#thus they wouldn't be in armor

[myceliumelium]

damn I cant believe i actually finished this WIP. Their last kiss before Fingon gets reduced to a fine mist.

[copperpipes]

Jaime's fate is really a grave one. or, it would have been if the scarab that have gotten to him wasn't damaged.

The beetle (as humanity dubbed it, because the part of it that showed resembled a bug and granted unimaginable power, thus was compared to a sacred insect, or an insect that resembled it was made sacred after it.) Is most and foremost an in infiltraitor, made to gather as much intel about the planet and its population as possible, and maybe even prepare the planet's population to submission via manipulation of religion/culture.

Second is of course it being a weapon, powerful enough to destroy the planet its infiltratiting in case conquering it would be deemed impossible.

Now into the spec bio part:

The scarab itself is a semi-organic parasitic organism. The organic part being the one fusing with the host, binding together their nervous systems, becoming a part of the host's spinal cord or its equivalent in other life forms.

But wait, doesn't the host have an immune system? It does!

Does it help? Not in the slightest :'D

The scarab generates its own cells, many in purposes and varieties, like some that shock every immune system cell that comes near it until it fools the immune system into counting it as part of the body. It comes with consequences to the host, of course, with a weakened immune system the host is prone to viruses, and so it stays in a near constant state of fever to compensate. Or just the worst month of Jaime's life.

It not to worry! Just because the host's own immune system is out of commission for a little while doesn't mean its actually helpless, it has the scarab now, with enough programmed immune system cells of its own to share.

(This part is very dialed down in detail for the sake of people who aren't very interested in it, believe me I have at least an additional page in may Google docs)

The non organic part of the scarab is the computer itself, specifically the parts that if organic would just go out of commission quickly. Yes, an AI could be programmed into an organic nervous system, but said programming could be easily overcome and lost. Less easily by a non-organic system.

Oh and I wouldn't call the blue beetle armor.

There's no skin under there in that form.

There is however, blood.

Khaji-da is a serial number in reach-speak.

There is so much more material i haven't said, that is not all. It will continue . About the armor itself, about Jaime and the changes he has to learn how to cope with, and what's up there with khaji?

Also in the comic when Jaime first met the reach they pretended to be tech support and i find this immensly funny

@wazzappp i promised :>

[phoenixeclipse-lmkau]

i see you like my crumbs, will you take another?

now hear me out:

reader looking after the cubs by grooming their fur.

at first they never would allow it, them looking after each other. but after awhile, maybe they need to be cleaned up quickly or perhaps they cant groom each other for some reason, and so they have their choice: reader or spirit.

they already know how proficient spirit is with monkey related things, so its a case of who they trust more.

reader has gave them pats and scratches, and perhaps removed things from their fur once or twice, but has no skills when it comes to grooming a monkey proper, but that certainly wont stop them from trying! it takes a while, with reader going slow, but afterwards, they are.. mostly clean? they really cant blame reader for not knowing how to do so, but she certainly tried her best!

and well, it certainly felt nice, that's for sure.

they don't always get both cleaned by reader, sometimes spirit grooms one of them as well. not often, and only when they absolutely cant get clean with in the timeframe they have. spirit doesn't put in as much care to make sure she isn't pulling hair and such. she isn't being mean, but she just prioritises efficiency over comfort, unlike reader.

as they grow closer and closer with reader, she gets more chances to groom them, getting more skilled at it as time goes on. after a while, they even try and return the favour, from time to time.

now, instead of only when they need it, they try and get a grooming session from reader whenever they're relaxing, loving the sensation of reader caring for them so gently.

but when they turn back...

it's a bit difficult to convince reader to groom them, especially when they kidnapped her.

monkey duo: ah yes, hello, i know we took you to the mountain and are never letting you go, but can you please clean our fur? even though us being in our true forms means we are bigger now, and thus take much more time?

reader, freshly kidnapped and pissed off: no, you aren't kids, clean yourselves

monkey duo: :(

a few hours later:

reader grooming a random cub that asked politely:

monkey duo: :(

monkey duo: >:(

i will be back with more crumbs at a later date, i hope you enjoy this one.

Hahaha!!! Omg this would totally happen!

Now don't get me wrong the monkey duo wouldn't be mad at the cub. They would never be mad at a cub. However they are mad that they aren't also getting grooming.

Macaque would be slightly more understanding because he is self aware that they did kidnap/courtnap you. Though he still doesn’t like that you won’t give him such attention yet. He is sure that eventually you’ll give in though.

“Darling,” Wukong called out as he opened the door to your room/ cage.

Immediately you backed up in your bed, a scowl easily spread across your face even through the fear that you felt. In his hands the Warlord held a tray of fruits, all freshly cut and carefully placed to look extra appealing. You barely looked at the offering that he tried to give you, instead watching the monkey demon.

Sun Wukong was tall, almost standing at six feet tall with deep golden eyes. His beautiful golden fur looked the same shade as when he was in the form of a cub. You almost felt betrayed when you had first seen his true form. He had been wearing his golden armor and extravagant clothing before but now? Now as he walked into the room he was wearing nothing but a pair of pants, showing off his furry chest and back muscles.

All you did was glare at the monkey demon as he set the tray onto a table in the room. You didn’t say a word as he looked over at you. You expected him to leave but then noticed Macaque also walk into the room, dressed the same as his mate. His normally dark fur gone in favor of his beautiful white coat that he only shows to you and Wukong.

“What?” You ask almost silently as you waited for their reason for staying.

“It’s been a week since you’ve arrived on the island,” Wukong started, a wide grin spread across his face as if he just told you something incredible.

You raise an eyebrow with confusion, “So-?”

Both monkey demons approached the bed and leaned against it, giving you a full view of their chests. You pushed down the blush that threatened to cover your face at the sight of them.

“We were hoping- that you’d be willing to give us a grooming,” Macaque was the one to speak.

Immediately you’re tiny bubble burst and you gave them a glare, “No.”

“Oh come on why not!?” Wukong yelled looking at you with a puppy dog look across his face, as he flopped himself on the ground.

At the action you backed up a frown spread across your face. You glanced at Macaque who unlike Wukong merely looked dejected but seemed to have accepted that you wouldn’t groom them. However his mate, was not the same case.

“Darling, love, precious gem, our precious Queen, please,” Wukong begged jumping onto the bed and laying his head on your lap before you could move.

You of course merely frowned and pushed him off of you a deep frown covering your face. Looking away you scowled.

>>><<<

A few hours later when you are sitting alone in the room after having sent the duo away, both being thoroughly disappointed. Slowly you had eaten the food they provided, you had to admit that it tasted delicious. Not that you would tell either of them that, especially right now.

*Chirp*

It was small almost silent, a tiny chirp caught your attention. Turning to look you saw none other than a small monkey cub. It was a little girl with curly dark brown fur and the brightest blue eyes. She was looking almost everywhere but at you and playing with the sleeves of her pretty pink Hanfu.

“Hello there,” You couldn’t help but coo at the cute cub.

Almost immediately she perked up her eyes wide as she looked up at you with a warm smile. Cautiously she walked up to you and sat down a little bit away before scooting a little closer and settling down. Curious you tilted your head before crouching down to her level.

“Is there something you need?” You asked calmly.

“C-Can you help me? I can’t get the knots,” She muttered pointing around her body to her back and you felt your heart squeeze. How could you say no to such a cute face?

You barely let out a sigh before sitting down on the floor in front of her. Immediately the young cub turns around and reveals her back to you pulling her clothing so you could reach where she couldn’t. With expert care and skill that you attained from grooming the two warlords before you knew who they were you carefully combed through her fur.

Gently untangling every knot and strand you smiled when she began to purr. It was calm and rather domestic. You didn’t even notice when someone leaned against the doorframe.

Macaque’s gaze watched you calmly, he crossed his arms across himself and found himself bitterly smiling. He wanted that attention, the attention that you were freely giving to such a small monkey cub. She was a runt so small and frail, someone who you were caring for without a second thought. You will make such a wonderful mother, the thought crossed his mind and he quickly pushed it away. At least he tried. The thought of you carrying his cubs was overwhelming, you would make such cute cubs.

He was only broken out of his thoughts when his husband walked by, “No fair!”

You jumped before whipping your head around to look at the warlords, Wukong in particular had an almost offended look on his face. He didn’t think it was fair, he wanted your attention too. He wanted your fingers combing and grooming through his fur, he was your husband! You were married as far as he or Macaque were concerned, he did everything needed with the courtship and courtnapping. Aside from consummation but you just weren’t ready for that.

“Why won’t you groom my fur too,” He practically whined stomping his feet.

The cub let out a squeak before scurrying away to get away from the warlord, only to get caught by Macaque’s tail. You felt a shot of fear through you for a split second before he gently cradled the cub in his arms. The look on his face was both disappointment and wonder as he handed the cub back to you. Something that you accepted without a second thought, which was the reason unknown to you that Wukong went silent.

You were so cute holding the cub, how did he miss that!? How would you look holding their cub? Both his and Macaque’s? The thought filled his head as he sat down on the ground, his tail thumping on the ground as he tried to calm himself down. You focused back on grooming the cub, weather because you simply wanted to or to avoid the warlords was unclear at this point.

I loved this ask! SO CUTE!! Honestly they will be less annoyed with you grooming cubs and more wanting you to have THEIR cubs. So Reader’s gotta be careful with that, luckily for her the monkey warlords are willing to wait. Even if they don’t want to. Sorry again for the waits on these but I am working on them!!

[atlantahammy]

Hamato Clan Pallets | So, part 2 of my project I started because I noticed a number of the colors from @pluvionpc's color pallets were Season 1 exclusives, or were tinted by the scene color overlay and thus not the true bases. (No offense to you man, you did what you could and without them, this wouldn't exist) The purple dragons were surprisingly hard to get colors for, because they only appear, in light / neutral lighting, in 1 episode of the 3 they appear in, either dark in the next or on a screen. That and I kept fucking up the pallets with errors, can ask those in @elliwoods Bean Server... There was screaming and crying into 2 AM as I live-blogged spotting the errors, after dropping it there like... 6 fuckin' times and dying each time I saw a new one. /rage.

I maaaay have psyched myself out a bit on Big Mama's spider form pallet because I thought it was going to be painful... It wasn't, It was easy, and the fastest, I got it done in less than an hour.

Also, fun fact, Big Mama's Spider form is one of the few whose mouth gets colored in black. She also seems to have 2 web colors, that purple, and the silvery purple that is her human form's hair color.

Sunita was also pretty easy, as she's one of the few characters that have had their turn around posted, that I could pull base colors from, even from her Googlyschootz sheet, which has the opacity effect (I think it is around 80% or 90%)

On that note, Sunita still has the default mouth colors, but they're layered on top of her green color + opacity lowered.

Fun fact: Sunita inadvertently confirms that while 'Yokai' is the general term for all the "mythical's" (IE: Like ''Humans") in the world, they all do have individual names, IE: She and her dad are Googlyschootz. (Also the fact I had to go to the transcript to get her race name, instead of it being listed under trivia on her wiki page, greatly irritates me.)

Drax's villain armor was... Easier than I thought, I kept procrastinating on it because I thought it would end me out of frustration and it would end up being bigger than it was... Though it is clear his design had a few color changes before the show aired by all early art being all colored differently.

I also didn't do Huginn and Muninn with Drax's as I gave Mayhem is own, might as well give the two their own pallet too.

———————————– My Commissions | .Carrd | Ko-Fi

[hawkinsbnbg]

Dragon!Steve and mercenary!Eddie.

Steve Harrington was a dragon.

Once upon a time, he would kidnap a princess, imprison her in his tower, guard the said tower, and await his doom delivered by a knight in shining armor.

But this wasn't that kind of fairy tale. No, in this story, Steve and the princess were friends. Her lover was a fae who was his platonic soulmate, and the knight in shining armor was his brother in arms.

Still, no one, even Steve himself, foreseen it when a handsome mercenary arrived at his tower and stole his heart.

Steve never felt so adored in his long and boring life, but Edwyn "Eddie" Munson managed to do the impossible.

The man was good with his words, even better with his fingers when he scratched the itchy spots beneath Steve's scales and drew runes of protection and love on Steve's human body.

Eddie was also an attentive lover who brought Steve sparkly gifts every time he visited the tower.

In turn, Steve let the mercenary ride on his back in their adventures, let the man guide him to wherever he was pleased, and let himself be consumed in the amorous looks Eddie would give him when the man thought he didn't notice.

Robin, Nancy, and Jonathan had been suspicious at first about Eddie's true motive. They worried that the mercenary would betray Steve because, despite his peaceful nature, Steve was the most powerful of his kind. And frankly, many had hunted him throughout his life given that even a piece of his scales cost a fortune in black markets.

Their concern was warranted, Steve supposed, but he trusted Eddie to not do him harm. Yet, sometimes, when Steve couldn't sleep at night, he would think about the worst and decide that if Eddie asked, he would give the man everything.

After all, Eddie already had his heart.

In the end, Eddie only asked of him a vial of his blood to cure Wayne's illness.

The day the truth came out was when Eddie approached him and stated that his uncle couldn't wait any longer.

Steve could see the desperation and hope in those chocolate eyes that he so loved, and knew for certain that Eddie wouldn't fight him but would be on his knees and beg until he agreed to help.

Before things could go any worse, Steve decided to take the matter into his own hands. Literally.

"So you had approached me because of my blood," Steve smiled wryly at the sting of the betrayal as he let Eddie dress the gash on his forearm. They both knew the cut would heal in a few minutes, but Steve didn't turn down Eddie's help. Couldn't.

"You should know that I didn't only have your blood in mind," Eddie fastened the bandage's knot securely.

"What? Are you asking for my organs next?" Steve huffed out a bitter laugh. "I heard they're quite useful ingredients for rituals and potions."

"No," Eddie met his eyes calmly and guided Steve's hand to rest on his chest. "Please listen to the song of my heart and do know that it is never a lie when I say this: I've been wanting all of you for myself since I first laid eyes on you."

Steve blinked rapidly in bewilderment and awe. Every dragon had an innate talent, and Steve's was the ability to see only the truth.

Thus, when Eddie opened himself up so freely like that, Steve could also see the man's deepest desire. And what he saw made him blush terribly. This man was truly hopeless.

"You never do anything in half, do you?" Steve snorted.

"Once Uncle Wayne gets better, I will return to the tower and never leave your side again," Eddie held his hand tightly as if fearing he would take it back and peppered feathery kisses on his knuckles.

Those words sung true to Steve's heart. Yet, he also sensed the wordless yearning from his lover. There was only one way, wasn't it?

"I'll go with you, then. I think it's time for you to introduce me to your family."

"Are you sure?"

Looking at Eddie's hopeful eyes, Steve leaned in to kiss the love of his life soundly.

"As sure as gold."

They both chuckled fondly at the memory together. After all, the first thing Eddie had given him upon their meeting was a sparkling bar of gold.

[winterarmyy]

Plot Twist | Part I

An arranged marriage with mafia!bucky.

Run-through: I just need to get this out of my system. Most of arranged marriage mob/mafia!au I've read has a strong/bratty reader. And a really mean/asshole Bucky. Which is absolutely fine btw but its getting repetitive for me. I wanted to see a reader who's actually soft but fierce when she wants to be. And Bucky who is generally cold and seems to be married to his job but notices small things that the reader do, thus subconsciously started to care about her. They don’t hate each other, nor do they are infatuated. I don’t know if this exist, so I decided write it myself just in case. Enjoy!

Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III* (end) | Extra

Words: 1.1k++

Pairing: beefy mafia!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: just fluffy and wholesome stuff here. Nothing graphic or explicit.

P/S: I like to write in 3rd pov btw. There's a few mentions of y/n sometimes too. Beware of the grammar mistakes, English is not my first language. This might be 2-3 parts type of fic, so tell me what you think so far.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

“He's late.”

The soft clinking sounds of his rings colliding with each other and onto the dresser woke her up from her deep slumber. Though her body remained still, her mind continued to wonder,

“Late. Again.”  She thought.

The sound of fabrics rustling about hinted her of what was happening beyond her closed eyes. The shut of the bathroom door confirmed her speculations.

“So, what if he came back home late? Why does it concern you?” She questioned herself.

Only a fool would believe if she said that she didn't care at all about the whereabout and well-being of this man. He is her husband after all.

Six months ago, she stood on the alter with that man. They swore an oath. They sealed the kiss. He was hers and she was his.

James Buchanan Barnes; Bucky was what he preferred to called. He is what every man wants to become, and every woman wants to be with.

An Adonis of a man; impossibly tall, 6'5"; body armored with thick layer of muscles. Bucky is huge, that if he trapped her against the wall, she might just see the resemblance of him to a grizzly bear. His dark hair flowed just above his shoulder and his steel blue eyes were as cold as his personality.

Though she wouldn't compare him to a frozen blizzard during the winter, he was more like the first day of snow, when the white flakes started to fall.

Cold enough to make you shiver and warm enough to lure you out but most importantly, obscenely beautiful.

However, of course, the main reason of the marriage set up by her father was not because of how beautiful he is, but to fulfil his hunger for power. As if the territories that their family has wasn't enough, her father arranged this union to extend his reign.

Y/N protested at first but knew better than to fight against her father. Being raised in such family, at a very young age she learned to think always ahead; pass the emotions and intuitions. What's the rational and logical way to solve a problem.

Took her a week to wrap her head around the matter, research about Barnes and go through the agreement between her father and her then husband to be. Barnes had listed some main demands regarding the union and although most of them were about their business, but one particular demand had caught her attention.

“After marriage, the couple must be faithful to one another. Any romantic/sexual relationships prior must be severed/resolved immediately. Failed to do so will result to termination of the contract.”

“Hmm. Interesting.” She thought.

Not that she was in any relationship at the time, and all the research result to possibly positive outcome. So, in the end, she complied.

Which then explained why she was sleeping in Bucky's bed six months later.

“I know you're awake.” Bucky's gravel voice startled her internal thoughts. She could feel the indentation of the mattress on his side of the bed, the fresh and clean scent wafting from him. She nearly purred from a sniff of it.

She slowly opened her eyes as if she was trying to peep and god what a sight to see after a restless sleep; Bucky's idea of pajamas was basic pants and nothing above and Y/N didn’t know what to feel about that. Does she hate it? Absolutely not. Does she like it? Well, he is easy on the eye indeed.

The room was dimly lit, but she could see his slightly damp hair; it looked longer than it is dry. Her eyes followed the outline of his body leaning against the bed. The soft light reflected on his metal arm particularly follows the gold lines decorating the dark surface.

She often had intrusive thoughts of tracing the lines; what would it feel like against her fingertips. Does he feel anything? Is it cold? Will it feel good? 

“You do know that it’s a waste your time to wait for me, right?” He huffed a heavy breath. She could hear the fatigue in his sigh.

And how does Bucky know that she waited for him before admitting her defeat to the drowsiness? Somehow, Bucky always managed to know things, to the littlest matter, even when he’s million miles across the world.

Just like when she found a copy of Pride and Prejudice on the bed a few months ago. The day before she received it, her copy was drenched in coffee; a young woman bumped into her in front of the café she often visit. He was in Russia that time. ��Was it Clint? Did he tell Bucky?” she wondered.

“Whoever said I was waiting for you?” She scoffed, yet if the room was well lit enough, Bucky would’ve seen how playful her expression was.

He hummed a deep voice, “Hmm.” there’s a hint of doubt in his tone.

Y/N quickly follow her previous sentence, “I was simply enjoying my reading, that I lost track of time.” She shifted to face him and tucked herself further into the blanket, hiding the lower half of her face as she looked up at him. She wondered if he could tell that she was smiling just from her eyes.

Bucky’s gaze remained still on her, as if he was trying to reach into her soul, before he leaned closer to peek on the book on the table. Pride and Prejudice written on it.

He chuckled, which was rare. At the least the real ones are.

Of course, she had seen him smile and laugh countless of time. Especially during those gala they often attend. But those were just another set of armor he wore on a daily basis.

Bucky tried to bite back a smile, sinking his teeth into his lower lip, “Lost track of time, huh?” Yet, somehow Y/N can hear the smile in his tone.

“A good read?” he asked as if he did not know why his wife brought up about the book. She never said anything about the gift; not a thank you or a complaint. 

She simply cherish it in her own way. He heard from Clint that she rearranged her whole bookshelf just to make space for the book he gave her. Maybe this was her way of saying thank you.

He had been giving her books every week, since.

She pulled the blanket away from her face, lips curled into a genuine smile, “Always.”

Bucky preened to her reply before suddenly, “Okay, enough chit chat. It’s late.” he said almost monotone sounded, as he made himself comfortable under the blanket.

Before she could overthink of what went wrong, why the sudden drop of chemistry; that was when she felt his hand roamed to find hers. Bucky brought her palm closer to his face, she could feel his hot breath against her cold skin. 

He leaned his lips on her palm, leaving a soft and tender kiss as he mumbled, “Goodnight, doll.”

Rush of red shades bloomed on her cheeks, before caving into the feeling of his stubble on her hand. She gently caresses the side of his cheeks, hoping it soothes him to sleep. 

The corners of her lips curved upwards into a smile, "See? Like, the first day of snow."

Part II >>

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: It’s my first fic so... share your thoughts? ily 🤍

[horizontwinflames]

Horizon AU: Twin Flames - Isaac (Zero Dawn Act) final concept/design.

*texts' transcriptions under the cut after the images*

REPOST, EDIT/USE OR FEED MY ART TO AI ISN'T ALLOWED

Read about Aloy, Beta and Elisabet in this AU [here]

omg... I thought I would never finish this... BUT YAY! Here it is finally! Isaac's final design and concepts!

This AU has an ongoing fanfic! You can read on Ao3: [LINK]

Text transcription:

First image:

Isaac - Roughly 3.2m/10.4' -Unknown age (probably just a few months).

Isaac is an original machine character in this alternative universe.

Isaac is the loyal machine companion of the Sobeck family, serving as both a traveling and battle mount. The sisters unintentionally created him while trying to figure out a way to increase the machine override time. The process they applied in the -back then- simple Watcher rebooted their AI and programming back to its essential functions and disconnected them from their original master, HEPHAESTUS. Once he received his name from Beta, the three family members became his new masters, which he unthinkingly obey to.

Due to his blank AI, Isaac is developing his own sentience and personality by absorbing his masters’ traits and behaviors and learning their morals and concepts. He also downloaded all of the sisters’ Focuses’ data to have some initial communication and works as a backup, so he only knows what they know.

He can speak with anyone with a Focus through its text-to-speech function by sending text messages to them - thus, people who don’t have a Focus only hear his Watcher noises. He can still communicate with other machines normally, so he also works as an information gatherer to help in missions and studies.

Second image:

Once a simple Watcher, now a super advanced mount and best friend of the Sobeck family.

Isaac's customizable body can adapt him to travel in any terrain, even underwater. He's able to reach high speeds at a low energy and heating cost - he's also lighter than it seems. His sleek, almost snake-ish, body shape makes maneuvering more dynamic for his rider.

His propulsors give him the ability to do long leaps and high jumps, helping the sisters get to places they wouldn't be able to reach by themselves. But a repetitive use of said skills in a short timespan can drain his energy and overheat him quickly.

Like his owners, he's not adept at using one single type of weapon. Isaac's tail ranged weapons and armor can be changed to better adapt to the situation. However, he hasn't developed efficient battle techniques yet, as he's still learning with the Sobecks. Note that his Sawtooth's sabers aren't intended to be used to fight but to climb and carry objects.

Melee Tail Weapons: Thunderjaw's tail, Stalker's tail blade, Stormbird's tail (also used to swim), Frostclaw's front paws.

Ranged Weapons: Thunderjaw's Disk Launcher, Ravager's Cannon, Scorcher's Mine Launcher, Bellowback's Snout.

Armors: Nora (stealth), Carja (speed), Oseran (tank), Banuk (damage), Old World (mixed).

Isaac is a mount adapted for two people: One is the rider, and the other is the cannoneer. He syncs with them through their Focuses, so his responses to their commands are more instantaneous. The rider directs Isaac where to go and when and how to use the tail weapon. Meanwhile, the cannoneer controls the ranged weapons and propulsors.

Only those who have a Focus can see his holographic face. The images shown are a collection of emojis the sisters found in Old World Ruins (which they update when they find more). His three "horns" also can move solemnly to make him more expressive.

Being composed of many different machine parts makes Isaac the first machine chimera to exist - still keeping the base shape of a Watcher, but huge. He was customized by the Sobecks little by little through the Cauldrons they visited on their first journey.

He can still stretch his neck like a Watcher can normally do.

His eye received enhancements to better aid the Sobecks in their daily life and journeys - such as infrared, thermic, and ultrasound visions.

He also has in his head a sound device to play audio files, such as music from the Old World, and a holoprojector.

[jubileemon]

Orihime's Powers and Representation

Orihime's power in regards to her characterization. Orihime is an idealist. She exists in a very violent world, yet refuses to fight unless she's under really terrible pressure. She used to see Ichigo as her Prince Charming, her Knight in Shining Armor, until she realized that is simply wasn't the case. The girl was pretty much living in her own little fantasy world to cope with her HUGE troubles, which is why yanking her out of it and making her face a reality so stange to her own left her so distraught. So what do her powers do exactly? Reject reality.

Also in regards to Orihime, the reason why Loly and Menoly hate her even more after she uses her Reality Warper powers to bring them back to life. is more complicated than just being two ungrateful sadists. To start, Hollows/Arrancar/Espada as a whole are beings that are born when souls don't cross to Soul Society and stay in our world, becoming corrupted with supernatural energies. And here, two Arrancar girls (Hollows who have removed their mask and gained Shinigami-like powers) have witnessed how a lowly human has the power to undo death, pretty much messing with everything they know about their own existence. What is a crowning moment for Orihime, in the view of these two girls (and especially Loly, who had a better look at all of this than Menoly since she was horribly mutilated by Grimmjow yet she was not dead) is like catching view of an abomination, which explains the whole "she's a monster" deal.

Hollows, beings that are born from death, despair and fear, are being faced with a being who can literally rewrite reality so that events do not occur. Taken in this context, Orihime is less like an angel of mercy to these two and more like a God from their perspective. A being whose nature and abilities are so alien that they outright defy explanation. Considering this, its understandable that they would react less than pleasantly to what happened to them.

Further to the above point on Orihime's character in relation to her powers — there's a very specific reason why Orihime actually used to be useless on the battle field, and it's not any kind of limit on her power. It's been heavily alluded to that Orihime's power is pretty much limited by her own imagination. Naturally, when it comes to helping people, her healing powers can reverse pretty much anything. However, think about who Orihime is. She wouldn't hurt a fly if she could help it. She can take down random Hollows like that mook that was attacking Tatsuki in the school because it's monstrous in appearance, and they'll hurt more people if she doesn't attack. Place a humanoid enemy in front of her, and will take her a while to see that she should consider them an enemy, and she simply cannot attack them unless it's really needed. This is why Tsubaki's power will always be the most limited of her set.

Actually, about Tsubaki... think about the Shiten Koushun aka Shield of Four Heavens' Resistance. How is it formed? Via adding Tsubaki to the Three God Reflection Shield, thus making him turn a defensive barrier into an offensive weapon. Tsubaki is the weakest of the six Rikka spirits as well as the one who's less like her, personality wise; and the ones forming the Reflection Shield (Hinagiku, Lilly and Baigon) are relatively similar to her in character. This means that, if she wants to join the battle effectively, Orihime must accept to use Tsubaki yet not by simply sending him off towards the enemy (like many of her haters want her to), but by integrating him to the side that she dominates the most. Only by using Tsubaki in combination with Hinagiku, Lily, and Baigon can she draw his attack potential... mirroring how Orihime must now fight alongside Ichigo, Chad, and others if she wants to not stay behind. Also, when was the Shiten Koushun seen first? When she and Ichigo were attacked by Ginjou. Who was actually a humanoid enemy (more exactly the formwr Substitute Shinigami, but we didn't know that back then, and neither did she). This means that Orihime either is working on the issue mentioned above or has already gotten past behind it.

As for her Santen Kesshun (Three God Reflection Shield)? It too, is not the fragile thing it seems to be. It is specifically stated to Reject an attack and its consequences. It stands to perfectly good reason that it doesn't matter if the shield shatters instantly or not — another can always be thrown up. What matters is that whether the shield shatters or not, it genuinely DOES reject the attack that hits it.

Furthermore, it actually makes a ton of sense that it shatters so easily, too. Orihime's powers are a form of reality warping, after all, being what Aizen calls "the Rejection of Events"; she's essentially the Queen of Retcons. When her base shield blocks an attack, it also retcons that attack out of existence. But then, that raises the question... if there was never any attack to block, then why would she even make a shield in the first place? The reason it shatters isn't that it's fragile; it's the shield disappearing in a Puff of Logic because the attack it was meant to block suddenly never existed in the first place.

As for her Santen Kesshun (Three God Reflection Shield)? It too, is not the fragile thing it seems to be. It is specifically stated to Reject an attack and its consequences. It stands to perfectly good reason that it doesn't matter if the shield shatters instantly or not — another can always be thrown up. What matters is that whether the shield shatters or not, it genuinely DOES reject the attack that hits it.

Furthermore, it actually makes a ton of sense that it shatters so easily, too. Orihime's powers are a form of reality warping, after all, being what Aizen calls "the Rejection of Events"; she's essentially the Queen of Retcons. Logically, when her base shield blocks an attack, it also retcons that attack out of existence. But then, that raises the question... if there was never any attack to block, then why would she even make a shield in the first place? The reason it shatters isn't that it's fragile; it's the shield disappearing because the attack it was meant to block suddenly never existed in the first place.

[epic-arc]

Guilt

Jaune would be at home alone sitting on the sofa with a thoughtful expression on his face, he would get up from the sofa and go to a shelf where there would be a photo of him with Pyrrha.

???: It wasn't her fault Jaune she couldn't control her powers she's just a child...

???: A child with powers that can destroy kingdoms, She has to stop and you already have a history of killing people with that type of power.

Jaune would leave the photo on the shelf and look around confused trying to find where those voices were coming from. After not being able to find it, he would sit on the sofa and feel a hand touching his shoulder and he would look and see that it was Pyrrha.

Pyrrha: She's just confused and scared, Jaune, and I know you can talk to her and convince her that what she's doing is wrong...

Jaune sighed and looked at Pyrrha with a tired expression on his face showing slight anxiety and fear.

Jaune: What if I'm not strong enough or she's gone too far…?

Jaune felt another hand touching his other shoulder but it would be heavier as if he were wearing armor, he would look to his left and see the rusted knight armor.

Rusted Knight: Well I know that you are strong and that she also deserves what is about happen to her. Do you know that among all your friends you are the only one who has the courage to kill someone or did you forget what you did to Penny?

Pyrrha got up and stood in front of the rusted knight who would do the same, thus both coming face to face with each other.

Pyrrha: Jaune isn't a killer or anything like that you're trying to suggest, he only killed Penny on the bridge because it was necessary so that Cinder wouldn't steal Maiden's powers.

Rusted Knight: You're right but maybe all those years those years in ever after maybe showed Jaune's true nature that sometimes we should kill than talk or I have to remember what happened to you to show him the right choice.

Rusted knight snapped his fingers thus changing the scene to a memory of Jaune where he would be Pyrrha Cinder and his daughter with Pyrrha, Cinder would be with Pyrrha against a tree pressing her neck and Jaune would be recovering from a blow until he would look at her daughter before a big flash of red light happens. He would wake up and see Cinder lying on the ground with burn marks and missing both legs and Pyrrha would be on the ground near the tree she was leaning on with a dead expression. Jaune would approach and hug Pyrrha's body and he would only hear his daughter apologizing while her eyes still had the flames of an active maiden.

Rusted Knight: You try to deny it to yourself using this fake pyrrha in your crazy head saying that it's not her fault but you know that deep down, deep down in your broken soul that all of this is her fault and that I'm the only person that can help you get rid of this feeling. Because I am you.

@spahhzy (I watched the boys)

[farshootergotme]

Alright, I'm back to this.

I already addressed in my reblog why Dick is considered to be an emotional support pillar in the Batfamily, not only for Bruce. Now I want to talk about this part in the og post, specifically:

"but. there have been instances where - like alfred - he enables bruce's behaviour and/or makes excuses for it."

I want to say that I agree. However, I want to elaborate on why I agree and why Dick could be considered an enabler.

Let's first define what enabling means to have that out of the way:

“The term "enabling" refers to the act of allowing or permitting someone to continue a behavior, habit, or addiction, often by providing support, resources, or excuses. Enabling can be both intentional and unintentional, and it can have a significant impact on the individual's life and relationships.”

So, at first, I didn't think Dick should be classified as an enabler since it isn't his responsibility to control what Bruce does. However, reading more about the subject, enabling includes taking on responsibilities for the other person and avoiding conflict by ignoring someone's harmful behavior or not putting any boundaries, which gives the other person the go-ahead to keep crossing those unspoken boundaries that you never really settled.

Although I would like to argue Dick does try to have some boundaries with Bruce, most of the time he lets him get away with lots of things he does to him. I mean, we know of the long history of abuse there is from Bruce to Dick, even if his actions are not always his fault/intentional. (See: mind-control, hypnosis, accidents, etc.)

I'd like to be corrected if I'm wrong, but I don't think there's a time in which Dick has directly addressed Bruce's not-so-great parental skills. Lack of safe environment for emotional vulnerability? Poor communication? Putting so much responsibility in the hands of a child? And I wouldn't say it is for not trying to make Bruce responsible. But when he was a child, confronting him about these things… Dick just wasn't suited for it. No matter how much insistence there might be from his part about them being equals, Bruce is and always was an authority figure. He was the owner of the manor, he was who had right over their equipment and the cave, he was the oldest—the parent, and Dick had no way to go against that without feeling like he was going to war in his underwear with a stick for weapon against a fully-armored warrior with shield and sword to attack.

And as an adult, having a discussion about any of this might be even harder because he's been since childhood rationalizing and excusing Bruce's behavior just so he could justify to himself why he couldn't say anything about it. Why he was letting himself get hurt without fighting back.

In his mind, Bruce always has some kind of reason. “He was traumatized”, “he was grieving”, “his parents had died when he was much too young, how could've he known better?”, “he tried his best”, “Dick understood Bruce better than anyone else, why would he need to communicate or show him affection when it's all hidden under the small gestures?” and it could go on and on.

That's where the excusing Bruce's behavior, thus enabling him, comes. This is where Bruce gets a pass because hey! He can't be blamed when it was a result of the circumstances! (But it does become a fault when he keeps going with the flow instead of trying to change the direction. “The circumstances” stops being an excuse when you're the one who contributed to them.)

And as the family grew, Dick started taking on more responsibilities for Bruce because Dick knows Bruce isn't apt to be everything the others would need. That lack of communication? Dick compensates by explaining for Bruce. The affection? Dick will give it to them. All the parentification? Brushed under the rug. Nobody notices (or ignores it) and it's a cycle of enabling Dick to be codependent and Bruce to be emotionally immature.

But despite all my previous points, Dick isn't always like this. He isn't letting things go everytime something happens. He isn't looking the other way to all the things Bruce does for his sake. In fact, out of all the kids, I'd say Dick is the one who's confronted Bruce the most.

Batman #416

The New Titans #55

Batman #600

Nightwing (1996) #99

Outsiders vol.3 #21

And although he excuses Bruce to himself, he does let others know about Bruce's harmful behavior and encourages them to set boundaries.

Batman: Urban Legends #10

Batman #416

So, in conclusion, Dick both is and isn't an enabler. He excuses Bruce as much as he doesn't. He ignores his faults but also confronts him about it. He allows him his flaws and he points them out.

What I'll say is that Dick isn't like Alfred in this aspect, but he does on occasion unintentionally enable Bruce, even if not always.

Now, Bruce and Dick aside, I want to have a section to talk about why I dislike using the term ‘enable’ when it comes to a parent-child relationship. (You can skip over this, just a personal opinion that I felt the need to share. But it isn't needed for my argument, so is just an extra to my post)

When a child ‘enables’ a parent it can mean a few different things:

Making excuses for their parent's behavior.

Taking on responsibilities.

Providing emotional support.

Ignoring the issue.

Accommodating the parent's needs.

These all cause the parent to avoid responsibility, have no consequences for their actions and have their own scapegoat and emotional support that will make it easier for them to avoid seeking help or attempting to become better due to the lack of repercussions to their actions.

However, it really isn't the child's responsibility to make the parent see where they're going wrong. It isn't their job to go “Hey, actually, you should get help because you aren't treating me like your child”. They aren't the ones who have to constantly communicate their needs and point out the shortcomings of the adult, so it always gives me this sense of wrongness when I use this word for these cases because, really, it's more about the parent enabling the child by permitting and encouraging the parentification of said child than the child enabling the parent to be an awful guardian.

Yet again, that's just my opinion. I can change what the word means and what it includes in its definition. But I can have and voice my thoughts about it and believe there should be a different way of calling it that doesn't make it sound like the child is the one at fault for their parents behavior.

[cursedtransby]

Don and her Identities

So there's a lot of theories and whatnot rolling around about what the reveal means, what it means for Don's character, and what it can mean for the future. But I'd like to take a lens back and see how it changes something fundamental to Don, because every sinner has identities, but none of them are as...drastically affected by what their Canto reveals as Don.

Spoilers under Cut

From here on out I'm referring to "Don Quixote?" as Bloodon for short. Also read @thelordofhats post about Murder on the W Express as I think they have a lot of good thoughts about Bloodon and the event in general.

Bloodon is present in the mirror worlds. We know that from Don having Rocinante in every one of them, including more armored groups like Hammer Und Nagel and T Corp. Wouldn't make sense for her to keep them otherwise. However Bloodon doesn't seem to change a lot about how we view the identities, but I'd like to posit that she makes a world of a difference in understanding Don's position in the world and why she is where she is in mirror worlds. Because there's something VERY specific that seems to clash ALL OTHER MIRROR WORLD DONS from LIMBUS DON. Rule following. In almost every other identity, Don is seen following the rules of some wing or finger or even the head itself as a general fixer. The most notable thing to point to is she isn't a part of the group most against rules, the TLA, unlike fellow problem children Ishy and Heath. We never see a "Kurokumo Hong Lu" situation where she's called out for bending or breaking the rules of those she works under. This is all despite her constantly doing it under Limbus Company (at least until Vergilius tells her to back off) Why is this? I believe it has to do with Bloodon's priorities when it comes to the Don we know and love.

First and foremost, keep her alive.

We've yet to see a sinner's backstory specifically call out Dante like this. Almost as if Dante was part of the contract for Don Quixote. It wouldn't make sense for her to say they were promised. Why Dante was part of the contract is important is up to interpretation. It's possible there's something more, that Bloodon is more aware of the stars like Demian, she wants Don to completely override her, or she is simply scared of death. Either way, she needs to live for long enough to see some change for herself and Don. Thus, she needs both of them alive, hence her primary goal being that.

Secondly, she wants happiness. Lust isn't her base ego's affinity for now reason. It's likely a core part of both Don and Bloodon. If Bloodon is miserable, then it's likely she wants to help herself out of that pit somehow. Likely by making her other self happy in ANY way.

We can see this manifest throughout the mirror worlds and how Bloodon is trying across them. In each world, Don has something she can say she is happy about. Let's go over a few key ones and the way the two rules interact.

W Don! Everyone's favorite depressed and OP don. Bloodon likely setup Don's role in W Corp because of her love of the Warp Trains and the company itself. It seems like a slam dunk. Secure meal everyday, safety being a employee of a wing, and Don is happy! But when Don learns the truth, she becomes far less happy about her position. However, leaving her job is extraordinarily dangerous, if not lethal outright. To leave her Wing means death for a mere fraction of a chance of finding more happiness. Aside from her second uptie chat, she is also quite happy in all of her voicelines, and we don't really get to see how she evolves and adapts to the reality of her otherwise comfy job. It's a bit rough, but Bloodon has to keep her alive, and being a W employee is a pretty safe gig (up until something goes wrong :)

The above mentality also applies well with T Corp and Shi. While Shi is a bit less safe, she's still a director of a numbered Fixer association. She's still fairly comfy, and most of her angst comes from her subordinates suffering and having to take the lives of random individuals (something she also suffers with in T Corp).

As for ones where everything aligns, we have plenty of examples of that. Middle, Lantern, and N Corp Don all are examples of Don being perfectly happy regardless of the morality or duties her job entails, as long as it's presented to her fantasies well. However, all of them still have her following some kind of rules, whether it be the Middle's or the Corps. It's very possible a Don without a leash in the form of Bloodon informing things could very easily fuck it up, and even if Don gets her dream job as a Cing director, she still can't save everyone she wants.

All of these identities illustrate the point that Don can't have it all. Risking her life for civilians means putting her neck on the line, and it's something Bloodon in the mirror worlds isn't setting up for her.

However, it's something Limbus Company can help her with. She can achieve her dreams of being a genuine hero in Limbus Company, because Limbus Company has solved many a problem for many a person. They've saved countless lives from the Time Ripper, helped resolve the distortion that is Papa Bongy, and slain the Pallid Whale. She can be the hero she dreams of...as long as she has enough power.

Consistently, Don has been shown that she can't make it in time or have enough power to save those she wants. We see it most prominently in her desire to save Pilot's crew, where the very laws of the ocean dictate that she did not make it in time. We also see it far more clearly the 'lacking' power in the Warp express.

She so badly WANTS to fix things. She's willing to sacrifice a thousand times over to make sure villains die and the innocent survive. But in this instance, and many others, she can't.

But someone else did. Bloodon was able to salvage the situation Don couldn't. And that's what I think Canto VII will be about.

The fact that, in order for Don to be consistently happy, she needs help to fight the fights she doesn't have a hope of winning. The fact that, in order for Don to build her future, Bloodon has to face the fears that her powers are a part of them both. Afterall, who ate that Warp employee hiding in the secret compartment?

[arachniee]

i. medical haywire

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ various! hazbin hotel x female seraphim! reader

જ⁀➴

summary: as the seraphim responsible for the management of heaven's medical areas, your days are mostly spent in the comfort of labs and clinics. though, those mudane days seem to shift into more interesting ones after meeting the princess of hell and her little group.

જ⁀➴

warnings: mentions of death, mentions of blood, too much caffeine intake, not proofread; there might be grammatical errors, all lowercase letters

જ⁀➴

heaven was as bright and bustling as ever, regardless of the time of day. whether it'd be the sun shining, or the moon. every corner of the city was filled with fun and joy, not a single hint of negativity. heaven was paradise, after all. a paradise that everyone wanted to get a taste of. it was the embodiment of dreams, everyone would agree. this was place that granted them a life that was worth living, even in the afterlife.

however, you wouldn't say that this was your dream. in the presence of the night, you remained unfazed as you continued with your work. eerie silence seeping into the laboratory room you were currently in, despite being all alone, this somehow bought you comfort instead of uneasiness. being surrounded by laboratory equipment and machinery, your attention shifted from the blood sample in your hands to the medical files on the metal table near you. it wasn't just any pile, almost every corner of that table was filled with piles and piles of folders almost the size of mountains.

after you received the report of an extermination angel's murder, you haven't slept in days. an angel was behead, that kept you up at night. each time you thought about it, your curiousity and thirst for knowledge were eating you up from the inside and out. you wanted to dwell deeper into the topic, but you still had medical areas to run. and with the recent news that you received about the extermination, you wanted nothing more than to just drown yourself in your own misery. every six months, really?

extermination angels return with more wounds than what others would expect. and with thousands of them returning with injuries that range from scratches to more notable wounds, the extermination is something you do not look forward to dealing with. you are definitely not surprised, these sadistic fuckers are too overconfident in their own actions, lacking in armor and more driven to attack, and because of that, you're the one who has to suffer with treating them.

and now that those demons know what they can do to angels, you're expecting more bloodshed during extermination. and that means more work. and not mention that the extermination angels should be in the best condition possible to participate, thus, you have to monitor all of them regularly. and with your more 'common' patients, the residents of the city, you haven't seen and felt daylight nor the moonlight in who knows how long now. you haven't even slept yet, only taking naps here and there that only last around half an hour or so.

as you checked your watch, you noted that the project you were currently working on would have to be continued in the next few hours instead. you followed quite a strict and busy schedule, which is not surprising for one of the highest of seraphims. you tidied up the lab a bit, rummaging through the almost endless amount of files and folders, grabbing a few before your eyes fell onto a folder that had a letter "v" in the middle. you momentarily paused your actions, frozen in place as you stared at it. you eventually pushed it aside and grabbed the files under it before you stood and made your way out, turning off the lights and locking the door.

the halls were dimly lit, casting an unsettling sense of uneasiness. though, you walked through them without a care in the world, this was heaven after all, no one would harm you here. each door you passed was dark and disturbing, expected as it was almost two o'clock in the morning. your steps echoed down the empty halls as you walked to the laboratory's cafeteria. your last caffeine intake was almost an hour ago, you need to grab another mug before you collapsed with more work piled up on your desk the next morning.

unsurprisingly, the lights were still on in the cafeteria since the cooks would usually prepare the food early in the morning. you had to commend them for their dedication though. as you entered the kitchen area, you were greeted warmly by the workers, you nodded at them in acknowledgement, greeting them as well, though with a little less energy. they understood why, and they were grateful for your dedication to your job as well. it must be hard to keep everyone in check, managing a lot of stuff all at once. before you could reach one of the coffee makers, one of the newer staff members extended a mug of steaming, hot coffee into your reach with smile. you looked at them with raised eyebrows and tired eyes, the young angel just wanted to express his admiration, and maybe this was the way that he thought you would appreciate the most at the moment. maybe he was right, so you gently took the mug from his hands, careful not to spill any onto him.

he visibly beamed at you when you expressed your gratitude by muttering a small 'thank you', hoping that he, even in the slightest way possible, was able to help your mood and tiredness. you stayed in the cafeteria for a few more minutes before you had to go back to work. the young angel's mood dampened a little bit, but he understood and bid you goodluck with a smile. after that unintentional break you had, you walked to your office, a little more energetic now, was it because of the caffeine or the interaction you had with the young man? you're not sure. he reminded you of an old friend you had, but you shook those thoughts away as your office finally came in sight.

you were slightly surprised to see someone standing at your door, their knuckles knocking onto the door. you were always told you had such light, unaudible steps, now you realized how right they were. if you hadn't spoke, this person wouldn't have heard your arrival. even in the dark hallways, you were able to make out the person's appearance, and you didn't quite expect to see her here, especially at this hour.

"emily?"

you stated, your voice was somewhat husky, you figured it was because you hadn't interacted and spoke to someone in who knows how many days due to your work. the young seraphim slightly jumped at your voice, not expecting you to appear right beside her in the dark. she let out a nervous laugh, she was jittery, you could tell with how she played with her fingers and avoided eye contact. and when she finally spoke, you knew your hunch was correct.

"h-hey! no wonder no one was answering me, i thought you fell asleep in your office again!"

her smile was strained, it was quite obvious. you didn't question her as you gestured for her to enter your office with you. you placed the files you were carrying on the table, taking another sip of the coffee in your other hand as you nodded your head to one of the chairs, emily understood and with unsure movements, she sat down on the chair in front of your table. the atmosphere was tense, you could tell. she couldn't seem to stay still in her seat, eyes darting all around the room. the silence was deafening, though you wanted to break it yourself, you didn't want to overstep boundaries and ask her directly about why she was acting so... troubled. and it didn't take long before she took a deep breath and spoke.

"i heard there's going to be a meeting with the princess of hell."

her voice was quiet, but to you, it was loud and clear. you knew about the meeting, of course. sera and the others have informed you about this meeting a few days ago. you were one of the most important figures of heaven, so your presence there was mandatory. and you weren't surprised that emily knew about this meeting, as she herself was also a seraphim. though you wondered why she spoke of the meeting in such a tone. you expected her to be happy, especially since you knew of her curiousity about hell and the demons who reside in it. as you stared at the file in your hands, you gave a brief glance to her as an acknowledgement to continue. she hesitated for a few seconds before she eventually spoke again.

"sera didn't tell me. no one did. if i hadn't passed by and accidently heard them talk about it, i wouldn't have known."

at her words, you finally lifted your gaze. she wore a sad expression, her eyebrows low and down as her lips were. she seemed visibly upset. yeah, maybe sera was going to tell her and was about to do so, but the meeting is in two days. usually, sera would speak to her about the meetings at least a week before they were held. and when she found out that the meeting is on the day after tomorrow, she had her doubts that sera would tell her. maybe it was childish, but to emily, she thought that she at least had to be informed, she wanted to help her sister, in the preparation and such. but with how sera didn't tell her, nor did anyone, she figured that they may have not wanted her to attend and join, nonetheless know, about the meeting.

"she knows how much i want to know about hell, so why didn't she tell me? am i not allowed to join the meeting?"

you knew why sera didn't want her to know about it. yet you knew that you aren't the one in the place to tell emily any of those reasons. you knew the answer to both of the young seraphim's questions, but you made no move to answer them. that was not for you to tell. you didn't want her relationship with sera to be waned by whatever may happen during that meeting, and you understood why the older seraphim made an effort to ensure that emily doesn't know about it.

you didn't want to give emily any false hope, but you wanted to do what you could to make her feel better. so instead of giving her a sure answer, your eyes fell back on the file in your hand before you spoke.

"i will speak to her about it."

your reply didn't gurantee her anything, but as soon as she heard those words from you, she immediately smiled and brightened up. you and sera are very good friends, yes, but sera held onto her duties and responsibilities with an iron grip. and if one of those involved emily's safety, you knew convincing her wasn't going to be an easy task.

if it were anyone else, emily was sure that sera would just dismiss them, claiming that she was doing the right thing, but if it were you, then there's a silver of hope. she's beyond grateful that she had a friend like you, someone she could open to about all this. though, this all felt foreign to her. the feeling of not being included.

chants that vary from 'thank you's and 'you're the best's echoed in the room, emily was practically bouncing in her seat from the excitement. you were satisfied that you were able to bring up her mood, even just a little bit. the conversation continued, mostly from emily. she told you all about the events yesterday, rambling about random things. you would nod to her statements, eyes still focused on the tasks that need to be done. as soon as she started talking a little slower and quieter, you lifted your eyes to see a half-awake seraphim, blinking in and out of sleep. your initial thought was to offer her a drink of your coffee to stay awake, though as a doctor, you knew very well not to do so, that would be ridiculous with your title and knowledge in health.

you advised her to rest, letting her know that you would inform sera of her whereabouts soon. emily couldn't really make out what you were saying anymore, so she just nodded her head along with each word that escaped you. oh, how the tables have turned. you shook your head with a small smile before you stood up from your seat, making your way around the table. gently, you scooped the young seraphim up into your arms in bridal style, adjusting your hold on her to make sure she wasn't uncomfortable, and after the softest of snores left her, you knew.

as you reached one of the couches in your office, you gently laid her limp, sleeping form. you didn't really have any blankets here, as you never really sleep here (and you never expected anyone else to). so you just took off the dark blazer you had on, leaving you in your white dress shirt. your clothes were no doubt expensive, the sublte but intricately made accents in your favorite color.

you turn away momentarily to glance at your watch, it was almost five in the morning. as hectic as your schedule is, you have more work in half an hour, so you had to get ready to go back in the lab. you wrote a small goodmorning note to emily after grabbing a piece of paper and a pen, leaving the neatly folded note on the coffee table in front of the couch, you may or may not have also put a few candies as well. after hearing a satisfying pop from your stretched limbs, you braced yourself for another day of war. war against tiredness and work. but now you also had to add the little promise you had made to emily, you'll have to converse with sera soon.

a knock came from the door, one of the nurses on shift informing you that adam requested to meet with you at 8 am today. you pinched the bridge of your nose, already feeling the in coming headache. when will you ever catch a break?

[brain-rot-central]

Sonnet of the Lone Cardinal, Ch. 7

A/N: *Full warning: we have depictions of nail picking and a panic attack in this chapter.* Alright everyone, we gettin' into it now. This chapter is how Tav feels about Astarion and the entire situation, thus far. She also pieces together a lot about what's going on and starts planning ahead. Happy reading! Rating: Mature Word count: 3.6k Pairing: Ascended Astarion x Female Tav (DU, named) Warnings: 18+, nail picking, panic attacks, unhealthy relationship Summary: Tav returns to her room to begin preparing for the evening's event with Magdalena waiting for her at her door. Tav quickly realizes that not everything is quite as it seems.

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It's late afternoon by the time the tailor finishes the dress. He heeds Tav’s request to keep extra fabric around the waist and with the dress in hand, she returns to her room to prepare for the ball. 

As she rounds the corner, Tav is surprised to see Magdalena waiting for her by the door. The woman holds two boxes within her hands: a velvet jewelry box and a shoebox. Somewhat unsettled, Tav gives the woman a warm greeting as she ushers her inside, closing the door behind them.

As Tav rests the dress over the back of a chair, Magdalena suddenly rushes to her. “Oh, I simply adore the color!” she exclaims. Magdalena places the boxes atop the vanity and picks up the dress, holding it out before her. Light dances over the rich green hue of the satin fabric, and Magdalena is simply in awe. “It matches your eyes, my lady,” she adds, looking over her shoulder.

She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, giving a soft chuckle. “Yes,” Tav agrees shyly, “so I've been told. Astarion insisted on the color for that reason.”

“Well, the young Master has always had a keen sense of fashion. This dress will pair wonderfully with the accessories he’s chosen,” declares Magdalena with a confident nod of her head.

Raising her hands to her head, Tav gives the older woman a questioning glance. Auburn locks cascade down Tav’s shoulders as she unravels her hair tie. She takes a moment to run a hand through her hair, shaking it between her fingers. Tav tosses her hair to the other side of her face as she meets Magdalena’s eyes. “More gifts from Astarion?” she inquires, tilting her head in the direction of the boxes.

“Indeed they are,” Magdalena says, carefully laying the dress on the back of the chair. She gathers the accessory boxes and makes her way to Tav, who is now sitting on the bed. “Earrings with a matching necklace,” she explains jovially, “and a pair of shoes to complete the ensemble.”

Tav stares at the boxes and her mouth turns upwards. He means to doll me up further? she relents, mood deflating. 

Astarion knows how much she dislikes this type of thing, so why bother? The gaudy, flashy jewelry. The clothing, shoes, handbags, hats… She'd feel more at ease in a suit of armor, pulling a sword off her back. 

That's probably not the most appropriate attire for a gala, however. 

She prays Magdalena hasn't brought makeup – Tav simply loathes the feeling of her skin suffocating under layers of concealer and powder. She bites her inner lip as she continues gazing at the accessories, contemplating. 

Well, perhaps a little mascara wouldn't hurt, she concedes. Eyeliner, too. So long as her freckles remain visible, she's satisfied. 

They pepper the tops of her shoulders and her breasts, as well as stretch across the bridge of her nose. A compliment to the permanent summer tan of her complexion, and it often leaves Tav pondering her origins. Though, the thought usually fades as fast as it forms.

Astarion noticed them not long after they started their affair. The nights they'd spend in his tent often left one, or both of them, shirtless and bare from the waist down.

He traces a pattern into her back with a single digit. The pressure isn't too much, really. Yet, it's enough to draw her out of her concentration from the journal in her lap. 

‘What are you doing?’ she asks, coarsely. Curse her short temper; Tav has no reason to anger at this situation, yet she feels the embers being stoked from below.

Astarion sits behind her, having just recently fed. There's a bloodstained rag laying next to his pile of throw pillows, and a throb deep in her neck.

‘Your skin, dear,’ Astarion says while dragging a finger across her bare shoulder, ‘is entirely covered with freckles.’

Tav quirks her brow, looking over her shoulder at him. ‘You have them too, you know. Across your face. And a little on your shoulders.’ Her neck protests the movement, but she'll live.

‘So I've been told,’ he agrees, ‘but you have enough to trace patterns with.’

She doesn't answer. Tav simply chuckles and resumes writing in her journal, adjusting her posture slightly. The violent urges are subsiding. She finds comfort in the fact that he means only to appreciate her form, not turn it into a spectacle.

After a moment, Astarion asks, ‘Would you like me to stop?’

‘Of course not,’ she answers, affectionately. ‘It feels good, actually.’

Astarion smiles and resumes his tracing, now with two fingers instead of one.

Tav never realizes what he etched into her skin until much, much later. She'd already lost him, by then. As she closes her eyes, she feels the ghost of his fingers passing over her shoulder even now.

I love you.

She stands in the bedroom, lost in thought. The fingers of one hand find a hangnail on the other.

Pick.

Would he have resisted, had she realized his feelings sooner? Would she have been stronger in her efforts to stop him? Could she have saved him? 

The far-from-innocent but budding man he was becoming, just starting to see how much light there is in the world. Only to end up swallowed whole by the depths of his own despair, his own lust for power blinding him. His fear, his desire for control.

Tav begins to chew the inside of her cheek.

Pick, pick.

Ultimately… she failed him. Stood there, frozen, watching helplessly as he let himself be consumed by all he fought so hard to escape.

I'm doing this for us, too, you know, Astarion had told her. 

He destroyed himself for them. For her.

The intensity of her finger picking increases, succeeding in ripping the hangnail out from the bed. The faint scent of blood fills her nostrils and she looks down, watching a small well of crimson pools within her cuticle.

Tav should have stopped him. Should have extended a hand to him sooner. She should have been more aware of his internal struggle. Because if she did, she could have pulled him back from the edge. Told him how much she cared for the man he was. If she did, they wouldn't be in this situation. Things wouldn't be like this, and they'd be happy. They'd be together, in love, and rejoicing over becoming parents, and–

“Lady Tavaria?”

The voice is Magdalena's, and suddenly the world snaps back into focus. She doesn't remember when she veered off, but she's thankful for the redirection. 

“I'm sorry,” Tav offers as she gathers herself. She sucks the bloodied finger against her mouth, extending her opposite hand toward the woman. “May I see the jewelry box, please?” she asks.

Magdalena hesitates as though to ask a question, but places the velvet box in Tav’s hand without further discussion. Tav opens the long, rectangular box; a gasp escapes her as she looks inside.

A diamond gold tennis necklace, with a pair of matching diamond earrings, lies within. Tav rotates the box, watching intently as the gems shimmer against the candlelight. Solid white reflects off the diamonds.

They're real.

Not only are they real, but their quality is about the highest one could find.

“He… He can't expect me to wear these, can he?” Tav asks, lifting her head to Magdalena. “These cost tens of thousands of gold!” Her chest burns; an uneasiness begins to take root within her. Something feels wrong about this, but she can't quite place her finger on why.

“I believe he does,” answers Magdalena, seemingly unbothered. She places the shoebox next to Tav, removing the lid. “I had a peak at everything before coming in,” she admits with a short laugh. “Lord Ancunín truly has such wonderful taste.”

The shoes are golden in color with a slight sparkle. Not too blinding, but it's noticeable when held up to the light. There are no elaborate straps or designs; they're a simple pair of slip-on dress shoes with a modest heel, no higher than two inches.

“Doesn't want me to be taller than him, does he?” Tav remarks between a chuckle of her own, desperate to hide some of the building tension. Both her and Magdalena exchange a strained smile as Tav reaches into the shoebox, grabbing a single shoe. She then takes the jewelry box with her opposite hand and heads to the mirror over the vanity.

The uneasiness in her chest is beginning to make sense. Why all of this seems… tainted. Almost soul-less. This should bring her insurmountable amounts of joy, to have someone treat her so well. But as she opens the jewelry box and pulls out the tennis necklace, placing it to her chest, she understands.

‘He's trying to buy my affections.’

Instead of having the difficult conversation about what happened the evening before, Astarion means to express all he cannot say through lavish gifts. It all feels rather… cheap, to Tav. A cop-out. Disrespectful, even, that she isn't worth the effort of having such a heavy conversation.

However, it dawns on her that Astarion may not be capable of having that discussion with her. That he lacks the emotional competency to navigate those feelings appropriately. So, instead, he places those feelings into gifts or actions, constantly skirting around vulnerability of any kind.

Her heart falls a bit deeper in her chest, and she rests the jewelry and the shoe on the vanity before turning to Magdalena. “They're all rather lovely,” Tav remarks, painting her best smile widely across her face.

The servant smirks and narrows her gaze. She clasps her hands over her lower abdomen, and says, “Yet something still troubles you?”

The metaphorical weight on her chest is crushing, and Tav contemplates expressing all in that very moment. Yet, a quick flash of her memory reminds her of Astarion's influence over the woman. 

“These past few days have given me much to consider,” Tav expresses, modestly. She longs for the ability to speak plainly, but knows better than to do so here. Not when Astarion has such strong influence over this woman.

Almost as expected, Magdalena's eyes glow, signaling her communing with Astarion. The light fades just as quickly as it appeared, and Magdalena then walks toward the washroom. “I’m sure you have much to discuss with Lord Ancunín,” she offers in acknowledgement. Yet, she’s unphased by Tav’s admission, quickly brushing it off as she says, “But right now, we absolutely must get you ready!”

The woman's aloofness is baffling to Tav. It's inconsistent with her prior behavior. But as Tav settles her gaze on Magdalena’s face, she finds the maid’s signature smile on display. 

And like the spark of a flame igniting, the puzzle pieces finally come together. Her stomach sinks. Her heart races.

He instructed Magdalena to drop the matter. 

He directed Magdalena to continue getting her ready.

Magdalena's kindness is a veil, subject to Astarion's whims. She will be as cold or as warm as Astarion commands. None of this is honest. As long as she stays within the manor, Tav will never be free. She will always be under Astarion's watchful gaze, directly or through surrogate means.

He will always know everything.

The gears in her head begin turning, almost on pure instinct. As if searching through an archive, Tav finally settles on something to challenge her current mindset.

‘But what is his greatest weakness?’ she asks herself.

“Of course,” Tav answers, sullenly, “though if you don't mind, I'd like to prepare on my own.” She looks intently at Magdalena.

‘His fear.’

Fear of the unknown, of lack of control. Fear that she will leave, reject him, despite all he's done thus far.

Tav knows Astarion; understands his heart as if it's a mirror image of her own. Fear drives almost everything he does, including his current treatment of her. It's an overcompensation for all he cannot do. Words he can never express.

The maid pauses for a brief moment, contemplating Tav’s request. Tav expects Magdalena's eyes to glow once again, but to her surprise, they never do. If Magdalena did speak with Astarion again, it was so subtle that she missed it. Her face only holds the stain of disappointment.

“As you wish, Lady Tavaria,” Magdalena says with a hint of uncertainty. “I'll be here to assist, have you any need of me.” She looks back toward Tav, taking a small bow, then exits the small bedroom.

As soon as Tav hears the door click shut, she sighs, clasping a hand over her chest. Her heart beats wildly against her ribcage, the adrenaline finally taking over. She can only remain stoic for so long before the panic sets in.

The cracks in her foundation are starting to grow, wider and fatter. The countdown to the collapse has begun.

Tav isn't being dishonest. These last few days have given her too much to consider. In fact, it's more like the last few weeks that have her head spinning. Months, even.

Astarion returning was enough to throw her off-kilter. All the effort she put in trying to right herself after the end of their relationship. The gaping wound it left within her chest, the scar still aching even now. 

But a few months of passion softened that scar and she found herself letting him back in, against her better judgment. She became accustomed to being deceitful when asked about her love life in order to hide her shame, only to fall pregnant with a child that could spell the ruin of all of Faerûn, if her Father demands it.

Tav rushes to the washroom, her throat tightening. Heat creeps up her face and her vision narrows. She sparks the flame to the oil lamp above the mirror and immediately opens the faucet. Gathering cold water in her palms, Tav splashes the flushed skin of her face. The water acts as a soothing balm, her mouth hanging open as she drags a hand down the front of her face.

It's not like her to play the fool for anyone. She’s usually the one with answers to everything. She's the fearless leader. She's in command.

Icy cold water drips from her brows, rolling down her cheeks, and she shuts off the water. As it drips onto her chest, she feels her heartbeat slowing.

But Astarion is different. She can hold him, but like a feral alley cat, he's skittish. Never staying in one place for too long. Divulging only choice pieces of a story to spin the type of narrative he wants to put forth. He wears so many different faces that it's hard to ascertain which is truly his. And it has her dipping her hands into the pot deeper each time, desperate to reach the bottom she knows exists.

Especially now.

Tav stares at herself in the mirror, her reflection looking back. Bags sit heavy under her eyes; a testament to her exhaustion. The bruise on her neck is better, though still visible up close. 

There was a time before all of this when she could easily admit to her beauty. Probably not winning any pageants, but she could hold her own just fine. Use it to her advantage, if the situation called for it. 

Tav doesn't remember much from before the Nautiloid, but she does see the drastic difference in her appearance now. Her hair is longer. Her bangs have grown out, the ringlets not as tight. Tav leans toward the mirror and tilts her head, wincing. She watches as crow's feet appear within the creases of her eyes.

She looks… older. Almost unrecognizable.

The Illithid War either aged her, or the child in her belly isn't shying away from having their fill. Which, given their paternity, is highly likely.

Tav stands straight, raising her hands to her head. She sections a part of her hair in the front and folds it over her forehead, replicating the bangs she had when they'd all first met. She sighs.

There's very little she can do about the passage of time. She's human, and is bound to show signs of aging at this point in her life. If asked, Tav would say she's in her late twenties, or perhaps even her early thirties. That part of her memory hasn't fully returned to her, though she can say with certainty that she's somewhere around that age.

The funny thing about time, she's learned, is that time marches ever forward to the beat of its own drum. There's little point in fighting it. All anyone can ever do is try their best to keep up.

Letting her hair fall back into place, Tav opens the cabinet behind the mirror. It's filled with various small dropper bottles, but on the middle shelf lay a pair of steel scissors. Her mouth shifts into a curious pout as she contemplates the shears. Tav closes the medicine cabinet, once again sectioning her hair and observing herself in the mirror.

In a split decision, she agrees to cut her hair. 

It's a risk, being so close to the event. But she cares not – she hears the direction as clear as someone's voice in her ear. And she follows the compulsion.

Tav dips her head into the sink basin and turns on the spout again. She wets the front of her hair, then parts it down the middle. Turning off the faucet, Tav then retrieves the scissors from the cabinet, slowly bringing them to her hair.

And with a breath, she begins to cut.

Strands of hair fall freely into the sink basin. She cuts perpendicular, creating a curtain-like effect. As she descends, Tav blends the bangs into the rest of her hair with face-framing layers.

She's suddenly met with a familiar face, of a woman she's seen before. One that she’s come to know very well. The lone warrior who faced countless foes without question, putting them to the sword and wearing their blood as ritualistic war paint.

The wicked child of Bhaal; a harbinger of murder.

A woman who fears no one.

Shaking out her hair, Tav smiles. A simple haircut isn’t enough to rid her of the deep ache in her chest, but it certainly soothes the burn. She lifts her face again, focusing her attention to her neck. The mark left by Astarion is fading, though it still screams loudly. Still boasts ownership, possession, of her.

Her stomach twists at the sight.

Concealer and foundation have their places, too, she realizes and she's ever grateful for their existence, at this moment.

She turns to the tub and opens the valve. Clean water flows endlessly into the basin and almost instantly, she's mesmerized. 

The palace hosts riches, plumbing, and an endless supply of fresh food. Servants who wait on you hand and foot, and is home to one of the most handsome bachelors in Baldur's Gate.

She could have everything, should she choose to stay here. She would never have to work again, never do a single thing for herself ever again.

But at what price? How much of a blind eye would she need to turn? 

Would it be expected of her to be seen and never heard? Is she to stand as a trophy on Astarion's arm, never to speak her mind again? Does he seek to extinguish her flame so he shines brightest?

The sound of water pounds loudly in her ears.

She would have everything, yes… but nothing that she wants. Her choices would be dictated solely by Astarion, as they are for Magdalena. As they are for every servant of the manor.

Exactly as he wants it.

She regains focus, shaking her head some, and reaches to shut off the tub’s valve. 

Astarion has changed, she realizes. He boasts an air of confidence, of a debonair. But within, he's frail. He now relies on the faux control that comes from the bottom of a wine bottle, forever a drink in hand. Without it, he's unstable. Out of place. She saw proof of it down in the crypts as his body began to warp before her eyes.

Awkward and struggling. He's desperate to hide that side of him – how the ascension may have done more than grant him insurmountable power. Of all that lay behind the mask he wears.

Quickly stripping herself of her garments, Tav steps into the tub. She lowers herself gently into the water and leans against the wall of the tub. Her hands rest over her stomach, rubbing up and down over the soft bump that grows with each passing day. The tension bleeds from her muscles as she gives into the warm embrace of the water.

Tav knows what needs to be done. 

She'll play along this evening. Act the part of the trophy wife, the bed warmer, the painted doll. She'll be as alluring as possible; even fuck him, if that's what he wants. Though, it’d be dishonest to say she doesn't want that, too.

Yet… she could always just leave. Avoid this entire ordeal. 

Astarion isn't keeping her here. In fact, he's left that as an option knowing she'd be less likely to entertain it, should he give it to her freely. It's a display of reverse psychology. An illusion of choice.

Once she speaks with Wyll, she'll be more confident in her decision. Tav knows the likely outcome is to leave, but perhaps her conversation with Wyll tonight reveals information she can use toward confronting Astarion directly. Hopefully she can drive some sense into that dastardly head of his.

And perhaps, depending on how their conversation goes… she’ll finally tell him about their child.

[yetanothergreyjedi]

Ghosts of Our Pasts

DP x DC crossover

Danny Fenton and Damian Wayne sibling AU

Parts 1 & 2. Part 4 Part 5

Part 3: Before

"You are not my brothers!" Their newest brother shouted. They were used to this by now. Once Damian had stopped actively trying to kill them for dominance or whatever, they'd taken to domesticating him like feral kitten. He was a lot more hiss than he was claw. And as long as they didn't push too far, he just got more comfortable with them. Except, of course, when they referred to him as family.

"Yes we are," Someone quipped back, and Damian's face grew stormy.

"You. Are. Not." Damian snarled. "I had a brother. You will not replace him!" They all froze with the revelation, and Damian took that time to throw down his Robin gear and storm out of the room.

He'd had a brother. The league had tucked away, not one, but two?!? And they had killed one, or gotten them killed or— it was no use to speculate, they didn't know what happened.

"I'll talk to him," Dick volunteered, before he started to spiral. No one responded, probably because they'd started a spiral of their own.

___

Damian wasn’t hiding. Well, from a civilian's perspective, he might be. He felt like hiding, but this was not an appropriate situation to hide from. Thus, he stayed in a place someone with League of Assassin training, and his b— his father’s other children would find completely obvious.

It was Grayson who found and silently sat down next to him. He didn't ask, and that was better because Damian didn't have to say anything, but it was worse because he needed to say something, and now he couldn’t hide behind a resistance to interrogation.

"He would've loved it here." Damian admitted.

Grayson leaned ever so slightly into him. "What was he like?"

___

Danyal laughed as he ran down the hall, enjoying the moment while he could before the inevitable he'll to pay. He'd been seen, but hadn't been caught, so his self imposed mission was successful.

It was a harmless prank, but an action suitably beneath an heir to the Demon. It should be enough. Damian wouldn't fail, but he feared he would; now, even if he drastically missed his mark he'd still have a reason for grandfather to keep him around.

If Dany had known he was setting the mark his brothers would be held to, he would've held back. He did now. He sprinted on the razors edge of acceptable performance and excellence. Hopefully, it would last long enough to put his plan into motion.

___

Damian told him about the older brother who loved the stars, played secret games, got into odd kinds of trouble, and was the best at everything. Dick got a sense of how young Damian must've been when he'd died. There was also something missing in the stories, but Dick didn't push. This was a rare bit of vulnerability, and he wasn’t going to risk it.

They missed patrol that night, and later shared those stories with the rest of their siblings. They morned the brother they'd never meet, and eventually Damian called them brothers too.

But one phrase from that night still haunted Dick;

"He would've gotten us here years ago... if it weren't for me..."

Dick never did ask, he wasn't sure he wanted to know the details.

___

Danyal layed there for an eternity. If he moved too soon, he'd risk Damian turning around, if he waited too long, he'd bleed out. Would Damian turn around? Would he apologize and help him up? Would he come back to finish him off? Had his brother intended a slow kill to make him suffer, or to let him escape? Maybe Damian hadn't accounted for the light armor beneath his clothes?

He waited a half an eternity longer, then forced himself to his feet. He managed a few steps before pain and dizziness toppled him again. Up. Step. Step. Down. Up. Step. Down. Crawling managed more distance, but left a more obvious trail. It wouldn’t get him out of here. He would die here. Unless...

___

Jazz wanted to be mad at the boy who was now her brother. Her parents had barely left the lab since he'd offered a glowing green vial in exchange for a home.

It was his fault they'd forgotten about her, but only this time. Last time is was the old woman convinced her husband was still in the house. The time before that it had been a beeping box that went off whenever it was pointed to close to an electrical line. It would only be proof until it wasn’t, and then she'd have her parents back until someone brought the next new toy. It was his fault this time. He stood in the living room in his borrowed clothes like furniture was a foreign concept. She sighed, grabbed a washcloth and ran it under warm water. It was hard to be mad at someone who'd shown up looking like they'd escaped a serial killer.

He didn't startle as she approached and she realized he'd been watching her. Well, no backing out now.

"Here," She held it out to him, "you have dried blood behind your ear."

"Oh," He ducked his head and started scrubbing. She waited for him to finish and showed him where to put the dirty laundry. She had a little brother now, and their parents had forgotten them both again.

_

_

_

💕

In this AU, Jazz is 13 when Danny arrives. She already thinks that psychology is interesting, but she only starts diving deep into it after Danny shows up.

If you guys have any comments or questions, I'd love to hear them. This was a one part thing until you asked questions and started thinking about the answers.

Tag list:

@spectralstardustandphantomnights @avelnfear @idfk-man10 @blackroserelina @candeartist422 @mur-ururu @luer-mirin @insufferablecrab @skulld3mort-1fan @alonedustspeck @voidbornposts @meira-3919 @marshmelloe @aethernorwood @mimilikey @undead-essence

Dears, I love you, but you really need to change your profile pic to anything that isn't the default because I thought you were bots. I legitimately almost blocked you on reflex because I'm getting so many right now.

@the-winds-of-kushala and @spectralstardustandphantomnights thank you both for your lovely title suggestions

💕

[fablefan]

What the Heck is the Golden Guard Actually Wearing: A Speculative Guide

So a long while ago, I was talking in a Discord server with a few others about what Hunter's GG uniform might actually be composed of, since apparently a lot of the fandom seems to interpret it as a kind of tunic. With the finale of the show sending us all into tears, I thought I'd take a break from the heartache and explain my theories.

(This might be long, so I'll put pictures in when I can)

So to start with, let's actually begin not with his uniform, but what's underneath it, as seen above.

(So scary, truly)

Now, while some people headcanoned this as a binder (and I'm not one to bash on people's ideas), I think it's actually a kind of brigandine!

(Note the length, the buckles going down the front, and the leather straps going over the shoulders)

This was a kind of armor that knights or soldiers wore, composed of strips of metal fastened between two pieces of heavy cloth or leather to make a vest. It was handy to have because it was fairly durable and lightweight, and offered decent protection without needing all the fancy welding required for full-plate armor.

It was worn on top of a tunic (like he does in the photo), and was usually sleeveless, though it sometimes could come with arm and shoulder protection.

Now, I confess, a brigandine wouldn't normally be worn under armor (too many layers and padding), but that leads us to Hunter's actual uniform!

(Angry cat / big brother energy intensifies)

So while the cloak and pin are common enough that even most civilians in medieval times wore them, this isn't one solid tunic piece -- it's plate mail!

Now, to get the basics out of the way, that little shoulder guard he's wearing is called a pauldron, and was used to keep your opposing, non-dominant side safe when jousting. Knights would normally only wear one, as two would be cumbersome, and holding your lance under one was uncomfortable and impractical.

(It also makes an adequate perch for little bird palismen)

That duller yellow color Hunter wears is the undershirt knights would wear under their armor (for extra padding against chafing and some extra protection). While this historically would be a gamberson (or aketon, depends on who you ask), a thick, quilted fabric shirt, it'd be too bulky for the plate mail he's wearing, amidst other things.

Instead, he might be wearing an arming shirt!

Also referred to as an arming doublet (again, depends on who you ask), these were made later as a thin kind of form-fitting shirt that was more flexible and allowed for ease of motion when wearing armor. Sometimes chain mail was sewn into more vulnerable areas for coverage, like between the legs and the armpits (like you can kinda see in the first pic).

(Also, take notice of the higher sides of the collar, which you can also see under Hunter's cape)

The brighter gold armor he wears is, from what I can tell, not full plate mail, but a kind of cuirass!

These were chest plates that covered both the front and back of a knight without needing all the extras of armor, and could be worn with an arming shirt or chainmail.

They also usually came with hip guards -- those little strips by his pelvis -- and were special attachments called faulds, useful for keeping those areas safe without making things too bulky.

And there you have it! Hope this helps with your art and writing, and thus concluding

✨Weird History With Fable✨

[intimidating-fettuccine]

It's a stupid question, but... have you seen those romantic cliches where the new person ends up getting lost in a new/unknown place, and suddenly meets a person who already has experience in that place and asks for help?

So I wanted to know if you could write a scenario/headcanons where the reader has just arrived at the mansion, but ends up lost and ends up meeting Jason who was just passing by and ends up asking him for help?

~jason simp anon

Pd: It's a pleasure to be back :D

Welcome back! I thought this ask was very cute, so thank you for sending it in, and I hope you enjoy :)

The path to the mansion can be a bit tricky for those not used to it yet. While there is a clear path, it often gets covered by leaves and branches from the many trees spanning above, and it certainly doesn't help that there are other paths that lead to different places. While you had done a pretty good job working your way through the forest, you'd found yourself at a three-way split in paths and were unsure of which one to take. Luckily for you, your unsuspecting knight in shining armor also happened to be on his way home. Unfamiliar with your figure, he'd questioned you what you were doing, quite suspicious of you, but the minute you'd turned around and smiled at him eagerly he felt all of his hesitation melting away.

You informed him you were a new hire at the mansion (even showing him direct proof from some paperwork Slender had given you in advance), but that you weren't quite sure how to find your way back. Ever the gentleman, Jason readily agrees to guide you on your way and thus begins your journey with him. While he tried making conversation to appear polite, Jason soon found that he actually quite liked your company and that he was enjoying himself while spending time with you. He made sure to drill into you the correct route, even showing you the discreet markers the other creeps use to make sure they don't get lost. The forest floor gets quite bumpy, and so at one point he even offered you his arm to hold so you'd be more stable, and of course, you accepted, leading Jason to wonder why it was that he was so happy having you hold onto him like that. As you drew closer to the mansion, he found himself growing a bit sad, as once you arrived he'd be quite hard-pressed to get alone time with you once more. He wasn't even looking forward anymore, walking beside you with his eyes trained on your face, watching your expressions and developing a fondness for you he wasn't quite used to.

Good things must come to an end, however, and you soon reach the front gates of the mansion, slipping in easily thanks to Jason's help. You thanked him for guiding you all the way, and he bowed lightly, telling you it was his pleasure. What he wasn't expecting, was for you to eagerly give him a quick hug, thanking him again before entering the mansion ahead of him, calling out that you didn't want to be late for meeting up with Slender today. Jason couldn't help but stand there for a few moments, his hand resting over where your head had pressed into his chest, missing the warmth of your body already. He felt truly peculiar, unsure of how to process how you had such an effect on him when you'd just met, but he merely dismissed the idea to go about the rest of his tasks for the day. It wouldn't be until the end of the day arrived, when you finally located the entrance to his workroom, that the bubbly feelings he'd been pushing down all day since meeting you would float back up. You told him you stopped by to chat and tell him about how your first day went, thanking him again for this morning, and wishing him goodnight. He listened with rapt attention to everything you were saying, forgetting himself and anything he'd been doing up until that point. He felt a bitter sadness in his chest as you turned to leave, but he wished you goodnight all the same, although he called after you to please visit again. The smile you gave him as you cheerfully said you would nearly make him fall back, his body unsteady. He must be going mad, he thought to himself, to be affected so easily by someone like this, but as he watched your retreating figure run up the stairs, he decided that it might not be such a bad thing.