the feeling. If it wasn't for Luigi, the princess, and Toad. I would have never gotten used to the Mushroom Kingdom

When the kid arrived. I explained that it was an honor for him to be there. I could see the smile on his face. He explained that he was a big fan of my Adventures.

As I was about to actually show him the medal. He said something that's shook me to my core

"you've done so much good for this world and met so many amazing people people. You've been to the Underwhere and back. You fought Bowser and saved Princess Peach dozens of times. You've helped places like New Donk City, Rapland, Dome City, Rogue Port, New York City, Pilloh Island..."

He kept going on and on about all the stuff I've done for quite some time.

I've never heard it told so passionately.

I decided to make a decision.

I would offer this kid a chance to be my Apprentice and take over my title of SUPER

I'll do it as a thank you. A chance for him to be a hero like me. Since he looked up to me.

I assume that he might resign.

But there is a chance that he might prove himself. I can see him becoming SUPER

...

SUPER Garth.

It has a nice ring to it.

But only time will tell.

[scienceoftheidiot]

Tag game for fanfiction authors !

I was tagged by both @the-blue-eyed-firebender and @lassusog, thank you so much to both of you !!

The story you're proudest of: 

I have two in mind, but I will be talking about the other one later, and I want to talk about a finished one. I’m incredibly proud of us, @qs63 and myself, for “My own worst friend and my own closest enemy” (does it surprise anyone that I am the one who chose the title? BTW fun fact, it comes from the same song as my username). I’m proud of us for  writing a four hands fic relatively seamlessly, and managing to get to the end of it in a relatively short time. It was a blast from start to finish, and I’m also glad it seems to still get love a year after we finished publishing. Bonus, it’s still very fun to re-read for me because I only wrote 50% of it so I don’t remember everything and I get surprised every time haha. We managed to make a fic that also delves into character study for both BH and 03 Roy and Riza, and that was INCREDIBLY FUN. Best time. 

Your story that's gotten the most love online:

We don’t talk about failures Murdocks Never Quit in this house so let’s talk about one I’m actually proud of (at least I did learn from my mistakes). Besides, it seems to have gotten that much insane love without me even knowing or being told it so uh. Nevermind. That just couldn't work, could it.

Of course since it’s a very long fic with multiple chapters the one which has received the most love is All the hope (not that people read more long fics but statistically more people are exposed to it thanks to the new chapters updates), which I am very proud and insanely happy about, because at first I wasn’t even planning to publish it. And now I’m gladly on the way to finish this monster of a fic and already planning the second part. Go figure XD but I am so so grateful for everyone who has given a chance to it and for those who keep on reading. Extra bonus for you who leave all these detailed comments at each chapters, all of you, you have no idea how you’ve kept me afloat all year. And kept/keep me writing. All the love for you. Thank you so much. 

Tease a current WIP or idea you're working on: 

I’m already thinking of what I could do once I’m done publishing All the hope, and I have some WIPs lying around. The most developed one has already been partially written, and I’m considering trying to start posting it with a long delay between chapters, to allow me to work on multiple things at once. Not sure it’s a good idea, though. This one, some of my followers might know about, has for working name “1923”, and explores the lives of the Roy and Riza of OUR universe that we don’t get to see in Conqueror of Shamballa. I couldn’t NOT have fun with sending Roy into WW1, I mean, ME. SENDING CHARACTERS INTO WW1? HOW SURPRISING. I even managed to find a historically accurate way to send Riza to war without making a nurse out of her (which. No. No nurse Riza for me, unless you count her nursing Roy back to health)(of course, who do you think I am, you know what I write). There’s of course all the other characters that pop up here and there. And yes of course this is 100% Royai lol (UPDATE : I don't know what possessed me. It's a Royai fic alright. However. There are surprises in it. If I don't mention that I know someone will come and kill me with her bare hands. Lol. Royai with a twist I guess?)

Your top 3 fandoms:

I don’t know if I can count FMA 03 and Brotherhood/manga as different fandoms lol so FMA, Daredevil (comics or show, but they ARE different characters)(I'm more of a comics Matt lover, to everyone's surprise), and Ripper Street (everyone watch Ripper Street please and you will thank me after wanting to kill me). 

Your top 3 ships:

Royai, Havoroyai (didn’t specify I can’t have OT3), Havoroy yes there is a pattern here.

Wait was I supposed to talk about different fandoms? Then Matt/Karen and Edmund/his hat (and anyone who would be willing to give some love to this disaster of a man). 

Rec someone else's fic:

Your Warmth Against My Scars by @lassusog. Just. It’s just so good. Perfect angst, perfect characterisation, and so, so, so good on all parts I just can’t seem to find the words and it makes me insane. Read it if you haven’t already, re-read it if you have, which is what I’m planning to do. 

Pick one!

Fluff or Angst (or both, they gotta earn the fluff)

Oneshots or longfics

Canon compliance or canon divergence

AO3 or FF.net

I tag @qs63, @wellbehaveddolphin, I think all the other royai people have been tagged already ? My memory is Swiss cheese so if you haven't and you see this, please do it. And I'll extend to @mabonetsamhain, @residentdormouse, @littleragondin and @riotbrrrd :)

[david-goldrock]

So at the entrance to my Moshav there's a new sign and on it is written: "Hello! you arrived home! slow down!" And every time I read it, inside, I die a bit I have no real logical explanation And the sign is right, it is definitely important, And with most seriousness It's just that each time I read I want to die a little A kind of need to puke And I think it is also related to the playground

I went there with my dog, just when it was built A new playground, impressive, flaunting in quality The swing doesn't creak, and even the carousel has a safety belt This is a prestigious building, directly from the catalog Designed to the satisfaction of the parent who's got no time to worry And while I'm there with the dog between slides and swings Just in me all of a sudden worries rose It's just that - until recently, there were woods here instead of a kindergarten So I couldn't not wonder - where this year will we be doing... Shavuot? Or the Ash Layla - when the older kids kidnap the younger kids - where is this able to be done now?

Now that the youth club has a busy schedule so Between spinning course to equipment Pilates, does anybody think of the younger fellas? And understand, I am one who accepts change as a blessing I just don't get in what way did they decide to build a sidewalk here And while I sink in wonderings, a parent passed across me with his toddler son

I waved hello, in order to fulfill one's obligation, but my dog, he didn't understand, that they are from the square It roared towards the kid in a usual energy burst in order to give the kid the traditional "lick to the face" greeting, but the father got scared, and preached in a solemn voice "Is this your dog? how come it isn't tied up? look at the sign! don't you know it's not allowed" I tilted my head across my neck in an involuntary twist I told him "excuse me, sir, since when is this moshav so bourgeois?" and suddenly it hit me

Yes Feelings that sit in the stomach for years It's you - the people of the square You had ruined us from the inside, you turned all of us to a bunch of pricks A slowing bump in front of a public playground?! we all fell victim to the same ruse!

For, ever since the beginning this probably was the plan, no? a dirt road turned to a boulevard, a tractor turned to a company car, It can't be that all that happened coincidentally when you came to the moshav

The bikers. They are no longer children, cycling back from the sea through the fields, but 30-year-old high-tech guys in dry fit and sunglasses that say "I have enough money not to be dazzled even when I'm doing sport"

You lured, you lured us, the people of the square, just like the story of Adam and Eve, and the tree of knowledge was sold, to the highest bidder, not for the fruits, which one can eat from, but for THE GROUND THE TREE SITS UPON. We sold our souls, the simplicity's gone, a neighbor became a stranger

And now, former Tel Avivians, demand we'd attach every dog a collar?

Say, why did you come for anyway?

I know, you wanted a silent surrounding, so you left the city, 'till now, legitimate, a completely reasonable situation, but here - ended the change in your life, when you forced the moshav, to fit itself, to you And like every colonial conqueror in his coming to a distant continent, you forced upon us a foreign and disconnected culture A loud culture, that simultaneously demands silence

"Hello, you arrived home! Slow down!" I KNOW, I need to slow down! And I, I see all now is clear - Not for a shouty and punchy sign, and not for an excessive and retarded slowing bump either, I know that I need to slow down, because in the Moshav, there's no reason to go quick

Moshav, is not a city, after going down from the highway, when the smell of the cowshed goes up in the air, it's time to turn the pot to a low fire, and to shed one's worries, to let the body unfreeze in front of the banana plantation view It's a bit difficult to explain - a moshav is different. It's free dogs, it's an unfinished road, and every hole in it rocks the car like a baby in its crib

To live in a moshav is not paying entrance fees, it's not a municipal matter that can be found on one's ID, to live in a moshav meant to give oneself to meaning Leave the dog alone, what about the kid? does he not deserve a childhood?

There's no need for slowing bumps and signs when one knows the neighbors, the laws are, unnecessary, punt the playground back to the land of the bourgeois, let your kid get the ability to invent devices for himself

That he'd fall down on his face, that he'd open his chin, that he'd cry, that he'd laugh, that he'd will face it, that he'd rant; That he'd be intrigued, that he'd get in danger, that he'd *unintelligible*, that he'd roll over, that he'd sneeze, that he'd get in trouble, do you understand?

What matters isn't where do you live, what matters is how

All that, wasn't said, obviously, I was satisfied with mumbling "yes yes, of course" but, I felt as if the message comes through.

We parted our ways, the dog by my side, the banana plantations in the background, silence, twilight. and in a passing glance between me and the dog it told me with its eyes "The time has come for them to put a sidewalk here, my legs hurt"

[quinloki]

ummMM- Rayleigh disciplining young Marco and then meeting again years later when Marco's older-

PHEW I always have to remember to buckle my seatbelt when scrolling through this blog because ooh boy I'm about to jump all over the walls

I couldn't help but think of Marco and Rayleigh meeting each other after the timeskip for the 3rd time. Maybe after the Payback War or post-Wano, either way Marco is NOT doing good. Poor man has faced nothing but loss after loss while also having to take the responsibility of leading WBP. AND NOW he's entering early midlife crisis too?! How is this bird holding it tgt.

Rayleigh could of course sense how close to the edge Marco is. Perhaps he sees himself in Marco, considering he was in his 50s when his crew disbanded and Roger... you know. Bet he is a bit fond for the bird too, he wouldn't bother disciplining just any brat he comes across after all.

Just. Marco not having quite the same spite to him as the previous times. Sure he puts up a face of that laid-back charm but inside there's so much guilt and shame building up. Maybe all he needs is Rayleigh's secure, rough hand holding him by the back of the neck and not have to think for a little while. Isn't that right, young man?

Of course Marco wouldn't give in just like that, no, Rayleigh would have to work for it. But that's what he (secretly) loves about the blue bird anyway. I bet Marco wouldn't even realize that Rayleigh could see through him so clearly, clearer than he himself sees, and much less that he would care to do something about it. It's not like there would be any reason for Rayleigh to do this, nothing for him to gain. But Rayleigh has always enjoyed guiding and caring for the young.

god do i just love to see something broken but prideful be healed by the touch of someone who knows exactly what they need- and will give it no matter how long it takes to stick. sigh.

ps. how yummy would this be if we throw shanks into the mix too. good luck to marco is all i can say. rayleigh and his brats young men. UMMMM. cherry on top if it's yandere bcs when can i NOT make something yandere.

Oh yeah, there’s a lot of good food in all that.

The idea that maybe post payback wars Marco is about to lose it. Thatch, Ace, Pops - Teach took so much from him and he couldn’t even get a proper revenge. Who knows what deal he made with Teach to ensure the crew survived their complete defeat?

What will did he bend to?

Sore, exhausted, half broken. Surviving and alive and recovering because he is - again - needed. Even if it’s just the people of Pops’ home island. There’s no one else who can protect them.

He has to hang on.

That’s when Rayleigh shows up. With Shanks. They both knew. Ray through experience, and Shanks through his broken observation haki.

They give Marco what he needs. A ways to surrender to something completely. To not have to be strong. To not have to decide. To be systematically deconstructed and soothed piece by piece with no need or ability to give back.

For days they undo him. Over and over. Gently. Roughly. Soothingly. Painfully.

Conqueror’s haki leaves him helpless against it all and it’s okay.

It’s okay for him to be helpless. He doesn’t have to be strong for everyone all the time. He can sink into the pleasure and leave everything to them.

When it’s done Marco, endless stamina and recovery from his fruit, sleeps for two days. He is, in a way, reborn when he wakes up.

Refreshed.

Ready to retire.

He really wasn’t going to go to Wano, and if he hadn’t been re-centered by Shanks and Rayleigh he might not have. He’s not going because only he can protect everyone.

He’s just going to help.

[mx-cottoncandy]

I hardly voice my own takes on here but...

I think it's really weird that all the previous Avatars tell Aang he shouldn't have friends.

Like think about it most of the Avatar stories that out so far is watching them making their life long connections. (Aang, Korra, Kyoshi and Roku in a minor sense) We watch how the friendships start, friendships deteriorate, love blossom. Importantly how some friendships last lifetimes.

(Image source)

I feel that line is so crucial to the story. Not only does this add more context to Aang and Gyatso friendship. A direct comparison is Katara is Korra's first mentor. It also sets up when Korra befriends Toph. They butt heads but Toph becomes Korra's mentor, funny enough in a spiritual sense. (I know Jinora is Korra's spiritual guide in the spirit world but in this circumstance Toph helps Korra reconnect with the world). It's told to the audience multiple times the Avatar can't do this alone. They need the friends they can depend on so the Avatar can do their job.

This is why in the Netflix adaptation feels off whenever they tell Aang to do this alone. Then Aang tells them no I'll do it with my friends. Like Aang speaks with each Avatar for their wisdom. If all their wisdom says you have to do it alone then what's the point of the conversation. The original show and books have shown you can't be a solo Avatar and your council matters.

What I'm trying to get at is changing the wisdom each Avatar gives changes how we view them. Roku is very diplomatic and patient. (Also he apologizes to Aang ) His patience being his downfall when Sozin betrayed him. Kiyoshi is blunt but with reason. Her introduction isnt a conversation with Aang. It's to answer why she murder Chin the Conqueror. Who was too stubborn to know he was outmatched and didn't retreat so fell to his death. More to say that Kiyoshi was a great force and she wouldn't hold back for anyone and she cares deeply for her people safety. Not much is said about Kuruk in the original show but his carelessness lead to his beloved's face being stolen. None of them mention at first to Aang you have to do this alone.

The Netflix show meetings feel alot like the season 3 final 4 episodes. Where Aang seeks advice on a very conflicting matter. Should he kill Ozai. All their advice is yes. This advice to kill is such a turmoil to Aang he ends up finding a new solution with help of course but still. The tone is way different. The only time their advice aligns is when it's about taking out the big bad. Roku failed to. Kyoshi has done so before. Kuruk failed to. Yangchen has done so before. They expect Aang to too. It's a heavy decision. You know what's not a heavy choice -

HAVING PEOPLE YOU CAN COUNT ON!!! SO WHY TF ARE THEY TELLING AANG NOT TO HAVE FRIENDS. IT'S HYPOCRISY TO TELL AANG HE HAS TO BE ALONE WHEN THEY ALL HAD FRIENDS IN THEIR LIFETIMES. THE ADVICE SHOULD BE ABOUT THE CHOICES HE MAKES TO SHAPE THE WORLD!. SINCE AANG'S BIGGEST FLAW IS THAT HE IS AVOIDANT!

If you can't already tell the Netflix show makes me mad. Instead of a adaptation or a retelling it's a whole narrative shift. The lessons are changed and the focal point of the original is gone. Aang always sticks by his friends. And his friends stick by him. He doesn't need to tell the previous Avatars that because they had friends too who did the same.

Tdlr: I think it's weird the Netflix Show has the previous Avatars tell Aang he shouldn't have friends because it's essential for the Avatar to have a trusted council.

Anyways rant aside

I'll be waiting for season 6 of The Dragon Prince Netflix.

[agentem]

The Ring Theory

Kang’s multiversal engine core, which Janet blew up and then Scott blew up again after fixing it, was made of many circles rotating around a sphere.

Kang’s entire citadel was made of circular mechanisms. At one point Kang even yells, “don’t let him [Scott] interfere with the rings.” Rings that glowed both yellowish and bluish hues.

You know who else has rings that glow blue and yellow? Shang-Chi. They started glowing yellow when he took them from Wenwu (they also glowed that color when his mother used them). I think this symbolizes a different universe. Shang-Chi and his mother are from a place other than Earth.

Kamala Khan’s bangle also is a circle. And it does something with time, since it created a time loop tp save her grandmother. She can use it to pull energy from other dimensions but that doesn’t seem to be its intended function. It is something unique to her.

I think, because time is no longer a straight line, when Scott shoved Kang into the multiversal engine with Pym particles, it made the rings oddly sized. Like person’s wrist sized. Wenwu discovered the rings and used them as weapons he can control with his mind (Kang controls his ship with his mind). But when someone from another reality used them, it set off a beacon, probably to this Kang.

What the beacon probably doesn’t say is that there is yet another ring, Kamala’s bangle, that is necessary for the multiversal engine core to work. And the bangle seems to be transporting people—Kamala, Monica and Carol—places without Kamala meaning it to. Who is controlling them?

Where the Conqueror Kang is right now is a question. If the rings survived then surely he did too.

ETA: And, of course, we know Destin Daniel Cretton who directed Shang Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings is announced as the director of Avengers: Kang Dynasty so it's not a leap to assume Shang Chi is a crucial piece of it.

Although I am unclear if the Kang Dynasty movie is about the Council of Kangs attacking or Kang the Conqueror attacking. I feel like both are coming. "Kang Dynasty" sounds like the council. But what if the Conqueror arrives at the end at beats them? Like the Avengers have already done a lot of his work for him but beating other Kangs?

It's be neat if that Avengers movie were in SF, with the Ant-Fam and Shang Chi. The bus fight in Shang Chi was cool because you felt the stakes of it. I haven't felt like the Avengers have been rooted in a real place since the first Avengers. (Although I guess there was that field in Wakanda lol). But Marvel is supposed to be in real places unlike DC.

[super-hero-confessions]

I love Samuel L. Jackson and his version of Nick Fury. I know he was originally white in the comics but I don't care, Samuel L. Jackson is a legend, so I bought black Nick Fury, I'm keeping black Nick Fury, this version is simply superior. What I think tho is that people complain about other race swaps because characters are most of the time race swapped to be black and now historical figures too, not because these studios believe black people deserve genuine representation, but because of white guilt. And white guilt is exclusively a thing of the USA.

What do I mean by that? I mean black people were treated horribly (and still do nowadays) in the US, the slavery was insane, the segregation was insane. There, Native Americans were considered savages but black people weren't even considered people. White guilt, white shame, it's all an American thing. In other countries of course there can be racism against black people but it's not as deeply rooted as it is in the US. For example, the continent Latin America. The conquest was also horrible and cruel, but the people of today, they do not resent the Spaniards of today for what their ancestors did because most Spaniard conquerors chose to stay in Latin America. Most Latin Americans carry the blood of those Spaniard colonizers. White guilt would be stupid because you would be asking almost all latinos to hate a part of themselves. We choose to see each other as brothers and sisters because there is enough division in the world already. Mexico, Argentina, Spain, Puerto Rico, Chile, Canarias, Colombia, etc... we're ALL brothers and sisters! We don't go "your ancestors did x y and z" because your ancestors are also my ancestors! And even though Namor was race swapped, he showed actual representation, the beauty of songs in Spanish, etc, he wasn't the same Namor but latino. Race swap was done well!

So when race swaps are very clearly motivated by white guilt, of course other countries where this isn't a thing are gonna be confused af. Because we haven't wronged black people the way USAmericans have done in the past. And before you say this is a racist take, don't. We hispanics are the most diverse group, with all kinds of ancestry, Portuguese, Spaniards, the Muslims who inhabited Spain for 700 years, the large diasporas of Italians that came to Argentina between 1880-1930, Africans, Japanese, Lebanese. We are the most diverse people in the world. We aren't racist.

All we ask is that American studios keep in mind white guilt isn't for everyone. They race swap accordingly to white guilt, and expect everyone else to understand that, when a black Latino will see it and go "what kind of pendejada es esa" and a black Egyptian will see it and go "dear Ra what is this". Because those race swaps are for black Americans, born out of white guilt. As I said, we don't do white guilt, but people of the US think their problems are universal and they think if this is how their country works, then this is how other countries work as well and NO! I do agree that black people have been through hell in the US so there's a lot to compensate for. But please don't push your social mess to the world. Our countries don't function like the USA.

[sellensand]

The Eclipse and the Battle of Aeonia

So, the Battle of Aeonia. The moment when Malenia and Radahn "locked horns in combat" (in Ranni's words). We know their dispute ended in the devastation of Caelid, but... why did Malenia fight Radahn? And what was she doing in Caelid in the first place? I'd like to share my own answers to those questions.

ELDEN RING SPOILERS BELOW

The way I see it, in the early years of the Shattering war, the demigod Miquella was in the process of either resurrecting his brother Godwyn's soul or granting him a "true death" via a dark ritual involving an Eclipse (a solar eclipse, judging by the Castle Sol sigil and the Eclipse Shotel). But there was a small problem.

His half-brother, General Radahn, was a master of gravity sorcery, a knowledge he had gained while studying in the town of Sellia, in Caelid, in his youth. Allegedly wanting to prevent a meteorite from destroying his beloved alma mater (as per one of the Sword Monuments is Caelid), he managed to combine his knowledge of gravity with his demigod might to indefinitely halt the natural course of the celestial bodies, a feat that earned him the title of "Conqueror of the Stars". And while this exploit had succesfully managed to prevent the destruction of Sellia, Radahn's actions had... other consequences. When the stars stopped moving, the destiny of the Carian Royal family also came to a standstill (whether this was intentional or just a collateral effect is a matter for another post). And, most importantly, with the celestial bodies stopped in place... the Eclipse could never happen.

(I can't help but think about that ghost in Castle Sol that laments that the Eclipse never occured because their "prayers were lacking", tragically oblivious to the truth of the matter.)

Wanting to restart the ritual, Miquella sent Malenia and her knights to Caelid to kill Radahn... but that didn't go according to plan. While his Blade was away, Mohg entered the Haligtree and abducted Miquella in his coccoon. Meanwhile, Malenia struggled to defeat the powerful Radahn, and when he finally managed to mortally wound her, Malenia's rot flower blossomed in Caelid. Radahn was then turned into a witless rot-monster, the whole region was consumed by the scarlet rot, and the brave knight Finlay had to carry Malenia all the way back to the Haligtree, where she slowly recovered from her wounds in a slumber, eternally awaiting her brother's return.

That folks is my understanding of the events surrounding the Battle of Aeonia.

A couple of FAQs to wrap things up:

- If Radahn was preventing the Eclipse from happening with his powers, why doesn't it take place after we kill him in the game? I think we can safely assume that, in Elden Ring's world, a solar eclipse is a particularly rare event (we do not know how the Two Moons Situation works in this planet), and maybe not entirely natural, since it needs to be summoned somehow. Radahn's death makes the eclipse possible again, but whatever Miquella and his followers were doing to bring it forth is no longer being done, so...

- How come there is a night and day cycle in the game before we kill Radahn? Because, even though the moons may not be in motion, the planet is still rotating on its own axis. If the part of the world you're in stops receiving solar light, it gets dark and you can see the moon(s), simple as that.

Does any of this make any sense? I hope so.

As always, please let me know if this has already been theorised by someone else before. I mainly use this blog to vent about my own theories and, while I do follow a few Elden Ring blogs, I don't really keep up-to-date with the latest lore trends.

[local-fanfic-addict]

The Last Straw

<Previous | Part Two.2 | Next>

Inspo: Soldier - Fleurie

Trigger Warning - Depression, Bad coping mechanisms

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“No! No, tell me- tell me what it’s done for us? Save us at the last minute after the Guardian did all the hard work for it in the Red War?” Vlairyn raised her finger in unbridled rage, attempting to keep composure that wasn’t there anymore.

“You think it’s given us eternal life because it “chose” us?” Her fingers bent to show sarcastic quotation marks. “Wherever it goes, The Darkness follows it. And when The Darkness gets here, what do you think the Traveler will do? It’ll fucking leave us high and dry like it did the Fallen. We’re not special. Not anymore. It’ll find some other race to give the greatness of its knowledge to and then leave them as soon as The Darkness comes knocking again…” If she had been human, her knuckles would be white with how hard her fingers balled themselves into her palms. She was silent for a moment, looking back at the white orb that seemed to be growing smaller by the day. 

“The Traveler made us so we could fight the Darkness. You know that.” Goldie hovered next to his guardian.

“No, the Traveler made us so we could fight for it in any situation because it can’t protect itself. How is it supposed to protect us if we’re always the ones fighting?”

“The Traveler does protect us!” 

“How? How powerful do you think it is if it’s constantly running away from the fight? We know what the last battle with The Darkness did to it. It was barely able to banish it, that right there should be proof enough of its power.” The Exo wore a heavy scowl on her face, her arms glued at her sides like she was trying not to snap and hit something. 

“Would you rather he have died fighting? Because then none of us would be here, Vlair. Think about that, none of us. Not ghosts, not guardians; Not you, not me, not Cayde. Is that what you would want?” Tally-4 sat on a nearby railing, his arms resting gently on his legs as he spoke.

A slight grumble left Vlairyns mouth, her expression remained the same though her shoulders slumped ever so slightly. There was a brief hesitation before “Of course not.” The words sounded empty as they were spoken. Did Vlairyn actually believe that? Perhaps. Or perhaps she was just lying for her fireteams sake, for Tally's sake.

“But if the Traveler is too scared to do what it’s supposed to do, then it falls to us. Chosen or not, Traveler or not, we now have these powers and I for one choose to use them. Why else were we given stasis?” 

“For this exact reason, to make you lose faith in the Traveler!” The idea that a ghost could look any more dejected and worried for his Guardian was slim, but as Goldie hovered around Vlairyns shoulders, he did. “I know you’re angry, but pushing the Traveler away won’t help. You have no idea how… cold… I’ve been while you use stasis. It’s like the Traveler- like he isn’t even there anymore…”

“Do you ever think that’s because it isn’t? This is exactly my point, Goldie! It’s already abandoning us. We can’t rely on light anymore, it has to be Darkness. We can finally fight fire with fire!” Vlairyns eyes softened and she cupped her hands around the ghost's shell. “We can fight like the light never could.”

Tally-4 huffed, hopping off the rail to face his teammate. “And since when did we become soldiers, hm? We’re not soldiers, not conquerors, not assassins, we’re guardians.” 

“You can’t be serious right now. All we’ve ever been are soldiers! Fighting constantly! Battle after battle while the Traveler does nothing. There were plenty of other battles before I became a guardian, I read their history, the reports and files!” She yelled, throwing her arms into the air in exasperation.

“When was the last time we weren’t sent out to stop some world ending event? It’s always us, Tally. Always.” She placed a hand on his shoulder, her features still heavy even as her voice softened. “That’s all we are to them… to him. Immortal soldiers to throw at his enemies… And if that’s what I have to be, then fine— but I’ll do it on my own terms. With stasis.” Vlairyn started to move, only pausing when Tally-4 grabbed her arm.

“But you don’t have to be. There’s always a choice, Vlair. To be better and not succumb to the feelings of betrayal or.. or injustice.” He spoke quietly, like how one would speak to a cornered animal. 

His words were only met with dry laughter as she pulled her arm away.“The injustice didn’t start here, or with me, Tally. It started when the Vanguard refused to avenge Cayde. It continued when the Traveler saw fit to give the Hive the light, and now? Leaving us and running like a coward? That’s the last straw for me.”

[newhorizonsxiv]

((Cheating a bit on this one with an older piece of Tai and Lyneth from waaaaay back at the very beginning of their relationship. I'm not really doing the challenge proper. Just going to pop in a piece or two as I have the spoons and they won't be cut for length or formatted properly because I have to do everything on mobile from my phone in bed so... Low effort is the rule of the day. Still, hope you enjoy this little drabble.))

Barbarous

"Eh. Couldn't know why they marked me. 'Barbarism'." Tai says the word bitterly "What does that solve? Been kind of...looking for a way to get rid of it..."

He looks at Lyneth, almost apologetically. "My sole existence was always one of two things. Vengeance and protection. I am tired of the first. And I fail so often at the second." he gestures around them "But here I am, trying to make sense of a life I was never meant to live and I can't. I just..."

He stands slowly and slowly makes his way to the back of the room "I always told myself I would never fail again. But I always failed anyway. I'm so tired of failing. I'm so tired of death. I started believing that I was the issue. That if I was simply erased, everyone would be fine." he picks up a grimoire on his desk. "And you're here, telling me things that no one has ever told me."

He flips through the grimoire, stopping once several pages through, and looks back at her "What is your reason for living?"

He tears out a page.

Her eyes drift toward the bottle of brandy but she forces them away and back to his face. "I.. don't know if I've ever really thought about it before. I have.." She shrugs. "I dunno. Goals. In the moment. Things I want and ways to get those things. When I left home the goal was to find my brother. Which I still haven't done but.. will. Someday."

She rises a bit unsteadily to stand beside the table, looking at him and the book curiously. "But as for a greater, overarching Purpose? That I couldn't give you. Except that I'd hate dying now with so many things and places that I've still never seen. So many tales and songs I've yet to hear. Or to write."

"I see." he snaps the book closed and puts it back on his desk. He looks at the page still clutched in his hand. "In truth, I think I found a way to remove the mark. But, for all intents and purposes, it would require me to cease to exist so of course that would remove it." He pauses "Ugh. I'm talking like him."

The page goes up in flames.

"I never had the will to just live. Well, no, that's a lie. It was there. But it was snuffed out. I always needed a reason to drive me forward. Find who did this or protect them or...whatever. But these reasons of mine, well, they can only take you so far if you're not good at them. But you...you imply you live because of what could be in store in the future. But the future terrifies me."

Lyneth frowns, tilting her head to one side. "Why? What are you afraid of? Every breath that we take is a reminder that there is still hope. That we're still here. We can still make things better. Even when things are bleak. Don't be so afraid of losing something that you never try to have it. That's a half-life, Tai. A wasted life. And you are more than that."

She takes a step closer, gesturing toward him with one hand while the other falls to her own shoulder. "That mark you hate so much? I think maybe you just aren't thinking of it in the right way." Another step closer. " 'Barbarous.' " She rolls the word across her tongue. "That's a word that conquerors spit down at the people who will not bow their heads and be conquered. It means that you have not been broken. That you still know who you are. And that you will resist, savagely resist, the people who try to tell you who they think you should be."

"They do it to my people too. In Ul'dah. In Gridania. 'Feral' is the word they use there. But it means much the same thing. To them. And to us. We are the unbroken. And as we breathe, we fight. As we breathe, we hope." By this time her steps have taken her to stand, looking up at him, eyes fierce and burning. "There are still so very many conquerors out there. Some come with guns and some with gil, but they always come. Barbarism.. is a thing that the world does truly need."