#vale of eternal nightmare

[jesterfairy]

.♠︎.💜 𝐀 𝐏𝐨𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐈 𝐂𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭 💚.♠︎.

Chapter 7: The Weight of Silence

___. ♡ ✦ ♧━━━♢ ✦ ♠️ ✦ ♢━━━♧ ✦ ♡. ___

Chapter Word Count: 4,673

Fic Summary: Alina Vale dreams of escaping her dead-end life as a diner waitress, finding solace in painting Gotham’s haunting shadows. But when a routine trip to the bank turns into a living nightmare, she finds herself face-to-face with the Joker—a man as captivating as he is terrifying.

As his twisted games unravel her defenses, Alina is forced to confront the pull he has over her, a collision of fear and desire she can’t control. Trapped in his world of chaos and power, survival means facing not only him but the darker parts of herself he’s brought to life.

A story of obsession, control, and the intoxicating allure of letting go.

Genres: Dark romance, Gothic romance, Stalker romance

Pairings: TDK Joker x Female OC

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: non-con, extremely dubious consent, violence, psychological manipulation, kidnapping, stalking, slow-burn, toxic relationships, trauma bonding, childhood trauma, graphic sexual content, stockholm syndrome, dead dove do not eat

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Chapter 7: The Weight of Silence

Alina sat in the dark, still and resolute, determined to prove to herself that she could handle this. The silence was just another game, another twisted trick he’d play on her to see how far she could bend before breaking. She could withstand the isolation. She had survived far worse—alone, abandoned, forgotten—this was nothing new.

The darkness, as suffocating as it was, didn’t have to be her enemy. It was just another thing to endure. And soon, he’d be back. Of course, he would be. He wasn’t done with her yet, not when he was enjoying tormenting her so much.

She lay back on the mattress and closed her eyes, resolving to get through this by sleeping as much as possible. Rest would keep her sharp, and maybe when she woke, she could start plotting her escape—or better yet, figure out how to convince him to release her.

If he thought he could break her, he was wrong.

But as the silence dragged on, sleep refused to come. Minutes stretched into hours, each second a cruel mockery of her fortitude—blurring into agonizing eternity.

The darkness swallowed everything—her thoughts, her resolve, even her breath. She couldn’t even see her hand in front of her face.

She tried to focus, to breathe deeply and center herself.

Stay calm. Stay strong. Just wait him out.

But the stillness was relentless. Every sound—or lack thereof—seemed to press against her skull. Even her heartbeat felt too loud.

As time crept on, the cold seemed to grow worse. She huddled on the mattress, wrapping her thin cardigan tightly around her body, but the fabric was threadbare, a mockery of the warmth she so desperately craved.

How long had it been?

Her stomach twisted. The dull ache of hunger growing sharper with each hour that passed. How long since I ate? She couldn’t remember.

She stood up to stretch, caught off guard by just how sore her body was. Every muscle ached, a dull reminder of how long she’d been confined to the mattress.

She reached for the locket, her fingers tracing its cool surface. It had always been a source of comfort, but now... now it felt different. Heavy. Cold. Was it a reminder of strength—or of everything she had already lost?

If I had just destroyed it...

The thought slithered into her mind unbidden, but she couldn’t push it away. Maybe if she had let it go, he wouldn’t have seen her as weak—something to lock away and ignore.

Aunt Marlene’s voice, sharp and cutting, rose from the depths of her memory:

“Sentimentality is for the weak, Alina. If you had any sense, you’d throw that thing away. It’s worthless. Just like your art.”

Alina squeezed her eyes shut, but the words wouldn't stop. Weak. Worthless. Was Marlene right? Was holding onto the locket—her art, her past—the reason she was here? Had it marked her as different, as someone worth tormenting?

Why couldn’t she have just been like everyone else? Predictable. Normal.

The word twisted like a knife. Normal. She’d never been that—no matter how hard she'd tried.

She curled up tighter on the mattress, hugging herself, desperately trying to block out the cold, trying to block out the hunger.

The oppressive darkness was no longer just physical—it was in her mind now. The creeping thoughts, the shadows that couldn’t be outrun.

And in those shadows, his presence loomed—the echoes of his voice, in the way his gaze had burned into her, stripping her bare. The silence was maddening, a deafening void where his cruel laughter should have been.

Would he come back? The idea sent a shiver down her spine. She didn’t know if the thought terrified or comforted her more—and that truth frightened her most of all.

I’m so stupid, she thought bitterly. Stupid for thinking I could outlast him. Stupid for thinking I could win.

She blinked, but it made no difference. The darkness swallowed her whole, as if her eyes were still closed. She couldn’t tell if she was breathing anymore. Maybe she didn’t exist at all. Maybe she’d already faded away, and this was what came after.

This was always going to be how it ended. Alone. Weak. Helpless.

Tears pricked her eyes, falling quietly, almost apologetically. She couldn’t stop them this time. The cold wasn’t just physical anymore—it had seeped deep into her heart, freezing her soul.

If I had just let it go…

Her body trembled. Her mind screamed for release, for relief. From the cold. From the hunger. From herself.

It’s too much. I can’t do this.

And then, just as the darkness threatened to consume her completely, the door creaked open.

---

The thin sliver of light that cut through the blackness was blinding. She squinted, her breath catching in her throat as the sound of footsteps echoed in the silence.

He was back.

A twisted sense of relief surged through her. She wasn’t alone anymore. No more silence. No more darkness.

The Joker stepped inside, his figure outlined by the light spilling in from the hallway behind him. That crimson grin stretched across his face, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he looked down at her, curled up on the mattress.

“Well, well, well,” he drawled, his voice sickeningly sweet. “Look who’s still with us.”

Alina’s mouth was too dry to speak. She just stared at him, her body too weak to move, her mind too foggy to form words.

She'd never been so happy to see anyone in her entire life, and it made her hate him all the more.

He crouched down beside her, his grin never faltering as he studied her face. “Enjoy your me time, sweetheart?” His voice was playful, mocking. He reached out, his hand brushing her cheek. “You look like you’ve had a rough couple of days.”

His gloved fingers were warm against her skin, the heat of them seeping into her chilled body.

She hated how much she craved the sensation. It didn’t matter that it was him; it was something. Something real, something human.

His eyes flicked down, catching the faint glint of her locket where it rested against her chest. Slowly, with almost exaggerated care, he reached for it. His gloved fingers traced the delicate chain before cradling the pendant between his thumb and forefinger, lifting it slightly.

“Hmm,” he murmured, turning it in his hand like a child inspecting a trinket. His grin stretched wider, dark and predatory, as his gaze flicked back to hers. “So... tell me, was it worth it?”

Alina’s breath caught, her chest tightening as her fingers instinctively twitched toward the locket, but she didn’t dare move.

He leaned in closer, his voice a low, menacing whisper. “All this—” his free hand gestured vaguely to the room, the mattress, the suffocating dark. “The darkness, the hunger, the cold... all because you couldn’t let go of this?” He gave the locket a deliberate tug, just enough to make the chain press into her skin.

Her fingers itched to snatch it back, to shove him away, but the weight of her own shame pinned her down.

It wasn’t just the cruelty of his words—it was the truth buried within them.

Was it worth it?

She wanted to scream yes, to hurl the answer at him with all the conviction she could muster, but the longer his mocking grin lingered, the more her resolve wavered. A hollow ache settled in her chest, mingling with the hunger gnawing at her stomach.

His laugh was soft, venomous, as he let the chain drop. “Pathetic,” he spat, his tone mocking but lined with something sharper. “What is it, anyway? A little piece of sentimental garbage you drag along with you like a ball and chain?”

He tilted his head, studying her expression like an artist admiring his latest work. “Or is it starting to feel like just another bad choice?” His voice was sharp, sinking into her like a knife.

The locket fell back against her chest, the cold metal hitting her skin with a hollow finality.

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them away furiously, refusing to let him see her break. Her jaw tightened, her nails digging into her palms as she fought to maintain even a shred of control.

“Still sentimental,” he said softly, almost to himself, his gaze flicking between her face and the locket. “You know, sweetheart, it’s almost cute. Tragic, really.”

Her throat tightened, the lump there growing unbearable. She hated him for seeing through her so easily, for twisting the most fragile parts of her into weapons he could use. But more than that, she hated herself for how much his words hurt—because they struck a truth she wasn’t ready to face.

The Joker sighed, his tone dripping with mock indifference. "I’ll bet you’re starving, aren’t you? Just wasting away in here." His eyes flicked around the room, as if bored by the sight of her suffering.

She nodded, her head barely moving, the gnawing hunger twisting through her like a blade.

He chuckled softly, his eyes gleaming with sick satisfaction as he stood and took a step back. “I’ll get you something to eat,” he said, as though he were offering her a favor. “But remember, sweetheart... next time, when I give you a choice, you might want to think a little harder before making a decision.”

Panic surged through her.

Was he really leaving again, so soon? As much as she needed food, the thought of being alone again was almost worse than starving to death.

And yet, she stayed silent, clinging to the last shred of self-respect that kept her from begging him to stay.

The Joker’s footsteps echoed as he moved toward the door. He paused at the doorway, turning back to her with a smirk. “I’ll be back soon, with food this time. Try not to wither away before then.” The door slammed shut behind him and the flickering shoplight flipped on, followed by the heavy click of multiple locks snapping into place.

At least he'd left the light on this time.

---

A few hours later, the Joker sauntered back into the room, the familiar heavy thud of the door closing behind him. In his hand, he held a brown paper bag, the unmistakable and delicious smell of fast food filling the air. Alina’s stomach twisted painfully, her body almost betraying her with how desperately she wanted it.

But it wasn’t just the food that caught her eye. Draped casually over his other arm was a thick, woolen blanket. Its warmth seemed to radiate from across the room, a cruel contrast to the frigid air that had seeped into her bones.

The Joker noticed, of course. His gaze lingered, sharp and calculating, as his lips curled into a wicked grin. He swung the blanket over his shoulder, making a show of it. “Hungry, doll?” he asked, his voice dripping with mockery, savoring the torment he was inflicting. "Cold too, huh? Well, lucky for you... I’m feeling generous.”

Alina's eyes flicked between the bag of food and the blanket. Her body screamed for both, but she knew nothing came without a cost.

He knelt down beside her, grinning like he had all the time in the world. The bag rustled in his hand, taunting her.

“Smells good, doesn’t it?” His voice was soft, almost soothing. “Bet you’d do just about anything for a bite right now, wouldn’t you?”

Alina didn’t answer, her eyes locked on the bag. Her whole body screamed at her to snatch it from him, to tear into the food like a starving animal, but she knew better.

“Come on, dollface, I brought you dinner. Don’t I get a thank you?” He set the bag on the floor between them, his eyes glinting with dark delight.

She could feel the heat radiating off him as he leaned closer, the sharp tang of gunpowder and leather mingling with that oddly warm, masculine scent of his. Beneath it all, there was a faint, clean hint of soap. Had he showered before coming here? The thought felt out of place, surreal, as if mocking the twisted reality of her situation.

"You know, I think I like you better this way. Dirty, disheveled, like some wild thing who’s lost its way. There’s a certain... honesty in it." he murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered on her cheek, and though her body screamed to recoil, she didn’t move.

She hated herself for it, for how good it felt just to be touched after days of isolation and darkness. The warmth of his skin was intoxicating, and the more she sat there, the more she realized how much she needed to feel, to be reminded that she was still alive.

“You like that, don’t you?” His voice dropped to a whisper, darkly playful, as his fingers traced the line of her jaw. “You’ve been so alone, so cold.” His lips curled into a smirk as he watched her reaction. “I could help with that. All you have to do is ask.”

Alina swallowed hard, her throat painfully dry. She was repulsed by him—by the power he held over her, by the way her body betrayed her hunger for not just food, but warmth. But she was so exhausted, starving, and his closeness, the feeling of another human being nearby, was almost enough to break her.

“You just need to say please,” he whispered, his eyes pinning her, his expression dark and coaxing. “That’s all.”

Her eyes flickered to the brown bag. The scent of the food filled her senses, thick and overwhelming, making her stomach twist painfully. Did he expect her to beg for it?

Every inch of her wanted to scream no, to deny him the satisfaction. She bit down on her lip, willing herself to stay silent, to hold on to whatever shred of dignity remained. But he was so close, his warmth pressing against her, and the hunger gnawed at her insides like a wild beast.

His hand slid down to her neck, his thumb tracing her pulse as if savoring the quickening beat beneath his touch. “Just beg a little, sweetheart,” he whispered, his words tickling her skin, making her shudder. “Show me how much you want it.”

Alina’s chest constricted, her heartbeat thundering as his fingers grazed the delicate skin of her throat. She loathed him—loathed how effortlessly he twisted her mind, how his touch stirred something inside her, anything other than the cold void she’d been drowning in for days. But most of all, she despised herself—for how desperately she wanted to surrender to it, to feel something beyond the gnawing emptiness.

Her pride warred with her survival instinct, each second of silence a battle she was slowly losing. The room felt colder, the weight of his presence pressing down on her like a storm she couldn’t escape.

And then, her stomach growled, loud and relentless, the hunger tearing through her savagely.

The Joker burst into laughter, sharp and cutting, clutching his stomach as though he couldn’t contain his amusement. “You’re giving me a show, doll. Even your insides are begging.” He ran his tongue slowly across his teeth, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “I’ve got to admit—it’s kind of adorable.”

Alina’s face burned with humiliation, her fists curling weakly at her sides. The anger flared hot and fast, but it was smothered almost instantly by the overwhelming ache in her belly.

She exhaled shakily, the words catching in her throat before they finally spilled out. “Please...I need to eat,” she whispered, the words fractured, barely audible, her voice trembling under the weight of her defeat.

The Joker's grin stretched wider, his eyes glittering with dark satisfaction." Louder, sweetheart,' he purred, his voice flooded with twisted delight. 'I couldn’t hear you."

Her face flushed with shame, but the gnawing hunger dug too deep, overpowering her pride. “Please,” she said again, louder this time, her voice rough and broken.

“There it is,” he crooned, leaning back slightly, his laughter low and biting. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

He let the silence hang, drawing out her humiliation for a moment longer, sadistic delight etched into every line of his expression.

Until finally, he opened the bag with a leisurely flick of his hand, reaching inside to retrieve a burger and fries before setting them in front of her.

“Enjoy,” he said, a smirk curling his lips as he watched her trembling hands reach for the food. He stood, taking his time, as though ensuring he had the perfect angle to fully relish her humiliation.

As Alina took the first desperate bite, the taste was a flood of relief, but it was bitter with the knowledge of what she’d had to give up.

And yet... despite the degradation he'd just inflicted, a part of her mourned the loss of his touch, the warmth of his proximity, as he stepped back, leaving her in the cold once more.

---

The Joker watched her in silence for a moment as she finished the last bites of her meal, his twisted smirk never faltering. Alina’s hunger had eased, but the room was still unbearably cold, and the lingering shame of what she had done to get the food weighed heavily on her. She could feel his eyes on her, predatory and amused, as if she were a fascinating toy to him.

"Good, wasn’t it?" he asked, his voice low and mocking. "You know, it’s nice when you’re compliant. It makes everything so much easier."

Alina didn’t respond. She couldn’t. She was too exhausted, too humiliated.

The Joker crouched beside her again, this time letting the silence stretch. His eyes flicked over her hunched form, his gaze settling on her torn, dirty clothes, the mess of her hair, her trembling hands. He tilted his head, almost as if he were considering something.

“You know,” he started, his voice soft, “you don’t have to live like this.” His tone was deceptively gentle, a mockery of compassion. “I could make things... nicer for you. A little more comfortable.”

Alina’s eyes darted to him, wary. She didn’t trust his kindness. There was always a catch.

“I could get you something softer to sleep on, maybe some clean clothes,” he murmured, his voice soft and coaxing. “A shower, perhaps? Soap, shampoo—how about that?”

He reached out, his gloved fingers threading through her tangled hair with agonizing slowness. The intimacy of the gesture sent a shiver down her spine, the possessiveness in his touch unmistakable. He gently stroked her scalp, lingering a moment too long, as though staking his claim—as though she belonged to him.

She hated the warmth that followed, the way her body betrayed her by leaning into his possessive touch, as if it craved the connection. It felt wrong, twisted—and yet, she couldn’t pull away.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he whispered, his voice low and dark. His hand tightened, pulling slightly before he let her hair fall, the cruel glint in his eye making her stomach twist.

The offer sounded like heaven. After days of filth, the thought of clean clothes, of washing the grime off her skin, was almost unbearable. But she knew it wasn’t free. Nothing was with him.

“What do you want?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

The Joker chuckled softly, his eyes alight with smug satisfaction. “Smart girl. You know the deal.” His gaze flicked toward the blanket she had been eyeing since he walked in. “Let’s start small, shall we? I’ll make it easy for you,” he murmured. “You want this blanket, don’t you?”

He held it up slightly, letting the fabric slip through his fingers as he watched her reaction. “All you have to do... is give me something in return.”

Alina’s chest constricted, her breath shallow. It was always a game, always a cruel exchange. And she knew, deep down, that the blanket was just the beginning. A small token to reel her in, to strip her dignity piece by piece.

But she needed that blanket—desperately. The thought of going on without its warmth, its comfort, was almost enough to break her.

“What do you want?” she repeated, her voice trembling with the weight of her desperation.

“Show me how much you want it,” he whispered, his voice a low, seductive hum.

Alina’s stomach twisted violently. The word please had already slipped from her lips twice, tainting her pride. But the cold was unbearable, sinking into her marrow.

She squeezed her eyes shut, swallowing the last of her resistance. “Please,” she whispered, hating how easily the word fell from her lips.

The Joker’s grin widened as he leaned down, his fingers grazing her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured softly, though his words cut like a knife. “Begging is a start, but it’s too easy, don’t you think?” His thumb brushed her lower, his touch deceptively tender.

Alina’s heart pounded, each beat a sharp reminder of how utterly trapped she was. The weight of his gaze pressed down on her, amusement flickering like firelight in the dark depths of his eyes.

She felt so foolish for thinking a simple "please" would satisfy him again.

“You want that blanket, don’t you?” His voice dropped to a low murmur, his hand brushing softly against her cheek, the roughness of his thumb tracing the curve of her jaw.

She nodded, her body aching for any scrap of warmth, any relief from the grime and biting chill that had settled into her bones.

His eyes gleamed with something darker, more dangerous. "Then show me," he whispered, the thrill of it creeping into his voice, his gaze locking onto hers with a hunger that made her stomach twist. "Show me just how much you want it."

He stood, the silence between them thick with unspoken demands, the blanket hanging just out of reach like a cruel taunt. The room felt colder, the concrete beneath her pressing into her skin, each breath a reminder of the cost she was about to pay.

She swallowed hard, her voice barely above a tremor as she asked, “What do you want me to do?”

The Joker’s smile stretched wider, dark and ravenous, his voice thick with sadistic delight. “Crawl to me,” he commanded, each word thick with the weight of his control. “On your hands and knees.”

Alina’s stomach churned with humiliation, her pride flaring hot for a single, fleeting heartbeat. She thought of refusing—of standing tall, even if it cost her everything. For a moment, the image of herself defiant, spitting in his face, flared in her mind. But the cold gnawed at her bones, relentless and punishing.

She could feel it—the almost tangible heat of his anticipation coiling in the air between them. The Joker’s grin sharpened, his eyes gleaming with a feral intensity, clearly savoring the moment: her indecision, her vulnerability, the way her pride warred with her desperation.

He leaned forward slightly, his body taut with expectation, a predator relishing the sight of his prey submitting.

Her breath hitched, her chest tightening as the humiliation threatened to consume her, but her desire for comfort was stronger. Slowly, painfully, she lowered herself onto the cold floor, her hands trembling as they pressed against the grime-covered concrete.

The Joker’s tongue darted across his lips, the movement almost languid in contrast to the electric hunger in his eyes. “That's it, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice low and dripping with dark satisfaction. “Take your time. I'm enjoying every second of this.”

She took one last shaky breath, then started to crawl. Each movement felt like another piece of her soul slipping away, but she couldn’t stop. The promise of warmth, of comfort, of escape from the bone-deep chill, drove her forward.

The Joker’s eyes never left her, watching her every move with dark satisfaction.

“Good girl,” he murmured, the words curling around her like a serpent as she crawled toward him, her shame heavy with every inch that passed beneath her hands. “See? You’re learning.”

Her palms stung against the rough concrete, the chill biting into her knees. She clenched her jaw, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill. This wasn’t giving in—it was surviving. She told herself that over and over, clinging to the words like a lifeline as she crawled forward.

Laughter, soft and dark, rumbled through the room as he watched her with predatory satisfaction.

By the time she reached his dusty shoes, her breath came in ragged gasps, her body trembling with exhaustion and self-loathing. But as the Joker crouched down to tilt her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze, a small spark of defiance flickered in her eyes. She loathed him, loathed the way she had crawled like an animal. Her body may have surrendered, but a part of her still clung to the shreds of her dignity—fragile, but present.

The Joker’s grin faltered for the briefest of moments, his sharp eyes narrowing as they caught the glint of rebellion in hers. He tilted his head, studying her face intently.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he rasped, his voice low and dark with amusement, “you’ve still got that little flame going, huh?”

He wasn’t angry. If anything, her flicker of defiance seemed to thrill him, promising the game would last even longer. His grin sharpened, more dangerous now, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

“Seems we still have more work to do,” he whispered, his voice a dark caress, a promise of things to come.

His words lingered in the air, pressing down on her like a weight, but Alina couldn’t stop her gaze from drifting. Her eyes locked onto the blanket, her body screaming for the warmth it promised, even as her mind rebelled against the price she had already begun to pay.

“You've done well, sweetheart,” he said softly, his fingers finally leaving her. The absence of his touch was like a sudden chill, a strange emptiness settling over her skin. Against her will, she missed the warmth, the brief human contact that had kept her grounded—however twisted it was.

Finally, he reached out and draped the blanket over her trembling form, the weight of it settling over her like a mockery of comfort.

"That wasn’t so hard, was it?" he crooned, his tone almost sweet, though the cruel glint in his eyes was anything but.

His gaze lingered on her, dark and possessive, as if she were nothing more than a prize he’d claimed in a game. He let the silence stretch between them, reveling in the tension that hung heavy in the air.

Then, without a word, he turned, his movements unhurried, every step deliberate and calculated, a predator retreating with full knowledge that his prey was cornered.

The Joker paused at the doorway, his painted grin slicing through the shadows like a jagged wound. “Tomorrow, sweetheart," he drawled, his voice a chilling mix of playfulness and menace. "I’ll bring more comforts. But we both know—nothing's for free."

"Think about what else you’re willing to give."

With a final smirk, the door clicked shut behind him, the sound of the locks snapping into place echoing through the room, each one sealing her fate a little tighter.

His absence was immediate, tangible—a vacuum sucking the air from the room. She felt the walls closing in again, the cold coiling tighter, sinking deeper.

The blanket wrapped around her now felt heavier, not with warmth, but with the weight of the bargain she had struck—and the price she knew she would be forced to pay again.

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Instead, she curled up on the mattress, pulling the blanket tighter around herself, the locket pressing coldly against her chest.

Was it worth it?

The question lingered in her mind, twisting in her gut. But no answer came, only the suffocating silence, and the weight of everything she had done to survive.

___. ♡ ✦ ♧━━━♢ ✦ ♠️ ✦ ♢━━━♧ ✦ ♡. ___

A/N: Thank you so much for the kudos and comments! It honestly means the world to know there are real people out there reading and connecting with my story. I'm so glad you're enjoying it!

Poor Alina is falling deeper into his snare, and I’m really working hard to make her descent feel believable. Please let me know if you think it’s working (or if it’s not)—your feedback is so helpful!

And for those of you here for the spice (I see you, lol), don’t worry—it’s coming! Joker's just biding his time, but expect every chapter from here on out to kick it up a notch. After all, he's a master manipulator, right? 😏

___. ♡ ✦ ♧━━━♢ ✦ ♠️ ✦ ♢━━━♧ ✦ ♡. ___

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[angelbornaltruist]

The Ballad of the Two Travelers, Chapter Two

Chapter Two: First Steps to Friendship

Lyra was having a nightmare. She dreamed of an endless war, a pointless battle fueled by a rivalry fueled by things that should have been forgotten long ago. She dreamed of fire and lightning, clashing eternally in the heavens while the world broke. She dreamed of destruction and chaos, of decay and disease that festered and bred in the cracks of the world caused by that endless, pointless, hopeless war.

She dreamed of the cracks growing, laughing, spreading wider and wider still as hatred seeped within and drove everything further apart, a dark, tentacled miasma, reaching ever further in its will to consume all; this great evil Blight which threatened to consume the whole world.

She dreamed of the cracks already forming among her own people; the bitter, hurting wives, sisters, and daughters who in their hurt chose to hurt others, spreading their hate as they wreaked destruction upon the humans; and the few who begged for peace and were dubbed traitors by their kind. She dreamed of the great dark cavern between giantkin and humankind, a yawning abyss that would surely consume them all if they could not learn to cross it–

“L-Lyra? Lyra! Wake up, please!”

Her eyes fluttered open as she heard the anxious cries of her charge. She sat up quickly, looking around for any signs of obvious danger.

“What troubles thee, little one?” she asked after a moment. “I can sense no danger. Why dost thou cry out? Art thou hurt?”

Tristan shook his small head, and Lyra realized with a start he was quivering.

“I-I'm not hurt,” he said after a moment. “But....”

The human boy glanced at something just behind her. Lyra turned, and realized with a chill that the trees near her feet had been split and knocked over. She realized she must have kicked unconsciously in the throes of her nightmare, and had put the human boy in great danger.

“N-Nightmare?” The small voice of the human boy shook her from her disturbed thoughts. She looked down. His face held a look of such fear and apprehension, her heart nearly broke as her eyes met his.

I offer thee my most humble apologies if I have caused thee any distress. It is the duty of one such as I, who layeth claim to the role of maiden, to ensure that her charge is safe no matter what.”

She gently laid her hand in grass before him, a heavy feeling settling over her heart as he took a half-step backwards.

“Y-You don't have to apologize,” Tristan said with a smile that was clearly forced. His bright blue eyes were wide with poorly-concealed fear.

“Little one...” Lyra wanted to comfort him, to say the right words or do the right thing to reassure her little charge that she wished no harm towards him, but she could think of nothing.

She retracted her hand and laid on her side awkwardly, aware of an uneasy silence between them now. Again she wished she knew what to say, how to overcome the inevitable fear and anxiety on the small boy's part, but but her lips remained shut, and she remained silent.

It had been a little over a week since their meeting in the Misted Vales, and they'd made some progress on their journey. They were a day or so away from a human settlement Tristan had pointed out on his map, at which Lyra hoped to speak to the locals and tell them of their quest. She had hoped that Tristan's presence would inspire a call for peace, but she had to be sure that Tristan really trusted her, which had proven to be easier said than done.

Tensions were high on both their parts. Despite the lack of confrontation from either of them, there was a constant sense of disquiet between them both, a fact which maddened Lyra to no end.

It didn't help that traveling alongside a human was somewhat difficult, at least in the physical sense.

Tristan had at first tried to walk alongside Lyra as they made their way, claiming he was quick enough to keep up (he was not) and nimble enough to keep safe (he was not). Lyra, unconvinced, was therefore constantly on edge, afraid that she'd take one wrong step or careless motion and crush her little charge underfoot. She'd insisted upon carrying Tristan as they traveled, either in the palm of her hand, upon her shoulder, or within her pockets, much to the little one's chagrin. Though Tristan concealed his fear whenever they spoke, Lyra could tell he was just as nervous as she was, if not more. She could see it in the way he cast furtive glances whenever he thought she wasn't looking, and in his high-strung, stuttering manner of speech.

Lyra couldn't blame him. Tristan was barely the size of her middle finger, and was somewhat small and slight in build even for a human. To him, every little movement she made must have been terrifying, let alone the sight of her reaching for him, leaning close, or inspecting his body for wounds. Lyra herself felt nervous whenever her fingers brushed against the human's warm skin, feeling for broken bones or bruises. How easily she could bring him to harm with little more than a thought.... it frightened her just as it frightened him.

Lyra understood it would take time for her companion to get used to her, regardless of how desperately she wanted to connect with him. She would be patient, and gentle, and reassuring, as she always did, but she couldn't help but wonder if too gentle was a thing. Lyra had caught a few embarrassed looks and flushed expressions from Tristan as well as the nervous glances. She had considered that Tristan fancied her, and she wasn't entirely sure how she felt about that. To be sure, she found feelings of a kind blossoming towards Tristan; his small size concealed a kindhearted, curious spirit and a recklessness that seemed rather disproportional to his height (it was a miracle Lyra had only found him with a broken arm, she thought. Only four days ago had she caught Tristan attempting to steal the eggs from a blight-touched vulture, nearly falling from a withered tree at least thrice before running towards her screaming as the monstrous bird swooped down at him). All of this was wrapped up by a cute face framed by dark curls and a smile that, even when marred by fear, melted Lyra's heart every time she saw it. She'd come across many humans in her travels before, but Tristan was the cutest by far.

It was a bit of a conundrum for Lyra. On one hand, it was completely normal for a hero and a maiden to share feelings towards each other (if Tristan held any feelings for her at all, that is). Yet it was certainly unusual for a maiden to be able to pluck up her hero between two fingers and cup him in the palm of her hand. What's more, she wasn't sure she had a crush on her little companion, more of an admiration or appreciation. How desperately she wished to get to know him, for their companionship to become a true friendship!

Yet instead they sat in silence, a bridge of unease between them and neither of them brave enough to take the steps to cross it.

Well, Lyra thought. If I am to change anything, I must take that first step.

Tristan looked so small to her; even as she lay on her side she could have rolled over and smothered him with her waist alone. But she had to try.

“Um,” she said in a quiet voice, as not to scare the boy too badly. “Tristan.... I would ask something of thee.”

The human boy glanced at her but said nothing. Lyra took this as a cue, and pressed on. “Um....well.... if we are to be companions on this journey, I would hope that there would be no tension between us. Thou countenance has been laden with fear since we first met,” she said in a gentle tone as a shadow came over Tristan's face. “I would hope to relieve thee of thy worries as we travel on–”

“Have I been being weird?”

The outburst startled Lyra a little, but she smiled when she saw the bashful expression on Tristan's face. The question confused her a bit, however.

“I-I've been trying to get used to it, I really have,” Tristan said, his voice nervous and shaky. “I know we pledged ourselves to the quest, and that I've been an awful companion, and I'm sorry, it's just so strange to have spent so much time alone on a quest everyone said was a foolish endeavor and a naive, stupid dream, and boom, suddenly someone shows up out of the blue and not only says she'd like to accompany you, but actually wants to serve as a maiden? And I know I'm starting to ramble but really, Lyra, this has been a very strange few days for me, especially because you're a – well, you're a....” Tristan suddenly paused, and Lyra noticed a slight blush come over his face.

“A giantess,” she prompted.

“Yeah,” the human said, nodding hastily. “That.”

There was something in his voice, something he was hiding, but Lyra chose not to pry. She had gotten him to open up a bit. That was promising enough.

“Do not feel ashamed, little one,” she said in a comforting voice, slowly moving her hand closer towards him. “This has been strange for me as well. The path of one who pursues hope is always fraught with uncertainty and confusion. To encounter one such as thee, a human of such young age who would willingly leave his home and all he knew, and would willingly travel alongside the age-old enemy of his people, is astonishing to me. I consider myself blessed to have encountered thee, little one.”

Slowly, gently, she brushed her index finger down his tiny back, figuring it was the best she could do for a reassuring pat. She felt Tristan's body tense up, and her heart froze. Did he still feel such fear, even now? But then, to her joy, she realized Tristan was slowly relaxing, his shoulders slumping and his breathing slowing. Their eyes met, and Lyra saw fear, yes, but also a quiet sort of hope, peaking through all fear and uncertainty.

“Blessed?” he asked quietly, and Lyra's heart sang as a tiny, shy smile came over his lips.

“Yes,” Lyra replied quietly, nodding earnestly. “Blessed, little companion of mine. So please, do not be afraid. I swore an oath, to protect thee and guide thee. I would not let any human come to harm in my presence. Especially not thyself.” She allowed herself a grin. “Thou art mine, in a sense. My companion, my partner.... my friend.”

She gently rested her index and middle fingers over the boy's shoulders, figuring it was the best she could do for a comforting embrace. A warmth spread through her as she felt Tristan reciprocate, hugging her fingers against his cheek.

“Friends,” he said after a moment. “I... well, I like the sound of that. Friends.”

“Tis a simple sort of beauty in the word, no?” Lyra agreed.

They remained like that for some time, enjoying each what little touch of warmth they shared against the coldness of the Misted Vales. Then, Lyra sat up, and gently laid her palm out before him once more.

“Come hither,” she said. “Let us embark once more.”

Her hand was at least twice as long as Tristan was tall. Lyra still marveled at how there could be an entire race of beings that were so small. Yet Tristan had hesitated once more, his eyes looking downward at the palm and fingers that dwarfed him.

There was a moment of silence, long enough that Lyra had just resolved to retract her hand, cursing herself for moving too fast – then Tristan took a step forward, meeting her gaze with a excited sort of nervousness upon his face.

His steps were light, almost imperceptible against the flesh of Lyra's palm. It almost tickled her, but that may have merely been her excitement tickling her instead of the sensation of little feet walking against her hand.

Tristan slowly bent down until he sat, neatly snuggled in her palm. She had an entire life, in the palm of her hand... and what was more, that little life had placed himself there willingly. She hadn't scooped him up hastily, she hadn't plucked him up despite his protests, no, he had taken his life, and placed it Lyra's hands – literally.

She felt a soft tapping sensation upon her palm, and looked directly at the little traveler, forcing herself from her thoughts.

“If we're to be friends,” Tristan said, now wearing a mischievous grin, “I'll have to teach you to speak like a normal person. All those thee's and thou's are giving me a headache.”

Lyra raised an eyebrow, and lightly prodded him in the ribs, but she was smiling all the same.

“We shall see, little one. I am happy to see that thou hast developed a sense of wit in learning to trust me.”

Tristan grinned. Lyra grinned back, and she felt it in her spirit, something ancient and unknowable. She couldn't explain it even if she tried. But there was something in sharing a smile with a friend, something that she would protect as fiercely as she would protect the little life she held in her hand.

[svenwall20]

High fantasy locations inspired by MBTI personalities can enrich your game book's world with diverse and captivating settings. Each location reflects the core traits of a personality type, offering unique adventures, challenges, and secrets for players to explore.

### ISTJ - The Citadel of Eternal Order

- **Description**: A majestic, ancient citadel built atop a mountain, embodying timeless traditions and laws. Its libraries and halls are filled with historical archives and powerful artifacts that maintain the balance of the world.

- **Adventures**: Players can seek ancient wisdom, defend the citadel from those who wish to disrupt the balance, or uncover hidden truths buried within its walls.

### ISFJ - The Havenwood

- **Description**: A lush, protective forest that shelters all within its bounds. Enchanted creatures and healing springs offer refuge and care to weary travelers.

- **Adventures**: Players can aid the forest's guardians in repelling invaders, heal from their journeys, or discover mystical creatures in need of help.

### INFJ - The Dreaming Spires

- **Description**: Ethereal towers floating among the clouds, accessible only through hidden portals or by mastering the art of dream walking. Here, reality is shaped by dreams and visions.

- **Adventures**: Players might explore the spires to seek prophetic visions, save a lost dreamer, or battle nightmares threatening the waking world.

### INTJ - The Labyrinth of Mirrors

- **Description**: A vast, ever-changing labyrinth filled with reflective surfaces that reveal hidden truths and possibilities, challenging visitors to outwit its puzzles.

- **Adventures**: Navigating the labyrinth to uncover arcane knowledge, outmaneuvering illusions, or escaping a manipulative entity that dwells within.

### ISTP - The Wildrun

- **Description**: Expansive, untamed wilderness where nature reigns supreme. This land of rugged beauty is for those who seek adventure, freedom, and the thrill of the hunt.

- **Adventures**: Players can embark on legendary hunts, discover ancient ruins hidden by nature, or ally with nomadic tribes against common threats.

### ISFP - The Enchanted Glade

- **Description**: A serene, magical clearing where art and nature merge. The Glade is a sanctuary for artists, musicians, and creatures of magic, inspiring all who visit.

- **Adventures**: Recovering lost art from ancient ruins, defending the Glade from those who wish to exploit its magic, or creating a masterpiece that echoes through the ages.

### INFP - The Vale of Whispers

- **Description**: A mystical valley where the veil between worlds is thin, and spirits speak to those who listen. Its beauty is haunting, filled with ancient mysteries and hidden paths.

- **Adventures**: Communicating with spirits to solve ancient riddles, protecting the vale from those who would desecrate it, or seeking enlightenment among its ghostly whispers.

### INTP - The Arcanum Expanse

- **Description**: A sprawling city of scholars, alchemists, and inventors, where magic and science blend seamlessly. The air buzzes with the energy of new creations and discoveries.

- **Adventures**: Unraveling a scientific anomaly, participating in a grand invention, or delving into arcane research that could change the world.

### ESTP - The Thunderpeak Mountains

- **Description**: Towering peaks where storms rage eternally, home to fierce dragons and tribes that worship the raw power of nature.

- **Adventures**: Battling through the storms to reach a dragon's lair, proving oneself in a trial by the tribes, or harnessing the storm's power for a noble cause.

### ESFP - The Festival City of Blythe

- **Description**: A vibrant city that never sleeps, celebrating life with constant festivals, performances, and markets. Its streets are alive with color, music, and laughter.

- **Adventures**: Thwarting a plot to silence the city's joy, competing in an extravagant tournament, or solving a mystery entwined with the city's oldest traditions.

### ENFP - The Wanderwoods

- **Description**: An enchanted forest that changes with the seasons, full of mysteries and adventures. Paths shift, and new wonders appear, reflecting the heart of the explorer.

- **Adventures**: Following a whimsical quest given by a mysterious fey, discovering a seasonal portal, or helping woodland creatures defend their home from dark forces.

### ENTP - The Isle of Invention

- **Description**: An island of genius inventors and mad scientists, where experimentation has no bounds. The landscape is dotted with laboratories, workshops, and strange contraptions.

- **Adventures**: Preventing an experiment from going awry, deciphering an inventor's cryptic legacy, or competing in a contest of wits and creativity.

### ESTJ - The Kingdom of Sunfire

- **Description**: A powerful, orderly kingdom known for its disciplined armies and well-structured society. It stands as a beacon of strength, prosperity, and justice.

- **Adventures**: Uncovering a political conspiracy, leading a campaign against encroaching enemies, or mediating a critical treaty.

### ESFJ - The Harmony Vale

- **Description**: A peaceful valley where communities live in perfect harmony with nature and each other, protected by ancient magic that fosters trust and understanding.

- **Adventures**: Resolving a dispute that threatens the vale's peace, recovering a stolen artifact that maintains harmony, or organizing a grand festival.

### ENFJ - The Beacon Tower

- **Description**: A towering lighthouse that serves as a guide for lost travelers and a beacon of hope for those in despair, manned by a wise and compassionate keeper.

- **Adventures**: Guiding a lost soul to their destiny, defending the tower from those who seek to extinguish its light, or uncovering the true power of hope within its walls.

### ENTJ - The Empyrean Forge

- **Description**: A colossal forge floating among the clouds, powered by lightning and run by the greatest smiths. It crafts artifacts meant to shape the destinies of nations.

- **Adventures**: Forging a legendary weapon, stopping a nefarious plot to steal the forge's secrets, or earning the right to wield a weapon of destiny.

These high fantasy locations offer a myriad of storytelling possibilities, each reflecting the diverse aspects of personality and humanity. Players can embark on quests that challenge their morals, desires, and imaginations, making each adventure a unique and memorable journey.

[cory-laika-ghost]

Sugar, Spice, and Everything Nice

A/N: I've decided to post our story on here because I can I'll update every Friday also because I can

Echoes of fate ch1:

Sugar, Spice, and Everything Nice

Ghost angrily stomped through the forest, trying to get the water out of their clothes, despite the beauty of the crystal trees, as Ghost was human. This wasn’t right to them, it didn’t seem right, isn’t right, Cory on the other hand didn’t care. She just wanted a soul, and since she’s a ghost, most would see her as creepy, stubborn, or stupid, she’s smart if you know her, she proudly ran through the forest, spotting Ghost.

“whom and what the hell art thou?” Ghost snapped, staring at Cory up and down, she replied with scoffing then a stupid remark “the creature of your nightmares mortal,” Ghost just stared, “now give me your soul!” Cory quickly jumped at Ghost trying to somehow tear the very soul out of them. They began to run quietly cursing at themselves and quietly praying for a chance to get back home, they were so busy overthinking this, they crashed into a small hut.

The interior looked as if it had belonged to nobody, yet it was owned by a young dog-witch! Xey came out of the hut with ragged, ripped clothing, messy bandages and hair. The young witch looked excited, clamming xeir hands into fists, shaking them, and they walked over, “Hello!” Xey smiled, looking at Ghost. “Hide me!” Ghost exclaimed as they ran behind them, Cory running up on the small bit of grass in front of the abandoned shack, she glared at the person, then behind xem at Ghost, Youu snake!” Cory exclaimed, poking the witch Whyy did you steal my prey?!..” She sounded like a cannibalistic 9 year old child, “what?” Xey seemed confused, a questionable expression plastered across xeir face. “I said, why did you steal my food?” Cory said slowly, annoyed, probably to mock xem, xey gave an awkward laugh in response, “Thy am not food!” Ghost shuffled around at the back of the hut, peering over to bite their thumb for some odd reason at Cory “kill yourself,” Cory snapped. “Well uh, anyway! I’m Laika!” they butt in, trying to lift the mood, smiling at the two, who were both gritting their teeth at one another, plotting brutal murder. “Well ‘Laika’ I think you should go drown in the river,” Cory spat at it annoyed and Ghost interrupted, biting their thumb, “thy doth not need to be a bi- bench about it..” After what felt like an eternity of fighting, which was actually about eleven minutes, Cory and Ghost seemed to be a bit more stable, no longer at each other’s throats, “well I'm leaving,” Ghost announced, beginning to walk off and to the exit of the forest, happy that they still have all their organs in their body. “Hey! You’re not leaving without giving me my fucking soul!” Cory yelled as she got out of the shack, falling on her face as she did so, before running off to find where Ghost had taken themselves. “No don't leave me!! I want to be included!” Laika yelled, following the others.

By the time Laika ran over, Cory was wrestling Ghost on the floor for the soul. “Get off me you foul beast!” Ghost tried to push Cory off, but for some reason they couldn’t, “souls first pookie wookie,” Cory replied, and Laika stood there, watching the scene like it was a movie. The three were clearly distracted, not noticing two new figures had walked over.

They both were tall and had wings, however, one was paler and her wings were purple, with hair hanging over her eyes like a wedding vale, hiding 3 eyes, and the other’s skin was rather dark with light blue braids parted slightly by horns at the top and white wings tucked behind her, beautiful women really, but were their intentions as beautiful as how they appeared?

One of them spoke brushing leaves out of their hair, “Finally.” The three of them froze up, then looked at each other slightly confused, yet they knew something was up. Ghost turned to the two ethereal beings, “What art thou?” Ghost questioned, Cory squinted, examining the two who just appeared out of nowhere, “Maybe they’re going to one of those dumb comi-con things. Explains why they look like idiots.” A nerve was hit, not surprisingly after an insult was just thrown. “No, you absolute faggots,” the purple-haired one snapped, “We’re goddesses, also Seleste is a fuckstain, so I’m sorry if she’s slow,” She finished, “oh talk about the pot calling the kettle black!” The blue-haired one, likely Seleste yelled at the other “If you were mortal I’d grab a Chihuahua and make it bite you to death,” Again, the purple-haired one made a snappy comment, and the three started to shuffle away as the gods were arguing not entirely sure what to do at the moment. “We should… like… go,” Laika whispered, yet not low enough. “Hold it right there mortals!’” Seleste pointed at them before they could get far, “We have unfinished business,” she continued. “Yeah faggots!” The purple-haired one added in, “Melanie you can't say that word anymore,” Seleste sighed in annoyance, “One, shut up, two, I’m gay. Also hi I’m Melanie, applying here to be your shitty villain who probably sells paper animals and cannabis for a living on the side of being the creator of many living things on earth and countless other universes!” She continued, which earned a judgmental look from everyone else, “Yeah… I get that a lot,” Melanie gave a fake sad face, to which Seleste rolled her eyes, “I also sell meth, feet pics, tobacco, uhm, ice, flip flops, cocaine, and onlyfans." She ignored Seleste, continuing her strange speech, “...you have kids,” Seleste side eyed her “twenty-three to be exact.” She corrected “Bedswerver” Ghost coughed under their breath. “How much is the drugs?” Laika blurted out, “what the hell,” Ghost replied to Laika’s interesting question, “what’s cocaine, meth, ice, tobacco, cannabis?” Cory quizzically asked, in which Laika replied “something that makes me so woopdiedoo silly me I forget my past!” Cory’s eyes lit up, almost like a child’s would. “Anyway!” Melanie changed the subject, looking at all three of them, “You guys need to become friends SOMEHOW,” That caught different reactions and faces, Cory looked disgusted, Ghost looked unbothered, but not happy about it, and Laika looked hopeful. “But first we gotta traumatize you even more than already!” Seleste finished for her, it looked like the soon to be trio standing in front were going to object in some way, but ended up being cut off, and put in a bubble that anchored itself to the bottom of the ocean.

[autumns-character-repository]

OC Masterlist

This is a list of all the OCs that I've written anything significant about, rather than just coming up with a vague design and name. I will be updating this from time to time, with links to relevant posts I've made about the characters. Yes, there are some running themes in my characters, I am very predictable.

Destiny 2:

Varri Selura: Awoken Warlock, risen shortly after the Curse of the Dreaming City is applied. Favours Void and Stasis subclasses. Primarily uses sniper rifles and hand canons in the field. Vex scholar, Hidden Operative and painfully bisexual. Loves tea, horror stories and beeswax candles in her downtime. Avoids Crucible like the plague, but enjoys Gambit occasionally.

Warframe:

Cyndorea (Tenno): Eldest of the children aboard the Zariman, favours Wisp, Mag and Harrow warframes. Wanted to be an Archimedian when she graduated. Has a strong interest in Tenno philosophy and metalworking. Lover of tea and Solaris detective novels.

Cyndorea (Drifter): Eldest of the children aboard the Zariman, and seemingly the only survivor of her iteration of the ship. Extremely photosensitive, and a writer of bad poetry. Has a moderate addiction to Tasoma extract, which she used to manage her nightmares. Surprisingly good at the Shawzin.

The Elder Scrolls:

Llaros Arianell: Dunmer Archmage, born to a Telvanni father and an Ashlander mother. Apprenticed under a Telvanni magister until his death, when she moved to Skyrim and started attending the College of WInterhold

Gwyneth Ashfield: Breton Conjurer, originally from Daggerfall, but has since moved to Bruma in Cyrodiil. Aspiring author of mystery novels, but struggles to find a publisher.

RWBY:

Sable Armitage: Cuttlefish Faunus, born and raised in Vale. Prone to severe nightmares and sleep paralysis. Prefers a cane sword in combat. Formerly a Huntress, but allowed her certification to expire in favour of becoming a freelancer. Her Semblance, That Which Eternal Lies, allows her to create an area in which living things are forced to fall asleep around her, with the further ability of forcing dreams upon those in her grasp.

The Owl House:

Thalia Dorn: A Witch initially from the Toes, who moved to Bonesborough following the Day of Unity and the Collection. Student at Hexside, studying Abomination and Oracle magic. Eventually gets a teaching position at the University of Wild Magic, teaching the history of magical development.

[daemonya]

Twilight Court

In the depths of Stardust Vale, where shadows dance and the stars whisper secrets, lies the infamous Twilight Court. This malevolent enclave of the fae is a realm bathed in perpetual twilight, a liminal space between day and night that mirrors the duality of its inhabitants. Here, the air thrums with an electric tension, charged with the presence of fae who embody the raw, untamed forces of nature. These are not the whimsical fairies of children's tales, but vicious, vindictive, and cruel entities who revel in suffering with disturbing, almost childlike glee.

The court's architecture is a twisted marvel of dark elegance, with thorny spires that pierce the dusky sky and silken webs that glisten like sinister jewelry. Each fae, with eyes gleaming like predatory stars, carries an aura of menace, their disdain for humans palpable in every haughty glance and venomous smile. In the Twilight Court, cruelty is an art, and every whisper of the wind carries tales of treachery and malevolence. It is a place where nightmares are born, a realm that has earned its fearsome reputation a thousand times over.

Those who dare to enter the Twilight Court should beware. For in this land of eternal dusk, even the shadows have shadows, and mercy is a foreign concept long forgotten.

Decades ago, Riona's ambition for the Fae Queen's throne was crushed by by the treachery of a jealous rival. Stranded in the mundane human realm, her ethereal wings shattered by an arrow, she was forced into the arms of Eoghan, the hunter who captured and claimed her.

Though their union began in violence, it bore three children: Cathán, Tadhgán and Áine, whom Riona both protected and loathed as living reminders of her disgrace. Eoghan, despite his initial cruelty, genuinely loved Riona and their children, blind to the simmering fury within her.

When Riona's powers surged back, she left the human realm in a whirlwind of rage, returning to the Twilight Court. Rumors whispered of Eoghan's death at her hands, but the truth was far darker: he languished in her dungeon, a prisoner to her vengeance, tortured by the very magic he once sought to conquer.

[lynxfrost13]

Alright here’s her history from around classic to the end of battle for Azeroth. This is much more important to what’s currently going on with her, long post again!

Trigger warning for body horror and gross eye stuff

-She didn’t do much during classic itself, she spent her time in Silitithus with other Druids attempting to heal the land and fight off the old god presence there.

-she spent a little too much time around Ahn’Qiraj and C’thun’s presence started seriously affecting her mental state to the point where her fellow Druids figured it would be best for her to leave Silithus

-She left shortly before the old god’s demise and when Burning Crusade kicked off she journeyed through the dark portal to Outland with the Cenarion Expedition for a few months

-she then came back to Azeroth and lived in Ashenvale for a while until Wrath of the Lich King.

-When WotLK rolls around Ro spends her time in dragonblight, mainly focusing on aiding the green and red flights against the scourge. She starts hearing whispers from Yogg-Saron whenever she journeys away from the dragon sanctuaries…

-During Cataclysm Ro’wynne stayed in dragonblight, and even though the old gods that previously plagued her were dead, she refused to leave and wanted to continue to aid the dragons after Deathwing’s demise.

-she just kinda chills for MoP, she spends a lot of time with the Cenarion Circle in hyjal strengthening her connection to the Emerald Dream

-Come Warlords of Draenor she is also just kinda chilling on kalimdor, tending to the Emerald dream, etc

-when legion hits Ro’wynne is essentially thrown back into action. She returned to Val’Sharah to aid the Druids there, only to find her grove completely corrupted by nightmare. Ro is absolutely devastated by this and spends legion helping to lead the fight against the nightmare

-she delved into the depths of nightmare to save the dream after the death of Ysera. Her close connection to the green flight brought her great grief and she wanted to avenge all of those that fell to the corruption. However unbeknownst to her, Ilgy’noth was able to slip into her mind in the nightmare and opened the way for N���Zoth…

-after killing the Nightmare’s presence Ro’wynne goes to suramar and finds some family that is still left, then returns to Ashenvale as her old grove is beyond any healing.

-the burning of Teldrassil happens and is another blow to Ro’wynne. Several of her close friends and family died in the burning and Ro’wynne swore vegeance. She joined the alliance army and quickly rose up into the 7th legion and gained a reputation as a brutal soldier.

OLD GO TIME LETS GOOO

-N’Zoth had wormed his way deep into her mind, and convinced her that his orders were her thoughts (it started off subtle and right after defeating the nightmare and then progressed to very clearly him speaking to her by mid bfa)

-He promised her everything she wanted and warped her mind until she believed that he was the only path for a new night elven home (eventually this idea dies and she swears herself to him)

-she defected from the 7th legion suddenly after people began noticing that she was acting more and more irrational and angry (around the end of the nazjatar campaign)

-no one heard from her until N’Zoth began attacking the titan facilities in Uldum and Pandaria. Ro’wynne had been following the old god’s orders and she led the assault on the Vale of Eternal Blossoms.

-She is completely unhinged at this point, the only thing that matters to her is the will of her master and she eagerly carries it out. N’Zoth rewards her and makes her his herald, gifting her with his powers.

-She can no longer communicate with nature as she once did, her connection to the dream is shattered and she is no longer the great Druid she once was.

-to make up for this however her body has been transformed by N’Zoth. Her right arm is infused with power and becomes monstrous, covered in spikes and general old gold nastiness. her hand becomes a huge monstrous one. In order to prove her loyalty to him she offers up her eyes (literally). N’Zoth gleefully accepts and and gifts her with two new ones, eyes from his very body, to fill her empty sockets…

Ok u guys are finally going to hear about Ro’wynne and her whole deal!

This is gonna be super long and posted in segments so do with that what you will (there’s gonna be a TLDR at the end)

So her background until around classic:

- she was born in suramar to the Starfell kaldorei family (they got their name from their ancestor who was rumored to have touched a fallen star and be imbued with great arcane power)

- her family was a line of great mages, proficient in all fields of magic but especially arcane magic! At least one child of every generation was gifted with exceptional arcane abilities.

-Ro’wynne was not one of them, and despite this she was sent to train as a mage during her childhood, and although she learned the arcane arts she felt called to nature more

- as a kid she’d often wander off into the forests of Suramar and learned that while she wasn’t gifted with arcane powers, she had a very strong magical bond with plants and animals (especially avians and ungulates)

-over time her parents realized that she was called to be a Druid and sent her to Val’Sharah and then Teldrassil, where she was able to truly harness her powers and flourish (around her early 20s I like to think)

-she specialized in taking the forms of crow, deer, and panther, and learned to magically manipulate plants

-she returned to Val’Sharah after finishing her training and made it her home (by this time suramar has closed itself off from the world and her family lost touch with her)

-she found out that she really loved exploring Azeroth, and started a pattern that she would follow for thousands of years. Her home was Val’Sharah, but every few decades she would go off and find an adventure to pursue (when she got older she became more of an adventurer for hire and would form groups to go on some quest or journey, think dungeons and dragons)

-she would always return back to her grove though, which was by Shaladrassil, the soon to be corrupted world tree…

TLDR: she grew up a mage but became a druid, lived in Val’Sharah and Teldrassil, but often left for years on end to explore the world. She typically rented herself out as a mercenary/adventurer for hire and was capable of performing some mage magic, but better known as a skilled druid.

[unabashedrebel]

Just Beyond the Veil

{Directly following Vale of Eternal Nightmare Pt. 3 }

The cover of eyelids lifted quickly as emerald orbs blinked their way back to consciousness to shake off the dizziness of a long sleep.

White surrounded everything in sight, endlessly stretching further than he could even tell. There were no borders, no lines, no point of reference to know what seemed like a never ending expanse. It should have been blinding, nothing but blankness to drive one to the brink of insanity. It should have been overwhelming, jarring to step into such a space. But it wasn’t….

He sat up swiftly, pulling his legs up to center as his top half met lurched forward to meet them in the middle. Noting that he was sitting on something solid, even if the pallet of the place made it feel as if he were floating above ever more emptiness, so strong that it left no shadow as if it too were just lost in the vacuum.

A rush sent back the last memories he had, causing a hand to grip against his stomach with no shortage of concern. Though he found no wound, even if he could still feel the hardened tendril of a Mantid arm drilling through his midsection.

Confusion rocked him to his very core. Slowly and carefully Kirollis pushed himself to his feat. Surveying the room, for lack of a better word, with intense scrutiny. 

Finally he asked aloud as the questions continued to mount, directed at the powers that be, whoever that was in this space, “Am I dead?”

“No.” They responded in a familiar voice that caused the rogue to freeze right there on the spot. A boulder sized lump in his throat as he instantly recognized just who it was.

“Nelah?” Turning toward the source of the voice Kirollis was stunned to find her standing there, right beside him. Just as beautiful as the first day he had met her. Golden curls framing a poised face, standing with every bit of elven grace. Composed, angelic even. Her smile. The way her nose crinkled whenever she was happy to see him.

With a slack jawed stare he finally managed, “...how?” nearly stammered out behind the disbelief. But in the end that answer never mattered. Wasting no time his arms wrapped around her tightly in an embrace, resting his face in the crook of her neck as if he was afraid to ever let her go. Everything was the same as he remembered, right down to her scent; lilacs & vanilla, an aroma that frequented their home.

Nelah smiled softly as she reciprocated the tender embrace, resting her cheek on his burrowed head as a hand came to gently give his back a few comforting rubs. “It’s really me.” She assured him, and in that moment, he found nothing that could cast doubt on that fact.

The words caught against his throat, everything he wanted to say to her over the last thirty years slipped out as if there was a leak in his very skull. There were more questions than answers, there always was. But in that moment? He didn’t wish to speak, to ruin it, to say something that would somehow mess it all up. He didn’t wish to question anything. The only thing that Kirollis wished for was just another second, and then another, and then another. 

“Is this real?” He whispered into the nook of her neck and shoulder.

“It is.” The blond confirmed.

“I missed you so much.. I…”

“I know.” Nelahs words came with warmth and sentiment, as if she had known just how much he had missed her in their time apart. “But you can’t. You know that.” Pulling away from her betrothed to catch his gaze, “Kirollis, look at me.”

Reluctantly, his head lifted from it’s perch. Meeting her eyes with his own.

“There will be time for us, I promise you that there will be. In this life or the next.” Cupping his cheeks with both of her hands she pressed her lips to his forehead. “But you can’t stay here. You made a promise to her and you are going to keep it.” 

Guilt overtook him in an instant as his mind flicked to Soriya and that final promise he had made her before leaving into the dead of night. That he would come back, no matter what. His eyes shifted to the side, anywhere to avoid that look that longed for yet could not bear to see.

“I can’t.. I can’t even protect her, Nel. I can’t protect anybody- I... look what happened to you.” He admitted as pain and anger rasped his voice. “What good is it? She’s better off without me mucking up her life.”

A soft smile lent credit to even softer words, “All that time spent people watching you would think you were good at it by now.” She teased with a gentle pat to his cheek. 

“Soriya never needed you to protect her, that was always something that you needed. She just needs you to be there when she stumbles. To help lift her back up, to give her hope, to tell her that everything is going to be okay even if it doesn’t seem like it. Neither of us ever needed you to protect us, Kiro. We just needed you with us.”

The rogue dipped his head in shame, but Nelah did not relent as she slipped downward to look up at the sullen Kirollis.

“Why so glum?”

“Because you’re right.”

“Some things never change. Even after thirty years.” Nelah remarked with a smirk. “Although I remember you being a lot happier when I was right about something. It usually meant less trouble for you.”

He couldn’t help but let out a huff of a chuckle to the accuracy of her statement. He wanted to joke, to kid, to tell her that she was always more trouble then she was worth. But somehow those teases fell flat before they even made it out of his thoughts.

As they both straightened their stance they fell into an easy embrace of old lovers. It was like they had never ever left each other, just for a moment. Nelah with nothing but smiles as Kirollis’ own expression mixed every emotion he knew, leaving his face nothing more than a battleground for which was prevailing, leaving the others scattered- but there was no wiping the sad smile that firmly planted on his lips as he looked over his late wife.

“Can I stay here.. Just.. just a little longer?” He pleaded in a cracked voice.

“You’ve been here long enough. Any longer and it may not be your choice anymore.”

“...but it’s just been.. It’s been so hard without you…”

“I know my love. I know. But it’s never really the end in this world, is it?” Leaning forward Nelah pressed a tender and prolonged kiss to Kirollis’ lips. Whispering “I’m so proud of you.” She said before everything began to fade to black.

Pain was the first to come back. Even as he lay in the medical cot, his body riddled with still healing wounds ranging from gruesome gashes to ghastly bruises and everything in between, it wasn’t that which bothered him. It was the pain of loss that hurt him the most, a wound reopened no matter how splendid the memory was. If it even was.

But once he heard that title, “Dad?” it all seemed to melt away.

“Hey.” Kirollis spoke in a nonchalant tone. “What happened? It feels like I got hit by a truck.”

“You fucking idiot!” Soriya screamed, earning herself jeers from the otherwise subdued medical tent. “Why did you tell me to stay behind?! I could have helped you! I could have helped!” She continued to holler as tears made their way down her cheek.

Kirollis cringed to the less than warm reception, especially jarring after the wholesome moment a moment prior. Though somehow it was fitting.

“You’re not allowed to just… go and die before I can apologize for the shitty things I said.” Finally calming down the young monks voice cracked.

“I didn’t think you meant them.” He confessed in a confident tone as he sat up in his bunk, or at least tried before halfway through groaning in pain and giving up entirely. “Well, most of them.”

“I thought you were dead…” A sniffle stopped any continuation of the thought.

Reaching his hand to slip it within his daughters own only to give it a soft squeeze as he said with confidence, “I made you a promise.”

[simplysoriya]

Reprieve from Chaos Pt. 2

{Directly following Reprieve from Chaos}

“So… are you going to do it?”

“Can’t. How could I in good faith leave you here to terrorize the nursing staff? Who’s going to look after your treatment?”

“I’ll be fine, Sori. This isn’t my first time in a recovery bed you know.”

“Yeah? So you’re not going to run off any of the nice people here helping you recover? No more shitty pranks like lowering your heart rate? Or harassing people to get you pudding that you then refuse to eat?”

Kirollis shifted his eyes to the side with the clear cut look of guilt written on his features. “...that was just the one time.”

“We both know that was not just once, Kirollis.” Soriya chastised in a lighthearted tone. “You’re a handful, don’t try and deny it. I know what you’re like when you get bored.”

“Yeah, yeah, just don’t pinch me again.”

“No promises.”

Silence filled the space between them. 

Covered in bandages and wraps, Kirollis struggled to sit up despite the nagging injury. Most of his body had been healed, it was the internals that needed a second look and more rest time. But it didn’t stop the soreness from seeping through from within, causing him to clutch at his abdomen as he slowly slid his legs to hang off the cot.

“Seriously though…”

“I was being serious; You’re a pain in the ass.” said Soriya with a smirk that went unseen with her back turned to him. Busying herself with tending to the plants that flanked her room at the temple.

“I spoke to Zheng.”

“I know.”

“If he wants to help you get stronger… I don’t understand why you wouldn’t go for it. It’s not like i’m going to rot here. I’ll be fine without you for a week or however long it takes.”

Soriya stopped, placing the watering pot down on the dresser in front of her. Turning her head to look over her shoulder, a peeved face came once she noticed Kirollis’ new sitting position. “Dad, I literally know how to make you a limp noodle. If you’re not going to listen to the healers I will pressure point you.” She warned.

With both hands up and palms facing out Kirollis quickly conceded, “I’m not trying to cause trouble just give me like five minutes, alright? I think my bedsores are getting bedsores.”

An airy chuckle escaped her as she softly nodded her head. “Fine. Five minutes.”

Silence came to fill the air once more.

“You know it’s like my whole job as an agent to know when people are deflecting. Also, kind of my job as a dad to know when my daughter’s leaving something out.”

Soriya didn’t reply right away, instead tucking her chin toward her chest as she contemplated it further.

“...and if this thing wants you dead, and I can’t kill it on my own, why wouldn’t you want a sword that might help you tip the tides.” His turn of phrase intentional.

“Because it’s…” A pause filled their conversation, but Kirollis patiently waited.

“It’s not what I signed up for.”

Furrowing his brow in confusion Kirollis asked, “Beating by evil at the gates? Pretty sure you ran right toward it this time.”

“I… did. I am. But a sword? I’m not a killer.” The admission came in a huff, though the actual answer was ever elusive.

“So… you don’t want a tool that will help you fight back against the evil out there? You told me once that it feels like you can’t do enough. Maybe this will fix that. Sori if there’s one person I’m not worried about having a weapon? It’s you. You’ll use it for the right reasons- I believe that.”

“Dad, don’t you think this is dangerously close to the one thing you swore would never happen? I thought you wanted a kid who stayed out of it all.”

Kirollis blinked a few times in surprise as his jaw hung open a slight. The obvious answer right in front of him the entire time only shifted that expression to hurt. “Sori…” He spoke in a softer tone before reaching out to grasp at her wrist and finally pull her attention to him.

Even so she still looked away.

“When you talk about mom you always say how you wanted to get me away from this life. That that’s why you wanted to run away… I…” She hesitated.

“Soriya…” Kirollis’ concerned only deepend in tone.

“I don’t want to make mom's death for nothing….” She finally admitted with a hint of shame.

The rogue was at a loss for words. Silently he sat with an ever contemplative face that seemed to shift to the full-range of emotions he felt. Anger at himself. Grief over their loss, and how it affected Soriya in ways she never spoke of.

Pulling her closer he firmly planted both hands on her shoulders, “Soriya, look at me.”

While she refused at first, those seafoam colored eyes eventually shifted to meet her fathers.

“What happened to your mother is not your fault.” Kirollis stated with little room for debate. “It wasn’t something that should have happened to anyone. Least of all not her. Least of all not you.” Gripping tighter on her shoulders he continued, “What we wanted was to give you a life that wasn’t… that wasn’t so difficult. So lined with death and despair. We wanted you to have a childhood, we wanted you to be able to be a kid.”

“Soriya… I was afraid you would turn out to be like me. I think I realized too late that it was never an ideal that your mother and I shared.” With a heartfelt smile he added, “I don’t think she was scared of you becoming like me. I think she knew you would be better if we could just give you the chance to be. And part of me thinks that your mom knew the risks and did it anyways so you could have that chance.”

Tears welled at the bottom crease of her eyelid. Though the monk remained silent through the speech and after.

“You’re one of the best people I have ever met in my entire life, and I can say without a shadow of a doubt that one of the most important people in my life -is- proud of you. That it wasn’t for nothing… because if the tragedy we endured led to you having the life you do now…? I don’t think I would change it for the world. The world desperately needs people like you.” 

“You wont end up like I did. You’re already better than I am. I only ever wanted you to be able to choose the life you wanted.” He continued.

There were no words to express that would sum up how she felt in that moment. The worry that lifted from her shoulders as one thing that always sat on her mind was finally relieved. That she had Kirollis’ blessing to pursue heroism and not be reminded of her mothers sacrifice anytime it got too hard. There was nothing that she could say to him, then and there, that would express it. Simply she leaned forward to wrap her arms around his chest as her face cradled against his neck and shoulder. 

Soft whimpers escaped her, and he could feel the warm moisture of freshly squeezed tears. But Kirollis said nothing. Only reciprocating the hug tightly.

“And when you do get your sword… I’ll show you how to use it properly.” He finally spoke after the weight of their conversation settled.

“But you said..-”

“I changed my mind.” interrupted Kirollis, pulling back only to offer up a gentle smile.

“There is one more favor you could do for me if I’m planning on going for this.” Soriya added with some hesitation

“Name it.”

“Elementium and ghost iron ore.”

Kirollis’ brow perked in curiosity before a silent ‘Ah’ pushed passed his lips in understanding. “I think I can manage that.”

“By the way? It’s been longer then five minutes.”

“Sue me.”

[luckyharbinger]

The Hound

So @omegy​ made a point on a theory post that got me curious, so I rewatched The Lost Fable again, and since someone asked me about the Hound before and my thoughts have changed since the showing of Ch 4, I wanna update that.

So basically, while I definitely think Summer being the Hound has some merit, I think we all gotta agree that Ruby has to fight the Hound at some point. This is the ultimate Big Bad Wolf. However, I have a few problems with the idea that I haven’t seen any solutions for:

1) The Hound is a Grimm, and at some point all the Grimm have to die. Ultimate Big Bad Wolf vs Main Character, Plot Armored, Badass Little Red Riding Hood is most likely gonna end with the Hound dying, especially since it beat the shit out of poor Oscar, whom Ruby is growing close to. I highly doubt this show would have Ruby kill her own mother.

2) Salem herself fell into a Grimm pool. It was implied that, if not for her immortality, the plunge would’ve killed her, but instead, it changed her. Not into a physically grotesque monster, but...well, a normal-ish looking woman who desperately needs a tan. One might then argue that if Summer was the Hound, she would’ve had to have been similarly dunked, since that’s where Grimm come from to start with. But the opposite of the Grimm pool is a Light pool that grants eternal life, so it’s more likely that she would just die.

3) There have been MULTIPLE Grimm that actually looked like humans, most notably the Nuckelavee and the Apathy. Despite these things really looking like they used to be human, CRWBY confirmed that Grimm were never animals (or whatever other shape they might take), just manifestations of nightmares. It seems incredibly odd to me that something shaped like a big dog would then be the first Human-->Grimm transformation as opposed to something vaguely human-shaped.

4) Since we saw Salem make the flying monkeys, which were new Grimm and implied to be incredibly fucked up, for her to suddenly show off something that she calls “an Experiment” and something that Cinder has never seen before seems to imply that it’s brand new. Summer’s been gone for over ten years, so it seems a little weird for the Hound to be that old, especially considering how Salem’s creations have gotten increasingly fucked up over time.

Now, on to what I think is actually happening.

We keep getting told over and over that Salem can’t be killed. Only the Gods can revoke her immortality. One might then assume that the only way to stop her is to un-darkness-goop her and turn her back to normal, i.e. not “a being with a desire for pure destruction”.

Now, Salem being un-gooped is not enough to automatically make the audience pity or forgive her (especially considering what she’s doing to our poor little son)...at least, not if they spring it on us suddenly. What CRWBY would need to do to make this seem plausible is do what they do best: foreshadowing.

CRWBY needs to show us that the woman Ozma loved is still in there somewhere. To do that, they need to play on our sympathies. And well...Salem was a mother. And considering how Salem’s single personality trait is Evil Witch Demoness, the easiest, most straightforward way to say she has any sense of love left in her is to mention her children. Here’s where Omegy’s point comes in.

If they want us to remember that Salem was a mother, Salem needs to think about her kids. This family was apparently many of Ozpin’s lifetimes ago. We have to allot at LEAST a century, since Salem’s war was not a part of the Great War, which ended 80 years ago thanks to the King of Vale (read: some Ozma incarnation). A king of Vale is not listed among the incarnations we actually see in The Lost Fable, so who knows how many centuries ago his first resurrection actually was, especially considering how well known he and Salem were then, compared to how nobody even knows Salem exists now. It would take a long, long time for a warmongering magic empress to fade out of historic memory.

Point being, Salem is remembering her four daughters from a long, long time ago. Remembering clearly, to the point of being able to manifest their laughter.

And if Salem is still thinking about her daughters, and the only item the show gives us to remember those daughters by is a stuffed doggy...

Then of course Salem’s most favored Grimm (a manifestation of a nightmare or in this case, a distant dream or memory), which she fondly calls “my pet” and gives scritches to, is a big black dog.

[voidsentprinces]

Look, I am not saying we have a way with things or sensing a theme with us. But we got to the Vale of Eternal Blossoms, that was prestine and beautiful and then like we fucked it up beyond repair. Then we went into the Tanaan Jungle. Untouched by time and savage and we fucked it up beyond repair. We went to Val’sharah a majestic forest untouched by demons which was proceeded to fuck it up beyond repair with the Nightmare and Fel. Then we went the Zandalar which even after the Cataclysm was getting on well before we fucked it up and dethroned a king. We went into the Shadowlands where we explored Ardenwald which got fucked up beyond all repair by a robot Bruce Willis.

So, I am not going to hold my breath for the Alex place.

[noneatnonedotcom]

RWBY before Oswald is stuck in a hard place the council needs a mission done but no one is willing to sully their hands and he can't bring himself to go see jaune he tries to talk to ruby only to have her publicly rip him a new one stating her beloved isn't a tool to be used by him and the council when he sees fit

   right so sorry I took so long with this but as you can see I did put a lot of effort into this, I hope you all like it. also @bssaz97 I’m tagging you because I know you like this au and wanted to do a scene or two with summer and tai so figured it was best to make sure you were in on the new “cannon”

                                       ADAM’S PEAK

This was a disaster, not just militarily but personally. It was devastating news, and Oswald wasn’t sure just what to do about it.

A white fang general had taken the faunas’ elite troops and had gone on a mad crusade through Vale’s countryside. In a little under a week, they would cross the western mountain chains and be into their heartlands.

The fact that Adam was not acting under orders would do little to calm the hatred of vale and the other kingdoms. Menagerie might very well be whipped off the map as a result.

The actual problem was that the huntsmen were not ready for combat like this, he barely had a thousand of the newly minted warriors, and adam was marching with some six-thousand-five-hundred troops. All with aura unlocked. All with years, sometimes decades of experience in human combat. And well equipped too. The only ones with an army left after his idea to rely solely on huntsmen was Atlas. And their military commanders were… less than ready for the war to come.

There was only one man who could save them, and Oswald already owed him too much to be willing to ask him himself.

But his hands were tied with the news that came in this morning. The council of Atlas had called back the expeditionary force under the command of ironwood. There was a significant uproar over this fact, and the returning general ironwood had launched an investigation, but Oswald knew the truth.

The first battle with the white fang was a disaster. While ironwood managed to get his men out fast enough, Adam had defeated the army soundly. It was only ironwood’s impeccable tactical understanding that allowed him to survive it. With most of his army but none of the provisions as their camp was ransacked and raided as they were forced to retreat.

And now only one man could save them, and Oswald couldn’t bring himself to ask.

When he explained the situation to ruby, she had been quiet for a long time before she finally asked, “Is that all he is to you? A sword you can draw in times of war and put away when you’d rather not face the dark truth? Who do you think you are to ask him for more after what he gave! His family was nearly left destitute by you! His legacy and way of life are gone! His reputation tarnished! His very dreams now taken from him, and I have to lie awake a night listening to his nightmares! All on your orders!” she was shouting, now unable to sit with the anger coursing through her. “WHAT MORE CAN YOU TAKE FROM HIM? THERE’S NOTHING LEFT FOR YOU, OSWALD. ALL THAT’S LEFT TO HIM IS HIS LIFE AND HIS HONOR!” she was crying now Oswald reached out trying to offer comfort to the girl by she smacked his hand away.

She glared at the man she once saw as a grandfather “he’ll go, we both know he’ll go. He’s a knight of Vale. He’ll always stand ready to protect those he loves. He’ll give the full measure of devotion for his kingdom” she turned away “you don’t deserve him, none of you do, but he’ll take up lance and sword for you” her final words as she shut the door behind her “you deserve eternal life.”

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In the backroom of the council chambers, Adam Taurus smirked, looking over his weapon a katana. Menagerie had ordered him to stand down. Told him that the time of heroes was at an end. But adam knew there was one last trial left for those who sought to be a hero. One final glory before the end of the age. And his name was Sir. Jaune the Just.

Though adam preferred his other name.

The butcher of anima.

The knight’s age was coming to an end, he knew it, jaune knew it, everyone knew it. But there would be one last glorious battle before the end. It was only a matter of setting things up. He needed jaune out of vale and away from his retenue. Luckily for him, the council wanted to be rid of the knight. And of Oswald. All they needed to do was have Oswald be the one who sent jaune out, and when the hero died, both would be gone.

This battle needed to happen. It was his last chance. If he missed this, it was over. His name would never be mentioned in the history books. But if he could take the head of the butcher? Then his name would live forever as the last knight of the world. And the last great general.

When the councilors came and told him the news, he was overjoyed. But he kept his mask up. All he needed from these fools was a chance to kill jaune. Once that was done, their bargain was complete.

And vale was wide open for plunder.

Yes, if this was the last act of the heroic age, let him return to menagerie with a heroes bounty.

In a week’s time, he would face jaune at a no named castle fortress. He didn’t mind that it had no name. For by the end of this, it would be known as adam’s peak!

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Jaune stood before his army, his steel-like gaze casting over the lot of them. They were not knights, not even soldiers and barely men, but they were his. Not for the first time, he cursed the council for sending these men out to die with him rather than having the courage to execute him themselves simply. But he put aside his anger; this wasn’t about the council; this was about his men.

“Nothing is more becoming of a man than to be brave before your enemy,” he began, his voice clear and level as he made eye contact with as many of these boys as he could. Seeking to let them know he was there with them, “but a man may be afraid and still be brave!”

The soldiers, despite their nerves and apparent fear, perked up at this, “And any man who goes into battle without fear is a moonstruck fool! To be brave is to go forward anyway, no matter how a-feared! That is why I go forward in the company of so many other brave men.”

Jaune shot the men before him a grim, but encouraging smile, “I will not lie to you, I can promise you nothing but a hard struggle to come.” Jaune was met with silence before he continued you on, “What would you have me say? I will not lie, not to you, and not for any matters of strategy or state. I will not shame myself as such. But there is one thing I will tell you.”

“YOUR FATE SHALL BE THE SAME AS MINE,” the men cheered at this, “whatever glories in the battle to come, I want you to know that we shall share them, I will be by your side!”

Jaune saw the enemy army marching over the last swell of the hill, having divided themselves into two separate forces consisting of thirty-five hundred men each.

“It is a great honor to be thought of by the kingdoms as an educated and well-read man. After all, it is the home of one of the greatest places of learning in the world! But I tell you this, in all of my studies, I have never encountered the likes of our foes! They would fill bestiaries yet unwritten, and good scholars would blush to write of their perversities!”

“And finally, I can tell you as a man of learning that a book can be beneficial before a battle, I would not recommend Tacitus though, the pages of his books are very rough on your nether regions!” the men laughed. Jaune raised his sword, “THEY WILL REMEMBER!”

A great cheer went up as the men rushed to their positions, forming together in tight spear walls on the mountain’s steep incline.

For Jaune, there was only one truth that rang in his head at the moment, that invincibility is found in defense, but victory can only be found in the offense. It’s why he had ignored the small wooden walls of the “castle” behind him.

No, he wouldn’t die cowering behind the wooden wall of a fort. His destiny lay down the hill before him. And with a determined look upon his face, Jaune kicked his horse into a gallop and went down the hill; his banner raised high...

… And rode right past the second army, making their way up towards him.

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Adam would give this to Jaune; he had indeed done his best to give his men every possible advantage. A lesser commander would have hidden behind those wooden walls at the top of the mountain, but not Jaune. He had sallied out and met him, man to man, on the field of battle. But Adam wasn’t worried. Even with such a steep incline helping the enemy, they were no match for trained soldiers with armor and aura.

The poor peasants that the council had sent to die with Jaune would be remembered at the very least, as they would have the privilege of taking place in the last battle of the Age of Knights. A movement out of the corner of his eyes showed him the banner of house arc proudly dancing in the breeze, with Jaune running down the mountainside right past his army.

He immediately ordered his second army to give chase as the envelopment meant nothing to him. In time these farmers with their pointy sticks would fall, but Jaune must not be allowed to escape and rally a defense elsewhere.

It was not some three minutes later when his lieutenants spoke of Jaune coming for them, leaving Adam to gape at such an action. What Lunacy, surely, no one would be foolish enough to charge an army on their own?!

Adam had little time to comprehend his enemy’s ploy, for when he turned around to the battlefield, he was greeted with a sight to behold. For there before him, plowing through his men as if they were nothing more than dominoes to be toppled over was Jaune Arc: His horse a resplendent white; His armor a polished to a perfect shine; and with his lance couched at a perfect angle as he connected with the unsuspecting Adam’s armor.

There was a moment of resistance before Adam felt weightless as he was taken off his horse from the momentum of Jaune’s weapon crashing against his armor. Then, he felt a flare of pain as Jaune’s lance tore through his armor and pierced his heart in a clean kill before his limp body crashed against the cold, hard ground in an undignified heap.

And then, there was nothing but the void of darkness to greet him.

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Lie Ren was not a knight. He wasn’t even a soldier. He was a farmer, a poor one at that, so when the council had said they needed men to act as levies, he’d signed up. He figured they’d have him digging ditches and carrying supplies, nothing too overtly complex he’d imagine.

But not this

The world was a haze of violence and pain in front of him; faunas in heavy armor struggled uphill through their wall of spears. He thrust without thinking, hoping that it might dissuade the warriors, while every few seconds, another cry would go up as one of his allies took a blow. Nearly all of them were bleeding now, yet none dared to fall, for to fall now would surely lead to their death. Before them, the mass of knights had formed a solid wall; he’d kill for a musket like the one Nora had wanted to buy him, but it was too expensive, and he wanted to save the money to get new farm equipment.

That steam tractor seemed so frivolous right now.

A flash of steel was his only warning as the man next to him died, clutching his throat. Eyes wide, begging for help the first one but most likely not the last. Ren thrust the spear, again and again, ignoring his growing fatigue as he did so. He’d survive this, and he’d make it home to Nora, that’s all that mattered.

But how? They were surrounded.

He wondered if Nora would find another, he hoped so. She deserved happiness, more than he could offer her, that was for sure. Her smile was the best thing about her. It was what drove him to work so hard. Knowing that she’d be back at home waiting for him, he could endure any hardships for that smile. He was hoping to marry her when he got back when the farm was stabilized, and they could build their lives together.

He hoped she wouldn’t mourn too long.

It was just as he was about to give up when he saw him; Sir Arc had gotten behind enemy lines. Down the massive slope, he could see the other half of the army giving chase. And it all happened in slow motion.

Sir Arc Riding up the hill

His lance lowered just as the enemy general turned to see him.

A great screeching as the lance went through the armor of the faunas.

There was a moment of stunned silence.

And then they started screaming.

Panic took the enemy that just a second before was utterly unfazed by them. But now, with their spirits broken, so too was their aura.

The battle was now a haze of red, and Ren gave chase without thinking. He needed this, needed to kill them as they had tried before. He stabbed with his spear running down the fleeing knights as they tried to escape his spear, barely having the time to rechamber as he killed with reckless abandon.

This was no longer a battle; it was a glorious red hazed slaughter, the most potent high of rage elation and victory ren had ever felt, and he needed more, and more, and more! Let the world drown in his enemy’s blood.

HE’D KILL THEM ALL!

Eventually, though, they ran out of men. And ren came down from his high, all around him were tired bloody men, but more importantly, the field was covered in a carpet of dead knights, so much so that the grass couldn’t be seen underneath.

Ren looked at the sky, and that couldn’t be right.

The sun hadn’t moved; it was still high noon.

It had felt like hours, but…

“One thousand men, and seven and a half minutes,” came the voice of Sir Arc. Ren took in the sight of their savior. His horse, once pure white, was now covered in red. His armor the same, his eyes tired. “That’s what it took to gain victory over six-thousand-eight-hundred and thirty-eight men. All consisted of the greatest knights still living after the great war, and the Faunus rights revolution. And the leadership to the militant arm of the white fang” Sir Arc laughed, “and it took me seven and a half minutes AND A THOUSAND FARMERS WITH POINTY STICKS!” and the call went up, the men cheered and hollered. Their cries echoing off the mountain.

Ren would go home to Nora; when he did, they would make love, to the point that he exhausted her. And they would keep going until a week later when Ren’s pay would show up, along with a sizable bonus, and a note.

In time all this would happen, but for now, ren stood on the pile of corpses, covered in blood, spear raised high over his head, and he screamed his victory to the gods on the slopes of what would be known as Adam’s peak.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Legends would be told of this battle jaune knew as he looked over the clean up being done by his men, the knights of note and the leaders were being beheaded, jaune personally doing the honors for adam. He had plans for all of them. He also had a message from adam’s personal effects back at his camp. He and the council would be having words, and all the world would know of their misdeeds.

The battle itself was the deathblow to the knightly way of life though, jaune could feel it in his bones. It was jaune’s victory purely because of the weaknesses of the knightly system. Aura was based on morale, how willing to fight a man was. When things were going well in a fight, this was all well and fine but scare a man, disrupt his concentration, and he could no longer muster the will to fight, then he was just as vulnerable as any other. Perhaps worse so, as all his skill was based on what he could do with his aura.

The weak point of an army was always their order of battle and morale. And when jaune had killed adam, it had broken them, they could have rallied, but luckily one brave warrior by the name of Lie Ren had rushed forward, seizing the initiative, and as a result, inspiring all the men behind him to push forward as well.

Lie Ren had won this battle just as much as he did.

But adam had committed everything to this battle and lost everything. The knightly system was high risk, high reward, with no real way of knowing how the results would turn out.

The huntsman system didn’t have this problem. It was decentralized, meaning you couldn’t kill a general to break the enemy’s will. And the loss of a team of hunters meant very little in the grand scheme of things. Vale could lose again and again now and still have more to give.

The system was simply a higher reward for lesser risk. And so jaune was faced with the unenviable knowledge that he was the one to end the age of knights. And that he would be the last commander for the final battle.

The after-action report was straightforward. After all, he was only writing it for Oswald. And that was only so ruby would know he was alive before he showed up with the heads of his enemy. Perhaps vale would hate him for this as well, but he no longer cared what happened to that den of vipers.

Jaune had been stationed in the mountains that will henceforth be known as Adam’s peak. He had one-thousand levies from the local farms, poorly trained and equipped. And he had been engaged by the enemy army of the White Fang numbering six-thousand-eight hundred and thirty-eight. Being made up of the elite knights and veteran leadership of the white fang. Knowing that the wooden castle walls would do him no good, he had set his men on the steepest slope in a choke point. It would not have granted him victory, but it had bought him time and had set up the next stage of his strategy.

Adam had sought to capture him for a grand execution and had sent half his army to ensure that he did not escape. Jaune had gambled on the fact that he was a high priority of the enemy general and had run past the second army with his banner held high. Jaune was right in that the enemy was quick to pursue him. He then made a suicidal charge through the back lines of the enemy and slew Adam in a single blow. Therefore, the morale of his enemy and their aura shattered the rest had been a simple mop-up action to ensure they could not rally. With him personally hunting down and killing the enemy commanders as his men slaughtered the rest.

Having followed him, the second army was already exhausted from the chase and, with their auras weakened, could not run away fast enough, blocking the first armies escape and ruining any chance of organizing resistance as units ran through each other to get away, utterly destroying cohesion.

In total, the battle had taken him seven and a half minutes. In seven and a half minutes, Jaune Arc had shifted the direction of fate and history and had secured for himself the title that all would know him by for the rest of his life.

Sir Jaune Arc, The Just, The Butcher Of Anima.

And The Knight of Miracles

[quinttyz]

the noticeboard

BLOG RULES 🐸

DNI: i post implied/slight nsfw art from time to time!! if you’re uncomfortable with that then please do not interact 🤓

Hi guys!! Quinttyz here lol I'm just laying down the simple rules for my tumblr:

- I write and draw for multiple fandoms! that being said, I also draw art that's not necessarily fanart!! I hope you guys enjoy my content hahaha

- I don't write/draw rape scenarios, hardcore nsfw, lgbtphobia, racism, furries etc. That's...that's not me hshsje

- Everything else other than the above is fair game unless I say it otherwise! I love doing stuff on my blog and I'm thankful for the people who consume my art! Bless ✨

visual musings board (personal art, projects, commissions etc)

NEW FORMAT! Of Quinttyz’s compendium (old format cut in readmore)

Pathfinder: Kingmaker (oc: Who is that Lady!)

Baldur’s Gate 3 (oc: The Stealer of Memories)

Stardew Valley (oc: Bernadetta Yen)

Quinttyz’s Compendium

(aka the MASTERPOST OF OC ADVENTURES~)

page two here (oc adventures are getting updated there! this one is just an archive of past drawings hehe)

page 3

page 4 (latest one)

PILLARS OF ETERNITY/DEADFIRE (Jinx/Tempest Withers)

JINX/TEMPEST WITHERS CHARACTER SHEET (for reference)

You must gather your party before venturing forth!

teaM GILDED VALE TEAM GILDED VALE

Jinx and Aloth’s First Night in The Gilded Vale

Jinx and Aloth sharing a bed

‘’Uh-oh, bad decision Raedric!’’

‘‘She seems...like an angel when she’s asleep.’‘

Jinx’s Backstory 

Team Gilded Vale Misadventures!

Musings about Jinx

A Battle Against an Eyeless

The Gang in The White March

Aloth’s Confession in Defiance Bay

Turmoil

Small Headcanon before the Defiance Bay Hearing 

Potential Nalpazcan Chieftain Wife

The Silver-Tongued Jester and Her Tragedy-Stricken Lover

a lively night at The Gréf's Rest

‘‘You kissed back, but you pulled away immediately...’‘

Aloth’s mind wanders

It’s been a long, long time

Jinx Before/Jinx Now

Concept art of Jinx/Tempest Withers in Deadfire

Grieving Mother HC

Tempest Withers

Aloth’s Daydreams

thoughts about how tempest and aloth would meet again

Gilded Vale’s menaces heroes

The Watcher with Many Titles

Edér tries giving Aloth advice

(1/?) Been a while, fellow watcher! (Adaryc Cendamyr x The Watcher)

Divinity Original Sin 2 (Tante Howle)

introducing Tante Howle

Tante’s First and Last Night at the Merryweather

A moment of respite

“Do you really need an ETERNAL to at least look presentable?”

survival tips 101 with ifan: never get stranded in the hollow marshes with an eternal!!!!!!

Drunken Misadventures in Driftwood

Death and the Maiden

MODDED TESV:SKYRIM SE (Avarice The Two-Faced)

The Night Kaidan and Avarice met

fuck windhelm all of my homies hate windhelm

Avarice’s Dilemma 

Kaidan’s alchemy nightmares

Rumarin notices some stuff

Kaidan 🤝 Caryalind

BALDUR’S GATE 3 (The Stealer of Memories)

Concept art for oc

[bridgyrose]

May I request a more angsty addition to the Summer is Queen of Vale AU? I would like Summer to be woken up from a very lucid nightmare by her team. After Raven carefully explains that Summer was talking in her sleep, Summer reluctantly explains to her team that her parents passed on in an attack when she was 12. After saying that she believes she failed to protect her family, her team reminds her that she still has a family right here. Summer is eternally thankful and happy for that fact.

Summer’s eyes fluttered open, seeing her team standing around her. At first, she was a bit confused. But then she saw the worry in their eyes, realizing they had an idea on what was going on. She pulled her covers back up, trying to sleep again. “We should all get back to sleep. Sorry if I woke you up.” 

Raven was the first to speak. “We… heard you talking in your sleep. Well… more like yelling. And crying.” 

“Rae’s right. We’re worried about what’s going on.” Tai knelt down next to Summer’s bed. “Will you talk to us about it?” 

“There’s nothing to talk about. It’s just a stupid nightmare.” 

“And not the first that’s woken us up.” Qrow sat down and pulled the covers off Summer. “This is the fifth time this month you’ve had some sort of nightmare. We just want to help.” 

Summer sighed and sat up. “I… had a nightmare about my parents. I dont like talking about it but… I watched them die. I was young, maybe twelve years old. A few bandits got in and started attacking. Sure, the monarchy we have here in Vale is just a figurehead so to speak, no real power, but they wanted to send a message. That the kingdoms would fall. It was after that I was sent away. I went to live with a family friend in Vacuo, although we didnt stick around there and moved around alot. I came back here when I finally had the chance because I thought I could handle being here again. I thought I was finally over my parents’ deaths. But I guess I’m not completely yet.” 

Qrow gently took Summer’s hand and smiled. “Well, you have us as family. Assuming you want a bunch of misfits like us.” 

“That’s what a team is for, isnt it?” Tai grinned and slammed his fist against his chest. “Besides, with me around, you wont have to worry about anyone trying to get to you.” 

Summer smiled weakly as she looked around to each of her team members. Her gaze stopped at Raven, who looked away. 

“A team is supposed to stick together. It’s not that we care about you, but we dont exactly like seeing you hurt like this either. And we’ll keep you safe. Figurehead or not, Vale needs a leader. And… you’ve been a great leader so far.” 

Summer smiled and pulled Raven into a hug, tears starting to stream down her cheeks. “You dont know how much that means to me.” 

Raven blushed softly and hugged Summer back. “Just dont tell anyone I’m going soft like this.” 

[ofcacthuxandkylosaur]

Movie /Serie /Book /Game Inspired Kylux AUs Tag List (part 2)

All AUs inspired by existing work, be it movie, series, books or games.

ABOUT

Go here to find an INDEX of every lists (including all thematic lists)

-> A - K (part 1)

L

Labyrinth AU

Ladybug AU [see Miraculous AU]

Ladyhawke AU {part of Fantasy AU)

Last of Us (the) AU {part of Post Apocalyptic AU}

Last Unicorn (the) AU

Legend of Zelda AU

Life Is Strange AU {part of Time Travel AU}

Lilo & Stitch AU

Lord of the Rings (the) AU {part of Fantasy AU}

Lovecraft AU (also see Horror AU)

M

Mad Max AU {part of Post Apocalyptic AU}

Man from U.N.C.L.E. (the) AU (also see Agents [both] AU, Agent Hux AU and Agent Kylo AU)

Marvel AU {includes Captain America AU and Guardians of the Galaxy AU}

Masks of the Ren AU

Matrix AU

Miraculous AU

Mister and Misses Smith AU [see Mr and Mrs Smith AU ]

Mr and Mrs Smith AU {part of Assassins [both] AU }

Moonrise Kingdom AU {part of Boyscout AU and Summer Camp AU}

Moulin Rouge AU

Mummy (the, 1999 movie) AU {part of Mummy AU}

N

Names in Marble AU (also see 10′s AU)

Nightmare before Christmas (the) AU

Night Vale AU [see Welcome to Night Vale AU]

O

Office (the, TV Show) AU {part of Office AU}

Over the Garden Wall AU

Overwatch AU

Oz AU

P

Pacific Rim AU

Peter Pan AU

Peter Rabbit AU

Phantom of the Opera (the) AU

Pillars of Eternity {part of Fantasy AU}

Pokemon AU

Pride and Prejudice AU (also see Regency AU)

Princess Diaries AU

Princess Mononoke AU

Q

Queen of the Damned AU (also see Vampires [both] AU, Vampire Hux AU and Vampire Kylo AU)

R

Rapunzel AU [see Tangled AU]

Red Dwarf AU

Revenant (the) AU

Rocky Horror Picture Show (the) AU

Rogue One AU

Romeo and Juliet AU

S

Sailor Moon AU {part of Magical girl AU}

Shakespearean AU

Shape of Water (the) AU

Silmarillion AU [see Lord of the Rings (the) AU]

Six Feet Under AU

Skyrim AU {part of Fantasy AU}

Sleeping Beauty AU

Sleepy Hollow AU

Snow White AU

Spirited Away AU

Star Trek AU

Steven Universe AU [see Gem AU]

Stranger Things AU

Swan Princess AU

T

Tangled AU

Tarzan AU

Titanic AU {parted from Cruise AU}

Treasure Planet AU

Tron AU

True Mate AU

U

Uptown Girl (song) AU

W

Warm Bodies AU  {part of Zombie AU}

Welcome to Night Vale AU

Winnie the Pooh AU

Witcher (the) AU (also see Fantasy AU)

Wicked AU [see Oz AU]

Wizard of Oz AU [see Oz AU]

X

X-Files AU (also see Cryptids AU)

X-Men AU

Y

Your Name AU

Yu-Gi-Oh AU

Z

Zootopia AU

#

007 AU (also see Agents [both] AU, Agent Hux AU and Agent Kylo AU)

5th Element (the) AU [see Fifth Element (the) AU]

101 Dalmatiens AU

+ Other Movie/TV Show/Book/Video Game Inspired AU (all non-featured above Movies/TV Show/Book/Video Game Inspired AUs)

[safrona-shadowsun]

Assimilate

Living on rumor and shots of bourbon before the rumors invaded reality, Safrona had been ready, and surprised herself in just how ready she had been for the chaos when she allowed herself to recollect her actions. There was no sign of a Courier when the abyss began to assimilate the ancient sands of Uldum, business instead left for those that she trusted it in. A Harvester had been needed. With cold, disciplined precision she targeted tumor, corrupted flesh, and possessed stone with her own brand of chaos, releasing a hungry army of demonic denizens for the slaughter of the Unnatural. In the face of the Black Empire, there was no hiding behind names or behind an assimilated veneer of form. Tired of being tired, it had been the Warlock’s intention all along to bring her horrors their own horror, until tentacles shriveled back from whence they came.

Under any other circumstance, the Warlock suffered the company of her own demons for no lasting period of time, not one to subject herself to the varied craved debaucheries and violences they each represented extensively. But together it had felt a wrong right to release upon the Void-scarred sands, all within their aligned sphere and free to destroy as needed. Every pustulant tumor, every corrupted piece of flesh, every raised ancient of stone she could rush upon met the Dark Harvest, helping to eat away at the inevitable abyss. Destruction was its own form of cleansing, and each time a nameless cohort answered her call through the Nether to help her annihilate, she felt a surge of dark pride.

It was a feeling she let herself have sparingly, but as she stole her rewards of souls steeped in ancient power, each felt vindicated. She felt ready for what she had ultimately dreaded for too long. The Vale of Eternal Blossoms needed to be Harvested too. Pandaria had been both her end and beginning before, and for the past few years she had avoided visitation - even Madam Goya had made herself available in places beyond the Tavern of the Mists. Yet sweet Lilthessa, Sister of her Heart had made her home in those lands, as many others seeking a detour away from Azeroth’s consistent wars. It was a vivid motivation to work to keep the woman and her children safe. 

It had felt different from Uldum, where the corruption of sand-swept ruins had been easier for her to disconnect from. Amidst cherry blossom trees and the wind-chased dragons, the stain of the place was familiar, entwined and melancholic, revoked of its harmony and beauty it had struggled so hard to maintain. She had concentrated on the mantid forces first who had always known what they were, long awaiting the chance to exult in the release of What Had Always Been. And she stripped them of their warrior souls after her demons were done with them, keeping focused on the Harvest, the next target, the next soul to claim.

She was rewarded with peace, a soft darkness, a respite of silence where no vestige of flesh twitched and hissed, no hollow voice sounded from stone to stop her. Satisfied, energized, she let her collection of souls float up before her, around her, the trophies of her Harvest. The pulse of her burning heart began to recede and calm, feeling some unexplained oneness, an enlightenment set upon her that made the pain of being dissolved seem an exquisite, undefinable pleasure.

She wasn’t breathing. She couldn’t BREATHE. Mind rocked along with body to surface for air, her hands were white on the edges of the bathtub, gasping in every ounce of air she could have. The water was cold, stunk of coagulated blood and bowel, which still clung to her like a sickly, veiny afterbirth. She could not remember the exact moment when the abyssal mouth swallowed her, or how long she had spent letting it sap her of all energies she had taken, but it had felt natural for the Unnatural, like a missing piece fit into the Nightmare made reality of what she was. The corruption had crept upon her in that build of pride, feeding off her every moment, bonding with her, placating her to assimilate cleanly. 

Frantically she searched for the chain to pull the drain free, curling up into the corner of the bath as the black water drained away from her to leave her vulnerable, and alone. In that wretched one-ness, the Old God had made her feel a dark belonging, like a sick rose finally planted in the undergrowth of its being. Composure long drained, miserably tired and hungry in the fallacy of flesh, she fought through the night to regather her mind from the winding paths of dark truths shown her. Its truths could not ever wholly have her. She belonged to too many. She belonged most of all to her Perished. The First, the Voice, the Ears. They were names that slipped off her trembling lips in reverent whispers, a chant to remember by which she was sworn by.

A Child of the Void may be all she had been tonight, alone in that bathtub, but...tomorrow was another day to be elsewise. Another day was to fight assimilation...

{ @aranyaphoenix​ @thefirstperished​ @nixyandrith​ }