#we can block *each other* to retain peace :)

[kouhaiofcolor]

Have to share this bc I’ve been subscribed to a number of Black traveler, expat, polyglot and immigration channels on YouTube — and i am so proud of diasporans who’ve succeeded in securing better qualities of life, mentalities and identity for themselves and their families in Africa.

It’s an hour long (I got halfway thru before sharing), but even without watching all of it, this man has a true wealth of knowledge he’s cultivated in how he’s assimilated and embraced his heritage, as well as what he condemns, supports, and intends to do with and for his lineage.

[ineffablywriting]

to love someone

Summary: an angsty one shot of one too many broken promises that leads to a broken heart or two

Word count: 2.8K

Warnings: angst, angst and more angst

Harry grinned to himself as he stepped out of the recording booth. 

“That’s the one,” he told Jeff, his heart racing with adrenaline at the prospect of a finished album. “I swear, this one’s the Grammy winner, Jeff,” he sighed, collapsing onto the sofa beside his manager. 

He’d rung Jeff and got his team together a couple hours ago when he’d been unable to get a melody out of his mind. He’d quickly scribbled together some lyrics on a scrap piece of paper he’d found lying around his apartment and rushed to the studio he had on retainer and worked nonstop for the last three hours getting the song together. And it was perfect - not to toot his own horn. 

“You just might be right on that one, H,” Jeff’s smile was almost as wide as Harry’s as they congratulated each other. “We need to celebrate properly,” he pulled out his phone and started to text people. “I’m thinking a party to commemorate the day our very own Harry Styles finished his second album.”

“An award winning album,” Harry joked, closing his eyes and lounging back in his seat with his hands behind his head. 

It felt like a weight had lifted off his chest. He’d been stuck in the worst sort of writer's block for the last couple of weeks, unable to even step foot inside a studio or pick up a pen. It had made him almost unbearable to be around. But now it was done and Harry could breathe again. 

He let a small smile perk up his lips as basked in the peacefulness that only a completed song - a perfect song - could bring him. 

He doesn’t know how long he stayed like that before the doors opened again. He sat up, a smile still fixed firmly on his face, expecting Jeff to walk through the doors. When he saw Nick’s gangly figure walking in instead his smile grew even bigger. 

“Grimmy, I did it!” he called out, standing up to give him a hug. 

“Finally finished the album, huh?” he lifted a fond brow, giving Harry an equally fierce and excited hug. 

“Yup,” he puffed out his chest proudly. 

“Congrats, Haz,” Nick patted him on the shoulder, glancing around the room searching for someone. 

“Jeff’s in another room organising a party,” Harry explained, letting himself fall back into the lounge. 

But Nick shook his head. “I’m looking for your better half,” he turned back to Harry curiously. “I thought for sure she’d be here with you, being disgustingly cute as always,” he joked. 

Harry’s face fell instantly. “Fuck.”

“What?” Nick frowned at him, watching the colour drain from Harry’s face. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he cursed, scrambling around and looking for his phone. He’d switched it off and thrown it to the side as soon as he’d entered the studio not wanting to get distracted by anything. “I fucked up,” he looked up at Nick in a panic while his phone rebooted. “What time is it?”

“What did you do?” Nick asked, the smile dropping from his own lips as he looked down at his watch and answered. “Just after 10pm.” 

“Can you please call her for me?” he asked, getting frustrated at how long it was taking for his phone to switch back on. 

“Call her? Isn’t she here with you?”

“I wouldn’t be so fucking stressed if she was, would I?” he glared at Nick, finally able to unlock his phone and open up y/n’s contact information and hit call. 

“You didn’t pick her up?” Nick asked, disapproval rich in his voice. 

“I forgot!” Harry pulled the phone away from her ear and redialled her number again. “She’s not answering,” he frowned worriedly.

“You forgot.” Nick stated, unsure what else to say. “How could you forget?” 

“I don’t know! I was so focused on finishing this album. I haven’t been able to write anything for weeks, you know this. It was only going to be a quick stop and then I was gonna leave and head straight to the hospital. Fuck. She’s still not picking up,” he looked at his phone worriedly, scrolling through all the missed texts he hadn't read and all the calls that had gone straight to voicemail because he’d had his phone off. “What do I do?”

Nick didn’t know what to say. He felt for his friend but he also knew that he deserved to feel this bad for leaving y/n waiting for him so long in the dark. 

“Can you call her?” Harry asked him, his green eyes wide with worry. “She might answer you,” he pleaded and Nick didn’t have it in him to deny the request. Besides, he was just as worried for her at that moment. The hospital she worked at wasn’t exactly in the safest part of town and y/n always hated finishing after dark. 

She answered him after a few rings and he let out a relieved breath until he heard her hiccup on the other end of the line. “Babe?” he asked quietly, voice soft over the phone. “You ok?” 

“N-no,” she told him, honestly. “Not really.” 

Nick took a step away from Harry when he reached for the phone, trying to take it off him and speak to his girl. He’d obviously heard her voice on the other end of the line and hadn’t liked what he’d listened in on. He followed Nick. “Gimme the phone, Grimmy,” he hissed, once again trying to reach for the mobile device. His worry was growing with every second he spent not in contact with y/n. 

Piss off, Nick mouthed at Harry and moved further away. 

But Harry continued to follow. How could he not? He could clearly hear his girl crying on the phone and he knew it was all his fault. 

“Hey, love,” Nick said to her softly, rolling his eyes at Harry. “Harold wants to talk to you.” 

“No,” he voice was firm this time, losing the hiccups and stuttering but not the sadness. “I don’t want to talk to him right now. I don’t think I’ll want to talk to him for a long time.” 

“Y/n…,” Nick began, turning away from Harry when he saw his friend flinch and lowered his voice as he once again tried to move away. This time Harry kept his distance. “You don’t mean that.” 

“I do,” she said firmly. “I mean it very much.” 

“Y/n, are you drunk?” Nick asked suddenly as she hiccuped again, this time a slight slur to her words. 

“Nooooo,” she extended the word and that was all the confirmation he needed. 

“Y/n, where are you?” He asked suddenly, hoping she’d say she was at home in the apartment she and Harry shared. 

“Dunno,” she said instead, no real worry in her words. 

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Nick asked her a little more urgently, glancing over at Harry. He was frowning, his chest rising and falling in quick breaths the way it always did when he was worried or stressed. 

“Give me the phone, Nick,” Harry spoke through his teeth, holding out a hand for the phone. 

Wait, Nick mouthed at Harry knowing if he handed over the phone now, y/n would just hang up. 

“Y/n,” he spoke gently down the phone, slowing his words into a soothing drawl. “You need to tell me where you are and who you’re with so I can come and get you, yeah?” 

“No,” she said stubbornly, and now that Nick was listening carefully, he could hear cars driving by in the background and imagined she was stumbling around outside, drunk and alone. He knew Harry was thinking the same as his fists were curled up beside him and his cheeks had turned pink. He was angry now, but his eyes gave away his worry. “I don’t wanna go home. I don’t wanna see Ha-him.” 

“Aww, come on, love. Don’t be like that,” Nick soothed, while Harry flinched back at y/n’s tone. She hadn’t even been able to say his name. “He got distracted finishing his album, he didn’t mean anything by it. I'm sure it won’t happen again.”  

“‘At’s what he said last time,” she said, this time her voice soft and filled with hurt. “Last time and the time before and the time before that. He always forgets everything.” 

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Nick replied, doubtfully looking over at Harry. 

“It is true. Ask him. He’s there with you listening to everything. Ask him where he was on our second anniversary and his birthday dinner last year that I begged to take time off work for. Ask him where he was when I graduated and what he was doing when I asked him to come to my work’s Christmas party last year. He’s always late or doesn’t show up at all. I waited for him for an hour today before I gave up and Kiera invited me out for drinks,” she paused and took a deep breath, letting out a scoff before she spoke again. “I bet he doesn’t even know who that is. You know he never asks me about my day unless I ask him about his first. He doesn’t ask me anything about who I spent my time with or what I did that day. All he talks about is the song he wrote and how good or bad it was, about how Mitch and Sarah did something so talented I missed out on a magical moment, about how he’s going on tour soon and didn’t even ask me if I could come with him.”

“Harry?” Nick quizzed, looking over at his friend. “Tell me she’s exaggerating.” 

But Harry shook his head. He hadn’t realised how far down his list of priorities y/n had fallen until he’d heard her drunk, broken voice over the phone. He’d stood her up on their anniversary that year, having had a long day of meetings with his management, he’d gone straight home and fallen asleep in his suit. He’d woken up to y/n walking into their bedroom, heels in her hands and a small, sad smile on her face. She’d stroked his head and asked him if he’d had a long day and he’d nodded, told her she looked nice and how he hoped she’d had a good time at whatever event she’d been at. Y/n’s smile had tightened and she’d just urged him to go back to sleep and get some rest. He hadn’t even realised it had been their anniversary until a few days later when Gemma had asked him what he’d gotten her. 

He’d seen in her eyes how hurt she’d been when he’d finally given her a present, but it had been too late. He’d known it then and swore he’d never mess up so badly again. 

But he had. 

Over and over again. 

She was right. He’d missed almost every single milestone in her life and she’d never missed a single one of his. 

He’d been taking her for granted for so long, he’d just assumed she’d leave her job behind and come on tour with him indefinitely, even though he knew how hard she’d worked to get to where she was. He was so proud of her, and he didn’t think she even knew that, because she was right. 

He’d shown up late to her graduation, hadn’t met any of her colleagues or attended any of her work events, even after she’d asked him over and over again - he’d always promised her next time, but next time never came and eventually she’d stopped asking. He didn’t even remember the last time he’d asked her about her life. 

“Fuck,” he cursed, running his hands through his hair in distress. He was worried and guilty and all he wanted was for y/n to be next to him, her cute little smile on her face as they cuddled so closely they may as well have been glued together. 

He grabbed the phone from Nick’s hands before he could move it away again, holding it close to his ear and dancing away from his friend as he spoke down the line. “I’m so, so sorry, Sweets,” he said gently. “I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” He prayed she believed him.

There was no response on the other end of the line, just some heavy breathing and in his mind’s eye, Harry could just see his girl taking deep breaths to try and keep herself from crying, to try and keep herself calm. It was something she’d done from the very first time they’d had a fight and he’d seen her cry. He’d hated seeing it then and he hated hearing it even more now. Especially when he heard her sniffle quietly, as though she’d moved the phone away to try and hide her tears from him. 

“Please don’t cry,” he begged her anyway when still no reply had come through, but Harry was hopeful that she hadn’t hung up the phone yet like she’d promised she would. “I hate it when you cry.” He didn’t mention how much worse it was when he was the reason she cried this way. 

“I don’t want to talk to you right now, Ha-Harry,” she sighed. “Give the phone ba-back to Grimmy.” 

“No,” he said firmly, clenching his teeth and pacing back and forth while his other hand brushed through his hair trying to shake out some of the tension in his limbs. “No,” he repeated more gently this time. “Please, just tell me where you are so I can come and get you?” I just want to make sure you’re safe, he thought to himself. 

“Don’t wanna see you. Why can’t you just leave me alone when I want you to? You haven’t been around for weeks and now you want to pretend to care?” she asked him harshly. 

Harry squeezed his eyes shut as his shoulders hunched inwards. He’d had his heart broken before, but never had it felt so painful before; as though he’d never be able to put himself back together again. “I know I haven’t been the best boyfriend lately. I know I’ve been forgetful and neglected you. I know. But please, Sweets, can we just talk face to face? Please, just - just let Grimmy pick you up.”

Y/n was silent on the other end of the line for a couple of heartbeats before she let out a choked sob. “You forgot me,” she murmured. “You didn’t answer any of my phone calls or texts. You didn’t even - sometimes it feels like you don’t love me anymore,” she admitted. “Sometimes it feels like you’re only with me because it’s easier than breaking up.” 

“That’s not - no. Y/n, no. You can’t believe that. You can’t think that. You know - you have to know that’s not true,” Harry implored, stopping his pacing in the middle of the room. He looked completely lost, as though just the idea of not having y/n around made him question his place in the world. 

“Please give the phone to Grimmy, Harry,” y/n finally said. “I’ll tell him where I am. I - I think I want to stay with him tonight. Please don’t come over,” she said. “I really don’t want to talk anymore tonight. I have a headache and I’m tired.” 

Harry took in and let out a shaky breath, handing the phone back over to Nick. “Here,” he said, walking back over to the couch dejectedly and falling into it. It was a big contrast to the way he’d collapsed into it earlier with all the joy of a completed album sitting like a crown on his head. Now his whole world was falling apart in front of him. 

He thought of the rings he’d been looking at. He thought of all the times he’d walked past a jewellery store and itched to walk out with an engagement ring. He thought of all their friends who were having kids and how the only person he could see himself having a family with was y/n. And he thought about how everything was being snatched out from under him because he’d been so selfish the last couple of months. How he’d been growing more and more selfish over the last year of their relationship. 

He had to fix this. 

He didn’t know how, but he would fix this. 

“I’m gonna go get her,” Nick spoke softly, tapping Harry on the shoulder. “You should get home and get some rest too,” he told him. 

“I’m going to fix this,” Harry said to Nick, desperation thick in his words.

“I know you will, mate. I know you will,” Nick ruffled his hair fondly and walked out the room, leaving Harry sitting dejectedly on the couch. 

-

Hellooooo, please let me know what ya'll think. I would LOVE some feedback <3

My requests are also open

[callmelittlebuttercup]

Peace Offerings Pt. 15

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Chapter Summary: As they make their way back to Jackson, Reader tries to process the loss of her brother. Joel makes a confession to her that reminds her she's not alone, and she finally comes clean about what happens. The two continue to grow closer as they navigate their grief.

Chapter warnings: Processing of grief/loss, mentions of cannibalism and SA, descriptions of meat (idk if this is weird but I'd want a warning LOL), fluff.

Masterlist

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

Part Fifteen

I sat in the bed of a truck on the highway and stared at the ground as Joel searched the abandoned cars and trucks for anything we could find for the journey back to Jackson.  I picked at the dead, bloodstained skin around my fingernails as my feet swung back and forth in front of me. The sun was warm on the back of my head but the air was still chilled from the past snow. I was pulled from my dissociative state by Joel calling out my name. I whirled around to see him walking towards me with a grimace on his face from the blinding sun. “Did you hear me?” He asked. “No. What?” I responded weakly. “Well I found this in there. Beefaroni, Chef Boyardee.” He said as he held up a worn out can. “Oh… Cool.” I said as enthusiastically as possible. He hesitated before pulling out another box and moving closer to me. “Alright. We’re making good time. We should try to cover as much as we can before it gets dark.” He said as he handed me the can to put in his bag that I’d been guarding. I nodded, “Got it.” 

As we walked, Joel continued to fill the silence, “Think they had a guitar in that RV. Was all smashed up but- got me thinkin’... Maybe I should find one. I haven’t played in forever.” I looked at him. My surprise was muted, but still genuine. “You played guitar?” He nodded and turned his gaze up ahead. “I’ve always wanted to learn how to play.” I said quietly, almost purposefully so that wouldn’t hear me, but he did. “I could teach you… If you’d still want to when we get back.” He offered awkwardly. I felt the warmth of a blush reaching my cheeks, “I’d like that.” 

Despite our innocent and light conversation, there was still a heaviness between us. Joel obviously knew something had happened in that restaurant but he was dancing around that fact. I couldn’t blame him because I was too. I wanted to tell him what happened, but I didn’t know how to start. There was no easy or comforting way to say “My brother was chopped into little pieces and fed to cannibals by an evil cult leader then that same man tried to violate me as the building burnt down around us.” Joel and I had no choice but to be vulnerable with each other at times, but this felt different. This was a whole other level that went above being drunk around him, or almost dying on him multiple times. This wasn’t something one of his peace offerings could fix. This was something he would just have to let run its course. 

As the scenery changed from highway to a university campus, he began to speak again. He blurted out his ideas for making our way through, and I nodded along, barely retaining anything but I knew I would be okay as long as I stayed close behind. 

We came upon tents that had medical symbols on them, and Joel said aloud, “Emergency medical camps. They obviously didn’t last. They had me in one just like this.” I looked around before returning my gaze to him, “With Sarah?” He shook his head, “No she was gone already.” I nodded before questioning again, “What were you in here for?” I turned around, realizing he’d stopped in his tracks a few paces ago. His head was turned towards the ground and he mumbled, “‘Member when I said I’d almost lost my life when my daughter died?” My heart dropped as I predicted what he was about to say. He sat down on a concrete block feet away from him, and I moved to perch myself next to him. I stared at him intently, showing him I was listening. “There’s no story,” He said dismissively before continuing, “Sarah died and I couldn’t see the point anymore. Simple as that. And I wasn’t scare either… I was ready. But when I-” he pause and made an unreadable gesture with his hands, “When I went to pull the trigger, I flinched. Still don’t know why.” 

I was speechless. I felt like I’d known what his story was all this time, but hearing him tell it outright was all the more painful. I sat there and my hand instinctively moved to rest on his knee. His hand slid on top of mine and squeezed gently. My eyes began to swim with tears as I leaned my head into him. “Well I’m glad… that didn’t work out.” I whimpered, my voice thick with tears. I couldn’t see his face, but I could hear the same thickness in his voice as he responded, “Me too.” Before we could get too emotional, I wiped the stray tear off of my cheek and sat up. “We should probably get going.” I choked. He nodded as we both stood and continued our trekk through the campus. 

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

After walking absentmindedly for what seemed like hours, Joel called out from ahead of me, “We should see if this house is clear and rest for the night.” I nodded and followed after him towards the front steps. He went in before me and cleared both floors before waving me in. 

David had taken my bag from me, so I watched as Joel dropped his on the ground and began to rummage through it. “Hungry?” He asked as he pulled out a package of jerky and flung it my way. Again, I should have been hungry, but the thought of eating made me sick to my stomach. I shook my head and slid down the wall before leaning my head back against it with a thump. His stare lingered as I did so, and I could feel the weight of the questions he was begging to ask. 

I still didn’t have the energy to formulate an explanation, but after his confession to me earlier, I felt like I owed to him. His concern for me was also obvious in his furrowed eyebrows and clenched jaw. I cleared my throat and rubbed the fabric of my jeans between my fingers before speaking, “He didn’t… do what it looked like he did. If that’s what you’re worried about.” I uttered uncomfortably. Joel’s jaw clenched even harder and he nodded, “Good.” 

He bit off a piece of jerky before pushing the package towards me. I picked it up and stared at the dark brown, scaly strips of meat. My hand started to tremble and I became ill at the sight of it. I tossed it back at him and folded my knees against my chest as my hot tears formed in my eyes. He stared at me with the same look of concern on his face, only more intense. I sighed and prepared myself to explain. “That group… they were-“ He cut me off, “Cannibals. I know.” I looked at him briefly and nodded before speaking again, “and the leader, David said that they…” I swallowed down the bile in my throat before continuing, “He insinuated that they ate him. Ate Matthew.” I stuttered. His face dropped and his chewing halted. The piece of jerky in his hand fell to the floor with a soft thud. “My god..” he stuttered as he dropped his head into his hands.

 A few moments passed as we quietly rested in the moonlit cabin. Night had fallen, but I figured it was pointless to try to sleep. David’s chilling words played over and over in my head. “Let’s just say… his life will help many others to prosper.”  Each time his voice would echo through, another wave of queaziness would hit. As much as I would have liked to process my brother’s death, I desperately needed another distraction. 

 “How did you know they were cannibals?” I asked as soon as the question popped into my brain. “I… questioned* a few people when I was tryin’ to find you.” He answered. The way he paused before saying “questioned” let me know that the actual situation was not as formal. “You questioned people?” I repeated. He nodded, keeping his lips in a tight line. “Well… more like interrogated.” He finally admitted. “Did these people survive the interrogation?” I asked, partially from curiosity and the concern of someone seeking revenge on Joel for killing more members or David’s cult. “Don’t know,” he said, “Soon as they pointed to where you were on the map I took it and ran.” Despite its heaviness, my heart fluttered at Joel’s words. I was still adjusting to having another person looking out for me, especially with the fact that it was Joel, the man I never expected to become this close to. 

“You should try to get some sleep.” He said, quickly changing the subject. I shook my head, feeling the heat of tears forming behind my eyes. The thought of laying down and becoming vulnerable again terrified me. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Joel to keep watch, it was the fact that every time I blinked I saw the sick look on that vile man’s face as he unbuttoneed his pants. I knew, if I could even get a wink of sleep, that he would come back to haunt me in my nightmares. 

“It’s okay, I promise I’ll keep watch. I have coffee.” He said again, trying to convince me. “No… You don’t understand.” I whimpered. His silence and empathetic stare had pulled me to a huge realization. It was then that I remembered our conversation earlier. Joel had suffered a loss just as great, if not greater. Joel had lost his daughter. “How did you do it?” I asked, my voice becoming hoarse from tears. “Do what?” He questioned weakly. “How did you get through it?” My vision of him was shrouded by darkness, but I heard his breath catch in his throat. I chewed at the inside of my cheek as I desperately awaited his advice. As if all of the emotions I was feeling were gushing out of me from an open wound, and his words would be the sutures that would aid my survival. “I know it was dark at first… you told me. But you got through it. Please tell me how.” I begged. “ I learned that you keep going for those who are still here, for those who still need you. For me, back then, it was family. You and I may not be family, but we’re here for each other. That’s got to count for something.” 

I sucked in a deep breath as his words blanketed me. Joel alone would most definitely not fill the void of my beloved brother entirely, but he was here vowing to help me through the loss of him. He cared about me, and regarded my life as he did his own family’s, and I’d begun to function the same way. I had him and he had me. 

“Thank you, Joel.” I said quietly. Instead of a verbal response, I heard shuffling along the floorboards, and then felt his back hit the wall next to mine. I placed a hand out onto the floor to feel where he was, and made contact with his pant leg. His calloused hand wrapped around mine and pull it to rest on his knee as he squeezed it gently. My weary head dropped down to rest on his firm, yet comforting shoulder. “I’ve got you.” He whispered before leaning his head down and gently touching it to mine. “I’ve got you too.” I whispered back. The exhaustion of the day weighed my eyelids down. Joel’s words and the comfort of his touch made me feel safe enough to close them. 

That night, I was safe from David, from infected, and any other threats. My dreams were filled with my best memories of Matthew. The strawberry plants again, painting over our crayon drawings on the walls of our rooms before we moved out of our childhood home, his high school graduation, prank calling our friends and so much more. 

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

a/n: I have a confession to make: I definitely might have been sweating from my eyes while writing the last part.:’)  We needed some fluff and healing after all of the angst as well as in preparation for what is ahead. As always, let me know what you think and thank you thank you thank you for reading and for all of the support !! See you next Monday. <3

“*”: This line is most definitely referring to the “WHAT TOWWWNNNN”  scene in episode 9. If you don’t know what I’m talking about look it up bc it’s important (and hot.) 

Masterlist | Next Part

Taglist (plus ppl I think would like it.) :

@demonsasss @ashleyfilm @ayamenimthiriel @scarlet-daisy @jellybeanxc @briyannaholt @hujickova @morgaussy @vivian-pascal

[silentmoths]

As Fragile as A Brick Wall

Masterlist||First||Previous||Next

It's a me, ya bitch, who had half thie chapter written and then had to move house....tryina write longform during/post move is harder than I thought but here we is.

Chapter 7

Zhongli x Afab (fem pronoun) Reader

NSFW elements in later chapters

Multi-chapter, Royal AU, angst, mentions of death, eventual fluff, eventual smut, hurt/comfort(Wonderful header image made by the wonderful @ainescribe)

You wake with a hiss, something cold pressing against your exposed torso. Your initial reaction? Swing out with violence against whoever was closest, but your hand is swiftly caught and pinned to your side by a rather stern looking woman.

Ah, you remembered her now, she was one of the ones that had come with Zhongli when he had returned, slim, sharp features and an even sharper gaze, cloud retainer you think her name was. 

Either way, she fixes you with a withering glare as she clicks her tongue, brow furrowing in frustration. “One advises to hold still, your highness, lest your wound aggravate any more than it has with your improper technique.” she scolds, motioning to the pile of bandages beside you. “How did you come to sustain such an injury?” “Fell outta a tree…” you mutter, through gritted teeth. While the covered block of ice she had felt nice against your inflamed skin, this sharp woman was being anything but gentle as she presses it to your side.

“A princess should not be climbing trees in the first place!” she tuts, you roll your eyes at her, uncaring of the way her gaze only narrows on you. “You will do well to rest, lest these bones heal incorrectly.”

“I’ll do what I like!” you snap back at her, quickly losing patience with her commands as you shove her hand away and attempt to sit up. 

For such a skinny lady, she’s surprisingly strong as she grasps your shoulders and pushes you back down. “You will rest.” she repeats, already you can see a vein throbbing in her temple “It is as my lord commands, he does not wish for you to exacerbate your wounds more than you already have, foolish child!”

You can feel how quickly your fury reignites, only dimly cooled by cloud retainer’s icy glare. How dare he, after all that bravado, now he’s making orders of you? Pathetic.

“And what exactly is his royal highness going to do about it?” you sneer. 

“Quite simple.” Cloud retainer retorts “This one and his finest guard, Xiao, have been assigned to watch over you and keep you within your quarters until your injuries have healed sufficiently. Should you behave, it should not take long, but continue on like this and you will only suffer longer.”

“That ass!” you hiss, only for it to give way to a yelp as Cloud Retainer pinches your ear and tugs harshly. 

“While my lord insists you still be referred to as royalty, I will not have you disrespect him in my presence!” she thunders at you like a mother scolding their naughty child. “Now,you will lay here quietly and allow me to ice your wound, and then we can return you to your room. Understood?”

Her tone and glare gave you absolutely no room to argue.

—

Xiao was… intimidating.

Short, but intimidating. 

Never before had you seen a guard as stiff as him. Whenever he took over from Cloud Retainer and her fussing, he would stand there, by your door, stiff as a board, glowing yellow eyes usually trained at the floor, but any movement from you and his gaze would snap up again, watching you like a hawk, his hand tightening on his spear.

He didn’t speak much, and even when he did, to you ,at least, he kept his responses as short as humanly possible.

The duo’s shifts only last a few hours each, enough time for the other to eat and relax; in cloud retainer’s case it was to gather more herbs and tinctures, salves and poultices to slather onto your torso and thigh. The medicines were disgusting and the topicals stung, you hated it.

However, just when you’re expecting to finally get some peace and quiet as a knock at the door sounds, you expect it to be Xiao, but when your eyes meet those handsome amber pools you know you’re not getting any peace for the afternoon.

“Ah! Milord!” Cloud Retainer chirps happily to him with a deep bow of her head “Her wounds have been tended and she has, thankfully, remained in bed the entire day, as per your orders.”

“Thank you, Cloud Retainer. You are relieved for now.” Zhongli hums softly, stepping aside to allow his attendant out the door before he shuts it softly. You look away, one hand curling into your sheets as you look for anything closeby that you might be able to throw at his stupid head, but alas, nothing.

The chair beside your bed creaks quietly as he takes a seat, you still refuse to look at him, even as you hear the familiar rustling of pages, seem’s he’d brought a book with him…perhaps some sort of horrific mind control spell?

He does not acknowledge you as he settles on a page and begins to read. Slowly you realise through your anxiety and anger, that this was no spell, but a fairy tale…one you remember, told to you by her mother in her soft tones, curled in her warm embrace as she gently caressed your cheeks…better times, warmer times.

It was a story about a lonely dragon, who had left home and when he had returned many decades later, no one in the village remembered him, they thought he was a bad dragon, and treated him thus, throwing rocks and shooting arrows whenever he approached the castle upon which he used to roost. The villagers grew angrier and angrier with him, because he refused to leave the village, claiming this was his home. In the end he sacrificed his life for the village that hated him when an evil king had set his army upon them, and only in death did the villagers finally believe the beast’s words. 

You remember the first time your mother had told this story to you, you had cried for the dragon. You remember her face as she giggled and held you close, you promised her so vehemently that you would never be like those nasty villagers who didn’t believe until it was too late.

Ah, you get it now. 

“I see your game.” you mutter, gaze resting on your hands, clasped in your lap, Zhongli simply hums.

“Game?” He asks, flipping the page to the next story in the book “I simply thought you might enjoy listening to something other than Cloud Retainer’s occasionally incessant ramblings… she cares deeply about what she does, but she is prone to…prattle.” And with that, he launches into the next story, and you are left confused. Surely he’d picked that story first because he knew it had some meaning to you…? But it was the first one in the book too..

–

On the second day Zhongli comes to visit, he asks Cloud retainer how you’re faring, and if she would allow you to stand and walk for a little while.

His attendant squawks at the mere thought, launching into a lecture about how excessive movement would only make you worse, only silencing when he holds up his hand.

“I will be accompanying her…her steed is simply becoming agitated…considering he was once my own, I know he won't calm until he sees his rider.” He sighs, he watches as Cloud retainer’s face scrunches; clearly unhappy with the idea, but knowing better than to challenge him on it.

“Very well, but nothing too strenuous.” She huffs “otherwise she will have to remain bed bound even longer.” 

“You have my word, Retainer.” Zhongli sighs, shaking his head as he watches her ruffle and leave. Zhongli sighs in relief before looking at you with mischief dancing in his eyes as he holds out his hand.

“I was not joking when I said Azhdaha was acting out.” He chuckles,”I tried to calm him but it seems his loyalties have truly switched.” 

You grunt, reluctantly taking his hand, loathe you are to admit it, but your muscles are sore and stiff from being forced to stay still. His fingers curl around your palm, he’s just as warm as you remember, his skin a little less calloused over time.

Different, but hauntingly familiar. 

He’s gentle helping you up, his other hand coming to brace your back as you stand, and you hate how vulnerable and weak you feel in front of him as he walks with you down the hall, still holding your hand, the asshole.

You hear your horse before you see him, which, considering his size, is a feat in and of itself. He’s roaring, he’s stomping and pacing in his stall.

“Azhdaha.” You call to him, and within moments, his massive head has appeared into the hall, he’s covered in his bedding, straw littering his mane as he pins his ears and flares his nostrils in mock-anger. “Oh hush you, I’m here.” 

Immediately, he reaches his snout towards you, his ears not relaxing until you reach out a hand to stroke him. You knew he was a proud old thing, and you knew damn well that his sight was beginning to go, but you’d never say it aloud, he deserved that much. “See? Relax, I’m fine.”

“As promised.” Zhongli adds with a chuckle, finally releasing your hand so you could tend to the stallion properly. “I swear he’s become even fouler in his age.”

“Wouldn’t you?” you retort, coaxing the horse to dip his head so you could pick stray bits of straw from his mane “he’s a man of routine, and thanks to you I haven't been able to abide by it.”

“You needed to rest.” He points out, using the same, no-nonsense tone he used to when you were rebelling as a teenager, complete with the crossed arms and the raised eyebrow.

“And you need a hobby other than bothering me.” you snort.

“While we’re here, a word?” He asks as he leans against the wall.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Then I won’t make you talk…but I want you to listen.” he presses as he watches you intently “Because I need your help.”

“You? Need my help?” you snort “with that exactly? Because a lay does not constitute help.”

“While things have been going smoothly with most of our allied nations, one in particular is proving to be rather…difficult to settle…I was hoping to have you join me during the meeting with their ambassador.”

“And why would I be of any use?” You mutter, wincing as you attempt to bend to pick up your horses brush, knocked from it’s shelf during his angry rampage about the stall. A hand rests on your back as Zhongli bends to fetch it for you. “Despite what you say, most Kingdoms are now of the belief that because my father is dead and you have taken over rule, I hold no standing.”

“To them, as a princess? No.” he agrees “but I know an intelligent and strategic mind when I see one… you know how to lead your people, and the allied kingdoms are fond of you…I believe your presence as a royal advisor might very well be the key to securing continued alliances.” 

“Ah, so you want me to be the pretty little dove on your shoulder, telling you right from wrong?” you respond flatly, fixing him with an unimpressed stare, one that Zhongli returns with an incredulous look. 

“Have you always been this difficult? Or are you acting like a child for the sake of it?” He snaps in frustration.

“I’m being difficult because you expect me to bend to your will when it’s my life and my hand you want!”

“That is not what I am speaking about right now.” He huffs “I am asking if you would be willing to help me to help the kingdom!” 

Your gaze narrows at him, and you’re met with equally as narrow a glare.

Perhaps he knew how to play you better than you thought. 

“Fine.” you seethe “I’ll help you with this stupid alliance. But not for you.”

Zhongli blinks, shock flitting past his features, he hadn’t expected you to agree so quickly. He opens his mouth to thank you but is immediately stopped by your hand raising. 

“I am doing it for the kingdom. And then…once all your pretty little alliances are formed. I’m leaving.” You tell him. “I am leaving and you will never see me again.”

Zhongli feels the cold creep into his heart, leaving? Where would you go? What would you do? Would you be safe? 

But he also sees the fierce determination in your eyes, you had meant every word…not to mention…he had promised to aid you in living happily, even if it meant away from the castle.

“Very well.” he sighs and nods “A promise is a promise.” 

You look him up and down, an eyebrow quirked. After all his bluster at that dinner about how he wanted you to be his queen, he was backing down awfully quickly…

“How long do we have until this Ambassador arrives?” You sigh, placing the brush down once Azhdaha had been cleaned down.

“In six to eight weeks.” He mumbles, knowing the timing would give away exactly which kingdom was coming to visit, and you groan loudly.

“Not Sneznhaya…” you grumble.

“Sneznhaya.” He confirms.

“Now I know why they hate you.” you huff, giving your horse one more good pat and a scratch around the ears before you shamble for the door. Admittedly your injuries were really starting to get the better of you, and you hate how you actually appreciate Zhongli’s quick return to your side, supporting you as you both make your way back to your room.

“But now you also know why having you there will be indispensable.” He chuckles, “After all, you were once set to marry their prince.”

“Ugh…don’t remind me…” 

Taglist: @stygianoir @meimeimeirin @ainescribe @dustofthedailylife @rjssierjrie @crystalflygeo @angel-of-requiem @asoulsreverie @zomzomb1e Want to be added to the list? shoot me an ask~

[fancingstyle]

Durable and Stylish Retaining Walls in Sydney: Style Fencing Solutions

Retaining walls play a crucial role in both residential and commercial landscaping, offering functional benefits such as soil retention and erosion control, while also enhancing the aesthetic appeal of outdoor spaces. In Sydney, where the terrain can vary significantly, retaining walls are often necessary to create stable and usable landscapes. Style Fencing specializes in designing and constructing high-quality retaining walls that meet the diverse needs of Sydney’s properties. Here’s a comprehensive look at the importance of retaining walls and how Style Fencing can help you achieve a stable and attractive outdoor environment.

The Importance of Retaining Walls

Erosion Control: One of the primary functions of a retaining wall is to prevent soil erosion. On sloped properties, rainwater can cause soil to wash away, leading to instability and potential damage. Retaining walls hold the soil in place, protecting the landscape from erosion.

Leveling Uneven Terrain: Retaining walls can transform uneven or sloped land into flat, usable spaces. This is particularly beneficial for creating gardens, patios, driveways, and other functional areas on properties with challenging topography.

Structural Support: Retaining walls provide essential structural support for landscaping features and buildings situated on elevated ground. They help to maintain the integrity of the landscape, ensuring that soil and vegetation remain stable.

Aesthetic Appeal: Beyond their functional benefits, retaining walls can significantly enhance the visual appeal of a property. They can be designed with various materials and styles to complement the existing architecture and landscape design, creating a cohesive and attractive outdoor space.

Property Value: Well-designed and properly constructed retaining walls can increase the value of your property. They improve the usability and appearance of the landscape, making the property more appealing to potential buyers.

Retaining Wall Solutions by Style Fencing

High-Quality Materials: Style Fencing uses only premium materials to construct retaining walls, ensuring durability and longevity. Options include natural stone, concrete blocks, timber, and brick, each offering unique aesthetic and functional benefits.

Custom Designs: We offer bespoke design services to create retaining walls that perfectly match your property's aesthetic and functional requirements. Our team works closely with you to develop solutions that blend seamlessly with your landscape while providing optimal support and stability.

Professional Construction: Proper construction is crucial for the effectiveness of retaining walls. Our experienced professionals ensure that your retaining wall is built to the highest standards, providing maximum support and durability. We handle everything from site preparation and excavation to drainage and finishing touches.

Maintenance and Support: To keep your retaining wall in top condition, we provide ongoing maintenance and support services. Regular inspections and timely repairs ensure that your wall continues to perform effectively and maintain its appearance over time.

Compliance with Regulations: Style Fencing ensures that all our retaining wall constructions comply with local building codes and regulations. This guarantees that your project is not only effective but also legally compliant, providing peace of mind.

Why Choose Style Fencing?

Expertise and Experience: With years of experience in the fencing and landscaping industry, Style Fencing has the expertise to deliver high-quality retaining wall solutions. Our knowledgeable team stays updated with the latest trends and technologies in landscape construction.

Quality Assurance: We are committed to using only the best materials and techniques, ensuring that your retaining wall is durable, effective, and long-lasting. Our attention to detail and quality control measures guarantee top-notch results.

Customer-Centric Approach: At Style Fencing, customer satisfaction is our top priority. We provide personalized service, transparent communication, and detailed project planning to ensure that your specific needs and preferences are met.

Competitive Pricing: We offer competitive pricing without compromising on quality. Our detailed quotes and transparent pricing structure ensure that you receive excellent value for your investment.

Conclusion

Retaining walls are a vital addition to many properties in Sydney, offering essential benefits in erosion control, landscape stability, and aesthetic enhancement. Style Fencing specializes in providing high-quality retaining wall solutions tailored to the unique needs of your space. With our expertise, commitment to quality, and customer-focused approach, you can trust Style Fencing to enhance your property with durable and stylish retaining walls. Contact Style Fencing today to discuss your retaining wall requirements and create a stable, attractive outdoor environment.

[emptech28]

Landslide Mitigation

The Baranggay San Jose in Mabini Batangas is known for its beach resorts and diving spots. This is very popular among tourists. But there are areas here where landslides, falling trees and debris commonly happen, which are the Sitio Sampalocan, Sitio Lagundi, and Sitio Puntang Kawayan. These community problems greatly affects the daily lives of the people living in the community, as they are filled with fear and worry about what could possibly happen.

Falling rocks and debris are indeed dangerous and could put a human's life at risk. This type of problem is a serious matter and everyone should be aware of this especially those whole lives near dangerous areas. Landslides commonly happen to hilly, mountaineous places, and many communities, including the Baranggay San Jose suffers from this kind of problem. The cooperation of everyone is needed in order to solve this. Everyone can engage in planting trees as trees reduce landslide risk by lowering soil moisture levels which could help avoid landslide. Citizens can also as for the help of Baranggay Officials to request installation of structures that could block the falling debris like retaining walls. This structure reduces the risk of landslides and provides support to slopes. Placing signs near risky areas is also helpful especially to cars passing by.

Maintaining the safety and security of one's life in a community is important, and helping each other make this happen is a big help. By simply doing this, we could be the reason of citizen's lack of worry and uneasiness due to constant fear about what could possibly happen. That is why we should continue to engage and motivate our fellow citizens to help, and ensure the continous growth and progress, and to also achieve peace, in a community.

[sketchbookdada]

Passionately, Delhi

See, I don't really feel that Delhi is rude. It's just passionate. Passionately arguing, cursing, party-shartying, foodie-ing, hustling, protesting, shopping, bargaining, adjusting, loving, helping, donating, feeding and most importantly, soldiering on. As the city of dreams for the larger part of north India, Delhi absorbs you, in its own prickly hospitality.

Before I landed, I had heard a lot about the capital. The people – rude, the air – toxic. Yet, twenty minutes after being carried to the Rajdhani by the Rajdhani, I was already at The Rajiv Chowk Metro Station. Everyone walked busy, dressed sharp, looking important. It felt like I was in New York. Made sense if Mumbai would be L.A. and Kolkata can well, aspire to be London.

The city is as diverse as the people it nurses. During my stay there, I could make out three rough segments of the city.

The Sarkaari

The clean wide roads, komorebi, beautiful boulevards with golden sunshine in the day and amber lighting in the night, red sandstone structures, absence of multi-stories, lush gardens colorful flowers, CRPF checkpoints and touristy beings.

The Business Class

Posh neighborhoods. Buildings like Tetris blocks with clean glass and wooden facades, fans-and-ferns on the balcony, sunlight is a luxury, dog walkers with exotic breeds (only) strolling on what little space the jet-black SUVs have excused, small patches of greens in the gated neighborhood where the sun seldom shines. It’s rather peaceful since people talk in whispers.

A bit of a blanket statement

The naukri, chaakri – suburbs. This is what looks like noise on the satellite imagery. Buildings huddled together, holding their shoulders close, often overlapping each other, hundreds of overhead wires blocking whatever sunlight filters down to the streets. The streets that are forever damp and dark. You look down and find confetti! Look closer. It's either Vimal or Kamla Pasand or Pulse. Buzzing with broadcasts of television or private family feuds. Right on the edges, you'd easily find slums and small dump yards or an unapologetic mix of both.

Having left the city, it's not like I miss Delhi every day. My lungs thank me with every single breath. However, there are certain things that Delhi just does the best. There hasn’t been any single weekend when we were out of options for places to go or restaurants to try out. When it comes to food, the veg-nonveg mix and specially chaat, Delhi is unparalleled. The public transport is massively underrated and pocket friendly. Positioned close to the erstwhile silk route, Indraprastha is one of the best places to buy. From mall-only deals to flea market steals, you'll find it all. I do plan to return to Delhi time to time just for the shopping-amusement experience it has to offer or better even, just to joyride around the city on the metro using the card I proudly retain!

[sealofreconciliation]

Fates: was the story as bad as people say? a response/debunk (finale part 2: worldbuilding)

Link to original post here.

> **Worldbuilding and history**

> This is something most people agree on, and /u/MaaagicMushies somehwhat recently wrote an excellent summary on why Fates' worldbuilding feels so lackluster.

I don't know what happened to that guy, but his account's been hard-deleted; i couldn't find any of his posts even through Camas. If anyone can summarize what the main points of that post were, i'd appreciate it.

> A lot of the issues with the worldbuilding are widely known. Even if people argue the continent is called Nohr and Hoshido, this is never explicitly stated and the map makes it impossible to tell where the borders for all the countries and territories are.

Irrelevant; Hoshido and Nohr are their own continents with no reason to speculate on what they should name a theoretical united territory when they've been at war with each other for thousands of years, something that would be made painfully obvious by anyone who put any amount of thought into the political climate at the start of Fates and why the full continent doesn't have a given name in or out-of-universe.

Also, explain why there being no well-defined borders are an issue; i could see it as one if it was bad enough that they didn't even bother differentiating Hoshidan territories from Nohrian ones, but they do. What would defined borders for countries whose only important piece of information is whether they've sided with the two superpowers of the world, and if so, which, aid in the worldbuilding?

> Furthermore, logistics and geography are completely ignored so as to not get in the way of the narrative. Example: Saizo and Orochi go from the Plains of Hoshido to Izumo which is far to the south, get ambushed and separated from Takumi and Ryoma *and then* run back to Hoshido all in the time it takes for Corrin to travel from the Plains of Hoshido to Fort Jinya, which is close to the Hoshidan capital.

Prove that Saizo, Orochi and Corrin started their journeys to their respective destinations at the exact same time and location. This entire criticism is based on a bad-faith assumption that Takumi, Ryoma and their retainers didn't have any sort of a head-start on Corrin, which is supported nowhere by the game.

> Takumi also falls down into the Bottomless Canyon while fighting in Izumo...which is far to the east of the Bottomless Canyon.

> Takumi: Yeah. It was insane. We ran into Nohrian troops just outside Izumo and began fighting. Ryoma and I were separated in the early stages of combat, before we had to retreat. We were outnumbered...and pushed to the brink of the Bottomless Canyon.

He literally states that the Vallite soldiers chased him all the way to the Bottomless Canyon; how in the actual fuck did no one correct you on your mistake after months of that post being up for anyone to see?

> I think it's clear the worldbuilding was either never a priority or one of the first victims on the chopping block in order to cut corners on development time. You pass through areas which are never mentioned again and never really play a role in the story at all. The end goal in all routes is effectively to get Corrin from point A to point B, and other countries and locales are mere background scenery on the way there.

Izumo's a kingdom with deep ties to religion and gods, with the best medicine and medics in the entire world, along with doing it's damnedest to stay neutral in the conflict between Hoshido and Nohr. It's ruled over by an archduke. In Birthright, the team heads there in order to follow a lead that might result in them finding out about Takumi and Ryoma's whereabouts, only to run into an ambush by Zola, who was impersonating Izama and used the country's reputation as peace-loving to lull Corrin's army into a false sense of security, and defeat him, along with freeing the real archduke from his captivity. Leo shows up to (pretend to) try and kill Zola for his failure and cowardice but is stopped by Corrin, whom Leo expresses resentment towards for betraying him and the rest of the Nohrian royal family. This sets up Zola's involvement in the story, which culminates in his betraying the team's trust and costing them a chance to end the war early, estabilishes that the Nohrian siblings are upset at Corrin for siding with Hoshido, and the entire chapter only happens because of estabilished details about Izumo and it's culture.

This is just one chapter of one out of three routes, btw; i could go on and on about the importance of the smaller countries in Fates to the story, but that would make an already overly long post even longer. Does that sound like something that's irrelevant to the plot if i can do it without any reaches?

> But why does this matter, you may ask? Well, one of the reasons is simply because it makes it feel as though characters live in a void. If there's no world for the characters to feel rooted in, it affects how we understand them and even what they can talk about with each other.

We understand more than enough about the characters and what they can talk about with each other as is relevant for the story. Your wanting more elaboration is entirely subjective, which i thought was supposed to be a bad thing.

> Let's bring up arguably the two most fleshed out worlds in the series for contrast: Tellius and Fódlan.

Skip. I'm not interested in even more nonsensical comparisons between two games that have fuck-all to do with each other and which are entirely comprised of you sucking off the games you like while misrepresenting and lying about the ones you don't; i had enough of that in the main series.

> The important part I want to highlight is how many different characters interact for many different reasons all because of the unique worldbuilding of Tellius and how it shapes and affects the conflicts that spawn from it. In Fates, there's practically no worldbuilding nor subplots, and because of that, characters have little reason to interact with each other. Most characters are tied together solely through Corrin, with little agency of their own,

I'll spare all of you and myself the tedium of listing all the subplots in Fates, and will instead call bullshit on this idiotic “most characters in Fates are tied to Corrin” point:

Of all the playable characters in Fates that have major ties to Corrin, we have: all the Royal siblings, Silas, Felicia, Jakob, Kaze, Azura, Kana, and (debatably) Flora and Gunter.

Okay, that's 16 characters who have major parts of their characterization defined by their relationship with Corrin, sounds like a pretty big number, right?

And it is, up until you realize there's 69 (heh) playable characters in Fates. 53, roughly 80%, of the playable cast of this game don't give a single fuck about Corrin, at least not more so than they do any other stranger they meet for the first time in one of their supports. I'd place good money that, pound-for-pound, Fates is one of the games in the series with the least amount of characters that give the protag any sort of special treatment.

And then you start thinking more about it, and start wondering as to why the characters with ties to Corrin have such ties, and then you start to realize that it has nothing to do with worldbuilding and everything to do with characterization; Kaze, Ryoma and Hinoka all blame themselves for not trying harder to stop Corrin from being kidnapped and want to atone for that; Silas was best friends with Corrin when they were young and wants to rekindle that friendship; the Nohrian siblings all see Corrin as their own family and hang out with them because of it; Takumi is both jealous of their skills and wants to befriend them, but is too insecure to try, lashing out at them instead in the hopes that they'll grow to dislike him and he doesn't have to risk rejection; Azura is literally their cousin and knows that they're destined to save the world one day, so the answer there is obvious; Sakura mostly just finds them comforting to be around; Felicia, Flora and Gunter practically raised them; and Kana's their child.

Objectively speaking, there's nothing wrong with any of those characters caring about Corrin as much as they do, and even if you subjectively dislike it, that's an issue you're free to blame on characterization, not worldbuilding.

Some irrelevant Three Houses shilling later and we get to this argument:

> The world of Fates, on the other hand, feels like it has barely any sense of history, and what little we know of the past is only spoken of in vague terms and the implications of that history isn't elaborated upon.

> For example, there are the more obvious, smaller things like Corrin and their kidnapping. We have no idea how old all the siblings were at the time or how much time has actually passed, which I think is curious given how it's the very foundation of the plot

The second artbook, Pellucid Crystal, confirms that the kidnapping took place 15 years prior to the start of the game and Hinoka states in her Revelation support with Camilla that she started training to get Corrin back from Nohr when she was 7, which, it's safe to assume, she would have gotten the motivation for as soon as she found out about their being taken by Nohr. Sakura also states in her A support with Corrin that she overheard maids spreading a false rumor that Nohr originally intended to kidnap her but had to settle for Corrin either by mistake or because they couldn't reach her, which, even granting the rumor being a load of bullshit, would still have needed to have some basis on reality for it to have spread, which it wouldn't have if Sakura hadn't even been born when the incident happened.

Takumi gets jealous of male Corrin in the drama CD because he's older than him and, as such, will inherit the throne if Ryoma retires or dies, due to Hoshido's patriarchal line of succession; Sakura is called little sister by Takumi; Hinoka is called big sister multiple times by Corrin, and ditto for Hinoka calling Ryoma big brother.

If we assume that the nicknames are accurate, which is pretty safe to do, along with gathering all the information in the former paragraph, then: Hinoka was 7 years old during the kidnapping, Corrin was between 6 and 3, Takumi was between 5 and 2, and Sakura was between 4 and a few months old. If you also assume that the Nohrian siblings are the same age as the Hoshidan ones (which is kinda baseless aside from the symbolic parallels and Elise being directly stated to be the youngest of them, just like Sakura, but whatever, this is just to estabilish the basic ages of the characters and the Hoshidan ones are the important ones here, which there's plenty of solid evidence to estabilish their ages for), Sakura and Elise are 15 at the youngest and 19 at the oldest, Takumi and Leo are 17 at the youngest and 20 at the oldest, Corrin is 18 at the youngest and 21 at the oldest, Hinoka and Camilla are 22, and Ryoma and Xander's ages are unknown aside from being the eldest siblings and, as such, unquantifiably older than 22.

So much for not knowing the ages of the royal siblings or when Garon killed Sumeragi, eh?

Also, i'd argue that Anankos possessing Garon was the foundation of the plot, if anything; damn-near the entirety of the story is set in motion as a direct result of Anankos gaining Garon as a host, including the kidnapping.

> This could tell us a lot about how much Hinoka and Ryoma remember of Corrin, for one.

What would knowing the exact ages of the characters change about what the audience does or doesn't know about Hinoka and Ryoma's memories of Corrin, exactly?

Besides, they give a decent enough idea of what they remember in the game itself; they say that they would often play together, that Corrin was trusting, didn't like lying, and that they showed good skills at fighting and leadership. I don't know what else about their relationship you wanted to know or why it'd be relevant to the story or characters, but there you go.

> Then there are the less obvious problems this lack of history brings. Valla was destroyed less than a generation ago, and presumably the curse came along with its destruction, yet no one alive knows about it despite the fact that at the very least Valla's royal family visited Hoshido and gave gifts? Doesn't this mean a lot of people would've died to the curse while saying, I don't know, "I sure would like to go to Valla one day" or "remember when Valla's king came to visit?".

The only thing in the game that implies Valla was still in contact with Nohrshido less than a generation ago is a line that only exists in the localization, as i pointed out on part 2 of my Revelation response. In the JP version of Rev's script, Azura only says that “a long time ago” the royal families of Nohrshido and Valla had good relations with each other, with the good-faith assumption being that, by “long time”, Azura meant “a few thousand years”, which would be more than enough time for people in the continents to forget about Valla's existence.

> There's no way only royals knew about Valla because if the royal family of Valla came to visit that'd likely be a big event involving quite a few regular people, like guards and people organizing the visit (operating under the notion that the Vallite royal family visit was secret for whatever reason; must've been hard carrying that throne without anyone spotting them).

When is it stated that the Vallite royals ever visited Nohrshido? I might be forgetting a line of dialogue somewhere, but i checked for Azura's Valla explanations in both CQ and Rev, and the only thing she says on that topic is that Nohrian and Hoshidan royalty used to visit Valla a long time ago, not the other way around.

Also, the Vallite king could have just dropped off the throne in a secure location, due to getting to choose where in the normal world they end up when traveling to and fro Valla, and sent the Hoshidan king a message telling him where to pick it up; the throne isn't in any way proof of Vallites publically going to the normal world.

> If a world doesn't have a past, it becomes that much more difficult for characters to feel rooted in that world. To borrow a good example from Three Houses, Felix would never work in another Fire Emblem world because his entire character is based around a specific event and how a specific culture replied to it. The same can be said for Soren and his identity as a Branded. This is what it means for a character to be "rooted" in their world. Do all characters need to be like this? No. But the problem is that Fates has practically no character like Felix or Soren.

I'd be very interested to see you argue for it being possible for Azura to work in another Fire Emblem world, given how much her entire character is based around a specific event and how a specific culture replied to it, namely Valla's destruction and Arete's circumstances that came as a result of it.

> The lack of worldbuilding leads to some bizarre moments in the main story proper as well. Leo talks about Nohr's "grand legacy", but all we know of Nohr is that it's a depressing place that spreads misery wherever its armies go.

Already pointed out that Leo never said that, so instead i'll question what would cause Leo to ever think of his own country as depressing or spreading misery; Nohr did what it did because it would have literally starved to death without outside help, meaning that Leo, if anything, would see it's history of conquering other nations as something to be proud of, be it because of the military strategies they employed while doing so or because of the lives they saved by gaining the resources to feed it's citizenry. At worst, Nohr's peasants are starving by the start of the game due to a lack of proper distribution of it's resources, which is something Leo and Xander are stated to solve in their endings, meaning Leo genuinely has nothing to be ashamed of in regards to Nohr, or at least nothing that he doesn't intend to fix.

> Izumo is a neutral country with a "neutrality pact" which other countries can't break, but Xander has never heard of it

Because Zola made that up on the spot; Izumo doesn't even have any sort of army to make good on the thinly-veiled death threat he gave Ryoma and Xander, meaning that the whole “violence in my country is punishable by death” schtick was created solely to try and appeal to the eldest siblings' sense of honor and lull them into a false sense of security. That's not an issue with the worldbuilding.

> and we're never told what insignificant, tiny neutral countries could do to Hoshido and Nohr.

Nothing. Which is why they aren't conquered yet; they can't do ANYTHING. They have little to no army or soldiers to offer to the main kingdoms, are situated in places with no strategic importance, and the only thing any of these tiny countries could have that could possibly make them worth the time, effort and resources to conquer would be Izumo's medicine, which it could very easily use as a deterrent by threatening to destroy it if it's ever attacked by one of the kingdoms; it's literally as simple as there not being any benefit whatsoever for Nohr or Hoshido to conquer the neutral countries.

> Another way the poor worldbuilding affects the narrative is how the maps work more like a series of one-shots rather than a complete, overarching story. There's a staggering lack of planning on the side of the protagonists and the overwhelming majority of maps have the group get caught off guard by a sudden attack.

Firstly, that's a criticism you should be levying towards Fates' plot structure, not it's worldbuilding; these are two completely different aspects of the story that have nothing to do with each other.

Secondly, the protagonists plan ahead as much as they reasonably can; in BR they plan on meeting back up with Ryoma in order to discuss a way to beat Nohr throughout the first half of the story, and when they accomplish that goal, they devise a plan to assasinate Garon, putting an end to the war, doing as well as they can while in a land they have little knowledge of and while being hounded and harrased by Iago, who knows they're there the entire time and is constantly ambushing them due to having the element of surprise; in CQ Corrin plans out almost all of their encounters ahead of time, be it directly due to their knowing the lay of the land ahead of time unlike in BR or indirectly due to their following orders from Garon, who also knows what's coming; in Rev the entire story happens because Corrin plans on convincing people to join his side to stop Anankos, and there isn't much planning they can possibly do when they get to Valla, a land they have no knowledge of, so criticizing them for that would be pretty stupid.

Thirdly, how would their planning things out more have stopped them from being ambushed? Every time they get surprise attacked, it's because of factors they couldn't possibly have known about; unless you're trying to argue that the protagonists should be omniscient, this entire point is nonsensical.

> The problem with this is simple: it removes the protagonist's agency and the world can never be an important "player" in the story.

I already debunked the “the areas you go to are irrelevant to the story” point earlier, so i'll instead ask that you explain what agency is, why it's bad for the protags to not have it, how their reacting to and foiling attempted ambushes aren't massive displays of agency in and of themselves every time they do it, what it means for the world to be a player in a story, and why it's bad for the world not to be that. You can't just go around making these grand, all-encompassing arguments that would require a *lot* of evidence to prove only to simply say it's the case, provide no evidence to support your argument, and expect people to blindly believe you.

> When you constantly move from place to place only to get ambushed, it leaves little to no time for the world to be fleshed out or for the areas they are in/move through to have a deeper purpose than provide the setting for the next battle.

Wouldn't that be an “issue” with the plot itself instead of with the team being ambushed? If you, for whatever ungodly reason, wanted the pacing of the game to get fucked over just so irrelevant lore could be exposited to the player, shouldn't you be criticizing the story for not spending more time in those locations instead of for the team being ambushed? Why do most of the criticisms here have nothing to do with Fates' worldbuilding despite being in the worldbuilding section of the post?

We also learn more than enough about most of the smaller countries, at least as far as it's relevant to the story; explain what more you wanted to know about them and why it'd be in any way important for the audience to know.

> So, now that we've established the worldbuilding is lacking and that it leads to less interesting topics the cast can talk to each other about, and that the timeline is unnecessarily vague,

If by “estabilished” you mean “made points that: are so heavily subjective it's difficult for it to even be a topic of conversation, despite shit-talking and dismissing the very conceot of thematic analysis for the exact same reason; are so vague and ill-defined as to also defy any attempts at discourse without elaboration that's nowhere to be found on this post; and are factually wrong, be it because of lying about what happened in the game or due to your own ignorance on important details of Fates' lore and story”, then yes, you did a bang-up job.

For anyone with more than two functioning brain-cells that isn't also just reading everything here like a mindless drone that's just satisfied to see a game they already hated being criticized, that entire section was nothing more than an incoherent mess of misinformation, vagueness and subjectivity, all shoehorned into the umbrella of “worldbuilding”, despite next to none of them having any correlation to that aspect of Fates whatsoever.

> are we done here? Almost. There's one more thing: what worldbuilding is in Fates is childishly simple or not given any importance.

> The easy example of this is Nohr. We're left to wonder how a barely hospitable land, filled with rebellions, bandits, monsters, and a tyrannical king who doesn't shy away from murdering entire villages of his own people, could possibly conquer anything. Shouldn't this be the very first thing to establish, like in Echoes?

Prove that the land in the Nohrian capital was always infertile; the entire reason Nohr started conquering other territories was because they were running out of food and other important resources, meaning it was capable of sustaining itself long enough to estabilish and develop the country and train an army, which would logically mean that the country was capable of growing food on it's own at the start, prior to something happening that fucked over their earth and forced them to start conquering smaller territories to survive.

If you're not talking about how Nohr was first estabilished and are instead asking how start-of-game Nohr can conquer anything, which is implied by the rest of the paragraph, this is even dumber; take a wild guess at what they're having the conquered territories do for them and where all the food that's being hoarded by the royalty and army, as estabilished by the ending of Conquest, came from, and you'll have your answer.

As for the other points: the bandits aren't stupid enough to try taking on the army and only prey on the peasants and/or rich travelers, which are irrelevant for Nohr's military might or it's ability to conquer territories; the only monsters in Fates are the Faceless and Stoneborn, which are nowhere to be found in Nohr due to being exclusively deployed in Hoshidan territory to harass the opposing country, so this is just false; whether the random peasants at risk of being murdered on a whim like Garon or not is irrelevant to Nohr's ability to conquer territores.

> However, since I like to bring up things that aren't discussed as often, I'll also mention this: Mikoto's legitimacy as queen. A mysterious woman from a hidden country you can't even talk about (that only the royal family knows about? I could have sworn Azura says something about that, but again, that's just silly) gets taken in, with a baby, by King Sumeragi.

A mysterious woman from a hidden country that no one knew of anymore, as implied by JP Azura's dialogue; since that correction has been beaten into the ground already, prove that Mikoto didn't make any sort of a cover story to explain her existence to the people of Hoshido and just left everyone in the country wondering where she came from for the entirety of her stay there, including Sumeragi and the royal siblings.

> Ikona dies soon afterwards, and Sumeragi marries Mikoto, only to die shortly afterwards.

The worst-case scenario for Mikoto is that she arrived at Hoshido with a 6 year old Corrin, Ikona died shortly after Mikoto's arrival, Mikoto was queen consort for a few weeks to a few months, and then Sumeragi died and she took over as queen; the best-case scenario is that she arrived with a days-to-weeks old Corrin, Ikona divorced Sumeragi shortly after giving birth to Sakura, Mikoto was queen consort for a little over four years, and then Sumeragi died.

While i will happily concede that the former sequence of events should cast immense suspicion as to Mikoto's innocence in her rise to the throne, it's also much less likely to be true than the latter interpretation, due to contradicting pieces of information elsewhere in the game and creating glaring issues with any rumors that might arise regarding Mikoto's ascension: Corrin is stated to have been a baby when they were brought to Hoshido and is older than Takumi and Sakura, meaning they must have been less than a year old and, as such, Mikoto would have had to live with Ikona for at least 6 months (if she was already pregnant with Sakura) and at most a year-and-a-half to a little over two years (if Ikona wasn't pregnant with Takumi yet/if she waited a few months between prior to becoming pregnant with Sakura) prior to her death. Why would Mikoto have waited so long to kill Ikona if she wanted a better chance at getting the throne?

In addition, there's nothing confirming that Ikona died before Sumeragi, only that she did so prior to the start of the game; given that she could have either been passed over for the title of queen consort due to favoritism from Sumeragi (if they were his concubines) or have just given the title over to Mikoto due to not wanting to deal with the responsibilities and restrictions of royalty anymore, it's completely baseless to assume that Ikona's death would have cast suspicion on Mikoto when we don’t even know if she died before Mikoto became Queen or if her demise would have benefited Mikoto in any way if she did.

As for Sumeragi, Mikoto lived with him for a minimum of five years, four of those as his main consort; i don't think i need to explain the issue with her taking so long to kill him if she wanted power, especially when he fell blindly in love with her at first sight and would have very quickly appointed her as his successor in case he died prior to Ryoma coming of age to rule.

With all those things put together, i find it extremely unlikely for any rumors of Mikoto setting up Ikona and Sumeragi to die to ever end up as anything more than fringe conspiracy theories, and extremely flimsy and ridiculed ones at that.

> This leaves Mikoto the ruler of Hoshido despite people not knowing where she comes from,

Again, prove that she never gave the people of Hoshido a cover story for her existence.

> despite having brought with her what the population would consider a bastard child,

I'll take this in good faith and assume that you're arguing that Sumeragi just told people that Corrin was born from a fling he had with Mikoto before they married each other, and as such they'd be seen as a bastard child, not that you completely forgot that it's estabilished as early as chapter 4 that nearly everyone in Hoshido believes Corrin to be Sumeragi and Mikoto's child.

Prove that the concept of bastard children exists in Hoshido or that it would include something as semantic as “the king and queen's legitimate child, but since they were born before they married, they shouldn’t have access to the throne or be considered royalty”; the fact that Takumi explicitly states in the drama CD that a male Corrin is second in line for the Hoshidan throne after Ryoma pretty directly proves that the concept of bastards either doesn't exist in Hoshido/exists, but doesn't apply to a situation like Corrin's.

And that's disregarding the very likely possibility that Mikoto and Sumeragi just told everyone Corrin was born after they married; they could have smuggled Corrin into the castle in secret, kept them inside for a couple years while convincing the maids to stay quiet about the situation, then announced that Mikoto had given birth a while ago and that Corrin was their child; there's nothing in the game to imply that she met with Sumeragi in public instead of in secrecy when she agreed to marry him, and/or that anyone from Nohrshido saw her carrying Corrin when she left Valla.

> and despite it possibly looking like she planned this all along.

Again, that'd be a fringe conspiracy theory at best, given what we know of the timeframe for Mikoto's arrival.

> However, as the game shows, she's the ideal queen and people love her. Maybe it's the no-fighting-bubble she can keep up 24/7 on a country-wide scale, or maybe she's just so nice that the Hoshidans don't care who their queen is.

Probably; you’re trying to make those suggestions sound ridiculous, but the barrier and her natural charisma probably did go a long way to helping her gain favor with the populace throughout the years, even if they weren't the main reasons.

> I will say one thing though: this is actually mentioned in-game, but in Kagero's B support with Corrin, and the explanation is given three lines without acknowledging a lot of the details I brought up.

Mostly because that conversation can and very likely will be held when Corrin still doesn't know the full extent of their parentage or of Mikoto's backstory, which would be necessary for an in-depth explanation as to why she'd have had issues as queen and would also be a massive spoiler. Still, i'm glad you finally did some research into Fates lore and supplementary material before making an argument; kudos.

> Given how important Mikoto *should* be not just for the overall narrative but also for the chemistry between all the Hoshidan siblings and Corrin, this shouldn't be easily missable.

Why would knowing the exact details of her rule as queen and whether she struggled to gain the people's love at first due to her being an outsider be of any relevance to Fates' narrative, especially given that she stops being important to the story when she dies, which happens very early on in the plot?

Also, what importance should she have had for the chemistry between Corrin and the Hoshidan siblings, exactly? Corrin remembers next to nothing about Mikoto and wouldn't be able to meaningfully connect with any of them on that topic.

> To make a comparison with a similar question of status in Path of Radiance, Sanaki says Ike has to be knighted in order to be able to lead the troops, as his mercenary background would negatively impact the troops and raise eyebrows elsewhere. It's an important distinction that this is brought up in the main plot.

It's brought up because it's in the middle of happening instead of having happened two decades prior to the start of the game; even assuming that Mikoto's cover story didn't include her being born as a Hoshidan (unlikely), she became one as soon as she married Sumeragi.

Also, explain the important distinction between a piece of relevant worldbuilding being brought up in the main plot (Ike can't lead the troops due to his mercenary background unless he's knighted, which he doesn't want to be, stopping him from leading the troops and affecting the plot in an important way) and a piece of irrelevant worldbuilding being brought up in easily-accessible support conversations (Mikoto had a rough time when she first started out as queen but gained her people's love with time, something completely superfluous to the plot of Fates given that she had clearly surpassed whatever stigmas people might have had of her by the time the story starts).

I'm curious, though; if Tellius had started on a game where Ike was a former mercenary leading the troops, it was stated that you need to be a knight to lead the troops, and they never spelled out that Ike was knighted in order to lead the troops, would you be levying the same criticism against those games? Are you consistently against inferrences, or do you only do that for things you dislike?

Tune in next time for the grand finale to this epic saga, with sexism, mycastles, deeprealms, supports, and much more!

[aridguezrm]

Impressions about ¨Learning How to Learn¨ : Techniques to Help You Learn with Dr Barbra Oakley a conversation guided by Dr Waseem Akhtar

I consider myself a terribly slow learner. Constantly worried about whether I will ever be good enough to retain all the information that I am reading or listening to. Now at a Master level it would be beneficial to acquire tools that assist me in the learning process. When I came across the discussion Learning How to Learn: Techniques to Help You Learn it instantly encouraged my interest in gaining a better understanding about the learning process. 

Dr Oakley started this discussion by acknowledging that she was the type of person who used to dislike math and science. Not until she faced the difficulties of not having good enough job opportunities, did she get interested in knowing how our brain learns. She asked herself what if it was possible to change her brain, she could start being good at those subjects that she was not really into. Here is when the conversation fully captivated my attention as she ended up being a professor of engineering at Okland University in Michigan.  

Dr Oakley explains the root of learning as ‘building blocks.' Our brain makes connections between neurons (‘working memory’), these connections get stronger by repetition (‘long term memory’). For instance, when we are learning how to drive, we start to focus on specifics like which mirror to look at. Later as we do it repeatedly, we start adding new tasks within the driving such as listening to music. Having said that our brains tend to get overloaded as we first learn, however as it becomes habitual it grows into an automatic task. And by consequence we can focus on other things while doing what we learnt. 

It was to my surprise finding out that metaphors are a great mechanism to help us learn. As she did with the car for example. She discovered in her research that numerous lectures use this method to teach their lessons. Although some of them refuse to do so, as they believe that is a way to ‘dumb things down’ but she is quite confident that this is the way you ‘build up knowledge.’ 

One of the interesting methods that came about during the conversion was the ‘Pomodoro technique.’ Once we understand we only have two modes ‘focusing’ and ‘default’ mode we can start by applying this technique. Beginning with 5 minutes break (‘reward’) after each 25 minutes of focus. This process needs to be repeated at least 4 times before you get a longer reward. I find this method compelling since as we constantly use it, we will develop longer periods of focus. 

One thing I would like to stick to is her perspective about the likelihood of changing our brain. There are a few tips that could help to develop our learning, such as discussing with our peers as an effective way of knowing where we are failing. Furthermore, she advises us to push ourselves into the hard stuff and go at our own peace. The fastest runner is not always the first to arrive.  

She implies that we need to grow the ‘Pomodoro technique’ as it would be beneficial to lower the impacts of a constantly developing technological era. Afar from now she believes that it could be plausible to invent some medical supplements that would help us to gain knowledge easily. Her opinion is because if we look backwards in time at the things we are using now, it would have seemed like magical solutions. No one would have believed it and yet we have gone this far. 

Dr Oakley is a professor of engineering at Oakland University and McMaster University. She co-created and taught one of the most famous courses online “Learning How to Learn: Powerful mental tools to help you master tough subjects" with about two and a half million attendance record. Find out more about Dr Barbra Oakley here.

[majickth]

Can we hear more about the monster town au? It seems really cool

ANON I AM SO GLAD YOU ASKED (also thank you kindly :D)

Short Summary:

There Are Monsters In These Woods (tentatively shortened to Monster Woods for now) is a small town horror AU with threads of mystery and apocalyptic vibes. Lots of good ol’ angst, spookiness, and weirdness.

A small town gets turned on its head when people start turning into monsters. Some totally become bloodthirsty creatures, while others turn slowly and gain unique traits/abilities. Bench Trio is the latter and must work together to solve the mystery of the town before the town consumes them.

Long Summary? Uh

*inhales deeply*

SO

The AU takes place in an idyllic town that’s only remembered often enough to earn itself an afterthought of a water tower (something the townsfolk still brag about despite it being erected in the 50’s). It’s the type of place where the biggest news involves who’s against who in the local sports event — and, of course, the construction of that strange new facility by the old logging mill.

The town’s peace of mind gets shattered when, seemingly out of nowhere, people begin to turn into monsters. Some completely transform, becoming aggressive to the point of hurting their own loved ones. Others, however, manage to retain their semblance of humanity despite gaining…unusual features. These being extra limbs, feathers, scales, abilities, etc. Even then, it’s only a matter of time before they too become the monsters they fear.

Confusion turns to paranoia then to panic as loved ones are turned against each other. Worse yet, any contact with the outside world has been cut off. There’s no signal, no Wi-Fi, nothing. Even the roads have been blocked off by people dressed in black, the threat of violence keeping the townsfolk at bay. It’s absolute chaos.

Amidst all of this, three teens (cough Bench Trio cough) learn to survive and adapt to their new circumstances.

At the start of it all, Tommy considers himself lucky. He still has his family — his father and two older brothers — which is more than can be said for most people. This luck is tested, however, as he’s forced to come to terms with the idea of sacrifice, and how much someone will risk to keep their loved ones safe.

Tubbo doesn’t believe in luck. Or at the very least, doesn’t trust his own. Doubly so when, in the middle of class, his teacher turns into some weird flesh-beast and tries to tear his head off. With the help of his surviving schoolmates, Tubbo manages to make it out and must learn to survive with a curious crew that talks far too much about crickets.

Ranboo is an enigma. He knows this town. He knows he was raised in it. Hell, he knows that he was born in it. But when he stumbles out of a cabin, without memory and without answers, he’s forced to wrestle between what makes him human and what makes him…well, very much not.

Through circumstances and mishap, all three are thrust together and must team up to find the answers hidden in the Monster Woods.

[twiistedgalaxies]

Three Times Jaskier Didn’t Seem Quite Human

(And one time Geralt asked too many questions.)

      “Jaskier isn’t human,” Yennefer stated bluntly, swishing a wine glass in her right hand.

      Geralt blinked, “What?”  This gave Yennefer pause. She knew that her on and off again lover was oblivious, but she hadn’t realized it was quite to this extent. Jaskier gave her a pained, pleading look from the other end of the table. She ignored him.

      “You seriously haven’t noticed?” she continued with a huff.

      “...No?” Geralt’s brows furrowed together in confusion. The nerve of these idiots. Yennefer had half a mind to just state the obvious, to keep these two from continuing to dance around the subject, possibly until the end of time.

      But it was much more fun to gently direct Geralt to the answer and watch his bard squirm. Yennefer took a sip of her wine, mentally cursing her high alcohol tolerance, “You’ve been travelling with the man for decades,” Geralt’s face was blank, the puzzle pieces not fitting into place, “He hasn’t aged, Geralt.”

      “That doesn’t mean anything,” he protested, though from the way his eyes shifted towards his companion he was clearly thinking it over. If they were not at such a high profile party Yennefer would have strangled him. He opened his mouth to say something else, but it was at that exact moment that Jaskier decided to pick up his lute and perform for the crowd - granted, it was what he had been invited to do, but Yennefer sent him a withering glare anyways. She was met with a cheeky wink. Oh if looks could kill. 

      “I could prove it to you, you know? A few well placed detection spells and-”

      Geralt shook his head, “He’ll tell me when he’s ready.”

      “You two are hopeless,” Yennefer sighed.

-@~*^*~@-

      It had been after a particularly difficult hunt, when Jaskier had to dress his companion’s wounds for the umpteenth time. Geralt sat upon a stool in the center of their tiny room at the inn. He looked more irritated than usual as Jaskier gave him what was essentially a sponge bath around where a kikimore had stabbed his shoulder with one of it’s spindly arms. Jaskier winced, it was too close to important organs for comfort. Humming as he worked, Jaskier tried to stitch shut what he could and thoroughly bandage the rest. The wolf medallion on Geralt’s chest thrummed contentedly each time the bard’s delicate hands drew near.

      “Where did you learn?” he asked suddenly, his gruff voice cutting through the peaceful quiet.

      “Hm?” Jaskier hummed, ignoring the Witcher’s grunt of pain as he applied one of his many salves to his shoulder, “You’re going to have to be more specific than that, dear.”

      “The salves, the stitching, all of it,” Jaskier raised an eyebrow at that, but Geralt continued, “It’s a very odd skill for a bard to have.”

      A laugh, Geralt had to bite back a hiss as Jaskier’s touches grew less gentle. He clearly wanted him to drop it. “What? Do you think that I was helpless before you came along with your bulging muscles and witchery glares?”

      The witcher shook his head, silver hair sending droplets of water in the air, “No it’s not that,” the bard had certainly proved capable and skilled many times over, “It’s just, were you a healer before you became a bard?”

      Jaskier froze, seemingly caught in a memory, “Something like that,” he began to bandage Geralt’s shoulder, “This kikimore did quite the number on you, didn’t it?”

      Geralt gave him a look of disbelief because obviously.

      “Come on, come on, give me the details, I can’t write my ballads off of just grunts and intrusive questions now can I?”

-@~*^*~@-

      Jaskier had tagged along on what was supposed to be a minor contract. Nilfgaard had stormed a small town, leaving destruction and countless corpses in their wake. Corpses that were perfect for every Alghoul in a three mile radius. 

      He and Geralt were engaged in their usual banter (which consisted mostly of Jaskier rambling about whatever was on his mind, punctuated with the occasional grunt from his witcher), when a sudden, piercing screech rang through the air. It was high pitched, shrill, and caused Jaskier to clutch his head as he let out a groan of pain. 

      Meanwhile, Geralt immediately leapt into action, drawing his silver sword as a pack of the necrophages surrounded them. He was able to take out several, his sword and the ghouls creating a smooth, gory dance. It all seemed to be going well before an Alghoul caught Geralt off guard, leaping onto his back while extending its spines. This sent Geralt off balance, and he was quickly overwhelmed. His sword got knocked out of his hands in the scuffle and he thought that this, however stupid it may be, would be what would kill him. 

      A cry of rage. Slashing, tearing. Suddenly the weight that was dragging Geralt to the ground grew lighter. He felt something wet and sticky. Geralt looked up to see Jaskier standing over him, holding Geralt’s silver sword, out of breath, and covered in Alghoul viscera.

      The bard looked down at himself, annoyance on his admittedly handsome features, “That was my favorite tunic too!” The tunic in question, once baby blue (like his eyes which were now flashing gold, what the fuck?) was now stained red and black. Jaskier brushed a bit of entrails off his shoulder, visibly disgusted.

      “Huh?” Geralt said, intelligently.

-@~*^*~@-

      The pair was making their way north, Jaskier strumming on his lute and Geralt sat atop Roach. The dirt road was a tunnel bordered by a wall of towering trees, whose orange and red canopies blocked out the sun, casting the duo in dappled shade. 

      Jaskier strummed a few chords in the major key, before he spoke, “Geralt, are you doing alright?” His face was soft and forget-me-not eyes distant like they often grew when he was lost in thought. Geralt shot him a confused look. “It’s just that, you’ve seemed rather distracted lately.”

      “Hm?”

      “I,” Jaskier sighed, collecting himself, “It’s just with the kikimore and the alghouls, and just last week when you forgot your potions in Roach’s saddlebags. I’ve never seen you get like this before, what’s going on?”

      “It’s nothing.” Geralt replied, gaze sliding to anywhere but his bard.

      Jaskier reached up, intertwining his lithe fingers with Geralt’s own, “I’m worried about you, Love.”

      Geralt huffed, he could never resist the man’s pouting lips and puppy-dog eyes, “Yen and I had a conversation at that party a few months ago.”

      He felt the bard tense, “Is that so?” There was a long, uncomfortable silence between them. Jaskier must have realized Geralt, man of few words that he is, wasn’t going to elaborate any further, so he spoke, “What did you two talk about?”

      “She said you aren’t human and I just thought about it more and… it makes too much sense,” Geralt began, feeling awkward as he tried to find the words to explain, “The way you don’t age, your medical knowledge (even of witcher potions!), how you know your way around a sword and how your eyes gleamed-”

      “Geralt, as you know I have an impeccable skincare routine and-”

      He frowned, “Don’t give me that shit, bard.”

      Jaskier sighed, “You really want to know?” A nod. “Okay, well, here goes nothing.” The bard let go of the witcher’s hand, and pulled off a golden ring that, now that Geralt thought about it, he had never seen the man without. A shimmer fell over the bard’s body, like a statue being unveiled. The first thing Geralt noticed was his eyes, they were a sickening, piercing yellow. His face was marred by countless scars, from claws, burns, knives, and magic. Jaskier’s build underneath the glamour more closely resembled Geralt’s, though he retained his shorter stature. The bard smiled sardonically at the witcher’s shocked expression, “Like what you see?”

      Geralt’s mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again, “How?”

      “You’d probably know me better as Julian,” Jaskier’s eyes got that distant look to them again, his face was downcast, an unusual expression for someone who typically embodied sunshine, “I was in the Griffin school, before we were attacked,” a joyless laugh, “I had never wanted to be a witcher, ya know? Wasn’t cut out for it. But my father, Viscount Pankratz himself, couldn’t pay a witcher for his contract, so he offered me up instead. I failed as a noble, so maybe I wouldn’t fail as a witcher. He was wrong, of course, I spent most of my time writing poems instead of studying Signs. Singing instead of sparring. After the trials I spent a few years on the path before I grew sick of it and returned to Kaer Seren.”

      Geralt hummed, encouraging Jaskier to continue.

      “I was made to look after the students, I had to patch up their wounds and keep them from blowing themselves up with alchemy. I loved the little rascals, which is why..” Jaskier trailed off, fingers tracing the grooves in his lute.

      “It’s okay,” Geralt said, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

      He shook his head hurriedly, “No, no I want to, I have to,” his voice cracked, “I left after the trials killed them. All of them. I couldn’t bear to be a part of it. A part of everything. So I ran, like a coward,” He spat out that last word like a curse.

      The pair stopped. Geralt placed his gloved hand on the bard’s shoulder, a rare gesture of affection and reassurance.

      “Eventually, I found a mage and spent my life’s savings on a well-made glamour and the lute the elves at Posada so lovingly destroyed. It wasn’t until I had graduated from Oxenfurt that I found out what happened in Kaer Seren.”

      “Why didn’t you tell me?” Geralt asked, his voice gentle.

      Jaskier’s face flushed red with shame, “I was afraid. Afraid of what you would think of me. That you’d hate me.”

      Geralt frowned, “I don’t hate you. I could never hate you.”

      At that, Jaskier laughed, “Just look at me! I’m an ugly fuck-up.”

      “No,” Geralt said resolutely.

      “Huh?”

      “I said no. Do you know how many times you’ve saved my life? Made long nights on the path easier to bear? I wouldn’t be here right now if it weren’t for you,” Geralt continued, looking Jaskier directly in the eyes. He didn’t reply to that, just slipped his ring back on and hugged his arms to his chest.

      The rest of the day’s journey was spent in silence.

A/N:  I hope you enjoyed! Feel free to leave a comment, I love hearing feedback. I had one hell of a time writing this, I originally had only written the first scene, and it took a few months for my single window's screensaver brain cell to finally hit a corner and figure out how to continue and finish the story.

Ao3

[theinkmage]

Hope

Tw : self-harm mentions, attempted suicide, bleeding

I lie. Still. Not telling the truth.

The blood pours, but I deny pain. It trickles down, below my navel, runs the width and length of my right arm. The crimson red pools on the ground, the white hot tarmac, like spilled ketchup.

The plan failed.

Part of me is swamped with guilt, the feeling long gone from the sketches of my very existence. I haven't felt it for eons, the stab of a knife in my gut, twisting until it hits its mark. Bullseye.

The other part swims and drowns in regret. Regret and guilt are closely intertwined, but different. You can regret, but not feel guilt. You can also be guilty, but spared from regret.

I didn't mean to take lives. I didn't want to. But as one of the Darker Beings, they expected you to. Why resist something expected of you? Something so many of your kind are already doing with no qualms?

My guilt stems from my betrayal of my friends. But life isn't fair, we don't get to choose what or who we want to be. We can only accept what we are given and move on.

The expression on his countenance is still etched firmly in the dredges of my mind. Her shock too. So many of them. Not the friends. So the right word should be 'much'. Much shock, much hostility, much aggression. Of course, I didn't expect them to understand. They were born Lighter Beings. It was always Good versus Evil, and the latter would always be defeated no matter what. Who ever watched a movie where Evil triumphed? That would take the fun out of it and probably insert terror and unsatisfaction in its place.

This world has been stigmatised too much to be changed. And too few of us want it. Who would want change, in a world where ninety-nine percent of the odds are against you and you've already gotten used to it? Not to mention hope for it. That would be foolish.

Extremely foolish.

The Chief had wanted blood on our hands tonight, as a test. I know, I do admit, blowing up a building full of innocent children was too cruel. I wasn't given a choice. We all weren't. Maybe the Chief had a choice, maybe he didn't. Maybe he thought he was supposed to always do this. I can hear the clamouring at the back of my mind, screaming and yelling, "Ridiculous!"

Who are you to speak, if you are not one of us?

Whether blood did get on our hands tonight was a totally separate matter. What actually mattered was the defeat, which could be counted as a relief. The ones who had come with me had done their job well. Thrown the bombs well. Aimed, deft, precise accuracy. Almost deadly. Sharp like a sword. A flash of lightning and a peal of thunder.

Their encouragements still rang in my ears. I threw. I had thrown. Launched the black object like a curled up bat into the air, through the glass windows into the facility. It took only thirty seconds to detonate once released.

I heard the babies crying and shots from below. Honestly, I couldn't find it in my heart to blame them. I only watched, unwilling to betray my own kind, as those posted on the mission together with me attacked. I stayed up in the air, hovering, like a dark guardian angel.

He was below, battling fiercely while the others rushed in to get the babies. A slight twinge had tugged at my heartstrings, something so foreign to me I had almost forgotten it. It was a memory, something stronger, a fragment of the past always slipping past my fingertips like sand in an hourglass. Back when we were kids, back before the segregation, back before everything else that divided and conquered.

He had been my first true love, and still is. I had willed my resolve not to crumble there and then. The aches remained and flared, the smoke from their flames rising and intertwining into a monster in front of me. Porous, unreal. A living epitome of me.

My soul had risen into the air, cut itself out of my real physique, and watched silently as I dove down, slicing a spiral out of thin vapour. It took only seconds before my body collided with his, knocking his hands off my allies. The word tasted bitter in my mouth now, apart from the metallic sting of blood and the salty wash of tears and rainwater. I had watched the astonished, stung look on his dirt-streaked face, then fought against the longing in my heart. This was a good chance to win, to cut it all off once and for all. Human emotion was a tricky thing, not to be toyed with.

I haven't toyed with it for a while.

Even so, the years spent in numbness and coldness were for naught. I had felt the sprigs of flowers blooming inside my bosoms, threatening to unfurl their petals and burst in a radiant splash of colours. But before they could, I bit down hard on my tongue, tightened the iron fist, and rammed into him with all my might and force of my wings, sending him crashing into the glass behind.

The hurt and agony was something I would never forget, even as I lie, almost dying, on the pavement.

They had gotten the children out, fortunately. My allies had gotten away before the bombs had exploded in a fury of volcanic ash and red-hot lava. My wings had gotten burned, their black edges charred even further until the feathers singed and littered the ground. They had once been white, soft vanilla cream, until the segregation. And now they remained inky, jet-black.

The grit tasted hard between my molars and I spat it out, along with a mouthful of fresh red blood. Now I could feel it, the raw pain and anguish. A remembrance of human emotion. I clung to it in my last breaths, reluctant to let go of something I once had that made me human, something that defined me as virtuous and morally upright. Had defined me.  

Now, no more.

I might have killed him. Murder. Assassination.

A lump formed in my throat and bobbed quietly. Why wasn't I dead yet? When would the descent to Hell begin? Angels, or Demons, come and take me away. I want to leave without any struggle. I have played my part in this horrific world, branded myself as Evil, now ruined by my own doing.

This was what I deserved.

The world around me blurred, coalesced into water and sharpness. The mist came, and left, and everything was crystal-clear again. Too clear. Each breath was harder now, the intake much more difficult. It was coming, I could feel it. Death arriving on my doorstep, ready to take me away to where I belonged. I would make its job quicker and more efficient.

The knife blade felt cool in my hands. I remember feeling it thousands of times before, the edge cutting into my soft skin, the blade ripping through, drawing just a tinge of blood, not enough to kill me. And then whenever I began to feel human emotions again, I would rip it through again, patch it up, and continue. Until I became a living breathing block of ice, unfeeling. With no feeling came no pain. That was what I had come to realise over time.

But this time, I wouldn't just be drawing a tinge of blood. My eyes took in the world above me – the shattered glass, the wails of babies, the shouts and yells ricocheting all above. Large wings flapping, white against the night sky. I hoped he was fine, I hoped they were all fine. But what could hope do if he wasn't, if they weren't?

My cold fingers shifted up to the handle. It would just take one plunge into the already bloody area. No pain, and I would just go like that. How ironic, that I had always longed for human emotion, but when I am given the chance to take it back, I don't want to. I want the feelings to spare me before I die.

I shut my eyes, expecting to feel fear encasing me in its shell. Instead, I don't. I feel an otherworldly peace shrouding me in its silent holy veil, draping me in its cloak, caressing the tears and blood from my face. Even Peace took pity on me, this ruined, broken thing longing to leave the surfaces of Earth. I positioned the knife, its shiny blade facing downwards, raised it high above my abdomen.

Then with a determinedness, I brought it rushing down. The air swept above bare skin, bringing with it a tint of frost and chilliness. Flashes, memories, pictures raced before the blackness in front of my closed eyes. Brightness soared in my mind, spreading wings and taking flight as I braced myself for the ensuing farewell.

It never came.

I blinked. The eyelids lifted. A blurred image knelt in front of me. Was this Hell yet? The Demon, Satan, coming to kill me himself? The rain fell harder, disorienting. The edges of wings lay below me, fluttering helplessly as I struggled to discern between living and dying.

That was when I could feel them. Warm fingers, holding mine around the handle. The blade was poking my skin, drawing just a tinge of blood. Even without seeing, I knew who it was and I struggled to remove my fingers from his grasp, desperately wanting to sink the blade into me even more. Anything to get away from cold, hard reality. No one would miss me.

The fingers refused to let go, retained their hold around mine and tightened. The drops of water above hardened their fall. I shut my eyes again, and felt the hands shuddering. Both of ours. Not because of the cold. We were both crying, me and him, while around us, the world lay torn, shredded into pieces.

A white flash of something, like a piece of cloud ripped from a clear blue summer sky of the past. Through the drenching cold rain, I thought it was his wings, burning with a light and righteous glory of their own. But no, they were a normal shaking white, encased with streaks of blood amongst the dripping feathers. Warm energy flowed from his hands to mine, and I turned slightly to look at my outspread wings. I forced my unseeing eyes to take in their shining surfaces, white slowly pooling in from the edges.

The tears came, now free-flowing like the rain, down my wet bloodied cheeks. He was hoping in me. It had been hope all along, that fuelled him to stop him from killing myself; hope that allowed me to hesitate in the last few seconds of throwing the bomb, praying for a chance to redeem myself; hope that gave me those last few moments of hesitation before plunging the knife in, wanting someone to come and untangle me from this ruined world as an alternative ending.

It was hope that almost killed us, but also brought us back to life, even stronger than before. It was hope that nurtured love, and love that nurtured hope. The two caught in an endless cycle.

"Hope, now!"

The thunder was loud, deafening, a splitting crackle of electricity above and the rain its tears, pitter-pattering down. Yet I could hear him over the crash, his voice ragged and hoarse and desperate. And hope I did. Our fingers intertwined tighter, palms pressed together, the handle of the knife between us.

An amalgamation of emotions came crashing onto my shores, flooding the gates of my memory.

First was Happiness, like a bite into the sweetest chocolate cake, fresh out of the oven, baked by my mother.

Second came Pride, like clinching a trophy in a competition.

Third was Anger, its red-hot flames washing over me, devouring all my senses in its explosions.

Then came Disappointment, with the disappeared notion of believing something good was about to happen only to have it snatched away from you, right under your nose.

Guilt, with its sting in the gut, sharp and raw, tearing into your conscience like a monster burrowing underground.

Sadness, with its poignancy and something broken deep inside, breaking the dam of tears.

Then Disgust, mud on clean carpets and all over pretty white shirts and dresses.

Regret, replaying the same scene ten different times in your head, each playing out differently, but having apologies as one thing in common.

Hope, its wings spreading to embrace you, cushioning your fall, believing that you can fly.

The hands clenched tighter and sparks flew. The glow around me lightened considerably, a halo around two figures crouching under a lightning-split sky.

Last came Love, a burst of cherry blossoms and rose petals fluttering all around you, the sweet fragrance of honey and clean washed clothes.

His lips came down on mine, gently, almost as if unable to believe that it was happening. Hope could make anything happen. The brushing of a feather, light as breath, the rainwater and blood and tears mingling into one dark bitter taste, overcome by the sweet pleasantness of touch and intimacy. Using up the last of my energy, I returned the kiss, lips pressed against each other, hard and firm and safe, yet soft and dream-like and humane at the same time.

To love and to be loved were things I had yearned for for as long as I could remember.

Now, I could feel my body burning, my wings heating up and flaring out with a brilliance never felt before. The white swirling faster and faster behind my eyes was now dotted with numerous black spots, tightening into a circle of white and black.

I hoped for Change, and the change it would in turn bring into the world, like a rippling effect of pebbles on still water.

The circle spun faster, dancing on the edge of my vision, white-washed waves painted with black. Would Good and Evil truly coexist together?

A flash, darkness, then light. Freshness of petrichor in the air, and then once more, the airy feel of new spring raindrops against skin. I opened my eyes, noticing the wings first. Black and white. Both his and mine. Together, two colours on the same pair of wings, a mixture of colours filled in in startlingly intricate tones and patterns.

Hope had brought us together. But more than that, it meant that this destroyed world had a chance of being healed after all.

[captainkurosolaire]

Deadly Scheme

Suddenly after tasting victory for an ilm in facial features, the younger Keeper began fearfully pausing at distraught, unable to continue or use the function of his limbs, against his own design, administering a hold on his own throat and choking violently, squeezing the pressure with white-gloved hands. Choking and trying his mightiest to retrain, Silva's unrelenting power seemed unstoppable. Captain ripped off his shirt to block getting electrified and to safely rush back into the fray only to see the same scenery. “What ar’ you doing, Shiro! You’ve got him finished! Don’t beat yerself up.” Not recognizing that he was being bent against his will and hostage and also the Keeper unable to hear. Struggling under his choke, “I--can--’t con-tr-ol” Shiro’s other hand meticulously aiming at the imbecile scoundrel. Who took in resolve still containing the ice-sword he’d break through and shatter this enemy and give him complete decimation. Only when he got close, the possessed Shiro, manipulated the scimitar into reshaping into a self-impaling halberd that pierced through the pirate. Then combusted in a cryogenic explosion that sent Captain repelling and catapulting back into a harsh thud of defeat a side of his ribs fractured or shattered. Looking bewildered at the Seeker’s palms was surprisingly warm but only in his own sanguine nectar. Shiro forcefully pushed as he was being compelled to release Silv’a from the imprisonment. Otherwise choking and dying for nothing, this attempt was unsuccessful to claim victory. Unable to contest with the wrath no matter how many his backtracking leg’s stunted and relented, his need for oxygen demanded it, instincts kicking in with betrayal. He dissolved and freed his terrible evil from his own encasing and finally found his lung’s catching up. Silv’a cracked out stiffness and bone sores before mercilessly summoning a bundle of shards of ice and puncturing his own son and impaled him to the flooring with nails to his extremities. The injurie’s carried over into the Elder but unlike his son, had complete regeneration and recuperated every harmful effect as if indestructible. The soul-link faded from it’s duration at knick, unfortunately, disappointment continued to follow with his son. If only he endured a little longer, if his resolve of hatred for Silv’a soared higher. Towering over the two fallen moon and sun. He was their eclipse on this doomsday. A mighty debonair voice echoed over in a lecture of supremacy. “You can’t possibly think you’ll win. Even if you managed to kill me, another me will achieve where I failed. Evil, Good. It’ll always exist. None of their definitive methods matter by the end. Both forces believe they’re right.” “I am saving the world from the scar’s of calamity. If we all become immortal. Another catastrophe can’t slaughter us to extinction. We’ll be prepared by any interspiece traveler this time.The survivors won’t have to mourn! Our born mortal flesh is inferior! An imperfect design with an expiration date. Why clamour to be less?” “Those who survive the tormented soul’s who seek to bless every living thing on this Realm, will be the undefined STRONG. We’ll become a unified mutual structure. The hierarchy will shift drastically. Wealth will not be a determining factor. What you were distinctly racially born as, won’t matter! Don’t you see!” “Haven’t you ever questioned why these deities abandoned this realm after the recorded First Era? This world was studied once as an unimaginable beauty. But as creation’s came into, warring Beast Tribes and more race’s began migrating, our flaws served a catalyst corrupting and consuming with wedged separations. We became a lost cause.”

Twitching an angry wavy brow, Captain weakly unleashed an uproar, “SHUT TH’ HELL UP!” He’d begin lifting himself up and rummage a salving herb that bandaged his wound used by his other soul-half that roamed wilds, after wincing out, “I don’t give a shite. You wouldn’t possibly UNDERSTAND what we’ve done to survive while you were gone and hiding like a rat in a gutter inside your own son, by the way. Disgusting. That’s even immoral for me… I never needed the validation of’ the Twelve. Or my many betters. If I made it. So did many others, in a way we struggle more than any predated heroes, innocent’s still finding a reason to smile, t’ still find harmony, they create harboring hope and to endure, that’s strength! They’re th’ attraction! World hasn’t lost its radiance. We’ve only incorporated it into our lifeforms, after having my shared venture’s... If peace was an option, I would pick it! Building our massive societies and cultures, that’s why we pirate’s sailed! Not all forget history, we build and advance continuously, It’s also why the relics you even hold, were found, because of the Scour. We might be a doom cause, but by it all we restore with us joining as one! Many race’s loathe each other from old wounds, now, because of Realm defining Wars we’re getting closer to accepting one another, because this is our ship we share!” Pausing before catching his lungs up then gently, calmly, soothing continuing. A powerful retort was passionately conveyed by the seafarer. “The mortals.” “Dying is ever important for th’ next phase ov’ Living.” “What’ll happen when everyone becomes an immortal demon that eats and devours all living-sources and we run out? Think of that! You preach about invaders that caused Calamities. We’d eventually do it to another Realm n’ be th’ invader and eventually we’ll go back to fighting each other internally. Yer perfect hierarchy is still a BROKEN system! Becoming all equal isn’t th’ answer. Wondrous diversities, that's knowing true treasure.” Shiro was stunned and staggered that Captain even managed to deductively vent at that point, something that would’ve fit his own retort as he regained his hearing to rise with the aspiring pirate. “...Well said.”  Breaking his binding ice that rooted him with a howling defiance. Highlighting a visage with an impressed but still grumbling as the polar-pair resisted and fought as warriors even with their extensive wounds only gathering more, even if they died ultimately here, at least they fought the devil instead of hid. Silv’a crossed his arms before cackling his head back, “As I said. We’ll never agree. You’ll see once it all transpires, I’m right. You’ll all be mended… Well, except you boys, I don’t think you’ll survive. You’ve caused me enough headaches! In Fact… I think you should return to your nursery.” Reading off the Voidal Relic the Scroll of the Twelve with a finger rub over the spell, he’d unleash a terrifying curse. “What now?” Captain wouldn’t like this, Shiro more sensible, “Come on stop gawking, Solaire, we’ve got to stop him!” Silv’a uttered, <”Unvalued flowed time is constantly to be set-back until before they prospered.>!” Empowering it with an old Mhachi tongue. As Shiro and Kuro rushed their next barrage they noticed the world getting larger... or, well, them getting smaller. They began shrinking into their child forms being toddlers but retaining their wisdom, least temporarily. Their bodies however were once again pesky chibi-like kids. Completely harmless and so fragile.   “I feel like my balls were reversed from dropping, so painfully unpleasant.” Captain’s first thing he noticed as his pitch became predated with puberty. Turning to Shiro who was overlooking his own form, “Argh! We've been transformed into runts.” Silv’a laughing gallantly, succeeding in disposing of them. “Precisely you spoiled pest, now sit tight and observe.” He’d create a kid’s play-pen they couldn’t even climb out from their heights being insignificant. See-through fenced with an ice wall barricading them in. Only so they could bewilder failure. A dangerous curse that would constantly become even more potent as time durated as shortly even their own actual age would be reversed until they were drooling infants and slobbering messes who could only crawl, then eventually they’d cease of existence. Shiro and Kuro looked in complete disarray and despair. The sorcerer conducted his actual plan by aligning the Voidal Relics; they were keys for something of a grander scheme beyond their forbidden usages. The more drawn together they could be conduit’s to open up a gateway even more terrifying than that of the Void alone. A teared rift that could endanger all if it came to pass a place deemed of no escape was beginning to be drawn forth with Mhachi blood and the unity of demon’s. The Tormented Plane’s laid to open, so came certain Oblivion. The worst of the worst sinners and tortured would eventually find escape when the Rift fully opened, unleashed after a phase of time and by continuing draining each relic independently.                         (Previous) << (Voidal Relics) >> (Next)  

[vesuvianmess]

Duet for One

Character(s): Arson Kamal | Julian Devorak | Asra Alnazar | Xen Corbyn

Rating: Mature - Contains depictions of sickness, bodily fluids, and mentions of death

-

Sometimes life gives us everything we could ever ask for. But nothing lasts forever.

Two boys who turned their heads away from partners our families chose for us, brought together by chance one evening during a dinner party. I was only fifteen at the time, dressed in silks, hair swept back, and seeking an out from the crowds of adults all drinking expensive wines and discussing their son’s and daughter’s futures.

 I’d managed to slip away to my family’s library. From inside rows upon rows of books made up each wall, some with binders barely holding together, others still retaining their stark white pages. At the far end of the room rested a gilded stained glass door leading out to a garden pathway, my favorite place to be. Pushing the heavy door open I slid through. Even with the place softly lit by strings of hanging lights, it was quiet and free of guests. I remember sitting for some time, enjoying the fresh air and checking on the plethora of colors and scents that surrounded me. Unaware of how long I had lingered, the bell rang out across the estate grounds. The night was drawing to a close. I needed to return to the main hall to send off our attendees. Turning on my heel I found myself very quickly on the ground, wind knocked from my lungs as something heavy fell over me. Cracking my eyes open I noticed it was books, and they’d fallen out of the arms of a boy who couldn’t have been much younger than myself. His hair fell into his earthy brown eyes, dark as a raven’s feathers. A pair of comically big and rounded glasses sat askew from his fall. When he noticed me, he shot up and helped pull me to my feet. 

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have taken so many. I couldn’t see over them…” He fixed his glasses before bending down to gather the fallen books. 

“It’s quite alright. I should have been more aware of my surroundings.” I took a few of the books from him, evening out our stacks. “Arson, Arson Kamal. A pleasure to meet you…?” 

“Xen Corbyn, at your service.” He bowed, nearly dropping his books a second time. “We should probably get back.”

---

We had moved from my family’s estate on Xen’s twenty-third birthday. He mentioned having family there and my own family had visited often enough for various events and festivals. Every year since I was a child I would come across another around my age, perhaps a touch younger, with messy white hair and deep purple eyes. They never stuck around for long, ducking behind market stalls and seeming to disappear without a trace. Still, it had been years since those days and my memory of them was hazy. Something about them felt important. Like a small home away from home. I couldn’t place why. 

It was at our first masquerade that I proposed, at the end of a breathless dance between the two of us. Later that same night Xen had presented me with a soft pink flower from a nearby cart. Tucking it into my hair he called it an ‘azalea’ and whispered that it reminded him of me. We spent the rest of the night dancing, dipping and spinning, hand in hand we assured each other we would be together until the end of our days. 

---

It started slow, one or two dropped in the span of three months. ‘Nothing to worry about, Love.’ Xen had said, carding his fingers through my hair. His words failed to soothe the tiny voice in the back of my mind telling me to run. Something was amiss in Vesuvia, I could feel it in the wind. A faint sickly smell, like something rotting far out of sight. In the coming days, my ill feeling had been proven true. We had been in  the market when we noticed cloaked figures in masks carrying a mass covered in cloth out of a nearby home. The mass was unsettlingly human sized. 

“Xen, something is off. The air here is tainted.” My fingers held tight to a delicate teacup. “Please be safe and keep your eyes open. Take every precaution.” Perhaps I was taking this worry of mine too far. “Love, I appreciate your concern. But I’ll be fine. Fit and peachy.” He smiled back at me as he cleaned the lenses of his glasses. “There’s been nary a sighting on this side of the city.” 

“If you feel we’re safe, I trust you.” I sighed, loosening my hold. “Oh, that’s right, I forgot to mention. Do you remember that child I spoke about? The one with snowy hair I saw flitting around the market when I was young.”

“How could I not? You never stopped talking about them.” Xen gave me a soft laugh. “I wonder what happened to them.” “That’s just it, Xen. I found them. In the market. Someone had bumped into me just firmly enough to push me into a smaller booth. A fortune teller’s booth. Imagine my surprise when I recognized the soul sitting at the teller’s table.” I mused. “Their name is Asra. Finally a name to a face.”

“Oh? Perhaps it’s fate?” He teased.

---

Weeks had passed, the previous unease beginning to tug at my mind again. I could feel it somewhere in me that something was coming. Something foul. I’d heard in hushed whispers that the count had fallen ill. At first I questioned the validity of the statements, until events around the city began to cancel left and right. A good deal of them I could have done without in the first place as they were downright vile. Such acts of violence made me sick to my stomach. I would live my days in peace never seeing the count if I had been able. It was around this time I noticed Xen had begun dragging himself. I’d never seen him so tired before. 

“Are you sure you’re alright, Dear? You don’t look so well, and the coughing has gotten worse.” 

“I’m fine, just a little cold is all.” He assured me. 

“Please be careful. Stay away from the crowded stalls.” 

“I will, trust me. I’ll be safe. I’m off then, Love. I’ll be back before the sun sets.” Xen hefted a bag over his shoulder. “Don’t be too lonely while I’m gone.” He smirked. “I won’t, I won’t. Bring back some ribbon if you can. I have flower arrangements to start on.” I waved him off, watching as the door closed behind him, an uneasy feeling threatening me from the depths of my mind.

-

The light of the sun was beginning to dip behind the horizon and Xen had not returned home. My fiance was never late. Something pricked my skin, a cold sensation washed over me and a feeling of dread set in. The rumors, the masked men in cloaks, the body shaped lumped wrapped in cloth… It all came to a boiling point of quiet panic within me. What if something had happened, what if Xen was hurt? I needed to know. Pulling my shawl over my arms, I made for the door. I had to find him. The twisting in my gut only grew worse when the cold air hit me. Had the city always been this cold at twilight? 

I tracked my way through the market, finding no trace of Xen. I stopped by every stall and asked if anyone had seen him. I received a few mixed answers. Some said he left towards the square, others reported seeing him on his way to the south end. I started for the square first, keeping my eyes on my surroundings in case he might pass me on his way back to the shop. When I found the square empty, aside from a few stragglers on evening walks, I turned and made way for the south end. What could he have been doing out that way? 

The sun had long since set and wind swept up around me, sending strands of hair into my eyes. I wrapped my shawl tighter around me and dipped my head low to avoid the rush of air. I rounded a corner, blocking the wind. With a sigh of relief I lifted my head. The Raven was out this way. I would ask the owner if he had seen Xen around. 

I kept my pace even and steady. I tried to keep myself calm by taking each step in time with my heartbeat. Rounding another corner, I could see the edge of the tavern’s hanging sign. I stopped short when I stepped in something wet, a sour smell filling my nose. Probably a patron who’s had a few too many and wandered off to get sick. I was about to keep moving when I noticed a pair of glasses on the ground a few feet away. Picking them up I realized they were Xen’s. Maybe....He’d just dropped them. Yes, that was it. It had to be. 

The closer I moved to the tavern, the stronger the sour smell became. But it didn’t seem like it was coming from the tavern at all. Instead, the source of the smell came further to the right. I can’t remember why, but I found myself following the scent down a small alleyway littered with old papers and empty glass bottles. A few paces in, the smell grew stronger and I again stepped in something wet. This time, it felt almost sticky. I looked down to see a deep pool of red beneath my feet, frothy and tinged with bile. I felt my stomach lurch. I gagged and covered my mouth with my hand. A creeping sense of dread ran up my spine when my eyes followed the trail to a body laying slumped in the ally. I couldn’t be. There was no way. With unsteady footsteps I approached the body and knelt down to get a better view in the darkness. As my eyes adjusted, I felt my blood run cold.

“No…” My voice caught in my throat and my palms broke into a cold sweat. “No it can't be. It isn’t. Please tell me it isn’t.” I pleaded to the empty air around me. But I knew this wasn’t some twisted nightmare. 

It was Xen. A disgusting red surrounded his eyes and soaked his hands, running up his arms like a spider’s web. How had I not noticed these marks before? Was I too busy focusing on my arrangements to notice? In his hands he held a glass bird and a spool of pale pink ribbon. My knees met with stone and bloody bile soaked into my pants as I sat there with tears running down my face. I refused to leave until the men in black cloaks came to take him away. 

---

“We need to leave the city.” Asra sat next to me on my bed. “You know now better than anyone it’s not safe here.” I did not answer. 

“Arson, we can’t stay here.” They persisted. “I can’t.” my voice sounded foreign to me. “It’s not right. It’s not fair to him. I have to stay.” 

“There’s no telling--” 

“I’m staying. I want to help find a cure for this. It’s only right that I do. He deserves that much at least.” 

The next day, Asra departed without me. I stuck true to my word and began studying the disease under a doctor named Julian Devorak. A strange lanky sort who spent his off time in the tavern. I joined in mostly for the company. I couldn’t bear going home to the empty house. 

Not even three weeks later I began to notice a change in myself. Fatigue had taken hold of me. Whether it was from overworking or not, I didn’t want to know. No matter how much I dragged, I continued to work to the best of my ability. It wasn’t until the violent coughing fits into bloody handkerchiefs hit that I knew my fate was sealed. My time to find a cure was running short. How many days I had left was a mystery. Some passed within two or three days, some lasted five or six. As my condition worsened, I locked myself up at home, flipping weakly through old journals filled with his handwriting. Scribbled diagrams of the stars in margins of research books, coffee stains, and spilled ink made the pages feel like home. 

The following evening I awoke vomiting and sputtering for air, I knew time was up. I would die before the night was over. I wanted one last dance. Humming a sweet melody to myself I started a sway. Alone in my room under the pale moonlight I danced a solemn duet made for one, the face of the man I loved flooding my mind. The tears refused to stop and whether it was a hallucination or not, I felt like he was there, his fingers intertwined with mind as I gave my final bow. 

[beautifulterriblequeen]

I’m really intrigued by Rayla’s moonshadow assassin peers. I especially am interested in Andromeda because I think she is the only other girl in the group? Do you have any headcanons in how these teen/young adult assassins interacted? Do you think Rayla isolated herself from them because she was always iffy about taking a life? Also TDP finally colored their map and I know you live maps, find any new cool stuff? I especially love how there’s a frozen sea north and a spinning sea south, imagine the powerful Magic’s that channeled to make them.

Okay, so I jumped straight to the map, did 80% of it, and wandered away for a few weeks. I apologize, anon. Let’s get this going again:

I’ve got a few headcanons on the Moonshadow assassins! It seems likely that they hang out mostly with each other, when they hang out, to reinforce their teambuilding and to give them some socialization, since assassins tend to keep others at arm’s length. So I kinda figure they tend to roam as a pack on their evenings out in the village, if they’re not married to a non-assassin like Runaan is.

I think that could be part of the reason that Rayla might not have hung out with the others as much, too: Runaan wanted to be either training or at home with Ethari, so Rayla probably spent a lot of time doing those things just because he did them. And when Runaan was doing more serious training or missions, that’s when Rayla had her free time to run around the forest and make adoraburr friends. 

Runaan could’ve probably insisted that she do something more assassiny with her free time. Shadow an assassin, do more studying, practice certain prescribed skills on her own. But he didn’t. He let her play. Soft assassin is soft!

Listen, anon, I have a fun headcanon for you about Andromeda--and by fun, I mean it’s really angsty half a second after you start thinking about it. Ready? 

What if: Andromeda is Runaan’s half-sister. If they’re both Lujanne’s children by different assassin dads who kept dying in battle, but a Moon mage needs an assassin leader partner to defend Xadia with, and Lujanne knew her son Runaan wasn’t old enough to lead yet, so she burned through three or more husbands protecting him until Runaan was well trained enough to lead the assassins himself and had fallen in love with a mage who adored him and would be his partner in her place.

 Andromeda looks a fair bit like Lujanne, too:

Along with Runaan, they all have long hair, side tails bound in silver cuffs, and some form of braids. Andromeda’s hair is sectioned in front similarly to Runaan’s. Her accent sounds more British than Scottish, though she only has the one line: My eyes for truth. And Lujanne and Andromeda are the only two Moonshadow elves we’ve met who have medium blue horns, while Runaan’s are dark blue. Almost everyone else’s horns have purple or pink as their base color.

But then, see, Andromeda went on Runaan’s mission, and she died. Her spirit was the most aggressive in TTM, usually closest to Rayla with her sword out, as if she hated Rayla the most. If she had a vested family interest in Runaan’s mission succeeding, and then it went pear-shaped because of Rayla, that would make sense.

No matter if she’s related to Runaan or not, she’s wearing horn cuffs, so she was in a dedicated relationship of some kind, and that’s so sad. Someone’s missing her the way Ethari’s missing Runaan. :’((((

Anyway, it’s just a headcanon, but since you asked, there ya go.

Okay, on to my thoughts on the map, of which I have a normal and healthy amount:

The Map Border: 

Everyone doodles in the borders. I love to see what they put there.

Starting in the upper left and going counter-clockwise, the five human crowns are cool

Cornucopia swirls center left look like an homage to Cabbage Man from ATLA

Bait is staring at Evenere. his home? Or maybe he just wants to eat the dragonfly on its logo

Human defender has a beard. Hairagorn. He's very heavily armored but has no helmet. Long hair is braided to rest on front of shoulder, like the blond elf in the painting at the Moon Nexus. Old timey hairstyle?

He’s defending Katolis Castle specifically. I wonder if the little white building is kinda random or if it’s supposed to represent the Banther Lodge. Nah, I have a better guess: that’s where Viren grew up

The crack in the map looks meta. It's been repaired somewhat. Makes me wonder if it's an in-world map, whose, who ripped it, and who fixed it. Sir Phineas Kurst seems like the kind of guy to almost shred his really cool map

The star behind Zym's egg has seven points

The two ships on the southern waters are western and eastern respectively. Tidebound elves from Singapore? Jack Sparrow would be proud

There is land just south of the Dragontail, wonder what’s there?

The leaves around the human figure are small and numerous while the Moonshadow elf has fewer but bigger leaves

The elf is standing in the way of one of the six leaves growing out of the rune rose and that leaf's curly tip seems to have been replaced with a curl of the elf's very long hair

The human pose is more offense and the elf pose is more defense. But the elf has two swords, and one has some wicked hooks in it.

Elf has 4 fingers instead of 3 so whether it’s in-universe or meta, they were drawn by a human :DDD

The elf's braid winds around their horn and I think that's clever

High collar shirt under protective layer, bracers and elbow gloves, bare biceps, complex shoulder getup, ornate hair that's butt long and partly braided, two long slightly curving swords... horn cuffs too. This is a Moonshadow assassin in the same gear Runaan's got, poised to defend the Xadian half of the map as the human is poised to defend his side

The rune rose isn't a compass. It has a two sided pointer and six primal runes. Just decorative I guess. ;)

More lettuces on right center.

Maybe a portaling caterpillar on the center knot? Little bug pal, I see you

“The Five Human Kingdoms” lettered in red, “Xadia” in blue. Giving me Stratego flashbacks. Even the flowers on their banners are color coded

Banners in the corners are similar but Xadia has more fluttery tips

Thunder drawn all attacky top center, does he have anything to do with the Frozen Sea being frozen?

Compass rose under Thunder’s wing

Dick island near the compass. Well, Duren is the breadbasket of the human lands. A most excellent cartography joke! 10/10 would chortle wholesomely again

The Human Kingdoms:

Neolandia

Capital Eboreus seems to be a lake city below a mountain and I'm here for all the Lake Town refs. 

It's also the eye of the elephant shape

Not a lot of trees, mostly grasses or desert. Only borders Duren across a couple rivers/estuaries/sea channels

Heart shaped island next to elephant trunk

Land generally broken into several sections by sea/rivers 

If it’s rivers, they seem to generate from the capital’s lake and flow in several directions. And they say there’s no magic left in the western lands! ;)

But if there was exactly one source of freshwater in a desert land, it makes sense that you’d find a way, magical or mechanical, to spread that lifegiving water in as many directions as possible so your people can thrive so kudos to Neolandia’s ancestors/Tidebound elves/whoever managed that, it’s brilliant

I can and will make up explanations for anything on a map. I adore worldbuilding

Del Bar

Two named locations. Since Del Bar’s national symbol is a serpent, I guess Serpentongue is the capital.

Hinterpeak is a sweet name. Looks like Helm's Deep with that retaining wall. What’s it for? Are there dwarves in this land? Is it an Earthblood stronghold? Maybe it’s like the Mines of Moria, and the Earthbloods were chased out and/or killed inside and now it’s full of nasty orcses but someone left a MacGuffin down there so *nudges hero* Off you pop.

Nice forests around the southern mountain range but northern DB is more arid or grassy lands like Neolandia. 

Considering that crops grow well in Duren, which is farther north, I assume there is a massive meteorological gyre over the human lands, with a southern wind blowing down over the western realms and keeping them icy until the mountains of Hinterpeak block and divert them, protecting Evenere. The winds don't blow eastward without warming right up-- and causing thunderstorms in Katolis how about that-- because there is a warmer side to the gyre over Katolis and Duren, blowing tropical warmth and moisture north and providing rain for trees and crops alike. Most years, anyway.

How does the weather fail in Duren for seven years in a row, anyway? That seems like a Thunder issue. Unless it’s a Sunforge issue, which I’ll get to below.

Ahem.

Borders Neolandia, Duren, and Katolis across rivers, but most border is coastline.

Serpentongue probably got its name from the two river heads around it

Cluster of dead little cracks spawns a single river. Looks like someone cracked the tub and it drained away. I wonder how much of this landscape has been affected by the Mage Wars. Big watery basins have flooded and other spots seem dead. The lands may or may not actually touch depending on how deep some of these waterways are

Evenere

Looks like someone punched holes in the land with a giant pencil to make it a separate island. Broken outline with scattered islands

That Pawprint Isles has only four toes

Moon-shaped island is very crescenty indeed

Are these isles home to refugees or outcasts from Xadia? Listen, I want pirates and that sea looks pretty Caribbean to me

No capital city, hmmm what's that about? Is it underground, does it move? Maybe Fareeda’s capital is on the back of a world turtle and she’s constantly on tour around the island?

That arm of land ending in a peace sign, please can we get surfers

The hills emanating from that claw shaped headland look like something is sleeping under the island, hello yes I am here for giant immortal creatures please

Katolis

its capital is also called Katolis, the only human realm to use the same name twice

Weeping Bay could be a ref to the tears the humans shed after they reached the west. Or the Moonshadow elves as they left their forest for the east. Or both. Both, in this case, is bad but balanced

Boomerang island next to the Dragontail

The river the Dragaang rode on was going uphill

The watery slash in the land between Katolis and Del Bar is awfully straight. So is the one between Del Bar and Neolandia. I call magical warfare.

Katolis has a bunch of mountains in the east, part of an old natural border before the lava one appeared

Mt Kalik is probably volcanic. It's a standalone mountain and it's really tall. Rex Ignius maybe? Oh, probably not, I think I see him peeking on the other side of the map

The trees of Duren and Katolis are different then the western lands. Softer green, deciduous. And the land itself is yellower, warmer in tone

Forests centered on Mt Kalik

The Moon Nexus looks like an eye on a dragon head near the Dragontail, and Evenere looks like a severed wing (Yes I am still wondering where Luna Tenebris went, why do you ask)

Weeping Bay looks like the most natural body of water in the western lands

Three red little trees scattered around the Katolis map. Fruit trees? How very Moonshadow.

Duren

The only land border among all the human kingdoms is between Duren and Katolis. Maybe it used to be further south along the river?

Capital is Berylgarten, set on a lake. Beryl is a stone that’s usually green, blue, or yellow in color, very gardeny

Second smallest realm but the breadbasket of the human lands. Has several little forests and great tilled fields

Being a farmer in Duren is probably as awesome as being an assassin in the Moonshadow Forest; you do what you do for all your friendly kingdoms

Northernmost land is cold and craggy, named Skall's Hook along the sea

Third ship in the Frozen Sea is icebound and crushed. Looks western, indicating no possible passage

Lots of colored trees and shrubs as if fruitbearing, I keep comparing Duren to the Yakima Valley in Washington State

Where the lava reaches the Frozen Sea, it melts the ice next to Duren's mountains

Northern Xadia:

Lux Aurea

Most of the center lands of this map has warm tones for its ground. Maybe that’s because of the long reach of the warmth and light of Lux Aurea’s Sun Nexus, and only the lands that are just too far from it are truly cold and icy. It would explain why Duren is a breadbasket realm so far north--it’s just across the border from Lux Aurea.

If there’s anything to that, then I suddenly worry for the fate of all the human lands now that the Sunforge has gone dark. It’s early summer now in Xadia, and crops in Duren will be ripening soon... Unless the sun’s magic was helping them grow. This coming winter could be rough. Next winter, people will die. Unless they can purify the Sunforge again.

Also, I have to wonder if Duren’s seven years of famine had anything to do with Sunforge shenanigans. They’d have happened at Khessa’s command, and we know she despises humans. If she was responsible for all the struggles that humans had to go through without enough food for seven years, and then their desperate attempt to fix the problem by invading Xadia for a Magma Titan’s heart which extended and exacerbated the war, I can see why Aaravos might feel Queen Khessa deserved to die

The city’s shaped kinda like an Egyptian pectoral necklace on this map, and that’s super pretty and not at all ominous

Also that’s a lot of gold for a whole city and I wonder how they got it all

The Shiverglades and the Shards

These areas are north of Lux Aurea and seem cold but not very icy, even though the Frozen Sea is right there. More thoughtful glances at the Sunforge over this one. Is it warming the land, or not warming the sea? Both?

Shiverglades is a play on Everglades, so this is a cold swamp, which sounds super fun I’m sure. Permafrost, tundra maybe?

The Shards seem to be rock islands with ice mountains. Glaciers are cool. 

I wonder if something broke those islands off on purpose. Have I mentioned how much I enjoy worldbuilding? Yeah, well, I like world-wrecking, too.

Storm Spire

Has a good view on everything that happens for miles, including Lux Aurea, the Midnight Desert, the Shiverglades, the Black Tundra, the Uncharted Forest, and Drakewood. 

Defensible position, no other tall mountains nearby

Also able to alert others to danger, especially since Avizandum could teleport like lightning

The Midnight Desert

It’s pretty big! And it looks like it’s littered with ruins of columns and dead palm trees. Like something else used to be in that great space and then something Very Bad happened to it. Maybe there was one great city where all the elves could mix together, and then it got utterly obliterated and the elves all fled to their respective safe places around Xadia. A city of black stone, back when Aaravos wore a crown? Now pulverized to dust and surrounded by not one, not two, but three primal nexuses? Hmmm...

All the wisps could be heat from the sand, or spooky spirit hints, or just an ominous sign of danger from the snakes below, but the overall effect is that the land is unhealthy if not cursed

The oasis is marked, and it must contain a spring since it runs a river out to join the river that passes through the Moonshadow Forest

Also the actual oasis kinda resembles a blue lizard which is adorable and probably also terrifying

Moonshadow Forest

The Silvergrove is the only village marked in the forest, so in keeping with the other lands and general map legend rules, it’s likely the capital/central village for the Moonshadow elves

The village is marked by four round-roofed homes between two tall leafy trees that shelter and hide them. It’s a hybrid balance between the blocky manmade castles of the human lands and the actual forest around them, showing a blending with nature that even the Sunfire city of Lux Aurea did not embrace, with all its golden buildings

It’s a good-sized forest, and it kinda stretches thin to the east but there it tentatively connects to the Drakewood Forest

Moonstone Path to the west just chilling in the lava like a blank alignment chart. Moonstone Path is Chaotic Hot.

Southern Xadia:

Ruins of Elarion

Elarion is a city, and it’s been lost to the humans for a thousand years

The building outlines are squared-off towers like the more modern castles in the west, suggesting that humans in Xadia built for strength and defense as soon as they could. They felt vulnerable and created protections in their architecture. The three elven cities we see also play to their strengths, but those strengths include magic. Elarion’s humans had to find a different strength, and they went with craftsmanship and ingenuity

It seems to be the only human city from before the border was drawn

“Ruins” doesn’t necessarily mean no one lives there at all, but it’s been emptied of humans and no one else has maintained it since

It had a great position on a vast lake, with sheltering hills and easy sea access

Sea of the Castout

This inland sea has five inlets and outlets. It’s hard to be sure which is which with some of them, with the way the water is drawn on this map. But I’m kinda liking the idea that all the water swirlies are places where Tidebound magic has been placed over the millennia, so the water can do whatever it needs to do depending on circumstances. That goes for the human lands, too. Katolis backward river, you’re off the hook.

With a name like "Castout,” I wonder if it was some kind of universal toilet to flush away things you didn’t want--including humans--who might wash up near Elarion and start to build there. Yeesh.

The rivers that flow into this sea pass through or near the Moonshadow Forest, the Midnight Desert, the Storm Spire, Drakewood, and the Uncharted Forest. That’s a lot of drainage.

It’s pretty far from the Tidebound Archipelago, so maybe its name is referencing Tidebound elves who have left their home colony

Was this always a sea, or did something that Xadia wanted to forget get flooded and hidden in the depths?

The land around it seems open and hospitable. It could be a good place to build/rebuild in a time of peace.

The Far Reaches

Open grassland with low hills

Two of the hills look like giant boot prints

Several colorful trees which I hope are fruit trees

Bounded by two rivers from the Sea of the Castout

Looks homey tbh, great spot to retire to get away from everything if there were a war that really shook you up

Ocean Point

There’s a Star rune here, and it could mean many things

The closest other marked location is Elarion

If this was where Aaravos lived of his own free will, I can see why he’d take a shine to the humans. They were his neighbors.

If he is imprisoned here, it’s literally the furthest point in Xadia from the other elven realms, with the Moonshadow Forest being the closest one and Umber Tor not too much further but in a totally different direction. If they were trying to isolate him physically with a portable mirror to watch over him, that’s a good spot for it

Possible location that the cube is leading Callum toward? Portal to the Star Touch home plane? Aaravos’s seaside B&B? Trap street?

Eastern Xadia:

Drakewood

Umber Tor looks to be the tallest mountain in all of Xadia, save possibly for the Storm Spire. It’s more traditionally mountainy, with a nice snowcap. Since it’s labeled, I’m guessing it’s the Earth Nexus, under which an Earth Archdragon sleeps

Also there’s a giant yellowish-brown dragon chilling next to the Tor. Yeah, he seems nice. Rex Igneous, I presume?

Or maybe not, since the neighboring forest is called Drakewood. Maybe this woods is just where a bunch of Earth dragons hang out? Ezran and Pyrrah flew off and returned with a crew of Sun dragons from somewhere, so dragons must have communities too

The mountains that edge the sea are shaped roughly like a stone dragon in flight

Drakewood seems to be the forest closest to Umber Tor, with both deciduous and evergreen trees, though there’s a huge swath of wooded land here, to the north and to the southwest. I wonder what the locals consider the border where the Drakewood becomes the Uncharted Forest and why. The way the evergreens are drawn almost looks like a border, a sort of kingswood set aside for a specific use. Rex Igneous’s best toothpicks?

Uncharted Forest

Okay this is a properly magical name, very mysterious. But uncharted by whom? People with charts? This might be a Sir Phineas Kurst name, which is outsidery, and it makes me wonder if the locals/neighbors have their own name for it, which the human explorer never learned, a la “Thunder” for Avizandum

Maybe “Uncharted Forest” just means no one ever turned those trees into charts though, old growth ftw

If no one lives here, will someone move here? If someone lives here, who are they? Earthblood elves? Moonshadow elves? Humans? This mystery, it calls to me

the trees are mostly deciduous and fill basically all of this whole section of land, up against the mountains and the rivers, so it seems very fertile land indeed

Earthblood elves could live here, but there is no city marked. Maybe because we haven’t gotten that far in the show, or maybe that’s the wrong sort of descriptor for how the Earthbloods live and organize. Maybe the whole forest is their city, like Pando, the interconnected quaking aspen clone forest

The northernmost part of this forest lies right between the Storm Spire and the Tidebound Archipelago, so it might get a regular flyover route for migration or messages

Yes, this forest is the most interesting place in Xadia to me, I desperately want to learn more about it

Black Tundra

Yeah this place isn’t ominous

Similar to the Shiverglades, but where that has shrubbery, the Black Tundra has single dead trees and creepy curving spikes. Scorched? Poisoned? De-magicked?

The water north of this area isn’t frozen, and with a lake to the south and a river and a moderate mountain range, the whole area looks like it would otherwise be decently habitable, but instead it’s cold and black

Is climate change a thing here, or will we get a nice horrible disaster instead?

Tidebound Archipelago

These islands have dotted lines around them, like they’re submerged at high tide, or maybe made of shifting sand that literally moves around like sand dunes across a desert, or perhaps they’re exactly at sea level with half their civilization in the air and half underwater or in cool bubbles, or maybe the islands actually float

Maybe the Tidebound elves even sank them on purpose for defensive purposes

The archipelago is about even latitudinally with the Storm Spire Lux Aurea, Berylgarten, and Eboreus so they probably get pretty nice weather

There’s no ice in sight here in any direction along Xadia’s east coast, so presumably the prevailing current is a warm one

do they have bridges connecting the islands? Ferries, animals who give them a lift across?

the islands have quite a bit of space on them. I wonder if there’s a big population, maybe a shifting population? Do Tidebound elves migrate up and down the coast like gray whales and return to the islands for certain holidays or social events?

This is probably the hub of the Tidebound elves’ culture, but the sea surrounds the whole land and infiltrates it with many rivers and lakes. The Spinning Sea and the Frozen Sea are pretty firm Do Not Enter signposts, but a determined Tidebound could get around either one if they wanted to

What I’m not seeing here is a city. Either it’s not been marked yet, or that’s not a thing that Tidebound elves have in their culture. If they don’t have a city, they’re possibly migratory in family groups, or maybe they stick to small villages like the Moonshadows do, but with even less central leadership

[snappedsky]

Fanatics 81.4

Round One: Pepito vs Zoli

*Links to previous and next chapters in reblog*

Reawakening Part 4

           Squee lies on the couch, his eyes closed as he gently strokes Nugget’s back, enjoying the peace and quiet. But that’s all quickly shattered by one annoying voice.

           “You’re kind of selfish, huh.”            Squee’s eyes crack open to briefly glare at Squishy Pete, who is sitting on the coffee table, before he closes them again.      

           “I mean, just look at you,” Pete continues, “enjoying this alone time while your friends are out there, worrying about you. Are you even thinking about them? Do you even care what they’re doing?”

           Squee’s face scrunches up with irritation as he tries to ignore the stress toy.

           “Johnny’s been gone a long time, huh?”

           His eyes fly open and he looks over at Pete.

           “What, you’re just noticing now?” he scoffs, “wow, you really are selfish. Something terrible could’ve happened to him and you’re not even worried about it. He could’ve gotten into a car accident. He could be hurt somewhere. Or worse.”

           Squee sits up, his eyes darting around nervously as he contemplates those words. Then he grabs his cellphone and calls Devi.

           “Hello?” she answers.

           “H-Hey, Devi,” Squee replies, trying to keep his voice steady. “Is Nny with you?”

           “No, he just dropped us off about twenty minutes ago. Why? Is he not home yet?”

           “N-not yet. B-but I’m sure it’s fine,” he insists, “he probably just stopped at the store to get a BrainFreezy or something.”

           “Right…” Devi grunts, “well, if he’s not home in an hour, call me, okay?”            “Okay.” Squee hangs up and leans forward. He stares at the floor, a million terrible thoughts running through his head. Then Nugget meows at him. He sighs and gently scratches her head.

           “Everything’s okay, Nugget,” he says.

           “Even lying to a cat,” Pete tuts, “so selfish. And so truly alone.”            Meanwhile, across the city, Zim, Dib, Gaz, Tak, and Pepito prepare to fight Zoli. She grins with amusement as she leisurely approaches them, scythe resting on her shoulder.

           “Let’s see,” she purrs as she waves her finger before pointing it at Tak. “Tak, the failed Irken. Abandoned by your leaders and people, forced to join up with your previous enemy just to avoid a lifetime of loneliness.”

           “What?” Tak gasps.

           “Gaz,” Zoli continues, “the seemingly unfeeling gamer. Not a care in the world. But the future is approaching quickly. What are you going to do when the world comes crashing down on you and you can’t just escape into video games anymore?”

           Gaz flinches, taken aback.

           “Dib: the paranormal investigator. But you can’t even accomplish that, can you? Deep down you know you’re nothing but a failure and a disappointment, even to yourself.”            “Tha-that’s not…” Dib stammers.

           “Hey!” Zim barks, “who do you think you are, talking like you know us?”            “And speaking of failures, here’s the King of Failures himself,” Zoli laughs, “Zim, the defective invader. Hated so much by his own kind he was sent to the farthest corner of the universe. And still so hated that they try to destroy him every chance they get.”

           Zim scoffs, “whatever. Zim doesn’t care what they think anymore.”

           “Maybe not. But you care what you think. I wonder how you feel about the fact that all you want is to rule this miserable planet, but after years of living here, you’ve never gotten close.”

           Zim freezes, unable to reply.      

           “Enough,” Pepito snaps as he steps forward. “Don’t listen to her, guys. This is what they do. They wear your down with your own dark thoughts and feelings.”

           “Ah, the Antichrist,” Zoli smiles, “oops, I mean rock star. Sorry, I forgot you’re a little sensitive about your previous title.”

           “Your words have no effect on me, witch,” he snarls as he brandishes his spear. “I know all about your tricks. You can’t break me.”

           “Hm,” she purrs and lifts her scythe. “Sounds like a challenge. Come on then. Show me what you got, little monster.”

           Pepito charges forward and his spear clashes against Zoli’s scythe. She grins as he glares at her. Then Nightmare tendrils burst from her back and lash at him. But before they can connect, Pepito’s wings tear through his shirt and he takes off into the air.

           Zoli watches him as he flies overhead. Then he swings his spear, releasing a wave of black energy. Her tendrils block it and lunge towards him. Pepito slices their tips off, but they quickly regenerate into mouths full of little fangs. They bite into Pepito, his legs, arms, and chest. He grits his fangs in pain and growls with exertion before releasing a swell of black energy from his whole body that blasts the tendrils apart.

           “Impressive,” Zoli comments.

           Pepito glares at her, his red eye glowing aggressively. He dive bombs towards her and swings his spear, releasing another wave of energy. A fresh crowd of tendrils burst from her back to block it and charge Pepito. He swings his spear, slicing through them like sushi, until he’s face to face with Zoli. He swings his spear; she swings her scythe. When they clash, the shockwave nearly knocks back Zim and the others.

           Pepito and Zoli hold each other in a parry, glaring over their blades. Then Zoli grins.

           “You have potential,” she says.

           Pepito’s eyes widen with surprise as he feels Zoli’s strength growing. He cries out as she knocks him back and he skids across the ground.

           “Pepito!” his friends exclaim and rush to his side. He struggles to sit up and glares at Zoli as she approaches.

           “But it’s not enough,” she says, “you’re not a monster. You’re just a baby held back by your own fear.”            Pepito’s glare weakens and he looks away. Zoli’s grin widens.

---

           “Nny. Wake up, Nny.”

           Johnny’s eyes blink open to pure whiteness. He rubs his head as he sits up, looking around. He’s in some kind of endless white space.

           “Where…am I…” he mutters.

           “Hello, Nny.”

           “That voice,” he gasps and turns around. “It couldn’t be…”            Floating in front of him is a bunny corpse, a nail puncturing his chest.

           “Nailbunny,” he breathes.

           “It’s good to see you again, Nny,” the bunny says without moving his mouth.

           “It’s uh good to see you too,” Johnny replies, “where are we? I remember fighting Zoli and…oh. Am I dead? Like for real this time.”

           “Not exactly,” Nailbunny replies, “although you’re not really alive either. What happens next is up to you.”

           “What do you mean?”            “What I’m about to explain to you might be confusing, so bear with me. Every once in a while, a person with extraordinary abilities is born. Squee is one such person. With his magnificent imagination he is able to change and manipulate reality to a certain degree. This also makes his body slightly stronger than most humans, manifesting as incredible speed and agility.”

           “Nny. You are also such a person.”

           “Me?” Johnny questions, “but I haven’t been able to use my imagination for years.”

           “Yes,” Nailbunny sighs sadly, “unfortunately, because of your prolonged exposure to the Nightmare, your imagination is damaged beyond repair. Nevertheless, your body still retains the benefits. I’m sure you’ve noticed your heightened durability and strength.”

           “Well, yeah, I have often wondered about that,” Johnny agrees.

         “Your body’s capacity has only arisen when under extreme duress, but you can change that,” Nailbunny explains, “all you need to do is take control.”

           “I am in control,” Johnny states as he stands up. “It’s my body. I should be the one to decide when it uses its power, not my anger. I’m the one in control!”

           Nailbunny stares at him warmly. “I’m proud of you, Nny.”            Johnny freezes, looking at him with surprise. “R-really?”

           “Yes,” he nods, “you’ve grown. Now, wake up. For real this time.”

           Johnny smiles at his old rabbit before closing his eyes.

---

           Two construction workers hop out of their truck and approach the recently collapsed building.

           “Ugh, what a pain in the ass,” one grunts.

           “Yeah,” the other sighs, “why do so many buildings keep collapsing?”

           “Monsters.”

           “Yeah, right,” he scoffs and they both laugh.

           “Anyway,” the first groans, “let’s get to work.”

           They start surrounding the rubble with ‘Do Not Cross’ tape. As the second man rounds the corner, he spots something on the ground and cries out in disgust.

           “Dude, check this out,” he exclaims. His partner joins him to find a human hand sticking out from under the rubble.

           “Eeewww,” the first worker cringes. “I am not looking forward to digging that up.”

           They start to walk away when the second worker notices a finger twitch.

           “GAh!” he exclaims, jumping back.

           “What?” his partner questions.

           “It just moved!”

           “What? Shut up, man. Don’t try to scare me.”

           “I’m serious!” the second worker insists. “The finger moved!”

           “It’s just twitching,” the first worker argues, “no big deal.”

           The hand suddenly digs into the ground, its fingers tearing into the asphalt. Both workers shriek and fall backwards.

           The hand cracks the ground beneath it as the pile of rubble over top of it shifts and lifts up. The workers watch, aghast as it raises higher, staring at the person lifting it up.

           He steps out from beneath the wreckage, letting it crash back down behind him, exhaling with relief. His black trench coat is torn up around the hem and sleeves, his black hair is a mess, and his face is smeared with blood and dirt. But the workers are more focused on his eyes; his horrifying, murderous eyes.

           “Zoli,” he snarls. He steps forward and the workers soil themselves. And then in an instant, he’s gone.