#I *did* believe Ash's assumption

[juniperstale]

THINK I LIKE YOU BEST WHEN YOU'RE JUST WITH ME

⋆ jealousy they feel even though you're not dating ⋆ ashlyn, aiden, taylor x gn!reader ⋆ [sfw] little angsty but fluff at the end, jealousy, aiden calls reader a bbg as a joke but im still considering this gn, reader is described as attractive (ashlyn), reader is described as pretty (aiden), cursing, taylor is very ooc

ASHLYN is someone who is very in tune with her emotions. she's very well connected with herself and knows immediately when she likes you. that doesn't mean she'll tell you though. as the leader, she believes it to be her job to keep the entire group safe and that means not getting into a relationship with you as to focus on the major problem at hand. unfortunately, that doesn't stop her from getting dejected at the sight of you being flirted with.

you are attractive, everyone can agree on that. and you are not hers, that is a plain fact. yes, you two flirt sometimes, but that doesn't matter because she immediately stops and walks away when she feels things are getting too real. it's only to protect you, after all. maybe, after this was all done and over with, you two could be happy, together, in a relationship, as a couple.

her eyebrows furrow as she watches the scene in front of her unfold. she was clearly disgusted, her already mean rbf becoming ten times worse.

"okay well your shirt just looks really nice!" the stranger complimented as you looked down at her, a warm smile resting on your face. ashlyn was beside you the entire time, her arms crossed as she glared at the stranger. "thank you, thank you! well, it was nice to meet you-" you were tryng to end the conversation as quickly as you could so you could get back to hanging out with ashlyn who you could tell was frustrated. "ah! wait before you go could i have your instagram? number even?" the question caught you off guard but before you could respond ashlyn did so for you. her heart burned at such a question, even though you weren't hers, she was used to people just assuming you two were in a relationship when you were together and backing off of you. she was frustrated, no furious, that someone dared to make a move on you, her face contorting from her rbf to a scowl. "no." she replied for you, coldly, grabbing your hand and turning around as she sped off with you.

once you were at a far enough location, you were quick to question her. "what was that about ash?" you asked sincerely as you sat next to her on the bench, watching passerby's go about their lives. "you know what it was about." she responded quickly, avoiding eye contact as you let out a sigh. "i don't get it, if you like me you'd ask me out like the others, no?" you questioned again as she turned to look at you. "if you want to be in a relationship just say yes to 'the others,' no?" she questioned back as it became your turn to avoid her gaze. you stayed quiet for a few seconds before letting out a small, "i only want you though." with her super human hearing, she obviously heard you clearly, the tips of her ears turning a pretty shade of pink as she looks down at her feet, than back up at you, a sudden boost of confidence taking over her as her hands cup your cheeks, forcing you to look at her.

"trust me, the moment i can, i will."

if there is one word to describe AIDEN, it would not be quitter. from the moment he laid his eyes on you, you were his; to him and everyone around the two of you. he courted you relentlessly, flirting with you, buying you expensive gifts, dropping you off to your classes, picking you up. honestly people at your school eventually just assumed that it was no longer courting but that you were actually in an official relationship. and aiden was happy with that assumption, it only bothered him that strangers didn't also think so.

going to the nearest gas station, you and aiden decided to pick up snacks for yourselves and the rest of the group as an apology for being late. while at the cash register, you couldn't help but notice the nervous worker looking at you up at down as you took the items out your basket for him to scan. "is something the matter?" you ask him, to which he only blushes and shakes his head, avoiding eye contact with you while scanning all the snacks you were purchasing. you look down to grab your wallet which aiden stops you from doing by grabbing your arm, giving you a wink while whispering a joking "i gotchu, don't worry my baby girl." you only hit him back, a small laugh escaping you lips as you shake your head no before making eye contact with the cashier once more.

"you're so pretty." your eyes widen as aidens head practically shoots up to glare at the poor cahier whose thoughts accidently fell out of his mouth as words. "excuse you?" aiden questions as he swipes his card. "oh im so sorry! i didn't mean to say that!" he fumbles nervously, confirming aidens payment and grabbing bags as he clumsily places the snacks in. "it's totally fine! don't worry about it," you can't help but giggle at his behavior, watching the cashiers eyes grow even wider and blush get darker as he hands aiden the bags, wishing you a good rest of your day. you (and aiden) feel his eyes on you, watching you exit the store as you turn slightly, raising your hand to send him a goodbye wave but aiden grabs your hand before you can, effectively dragging you out of the store and to ashlyns place.

the walk was quiet and the atmosphere between the two of you were thick once you were reunited with the rest of the group. you all worked on your project a bit and argued over what the best next move to make would be before deciding to go to sleep. to your surprise, aiden still took his spot next to you as the entire group fell into a short slumber. unfortunately for you, the events of the day were still playing in your mind, causing you to fall in and out of a state of drowsiness. it didn't help that you could also feel aiden shifting next to you as well before he finally gave up on trying to avoid holding you and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his neck.

"once we survive this night, we're gonna have to talk about making us official because if one more person tries to flirt with you, im going to lose my mind."

TAYLOR is not one to be jealous. no matter what you're relationship with her may be, she is calm and collected and knows how to express her feeling in a healthy way. that's why it was so shocking for her to walk in on you kissing a girl she'd never seen before, someone you'd never told her about. she felt her heart shatter into a billion pieces as her eyes welled with tears. she didn't know why, the two of you weren't even in a relationship so she had no right to feel this way, right? right.

she made her way into an empty classroom, sitting down at one of the desks and laying her head into her arms as she sighed, remembering the moment once again. it was weird, her heart stung at the thought of it, it almost made her nauseous.

she only lifted her head when she heard the door open, prepared to apologize to some teacher about being in their classroom without permission. to her surprise it was you.

"hey can we talk?" you ask as you make your way over to taylor who shakily nods her head with a quiet yes. you sit yourself on top of the table her head was previously laying on, "im so sorry taylor, i didn't mean for you to see tha-" shes quick to interrupt you, placing her hands on yours. "no! its totally fine, we're teens of course your going to be kissing people." she states before looking down at the table once again. "it's just a little confusing." she says. "what is?" you ask, not understanding what she was getting it. "well, when i saw you kissing that girl it kind of hurt. like my stomach started churning and i got dizzy. then there was this feeling in my heart- hey why are you laughing!" she asks, genuienly confused at your sudden burst of laughter. "im sorry, sorry! it just seems like you got jealous because you have a little crush on me." you're quick to apologize and respond, bringing your face close to hers as she blushes, subconsciously leaning in before your lips finally touched. when you finally pulled away, out of breath, she continued tug your shirt wanting more, something that seemed very out of her character for her.

"im gonna keep kissing you until the lipstick from her lips is replaced with mine."

4.14.24 ⋆ NOT PROOFREAD! bro taylors is so out of character towards the end wtf happened omg. anyways part 2 with tyler, logan and ben will be out soon. also its my first time writing for something that isn't bsd so lets see how this goes!

#ੈ✩‧₊˚ junis tales #school bus graveyard #sbg #sbg (webtoon) #ashlyn banner #ashlyn sbg #aiden clark #aiden sbg #taylor hernandez #taylor sbg #sbg x reader #sbg x gender neutral reader #sbg x male reader #school bus graveyard x reader #x reader #x gender neutral reader #x male reader

[tadpolesonalgae]

Azriel x Reader: A lick of Flame

Summary: reader is from Autumn, gifted with flame. You get into an argument and have to blow off steam, only to witness the shadows crack.

Warnings: Azzie having a ptsd moment, angst, throwing up

A/N: kind of curious about this dynamic? So this is basically a small test run to see how it works? What I can do with it?

“What did you say?”

“You’re deaf as well as blind?”

You snarl at the male, prowling closer, flame licking up your spine, begging to be unleashed upon him. “My High Lord has protected his people well, has already brought his court further that any of us had even hoped. Do not stand before me and think you can slander him.”

“Eris is a manipulative monster who delights in the suffering of others,” Azriel growls back, memories of find Mor, bloodied and pallid, discarded uselessly.

“And as the Spymaster of the Night Court, with your torturous ways, you believe you are entitled to pass judgement upon him?” You snarl, sparks skittering across your skin a heat burns across your chest. “I take no pleasure in my methods,” he growls, wings flaring slowly in threat, “while your High Lord would sit back and allow a female to bleed out upon his boarders as if she’s a plague to his land.”

The flame catches, licking up your arms as it explodes from your body, coating you in fiery armour. Searing rage erupts at his outlandish assumptions about the High Lord who has shown great care for his new kingdom, who has enabled your rising from the ashes and so many other alike. “You know nothing about my High Lord.”

The shadowsinger flinches as incandescent flame lights the room, burning at the air. He feels the searing sting as it lances up his arms from his hands, the memories pouring out, dousing him in oil as the childhood fire burns. The laughter surrounds him, the figures of his long since tortured half-sibling looming over him as they enjoy the heat that scarred his hands, searing until bone shone through.

“Do not insult my High Lord when he could reduce you to cinders.”

You watch, pleased, as he stumbles back into the furniture, eyes wide, lips parted, his hands recoil as if your fire will truly burn him. As if you’re a threat. You’re pleased he’s acknowledging it, for once. But then you note the agony dancing in his gaze, how his eyes are watching outward but he’s centred inside. You note the tremors to his hands, the sheen of sweat to his skin as it takes on a more sallow complexion.

The flame douses itself, flickering to an ember before it vanishes. You walk closer to him, concern rising within you. Your eyes settle on his trembling hands, observing the twisted flesh, how it melts into him. Burn scars, you realise. Fuck. You hadn’t meant to—

Shit.

“Azriel,” you breathe, moving closer. His wings are shuddering, attempting to tuck into themselves. As if to make himself disappear. His shadows are spasming around his powerful form as you shift forward, close enough to touch him. “Azriel,” you murmur, tone harsher as you try to bring him out of whatever nightmare he’s sunk into.

The second your hand settles on his shoulder, his conscious slams back into him, muscles screaming at him to defend against a past threat. He’s stronger now. He can fight back. And he does.

The Shadowsinger surges upright, catching you off guard, his shadows snatching your legs out from under you as his hands shove at your shoulders. You end up being slammed into the floor, the breath being knocked from your lungs at the sheer force of impact, skull cracking against the ground. Your mouth drops open as your vision swirls, going from black to white to glowing technicolour as pain explodes behind your eyelids.

A cold blade of steel slices against your throat as he pins you to the ground, lip curled back from his teeth, baring them. In the back of your mind, you’re aware of the upturned table, the vase shattered on the floor, flowers strewn across the paprika coloured rug.

Your eyes go wide as your hand flies to his, your free arm turning so the blade cuts into the side bone of your forearm, just below your wrist. You suck in air through your teeth at the pain, the icy burn of steel. “Azriel,” you hiss, muscles trembling as he presses the blade into your skin, drawing blood. “Azriel! I’m sorry!” Hot liquid traces a path down the side of your throat as you attempt to shrink into the ground. “I didn’t mean to—”

The words are cut from your mouth as he presses harder. Another move and he’ll slice your neck open. You’ll be dead in seconds. Left with no other choice, you summon your flame again, reforging the steel until it glows with blistering white pain. He snarls as the heat reaches his hands, recoiling from the melted steel as it burns against the soft flesh of your neck, before it’s tossed aside.

You slam your foot into his stomach, sending him flying back to the chair he’d pushed over in his attack. Frantic, gasping for air, you scramble back until you’re pressed against the wall, staring at him horrified, anticipating his next move.

Heavy breathing fills the burning air, the scent of charred flesh weaving through the room. You watch, shocked, as the male twists to the side, enough time to hide before you hear the sound of retching, upturning the contents of his stomach before his shadows spin to the windows, allowing cold air to crash into the heated room.

You swallow, your own hands trembling as you watch through terror-dilated pupils. His wings are trembling, violent shudders passing through him, and in the back of your mind you know he’s not okay. His breathing is a frenetic panic, sharp and quick inhales dizzying his mind as sweat beads on his forehead.

“Azriel…?” You whisper, lips shaking from adrenaline as it pounds through your body. He doesn’t reply, keeping his head turned away but the rise and fall of his wings is a dead giveaway. Before you know what you’re doing, your onto your hands and knees, hurriedly stumbling across the floor until you reach him.

Something screams at you not to touch him after last time, but you push it down, hands setting softly but firmly on his broad shoulders, turning him so his wings press into the upturned chair. You’re kneeling between his legs, hands moving to cup his jaw as you tilt his face to you. A sharp breath of air sucks between your teeth as your eyes lock with his. They’re wet, widened with terror.

“It’s okay,” you breathe, thumb brushing saliva from his lower lip, “you’re okay.” His hands manage to drag themselves to settle on his empty stomach, muscles spasming. His scent is drenched in fear, awash with terror as you continue to swipe your thumb in soothing gestures beneath his mouth. “I’m sorry,” you breathe, staring into his wide eyes, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t—” you breath catches as your eyes drop to his hands, heart twisting as he makes to pull them behind his back.

Without thinking, your hands drop to his, fingers linking with his own scarred set. He tenses, making to pull away but you hold firm. Part of you aches as he makes a strained sound in his throat. It sounds like a whimper. Your heart catches. You don’t even know if you’re doing the right thing, holding his hands. What if you’re simply inflicting more damage, adding to the scars?

“Do you want me to let go?” You whisper, eyes latching onto his, the rise and fall of his chest evening out. The male just stares up at you, shock tearing apart in his gaze. “Azriel?” You repeat, leaning slightly closer, “do you want me to stop?” His eyelids flicker as he takes in your words.

“Stop.” It’s hardly a breath, but you hear it. Your fingers unlink with his and he sucks in air between his teeth. “No…” He sounds pained, anguish coating his tongue, eyes skittishly dancing around the room until they land on you again. Concern for your own well-fare rises again. He’s not in his right mind at the moment. He nearly killed you.

Slowly, you shift onto your legs, attempting to put some distance between you as his wings tremor. Something silver catches your eye as it falls, landing in his lap. You meet his gaze. “Stop it.” They’re so small, words uttered so softly they could have been mistaken for reverent. He lifts his hands to his face, shielding himself from your wide-eyed gaze.

It’s unmistakeable. Tears slip between his fingers, tracing salty paths over his burnt flesh. “Azriel…” You don’t know what to do. You can’t do anything here, but leaving him feels wrong. Not when he’s so vulnerable. “Azriel?” You murmur, leaning into him again, “tell me what to do.” But he’s too in his head to hear.

You wince, taking in a deep breath before reaching forward. His eyes flick up to your hands, noting their approach. Before you know it, his shadows have flared at his back, like a might wave about to crush you, but then his arms sweep in, pulling you against him as his head buries into the crook of your neck.

He’s gripping you tightly - desperately - and it’s kind of hurting your neck. You can’t swallow. Hesitantly, you lift your arms to wrap beneath his shoulders, careful to mind his wings. Slowly, you shift into his lap, enabling you bring your hands to curl over the nape of his neck. Your fingers thread through his hair, softly scratching over his skin as wet droplets land on your shoulder. He’s still trembling beneath your hands, but it’ll less pronounced. His powerful arms wrap snuggly around your waist, pulling your front flush against his chest as he cries into your collar bone.

“It’s okay,” you murmur, softly, fingers sweeping through his silky hair with ease, “you’re going to be okay.”

#Azriel #Azriel x reader #Azriel fluff #Azriel angst #acotar

[pokemon-ash-aus]

Your Dead AU gives me brain rot. I dunno if this was asked yet or not, but I wanted to know your thoughts on Ash’s other rivals finding out about his status as deceased. Hypothetical what-it’s if you don’t honestly see them finding out for one reason or another in canon to the AU, but I’m curious as to your thoughts on how they’d find out.

I guess I should better specify Barry, Paul, Trip, and Alain, how they’d react to Ash’s being dead?

OKAY!;

Barry doesn't believe it at all. Even when given hard definitive truth, he's under the assumption that all of this? All this deadness? It's just a cruel prank that needs to be fined for!

Paul... I imagine Paul is the one to outright calling him pathetic for dying so soon. It's both malicious in intent and not.

He wants to call Ash Pathetic, he wants to make him hurt and make him feel inferior. He wants to revel that Ash will never succeed with the methods he's going by.

But Paul isnt a cruel person by nature. The moment he says it, he's filled wih so much dread and disgust. He just called a dead person pathetic for... For DYING, nothing on his actions or movements. He's just pathetic for dying.

He avoids Ash for awhile after that. Even when Ash instigates. It's just that much level of disgust with himself. Eventually he does apologize. I can see it being at the league. When he walks up to Ash after loosing their battle and apologizes without any eyes or ears around. He's not good at it.

"That really hurt me." Ash grimaces. "Ive never been called Pathetic for Dying..."

"Im sorry you felt that way." Paul tries. "I didnt mean to say it the way i did."

Its a lot of awkward dancing before Ash realizes Paul is really Socially inept and has to clarify. It's a shitty apology for a Shitty action, but Paul is absolutely trying and Ash cannot fault him for that.

Trip. See my bias shows here because I absolutely believe Trip is 100% an asshole Racist.

But would Trip insult Ash's dead status? I think so. I think he'd sprinkle it in with all his other racists remarks. Never outright outing him, but also never letting him forget that Trip KNOWS.

And fuck if that doesnt wear Ash down. And When Iris and Cilan find out, they back Ash up without a thought but it doesnt erase how much Trip taunts how Ash died. Doesnt erase that Trip continuously makes snide remarks about it.

I think this is the one and only time Ash truly uses his own abilities and powers to make Trip HURT.

And it doesnt even give him any satisfaction! Cause Trip had successfully made him feel disgusted by his own dead status. Something mind you, he had been over for fucking YEARS, by that point!

So yeah I think Trip is the worst one and my bias will not falter.

Alain. I imagine he finds out at the BRINK of Ash getting mind controlled. And he's fucking horrified. He truly does believe that He led Ash to his death and then his partner Pikachu as well.

Just fully goes into Shock after everything calms down.

He killed someone he considered a friend.

He killed them.

And Even through soft reassurances from everyone else, it weighs so heavily on his mind. It takes Ash slapping him for him to come back to a reality where he can actually understand what their saying.

And Then Ash explains it all, how he died, how long its been, and NO Alain did not kill him, but the backstabbing was painful as shit and that would take time for Ash to get over.

Alain both believes it and doesnt, but he's still horrified his friend is fucking DEAD.

#Dead au #Ask

[katsukikitten]

Just some Bakugou comfort, tw cheating mention 😊 (from a spooky dream)

"A nightmare?" Is voice is gruff from disuse as he growls into the receiver having had to stay silent most of the morning for this stake out.

You hum your affirmation, it's a sad mmhmm as he hears the tears that threaten through your voice.

"The fuck happened?" And that's when you tell him everything. It was some weird cryptic dream.

His mom was in it and his phone on top of the washing machine. Mitsuki was concerned, sitting on the couch with her legs crossed, solemn look on her face. She had said that Bakugou's grandmother kept texting him an awful lot and that he had a facetime from 2am that lasted more than an hour.

It was currently four am in the dream, and oddly real life, it made your brow furrow before she adds and I don't know the passcode but you did. Unlocking his phone to see several texts from random women and each one had nudes and flirty behavior.

It felt so real you woke up with a pounding heart, scrambling for the comfort of the ash blonde that you wanted to also confront.

But he wasn't in bed making the dream suddenly feel valid and believable

"So I was cheatin?" You grit your teeth at his conclusion, "Fuck would I do that for?"

You don't answer, it lingers, the dream well nightmare and you had called him right away. He mutes his mic for a second and your heart sinks with the weight of accusations and assumptions.

Maybe he wasn't on some stake out with Izuku and Kirishima after all. Maybe these overnight shifts really were something the dream version of his mother was worrying about.

Trying to warn you.

You're about to hang up until you hear something heavy land on the balcony to the master bedroom before Bakugou unmutes his mic.

"Gotta lemme in." Slowly you get up, unlocking the door before rushing back into the covers to hide your naked body. He notices the action, scowling as he comes closer to the bed, hanging up on the call and passing you his phone unlocked.

"Ya gotta be a real dumbass if you think I'm really cheating on you." When you don't take the phone he sits down next to you, holding the bright screen where you can see as he opens the twenty apps his has on his phone. Each one being exactly what it should be, even goes into the few text threads he has. His family group chat with his mom and dad, one with Kirishima, a giant group chat and then a smaller one before showing you the one between you two, which is much much longer than all the other threads combined. Even his photo roll is squeaky clean, just picture after picture of you in various states of dress and consciousness or the cat the two of you have.

His voice turns more serious, leaning over you with his flashlight turned up towards the ceiling so he can see your face and you his.

"I would never do anything to ruin this." Tears threaten to fall down your cheeks and maybe his with how intently he's looking at you, "I love you more than anything in this fuck all world and if you asked me to quit my hero job tonight, for you, I would. Baby you're my entire fuckin world, I need you to know that. If I've gotta move the fuckin moon to show you I will."

And it all rings true, your quirk tells you so, because you can detect any lie, even through hyperbole. Bakugou lovingly called it your bullshit meter and it was never wrong. He pulls you into a hug, fiercely keeping you pinned to him and the mattress, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"I'll tell the guys I can't come back." He's moving away to call them before you shake your head, now you're keeping his broad shoulders in place.

"As much as I love that idea you can't. It's not fair to them." Your voice is soft in his ear, barely a whisper. He peppers you with kisses, slow, deliberate presses.

"Yer sure? I don't give a shit about 'em. Fuck 'em."

"I'm sure."

"Fine." He bites, leaning away when you let go, "But I'm leaving when you wake up again and staring vacation."

"Oh baby don't -" He places his warm palm over your mouth.

"Hush. I'm doin.it." His serious face turns quickly into a devilish smirk, "'Sides, I gotta take all week to show my princess that she's the only one for me."

He gives you just a preview of it, kissing you with such passion it steals the air from your lungs, your quirk going off in your head saying one thing.

That every word of it was true, the entire week was going to be spent worshiping you and your body better be ready for Bakugou's devotion.

#kitten writes 🖤🐈‍⬛🖋️ #bakugou comfort #tw cheating #tw cheating mention

[exitwound]

overcome w appreciation for the marvel of the smartphone flashlight bc what did people do before that. if u dropped something in the dark was it just gone. did u come back looking in the morning, after it’s been trampled, or did u feel blindly, dangerously, did u used to tread more carefully at night, the little trails between cars and homes where you still want to believe it’s enough distance to change everything, and the unlit roads and parking lots and fields, after the bulb is dead, after the wood is ash, after the moon is used up,…life is just different now but i do love it, i love how the pulse of the miraculous artiface of neverending day and the shattering of the assumption of the impenetrability of night, when the technology that burns against the darkness still, still, succumbs to spooky action at a distance, chance droppings and unexplained disappearances, and everything pauses in the dark, the awareness of how much of night lingers even in the brightly lit room, and there you are in the eye of the hurricane of entropy for this one lost thing, lives slowing down in the sweet sticky when the phone flashlights go on and the voices of hold on, wait, here, looking, got it, yes,like..!!! everyone stops and looks out for each other and looks inside the room, inside the way time is being used, inside the heart, inside the air, inside the night for what was left there and it’s so normal, we don’t notice, i want to marvel at the millions of years without these fingers to poke at the wounds of darkness and the brief decade since of poking, the fact that we don’t carry our phones everywhere for the flashlight at all but it’s this unexpected utility we get to have now, silently and with an extraordinarily absurd elegance addressing the issue of needing to come back in the morning to look for an earring , i want to find it marvelous, i don’t know if i do

#z

[catcas22]

What do you think Shabriri's motivation was for doing The Thing? Was he depressed Allant ass motherfucker that decided for everyone else that annihilation of life was a better outcome? Was he a fundamentalist that gone mad and decided to actually turn Law of Regression to results? Did he just find Fingerprint Shield and said 'yes king' like instant +99 Insight? Was he just too curious to NOT touch the thing he knew was dangerous? Did he believe he could somehow control this power and took the risk (that of course went wrong, since it "destroys all thought")? And all this under assumption that he knew that being accursed would unleash Frenzied Flame- that I think is reasonable, but still there are various ideas

First off, sorry for the delay. I got hit with a deadly combination of too many other projects and no motivation for any of them. But I've had this in the back of my mind, rotating.

I'll start with what we know for sure about Shabriri.

Shabriri's Woe

Disturbing likeness of a man whose eyes have been gouged out. The corners of his mouth are upturned in an almost flirtatious manner.

Constantly attracts enemies' aggression.

It is said that the man, named Shabriri, had his eyes gouged out as punishment for the crime of slander, and, with time, the blight of the flame of frenzy came to dwell in the empty sockets.

Howl of Shabriri

Incantation originating from the maddening Three Fingers.

Releases a maddening shriek that causes madness buildup in foes nearby. This incantation also causes madness buildup in the caster and makes enemies more likely to target them.

It is said that the sickness of the flame of frenzy began with Shabriri, the most reviled man in all history.

What we know for sure: The FF indwelt Shabriri after his slander and subsequent blinding, and the sickness that is the manifestation of the FF began with him. The wording isn't 100% clear here -- he could be literally patient zero, or he could be the originator/creator of the sickness.

Now, on to what we know for sure about the Flame of Frenzy.

Via Hyetta's questline, we can hear the FF's description of itself. Surely quite biased, but a look at the FF's beliefs and goals should be illuminating.

[Hyetta relaying FF's words] "All that there is came from the One Great. Then came fractures, and births, and souls. But the Greater Will made a mistake. Torment, despair, affliction... Every sin, every curse. Every one, born of the mistake."

"And so, what was borrowed must be returned. Melt it all away, with the yellow chaos flame. Until all is One again."

[Hyetta speaking] "Those who gave me grapes howled without words. Saying they wished they were never born. Become their lord. Take their torment, despair. Their affliction. Every sin, every curse. And melt it all away. As the Lord of Chaos."

"No more fractures...no more birth..."

Frenzied Burst

Releases concentrated blasts of the yellow flame of frenzy from the caster's eyes. Charging enhances potency, enabling the blasts to penetrate the enemy's guard.

In times past, every single person who attempted to control the flame of frenzy succumbed to madness after a desperate internal struggle. This incantation is testament to a meager victory.

Nomad Ashes

A member of a tribe that was entombed in the earth so as to bury the maddening disease that followed them. Able to emit the terrible flame of frenzy from his eyes, but has low HP and is frail, unable to take much in the way of punishment.

Nomadic Merchant's Set

These merchants once thrived as the Great Caravan, but after being accused of heretical beliefs, their entire clan was rounded up and buried alive far underground.

Then, they chanted a curse of despair, and summoned the flame of frenzy.

Fingerprint Stone Shield

A great stone shield with an intricately carved fingerprint design. One of the heaviest of all greatshields. Part of the tomb of an ancient god, the Readerless Fingers relayed their message through these imprints, said to be the very seeds from which frenzy first sprouted.

Note: The Lord of Frenzied Flame

"Beneath Leyndell, at the very bottom lies our lord, lord of the frenzied. The Three Fingers who holds us in thrall."

This is where I start to get my wires crossed. The Fingerprint Stone Shield is found in the catacombs leading up to the Three Finger, and it is specifically said to be a part of the FF's tomb. It seems reasonable to assume that after being walled up alive, the nomads found the tomb and, in their desperation, came to worship the FF. However, the Nomad Ashes description states that the caravan was entombed because of the sickness (presumably the effects of Frenzy) that they were afflicted with.

My best guess is that the nomads were not originally afflicted by the FF. They were instead falsely accused of such by Shabriri (his infamous crime of slander).

There's also the distinct possibility that the nomads worshipped or were at least aware of the Three Finger before their entombment and subsequent fall to Frenzy -- one of their notes describes the Three Finger as "our lord," while in the same breath saying that it holds them "in thrall." There's also the fact that the nomads chanted a specific curse to summon the FF. It was a deliberate act, not simply a byproduct of their despair.

So, my proposed sequence of events:

Shabriri finds the tomb of the Three Finger, reads the shield, and for whatever reason decides that this is a good avenue to pursue. He accuses the nomad caravan, who might have already been associated with the FF or might have just been an easy scapegoat. The caravan is buried alive, and in their despair they summon the FF. When Shabriri's slander is discovered, he is blinded, after which he is indwelt by the FF.

That leaves us with the question of Shabriri's motive. If my timeline is correct, he did not fall to despair and frenzy until after his blinding, and therefore after his slander of the nomads. So why was he originally trying to manufacture a situation that would lead to the summoning of the FF?

I think we can rule out his stated motivation right away -- he doesn't care about saving Melina or any other maiden. If you follow his instructions, Hyetta burns. Even if you use Miquella's needle to purge the FF, you still have to sacrifice at least one innocent life to follow Shabriri's path.

It's possible that Shabriri shares the same motives as the FF itself -- namely, freshman-philosophy-student nihilism. According to the FF, speaking through Hyetta, life itself is an abomination. Existence will always entail a degree of suffering, and therefore it would be better if nothing existed at all. Never mind all the people who believe that their lives are worth living, regardless of the suffering involved.

This is probably the most straightforward answer. Shabriri strikes me as the r/im14andthisisdeep type who would be taken in by such a philosophy.

There's one other option, one that I don't quite feel I have all the pieces to. The line about eye-contact being the highest form of intimacy sticks out to me. And despite my reasoning above, something about Shabriri's temptation feels more personal than the corrupted nihilism of the FF.

I wonder if Shabriri is driven by a need for connection, long since perverted and twisted into something wholly malicious. If all that divides and distinguishes is burned away, if individualism is abolished, what is left aside from togetherness, absolute forced intimacy, the complete destruction of the idea of separation? While this hits a very disturbing chord for me, it doesn't quite feel like a complete thought. Just a suggestion, I suppose.

Once again, I apologize for how long this took. Have a merry Christmas!

#elden ring #answered asks #shabriri #frenzied flame

[femsolid]

“There was also the sense that we might even be strengthening the patriarchy by actively giving it our energy, putting its victims back together so they could go out and be raped and battered again, taking on the responsibility of fixing what men break - hearts, hope, lives, doing our job in the patriarchy of cleaning up its mess, hiding its tracks, making it easier for men to go on battering and raping and maiming and killing us. We knew we could not stop them in the ways we were trying, and that in the attempt, the fire of our feminism was turning to ashes.

The recognition that somehow, unwittingly, we were collaborating was very difficult to deal with. We saw more and more clearly that we were using all our energy to treat the symptoms, and had none left over to do anything about the cause. State and local funding for battered women's shelters and rape crisis centers told us subliminally that, to flourish, patriarchy needed these institutions. We were confused about how to help women without ultimately aiding their attackers more than we were aiding them. Though we could not stop caring about the suffering women we saw every day, we were utterly exhausted, and realized on some level that it was either them or us; that again patriarchy had succeeded in putting us in incredibly painful competition for our lives against our sisters. The implications were desperately depressing. So we did what women do who are caught in the double bind so diabolically designed for us: we opted to save our own lives. We went home and turned our attention to our careers or our love lives or our children, and in this way tried to shut out the despair. Burnout is despair.

I have come to believe that we never suffer burnout, we never despair, unless we are collaborating in some way. Burnout is not only physical exhaustion; it is spiritual and moral and emotional dis-ease as well. Doing the work of genuinely undermining patriarchy and liberating ourselves, no matter how difficult it may be, revitalizes us and fills us with joy. Rather than depleting us, truly transformative work leaves our bodies and spirits replenished and refreshed. This is always a dependable signal; we must learn to trust it. We must re-evaluate the common assumption in the movement that we are not being effective in helping women unless we are continually struggling and striving and straining and exhausting ourselves.”

- Going Out of Our Minds by Sonia Johnson

#quote #going out of our minds #feminism

[noxdont]

"the art of falling"

Cynolumi Oneshot

🌠cynolumi street performer au

🌠 3.6k words, romance

🌠 strangers to friends to lovers

🌠 love confessions

---

If one listens closely to the cautious whispers and words exchanged by merchants and mercenaries, they'd hear of the latest news about how the General Mahamatra seems to be visiting Caravan Ribat more frequently than usual. Theories and assumptions were thrown into the wind as the matra himself holds a powerful reputation. Who knows what business he was handling but if there's one thing that everyone could mutually agree on, Cyno was the kind of person that would leave ashes in his wake. Leaving no stone unturned and no crime unpunished on his trail.

Smugglers held their breaths as Cyno would walk into the town without much care despite how many eyes were glued on his back. He never visits in the mornings nor early afternoons. Only when the skies are painted in gold and the stars would slowly rise, then he'd make his appearance. Although the days he'd visit were not consistent, it still happened too often for the merchants' comfort.

"He must be handling an important business for one of the sages if he would be coming here this much?

"I heard that there was a big criminal hiding in Caravan Ribat and the General Mahamatra is taking his sweet time on hunting them down?"

"Well from what I heard, he's moving under the orders of Lesser Lord Kusanali."

Unbeknownst to them, Cyno merely has one purpose for his frequent visits. When a small crowd gathers by the stalls and a hypnotizing melody starts to play, Cyno would simply move to a more discreet location. Focusing on the subject of his frequent visits.

A golden haired woman danced as though she floated on air. Ever graceful and elegant as her body swayed in harmony to the beat of the music. The occasional jingles of her golden accessories were just as enchanting as the pink and scarlet silk which covers most parts of her body.

Amber eyes met scarlet ones. The young woman flashed him a knowing smile. Cyno held his breath just as she spun into a graceful turn, the flames' light trailing against porcelain skin.

A street performer, whose name reminded him of the evening stars, captured his attention on one peaceful night. While the desert slept and the fire burned awake, he couldn't tear his gaze away from the lone figure dancing fluidly to a familiar song. He never knew what it was called although he's heard it countless of times while passing the Grand Bazaar or walking through the lively streets of Port Ormos. He did not know much about the arts but he had thought of the song to be quite captivating, although he never expected himself to suddenly stop and watch someone dance along its rhythm, capturing its essence through polished movements and grace.

Since then, the image of her has stayed. A nameless street performer haunting even the corners of his mind until he was close to breaking while a certain forest watcher bore witness to his slow descent to internal madness.

"Why exactly are you hesitating? If it bothers you that much, you can simply just go back and ask for her name."

That had been the cause of the onslaught of visits. Cyno believed that as soon as he learned of her name then he would cease thinking of such trivial matters and things would go back to the way they were. Yet what he failed to foresee was his own actions– rather, lack thereof. Though the General Mahamatra had his fair share of troubled and frustrating experiences, it was never because he didn't know how to approach a woman.

"I hope I'm not being presumptuous but I've noticed you in the audience for quite some time now, am I perhaps in trouble? Or is there something you need from me, General Mahamatra?"

Cyno had to remind himself how the process of breathing worked when he finally snapped out of his momentary daze. Drenched in shades of blues and silver, the young performer walked up to him right after her routine before cautiously asking him that question.

"No, you're not in trouble nor do I have any business matters which may involve you." Her shoulders visibly relaxed and a pinch of guilt started creeping inside him.

Did she perhaps feel uncomfortable with him watching?

"I occasionally watched your performance, I do not know a lot of people who take on such art forms so I was a bit curious."

Something sparked in her eyes and before he could deduce what it was, she was already holding up her hand with a smile so sweet he could almost taste it.

"Lumine, although my stage name is Viatrix. Feel free to call me whichever you prefer."

Lumine. It suited her.

"Cyno." He gently shook her hand and mentally celebrated over the fact that his overdue curiosity has been finally sated.

"You mentioned you've watched a few of my performances, would it be alright to ask for your thoughts?"

"Unfortunately I'm not very familiar when it comes to the arts, would you still want to hear my thoughts despite my lacking knowledge?"

"Art has always been subjective and as a member of my wonderful audience, I would like to hear your thoughts."

"And is that all?" Somehow it didn't feel that way to Cyno.

"Hmm, maybe because I'm also curious what the General Mahamatra has to say about my dancing as well?"

He had not known the comment was playful or, in Kaveh's words, flirty until he hesitantly recounted the event to the architect who happened to be fond of different art forms. Curiosity practically oozed out from the blonde man and he even offered to provide any necessary aid if Cyno required them. The matra hadn't understood what he meant at that time.

Days passed and their short yet pleasant discussions became longer– venturing on to their personal interests, hobbies and eventually their lives. When Cyno wanted to know her name, he had no intentions of them being closer other than acquaintances. Though fate seemed to have other plans and in all honesty, he was not exactly against it either. Lumine was wonderful company. It's as if time became nonexistent when he was with her.

"There's no need to hold back yourself from laughing, I myself find the joke quite hilarious as well." Cyno gave her a reassuring smile just as he finished explaining the premise of the joke he had told her.

By the time he was done, Lumine's shoulders were shaking and her laughter littered the open air. Though he wasn't exactly sure if it was the joke that truly pushed her into a fit of laughter, knowing that he was able to make her smile during their time together still gave him a pleasant feeling.

~~~

Oddly enough he felt a bit nervous introducing her to Tighnari and Collei but as soon as he saw them get along so well, Cyno has never felt more relieved and ecstatic.

"When I said go ask for her name, I didn't mean that you should take her back with you." Despite Tighnari's words, Cyno could hear the smile in his voice as they prepared lunch. He liked her, Cyno could tell.

They both shared similar ideals and they were as open and unapologetic as the other. Maybe that's one of the reasons why it didn't take long for the matra to call her a worthy friend. Although the trait that stood out to him the most from their time together was the fact that Lumine was an attentive listener and freely expressed her own thoughts in a manner which everyone could understand.

"Dancing does not need to be precise and perfect all the time, it can be as simple as having fun. Although it can feel quite nerve wracking at the beginning but believe me when I say that it's normal. Here, why don't I teach you some simple steps?"

Collei looked ready to decline Lumine's offer but after a few encouraging seconds, she finally accepted. Cyno watched as Lumine patiently taught the young girl some simple steps which earned some curious looks from other forest rangers in the vicinity. One person came forward to join followed by another and another. Soon enough it seemed Lumine had gathered an interested audience as her students.

"She makes a wonderful teacher." Praises from Tighnari weren't rare but it feels more reassuring when it comes from him.

"She does." Cyno couldn't tear his gaze away. Even if she wasn't dancing, Lumine somehow manages to shine in her own way.

It didn't take too long for everyone to get up on their feet as they all swayed and danced to a familiar song in Sumeru. If Cyno wasn't mistaken, he's already seen a few people dance to this song especially on festive occasions. And surprisingly enough, even a few scholars secretly knew a few of its steps.

He watched the forest rangers dance with glee as the air filled with hearty laughter. From the corner of his eye, he noticed some rangers trying to persuade their fluffy eared watcher to join the fray. He could vividly feel Tighnari's pleading glances for help but chose to ignore it either way with a quiet chuckle. His silent amusement came to a halt when a familiar figure propped herself beside him, a knowing smile painted on her lips.

"I don't dance." Were the first words that came out of his mouth.

"We can change that." He begged to differ.

The General Mahamatra has never danced in his entire life.

"Just one dance, please?" But dear archons it was difficult to say no to her.

Lumine didn't have to ask a second time although Cyno did warn her how he knew nothing about dancing.

"Let's start with a few gentle sways then," the golden girl started, amber eyes shining in excitement as she started gently swaying them both to each sides.

Cyno tried to follow her lead and he could only assume he looked ridiculous on doing so. But soon enough, he found himself relaxing. Matching her steps while the music flowed around them until it eventually felt natural. Cyno may not know a single thing about the art of dancing but seeing Lumine's face light up in pure glee as he twirled her around and back into his arms was definitely worth all his stiffened sways and awkward stumbles.

She doesn't look down on others nor does she discriminate against those who are unfamiliar with her art form. Lumine was patient and careful when it came to explaining her love for her passion. She knew how to hold her ground and held it well. This has earned her commendable respect and admiration from multiple individuals, performers and even scholars she's come across in life. Cyno was simply one of the very few.

~~~

"You've been visiting more often, General Mahamatra, am I perhaps in trouble?" Cyno huffed at the familiar question, raising a brow towards the young dancer while she sat comfortably beside him on their usual seat by Gilded Dreams– the lone hotel in Caravan Ribat.

At this point, the question had become her usual greeting and a running inside joke to them both. The routine they've built over time was quite simple; he visits, she dances, they talk of various topics like how their day went or how their friends are doing until they need to retire for the night.

"You've done a wonderful performance today as well, a well deserved rest should be the one to greet you as soon as you're done," said Cyno while pushing the plate of Samosa towards the tired dancer by his side.

"But I love hearing your praises right after," She leans on to his shoulder before thanking him for the meal.

"If praises are what you seek then I'll simply have to compile a list and have them ready."

"I'd rather hear them directly from you." He pauses, Lumine's words echoing quietly in his mind.

Cyno never noticed when it started but conversing with her became frighteningly easy. It felt natural, listening to her voice, seeing her expressions and often getting caught off guard by her playful retorts. Lumine became a piece whom he instinctively seeks out when time permits or even when it does not. Mayhaps because she was another person he believed he could genuinely confide in without worrying about being judged. Cyno has never thought of her as anything more.

Not until he found himself wondering if her lips would be as soft as they looked when he caught himself staring at them while she rested on his shoulder. Or how he wanted to rest his arms around her when she leans in a bit closer before trailing his lips on her hair as he whispers the praises she seek.

Guilt tore through him mercilessly at such a thought and he wanted nothing more than to bury such thoughts as soon as possible. Like stone thrown into the undisturbed waters, the rippling effect caused his visits to lessen and excuses came pouring before he'd even begun to wonder how much he missed watching her dance under the starlit sky. Lumine didn't complain nor did she pry. Every time he tells her he can't go watch her for a while, he'll only see the quiet dim in her eyes before she tells him to always stay safe.

The growing distance drove him into what he could only describe as insanity. It did nothing to satiate the growing hunger to hold her closer and it stung every time she'd ask him if he'd come see her dance even just for a moment– even if he couldn't stay for the entirety of it.

Weeks passed and eventually one of them was bound to snap, Cyno genuinely thought he'd be the first to do so until Lumine finally came to approach him directly while he was dealing with a minor problem in the scorching desert of Sumeru.

"Lumine? What are you doing here? You shouldn't be traveling alone through the desert, the amount of risks and–"

"First of all, we both know full well that I am capable enough to handle a fight. Second, is that really the first thing you have to say after blatantly avoiding me for days on end?"

If looks could kill, Cyno would've already been long buried under the swirling sands. He tried finding the right words to say only to swallow them back down. Lumine had every right to be angry at him. He even went as far to ask Tighnari to lie for his sake and it earned him a very disapproving lecture from the forest watcher.

"If I did or have said anything that may have offended you then the least that you could do is tell me directly. I'm your friend aren't I?"

Her angered tone softened and her gaze eventually fell.

"Or have I made a fool of myself by thinking I was someone worthy enough to be called as one in your life?"

He didn't waste a second more as he heard those words and stepped closer, a hesitant hand reaching out to take her hand only for it to fall defeatedly on his side.

"You didn't do anything wrong. I," Cyno stumbled in his words, the same way he did when he first met her. The same way he did when she pulled him up to dance. It had been so easy to find the words when he spoke to her but now they can't even reach past his throat.

"A sudden thought came to me one day and it– I didn't know what to do. I was afraid that if I acted on it then it would break something that I have been cherishing. Because if I acted recklessly then everything would be irreparable."

"Break what? Me? If you're worried about my safety just because you're the General Mahamatra then I can reassure you that it's fine. See? I'm not hurt! In fact no one has dared to harm since you came into my life. I walked through the desert without anyone to look after me and I'm fine. Cyno, no matter how dangerous you believe it would be for me to stay by your side I'm not afraid to be with you."

"But I am."

The words came before he had the chance to think twice. Fear held his heart in a vice grip and he would rather she be angry at him for a while than for their relationship to be broken just because of his selfish desires.

How could he tell her? How could he look her in the eye and tell her how much he wants to gently trace his lips on her hands to her shoulders. To hold her close– close enough for her to finally hear the yearning in his chest. To kiss her, without guilt or shame. To just be with her without having any reason to.

How could he possibly tell her?

And yet as terrifying as it was, another part of him still wishes for her to know. Despite his fear, Cyno still wanted to take that risk and let all be damned.

"I'm not afraid of the people who'd come to know that you are dear to me. Lumine it isn't other people I'm scared of. It's myself. You have given me so much that I'm afraid that I'll start asking more from you."

"Then ask. I'm not someone who's blind enough to give anyone just about everything that's beyond my power but if it's something I am willing to offer, especially to you, then just ask. Because you are as dear to me as I am to you."

He hadn't noticed her stepping closer, her fingers smoothly slipping in between his while the other cupped his cheek. He allowed himself to succumb into her touch, taking in her warmth as she softly caressed his face. And it has never felt so divine to be held by someone like this. He caught the melting dusk in her eyes before they fell onto her lips. Since the day his thoughts wandered beyond being platonic, there have been moments where his mind remained on guessing on how her lips would feel or taste. Such wretched thoughts consumed him even on days when he kept himself away from the mere sight of her. And eventually he knew they were going to eat him alive.

"Cyno, I care for you more than you think. But I can only show you if you'd let me. So please let me."

He swallowed hard yet the lump in his throat seemed to remain despite his efforts to push it down. Cyno gathered every ounce of courage he could find inside as the stars rose above them before he was able to properly face her.

"I'm sorry. For suddenly making you feel as if you've wronged me because of my own cowardice and selfishness."

Despite his desire to keep all of those feelings buried, maybe all he needed was a reason for the dam to finally break.

"When I first saw you dancing in Caravan Ribat, I've always wondered how much a person could shine so brightly. As I got to know you, I also saw how mesmerizing you are as a person even after the music stops. I respected and admired you quietly, thinking that that was enough. But days with you have made me greedy."

A look of pure realization finally struck her and Cyno wanted to run. But he knew better than to do so and held his ground, hoping that the sand would be enough to keep him from doing anything more foolish.

"You've shown me a piece of your world and now I can't seem to escape it. No matter where I go and no matter how many days would pass, the urge to run to you never dims. I want you. I want you in my life not simply as someone I can admire but as someone I can love entirely."

Cyno could practically hear his own heartbeat drumming inside his chest while they both stood surrounded by the desert's deafening silence. Lumine has not once made the move to let go of his hand just as he didn't let go of hers. At the very least that gave him a sense of reassurance.

"I won't ask for an immediate answer, I know that it would take some time for you to weigh–"

Lumine stopped him before he could even finish with the deep press of her lips against his. It didn't feel impulsive or reckless and his chest swelled at the thought. Her hands had long found themselves caressing his cheek and neck just as he realized his own response. Kissing her back as deeply before snaking his arm on her waist and tilting her chin higher. Cyno felt like he was melting; into her touch, her lips and the entirety of her.

"You have no idea what you do to me." Lumine whispered as she drew back slightly, lips still touching while amber eyes meet scarlet ones in a tender gaze.

"I could say the same for you."

It's as if all those running doubts and fear in his mind finally came to a halt. This time, Cyno didn't feel the need to stop himself as he leaned in to rest his forehead against hers. In the back of his mind, he could hear the song that played on the night he saw her shine with the stars. Cyno wasn't familiar with the arts, but he could understand the emotions it could call within a person. Since then he has sought that shining light and in turn he fell for a star that burned brightly amongst the desert sky.

#cynolumi #cyno x lumine #general mahamatra cyno x dancer lumine #street performer lumine #lumiharem #allxlumine #lumiharem fic #long post

[murderbirds]

Something that I think a lot of people forget is that Edward/Riddler never told Oswald that he wasn't interested in him because he was a man. They even have an entire scene where Riddler tells Oswald exactly why he could never love him, and it's not "I don't like guys and you are a jerk," but rather, "you are an uncaring, selfish person who can't truly ever love anyone other than yourself." Is it homophobia that compels Edward to react how he does to the knowledge that Oswald loves him? Possibly, but I think it is a gross simplification of his character, and it still wouldn't mean that Edward is heterosexual. People can be lgbtq+ and homophobic. Still, I personally believe that the main reason why Edward refused to accept Oswald's feelings and why he refused to consider loving him were his feelings towards himself.

There is no denying that Edward is a divided man. A part of him wants a "normal" life with a caring partner like Kristen or Lee, while the other part wants to be powerful and feared, like someone like Oswald. It's the dichotomy of Edward Nygma and the Riddler, and his entire arc in the show is about essentially which side will win, who he will become. Isabella was a path to a normal life, and by killing her, Oswald reminds him of himself, of what he did with Kristen and what he thinks of himself: that he is unlovable, cruel, childish and selfish and that is the reason why no one could ever love him. This applies to both Edward and Oswald, and I very much believe it was intentional. Edward wants to be the Riddler, but to be the Riddler, he has to give up being loved, but then Oswald comes in again and shows Edward that, no matter how cruel and selfish he can be, he can still be loved by someone. It is because of this that Oswald ultimately defeats Ed, even if Os does get shot. Yes, Oswald is cruel. Yes, he is selfish, but that doesn't make his love for Ed any real, which is something Edward simply refuses to accept, in part because he hates being wrong abd in part because, if someone as evil as them can love someone and be loved, then why was Edward never loved until Oswald? Of course, to know it for sure, we would need to know that we would need to know more about Edward's childhood, but I think that the fact we know nothing about Ed as a child is very telling. Maybe the reason why the audience doesn't know is because Edward doesn't want people to know because he doesn't want to remember. It is certainly strange considering that we get at least some information regarding the upbring of most other main characters, even something as simple as mentioning their parents at some point. Edward gets nothing. Now, we could go more in-depth and try to figure out why Edward chose to use Oswald's father instead of his mother, who the ex mayor clearly had a much closer connection with and even the way that Edward treats Elijah's ashes (by throwing them away in a dumpster), but again it would be mostly speculation and assumption of a type of nuance I am not 100% sure this show has. When Gotham is a good show, it is an excellent show, but I am still not sure how much of its excellence was purposeful and how much was accidental.

One thing is for certain, however: Despite everything, season five of Gotham is when Edward is at his most complete, despite what the mind control subplot might have you believe. This is the season where Edward appears to be at peace with himself, either because both of his sides have found what they wanted by managing to being powerful and loved through his partnership with Oswald or because, by the end of season 4, when Lee stabbed Edward, she quite literally killed the love seeking side of him, leaving just the Riddler to take control. It really only depends on how hopeful you wish to be, really.

In short, the reason why Edward could never love Oswald in season 3 was because Oswald was a reflection of what Edward believed to be the most unlovable thing in the world: Himself.

#gotham #batman #dc comics #dc #penguin #nygmoblepot #riddlebird #riddler #tw mentions of homophobia #spoilers for a show that ended 4 years ago

[libralita]

Theories on Trell based on the Preview Chapters

Okay, so instead of doing work, I decided to stay up late rereading the preview chapters for The Lost Metal to get an idea of what Brandon is setting up and I think I've come with a solid idea of what's going on here. And also how does Kelsier play into this.

In Alloy of Law, when Miles is executed he says, “You are fools! One day, the men of gold and red, bearers of the final metal, will come to you. And you will be ruled by them.”

This very much screams to me that he is talking about the people of Roshar. In Rhythm of War when Kaladin is killing the Pursuer, his eyes glow gold and the obvious glowing red association. The final metal could be a reference to shardplate.

~

Now, in chapter 8 we get more hints about what's happening with Trell. So first the cycle says that Trell has wanted Marasi in particular because, "Trell is choosing hosts. Avatars, bestowed with his power. How would you like to be the accomplishment that proves I'm worthy of immortality, lawwoman? All you have to do is die." So, for some reason Trell has a particular interest in Marasi. It also sounds like she would be killed in order to create hemalurgic spikes because of her allomancy. The pronouns are also interesting Autonomy has been referred to by 'they' pronouns.

Then when the Cycle dies, his eyes glow vivid red and in a strangely grating voice he says: "The ash comes again. The world will fall to it. You will get what you deserve, and all will wither beneath a cloud of blackness and a blanket of burned bodies made of ash. Your end-Your end comes. Either in ash, or at the hands of the men of gold and red. Gold and--"

Now, my Trell=Odium theory has been under the assumption that Trell is the god of the men of gold and red. However this reads to me as saying unless you follow Trell either the ash will return or you will be subjugated by men of gold and red. The men of red and gold are an outside threat.

~

Next, in chapter 15 we get the note.

“‘A note recovered from the site of your engagement with the Set,’ Vendell said. ‘LeeMar recovered it before the other investigating constables could notice.’ … ‘[The note] was in one of the boxes in the cavern,’ Vendell explained. ‘One of the few that weren’t destroyed in the explosions.’ ‘During the mission earlier,’ Marasi said, ‘I spotted a masked figure in dark clothing. I had a slowness bubble up a the time, and she approached as a blur. I got barely a glance at her before she left, but I think this must be from her.’ She turned the paper toward Wax, showing a simple message. We are watching, Marasi, it read. And we are impressed.”

So, the Set appears to be working for Trell to some degree and here we have a Ghostblood saying that they are impressed with Marasi. To me this could mean two things: 1) The Ghostbloods left the note for the Set to find, which means they are working with the Set. 2) The Ghostbloods left that note for Marasi, knowing that it would get to her somehow. That first one could mean that Kelsier really be living long enough to see himself become a villain.

Now that we're at the final series and with all of Wax chemistry shenanigans, it is making me start to believe that Scadrial is gearing up for the impending cosmere war. Scadrial needs more Mistborn to stand a chance against...well Roshar. And if what Wax did produces Lerasium then that might be the answer. And we know from Alloy of Law that the Set was trying to get women who were descendants of Spook in order to create more allomancers.

Now, this will mean that I will have to give up my Trell is Odium theory, however it is replace with pure smugness that I can feel after being right when I made this post.

Or Trell could just be Kelsier and he's just bullshiting about avatars again.

#brandon sanderson #cosmere #wax and wayne series #mistborn #the lost metal #tlm #lost metal #lm #lost metal spoilers #tlm spoilers

[thisiswhatafamilyis]

Latest Installment of BPMK! 💙🧡

No Frisk this time sadly, it’s focused on the skelebros and some of their past. Please mind the tags!

Burn the Ashes and Start Again - Sans and Papyrus go for a walk…

Enjoy

Since the lore notes that usually go at the end are almost four hundred words long, they’re going here instead! TWs for mentioned child abuse and murder (they’re beneath the cut =p)

NOTES:

- These two guys that are removedeth from this mortal coil are the bros’ birth parents. They are *HORRIBLE* people. There will eventually be something on them (probably).

- Reason Grillby knows it’s LV gains? They’re covered in dust and freaking out. Not a hard assumption to make.

- This takes place a little bit before Undertale, but the boys are still suffering from the LV gains during Undertale.

- Grillby is best dad who is trying his best.

- Both brothers are flight/fight, but Sans is flight leaning and Papyrus is fight leaning. Especially if Sans is in danger. He’s very protective of Sans due to their past.

- LV makes it harder to feel comfortable. Yeah, makes it easier to kill, but the boys are both very anxious and think that they’re going to be harmed or their family is going to be harmed. Papyrus gets very antsy about people being in the house without his knowledge and Sans gets anxious whenever he travels outside of Snowdin. AKA their dad’s domain.

- How are they not found out? Skeletons are rather solitary critters for one and the brothers are not exactly normal because they live in a town. Undyne won’t believe they’re done anything wrong, much less Asgore who sees good in people, without hard evidence. I don’t see monsters as a group that does birth certificates or official paperwork, they might have a census to get a rough count of how many people there are but there’s no widespread form of identification.

- Why did they kill?

Simply put, they, especially Papyrus, were raised to be aggressive. Papyrus has had time to realize ‘hey this isn’t normal, and I don’t enjoy killing or fighting but I will if needed’. He holds grudges, especially against their birth parents. He doesn’t remember much of the abuse while it was happening, but he remembers the aftermath and he has the scars to prove it. In this case, his need for revenge overpowered his pacifism and Sans is a pretty go with the flow guy.

- The rope w/ the ring was used as punishment for Sans. Think a leash and collar for a dog.

- Bleach was used as a punishment for Papyrus, and as a result he has a lot of tender discolored splotches on his bones.

Uhhh I think that’s all lmao

#papyrus #sans undertale #grillby #undertale au #undertale #undertale fanfiction #TWs child abuse and murder #bpmk

[illym]

Day 3 - Roleswap

I'm not a good outfit designer at the best of times, and coming up with one while sketching out the body makes it so much harder. I'll have to come back to this one, since I just stole Sirius' suit.

Roleswapped Sirius and my oc Thalia. Idea dump under the cut.

ID in alt text.

I went too far into logicking out how exactly the roleswap would work; instead of merely swapping them and keeping everything the same, I swapped the people important to their stories, too. Thus, Thalia's family is a witch-hunting family that gives up an important limb in exchange for the ability to see the unseen and other stuff, maybe. Thalia gave up her eye because seeing, and she covers it with an eye-patch-made-talismen when not using it, as her family believed that the demon they pacted with could see through their eye, otherwise.

Her family in general has a lot of assumptions that are logical, but proven completely wrong by canon. I doubt Thalia would ever learn exactly how wrong her family is; they've been chasing ghosts for a long time, and she probably gives up the tradition after each conclusion (for different reasons each time).

Sirius gains her [ redacted ], and is far more unstable about the deaths of his parents, since he killed them in this au. He's journeying around to try and find a way to see them again, and cure himself of [ redacted ]. He takes on a few of Ashe's elements, here, which is fitting as I swapped Ashe and Wilardo. I should write this whole au out...

Sirius ends up working for Thalia as she did in my canon, but he's far less trusting of her than she of him because she refuses to say anything about her eye or all the demon / witch / magic equipment around the mansion. She doesn't tell him anything because she believes he doesn't need to know, and knowing would just stress him out.

Thalia would be willing to kill Claire because she knows the dangers of a witch's part in the wrong hands.

Sirius is willing to kill Claire to grant his wish and rid himself of [ redacted ] and meet his parents again. The second part of his wish ends up killing him whenever he gets the Witch's Heart.

#witchs heart #witch's heart #whtober #whtober 2023 #thalia otrava #illym art

[catsandrandomness]

Okay so I'm not done with campaign 2 (I'm on ep 73) of critical role yet but I think my favorite thing is just how loving some of the different families are in unexpected ways. Like there's obviously terrible relationships between like Beau and her parents (or maybe just her father? Idk) and Fjord's complicated mentor/parental figure whatever and Caleb's whole thing, but the family that actually interacts with the characters thus far usually ends up positive.

Like when hearing about Jester's sheltered childhood and how she was sent away after a particularly bad prank my assumption was her mother would be upset she returned when she wasn't supposed to. Instead when she arrived in disguise and yelled at the top of her lungs for her mom her mother was extremely happy to see her and helped the mighty nein with a place to stay and took care of Nugget (to the best of the sheltered woman's ability). Sure Jester didn't have an ideal childhood but none of that was her mother's lack of love or effort.

When we learn Nott's backstory about running away and never returning for fear of the hatred she would receive, I assumed she wasn't entirely correct but small towns can create small minds sometimes and Nott had a lot of hate for goblins herself. But when we meet her husband he's so absolutely supportive of everything Nott does and encourages her to keep going with her journey. He never shows anything but love and never seems angry about how long she stayed away.

And I haven't actually gotten far enough in to meet Caduceus' family but I did get to the Ash family, and I mean that kind of counts. Clay I think is the only character I believed from the get-go to have healthy family relationships. I mean he named his moorbounder after his sister and talked fondly about his siblings. But the warm welcome he got at the kiln was something I figured was like 50/50. A lot of time had passed since their whole history after all.

I just love characters who can raise hell and still come back to someone who cares.

#critical role #sorry I just don't know people who care about this particular topic and so the rants pile up in my head #mighty nein

[necromaniackat]

Cruel Summer

Chapter 9: Flowers in The Ashes

Word Count: 2.4K

(Images above are Anika {top} and Bex {bottom}

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

Your mood lifted when you laid your eyes upon your best friend since primary school. Her luscious dark hair was pulled up in curlers and she had a face mask on her, somehow always clear, beautifully rich brown skin. Her coffee brown eyes glittered in the sunlight – they squinted as she smiled at you.

“Evelyn!” Anika greeted joyfully.

“Anika, how’s Delhi?” You asked with a happy smile. Anika was in Delhi for a cousin’s wedding. She worked at KFC while going to university to be a social worker so the weekend off from work is well deserved.

“It’s so hot,” Anika laughed. You nodded your head in agreement, pulling your thick dark hair up off your sweaty neck.

“Yeah it’s hot here too,” you empathized. Anika let out a snorted laugh/scoff and shook her head.

“No, Ev. It was forty degrees yesterday and it’s gonna hit thirty-eight by lunch.” Your friend sounded in distress but you knew she was just being a drama queen. You laughed and shook your head.

“An, you visit Delhi every summer,”

“–And each time sucks more than the last!” She exclaimed then took a drag from a cigarette. Her hands shook. You knew why her hands shook, and why she just threw six months without smoking away. And you didn’t blame her.

“I’m under the assumption he’s there,” you uttered flatly. You watched as Anika looked off in he distance. She took another shaky drag from the cigarette then nodded her head.

“Unfortunately,” she muttered back. Sadness filled your chest for your friend but protectiveness of Anika made you subconsciously ball your fingers into a fist, cracking your knuckles as you did so. You despised Anika’s creepy uncle; he always made her feel like a piece of meat he wants to put his dick in. Anika couldn’t go to her parents about this, her uncle was well respected in the family, he makes a lot of money, he has a beautiful wife and seven kids. Of course if Anika came forward about how he makes her feel, she’d be laughed out of the family. You felt truly bad for Anika – she was essentially hopeless.

“Anyways, enough about me. How goes the newest project?” Anika swiftly changed the topic. You knew she was just distracting herself from the problem at hand. And you went along with it without hesitation.

“I had a contractor come by yesterday to give me an estimate for the renovations,” you told her with a sigh. You leaned forward agains the counter. Your mobile phone propped against the coffee canister. The hot morning sun was just above the horizon, casting an oppressive glow in the house.

“How’d that go?” She asked with a cocked eyebrow – she took a sip of her coffee. Your mind replayed the entire sexist encounter in your head. First the contractor believed he was meeting with a man despite you putting your name on the appointment. You didn’t realize Evelyn was a unisex name. Then he kept calling you pet names, which in a casual circumstance would be okay but this was professional setting so they were wildly inappropriate. And then he critiqued some of your design choices as if his opinion mattered. You hired him to give you an estimate and let you know if your ideas are possible.

You chuckled to yourself and nodded, taking another sip of your hot coffee. You gave Anika a contemplating expression and hummed.

“Not good but it could’ve been a lot worse,” you admitted honestly. Anika went to say something but stopped before she could. She turned away, looking off in the distance with her coffee cup at her lips. You followed in suit, looking out the kitchen window but you could still see Anika out the corner of your eye. You nearly choked when you saw she was staring at you from the corner of her eye. You and her made eye contact. You and Anika merely side eyed each other as you both loudly slurped at your coffees.

“Fooking men eh,” Anika declared in a stereotypical Canadian accent. You snorted, coffee coming out of your nose. Anika’s contagious laughter filled the otherwise quiet house. You couldn’t help but laugh with her.

“They’re the worst, honestly,” you claimed with disgust. Anika giggled at you, nodding her head in agreement.

“They’re only good for one thing,” Anika added confidently, giving you a wink. You snickered at her and shrugged your shoulders.

“They’re barely good at that.” You sipped your lukewarm coffee and tried not to snort laugh. All while Anika was uncontrollably giggling, she was in the process of taking a sip of her own coffee but the giggles paused that motion so now she was hysterically giggling with her clear glass mug pressed against her mauve lower lip. But Anika’s laughter suddenly stopped and the sound of people shouting in Hindi in the background.

“Anika, come. Join your family for a change,” said Anika’s mum. The joy in Anika’s eyes slowly died, in fact you saw tears begin to form in her eyes. She cleared her throat and nodded.

“Yeah, I’ll be in, in a minute mum, I’m just talking to Evelyn,” Anika responded, glancing between you and her mum. You could only stand by quietly, drinking your coffee and enjoying the morning overall.

“No, we did not spend almost a thousand pounds for you to be here just so you can keep talking on the phone with someone you see every day back home. End the call. Get inside,” Anika’s mum ordered then the sound of a sliding door slamming closed filled the quiet balcony. Anika frowned and muttered a goodbye to you before ending the call. Anika’s parents are super strict with her; they’re also very much the type of people to play the hot and cold game with her. And she, being the only girl, has a lot to live up to as a daughter and a potential wife but instead she’s flipping burgers and getting a degree just like her two older brothers. But unlike her brothers, Anika moved out. Her parents aren’t very happy about her life choices, then again what parent is? We always want the exact opposite our parents want for us.

You frowned to yourself, picking up your mobile phone and exiting the app. You felt bad for your friend but you didn’t know how to help. Your mum wasn’t overly strict. Hell, compared to Anika’s mum, yours was considered an air-headed hippie. But your mum was clingy - much like Anika’s mum.

You grumbled when you saw it was a few minutes before seven o’clock. You took the last gulp of coffee, setting the empty mug on the counter. You fiddled on your phone a bit to connect your phone to the speakers you set up around the house last night. Of course you started the day with greatest dance song to ever be created; We Didn’t Start The Fire. Of course this was before your time and you prayed someone would do a continuation to this song with everything that’s happened since the end of the first song.

You cranked the music as loud as it’d go then headed through the house to the grand staircase. The house felt hot and muggy. It was another hot day, thankfully the temperature is going down next week.

‘I should open the windows. Maybe that’ll help,’ you thought as you went up the stairs. You wandered down the hall mindlessly. You stopped at the closed bedroom door and sighed. You tapped your knuckles against the wooden door before opening it, poking your head into the bedroom and slowly slid into the room. The room was dark besides the peeks of sunlight coming through the cracks in the curtains.

“Good morning Brahms. It’s time to get up!” you enthusiastically said over the music as you walked over to the window, throwing the drapes open. Bright sunlight poured into the room. You turned around and caught the sight of the doll laying under the duvet on the bed. The doll’s lifeless eyes stared up at the ceiling.

You sighed to yourself again, feeling very silly for doing this. Part of you doesn’t believe what you caught, it must’ve been something else – perhaps you caught a frequency from a local radio or police radio.You didn’t want to believe your uncle was here and you have to follow his rules otherwise who knows what kind of mishap he could cause.

Without hesitation, you untucked the doll and picked him up out of bed. You carried him back downstairs as the music played loudly through the mansion. The rule was to play music loudly; that you could do with ease.

You set the doll down at the kitchen table before dancing along to the loud music. You opened the fridge to see what to make for breakfast. You’d done the shopping a few days ago so the fridge and pantry are stocked.

“How’d you like bacon and eggs for breakfast?!” You called out, turning down the music from your mobile. Then you waited.

Somewhere in the kitchen there were two knocks, saying yes to your suggestion. You discovered you can communicate with Brahms through a series of yes or no questions. You ask a question or make a statement and Brahms will knock to signify his response.

You felt so silly for doing all this. When you left home on Monday you told your mum you weren’t going to follow the rules. It’s now Friday and you were following the rules. With everything going on in the mansion, you thought it best to follow the rules. For your safety. You didn’t know what Brahms was capable of and you’d rather be blissfully unaware.

You turned up the music again as you gathered the pan for the eggs and one for the bacon. You sang along to the music, dancing a bit as you cooked.

You tried to distract yourself from thinking about the weird things that have happened – instead you thought about the renovations you were planning on doing as well as the upkeep of the mansion.

‘I should start with the tedious tasks; the main bathroom and guest bedrooms,’ you thought as you made up a plate for Brahms. The mere thought of having to redo the guest bedrooms dulled your day.

You placed the plate of bacon and eggs with a tall glass of orange juice in front of the doll.

“There you go Brahms, bon appetite,” you told him cheerfully. Your music paused when your mobile phone started ringing on the counter. You went over to answer it, seeing it was Becca who was calling. You answered the call, bringing the mobile up to your ear.

“Hey Bex, what’s up?” You greeted your stepsister plainly.

“Mum and dad suck. I need validation,” your sixteen year old stepsister complained. You snorted a laugh, you were thoroughly amused. Bex never answers anyone in a normal way so this didn’t surprise you – but it did amuse you.

“What did they tell you no to?” You questioned. Bex inhaled deeply, dramatically more like it.

“I want to go to Amsterdam with some friends for a week but mum and dad said no. Which is so unfair. I’ve proven to them over and over that I’m responsible enough to handle myself abroad. It’s like they don’t trust me and it’s so frustrating,” Bex bantered. You could almost see her pacing her room at your mum and Adam’s house. You were her big sister for the last five years. Even though you only saw her every second weekend and three weeks during summer holidays, Bex considered you her big sister. You were older than her by a year and a half. Adam got full custody of Bex when she was seven, her mum was going through chemo and couldn’t take care of a child full time. Bex lost her mum three months later.

“Okay first of all, why do you want to go to Amsterdam? What’s there? Secondly, when did you ask them? Thirdly, mum and dad do trust you – you probably just sprung this on them too suddenly. It makes you look suspicious,” you told her, giving her some sisterly criticism.

“A guy I met online is there. He’s at a music festival and wants me to come see him,” Bex explained. You could feel the maternal instincts kicking in and they battled with your sisterly instincts. Part of you wanted to shake her silly and demand to know in what world any of that is okay. But on the other hand, you wanted to pack and bag and go with her to Amsterdam – you were a sucker for a good music festival. That and, it’ll probably be the only way Bex will be able to go in the first place. But you couldn’t just drop everything and go on a mini holiday with your stepsister. Besides, Bex is sixteen, she shouldn’t be requesting to go on an unsupervised trip to meet someone she met on the internet at a music festival.

“See, that’s why mum and dad said no. You are sixteen years old Rebecca McKnight, you have no business even asking to go to Amsterdam to meet up with a guy you met online,” you scolded.

“Ugh!” Bex grumbled before the call ended. You could only stand at the island in the middle of your kitchen and stare off into space – completely mind boggled by what just happened.

You pressed your lips together tightly, placing your mobile phone onto the counter. You decided you’d call your mum later to ask about what’s going on over there. Bex wasn’t a spoiled kid, she was one of the hardest working people you knew. She was in high school still but had an after school job at the local shop. Bex was just…. –unpredictable. She wasn’t afraid to ask for what she wanted; your mum and Adam, as well as your own dad, would always make it a goal to make your relationship so comfortable that you two don’t hesitate to go to them for anything. You were always a little shy with things, whereas Bex was a whole lot braver. Hence why she isn’t afraid to ask for the most absurd things – like going to Amsterdam to hook up with a boy she met online.

You took a deep breath then let it out slowly, turning around. You gaze landed on the now empty plate and glass sitting on the table in front of the doll. You were on the phone for a maximum of five minutes, how did you not notice someone eating behind you?

You went over to the table to gather the dishes. You had a day to get started, can’t dawdle on the phone all day. But first you had to take care of Brahms. Because that’s what you do now apparently.

#brahms heelshire #brahms the doll #brahms the boy #brahms x you #brahms heelsire x reader #brahms x reader #slasher fic #slasher fucker #slashers #writing #horror #wattpad #fanfiction #writer #fanfic #writers #my writing #fan fiction

[themainspoon]

Ok, yesterday I posted about an assessment that I was having a really bad time with because it forced me to argue with bigots and I was incredibly enraged by that.

But today I am calm, because gamers,

we fucking got em.

Like legit only today did I realise that they built their entire argument upon a single assumption that I can kick out from under them to bring their entire argument crumbling down. That weakness is a single concept: “Design”. They argue that “normal” is defined as functioning in accordance with its design. But the question is “designed by who or what?”

They cite a paper from 1945 about how “in biology design is dictated by intended function”, but the issue there is that intended function is also determined by design, the entire thing is circular logic! And so who or what is responsible for this “design”? Well, they never state this in the paper, but the orgs responsible for this paper are associated with the Christian Right, and so the answer to that question is “God”. This not only assumes the existence of God, but also has the troubling implication that God designed humans purely to be cisgender and heterosexual. This is a problem because people are queer, not because they choose to be, but because they simply are. This means that either the orgs who wrote this paper are wrong, or that God makes mistakes.

I’m an apostate, I know for a fact that “God makes mistakes” goes against pretty much all theology ever written. You take away their idea of “design” and their entire argument turns to ash and blows away in the gentle breeze.

Also, looking at this paper now that I’ve completely invalidated it, some of the shit they try to pull is so fucking funny.

They present “de-transitioning statistics”, but you’ll never fucking guess where they came from, because we are at the source right now. They got statistics from a FUCKING TUMBLR POLL. Holy shit, they presented this shit to Parliament, how fucking embarrassing for them! Tumblr! Because Tumblr definitely doesn’t contain any echo chambers! It certainly isn’t responsible for any misinfo!

Beyond that, a whole bunch of their sources are random fucking news articles, if I did that I’d get laughed out of university forever! (unless my stated goal was specifically analysing news media).

They use a Biology paper on sexual dimorphism like it’s some kind of epic gotcha, they deliberately misinterpret sources that directly contradict them, they make reference to papers written by TERFS (one of which I went looking for, and only found reviews written by other feminists dunking on it mercilessly for being a terrible paper).

All their medical information comes from the early 2000’s, nothing more recent? Nothing from the mid to late 2010’s or even 2020 or 2021 when the paper was published? What’s wrong? Surely it’s not like those in positions of authority within the Medical profession have come to overwhelmingly disagree with you on everything you believe, right?

Another highlight comes when they say “To paraphrase one feminist writer on these issues” and then never state who this mystery feminist is, and just leave the statement completely lacking citation.

They also cite dictionaries to define words constantly, which is pathetic. You define the concepts you use yourself. Letting a dictionary do your thinking for you is some weak shit, dictionaries are good for giving you a quick definition of a commonly used word you don’t know, not to give you your understanding of broad concepts you intend to use in debate and discussion.

Also, just to finish off, in order to express my response to so much of that sad excuse for a paper, I created this:

It’s all such shit, I’m arguing with fuckwits.

#a certified themainspoon classic

[bylightofdawn]

WIP Sunday

Have some Mace/Myles crumbs. Also, there are too many damn J and M names in this fic. LOL For context, Myles has been in a coma/in a bacta tank for a couple of days because he was the first to fall when shit started to go down. And now he's awake and doing his best Troy from Community impression when he walks in with pizza and finds the whole fucking room on fire and in chaos. Suffice it to say, he starts to try and brood manfully and blame himself for that, but thankfully, Mace, who is much more well-emotionally adjusted, quickly stops that. LOL

He was on the cusp of falling asleep himself when the swish of the door opening dragged Myles back from the edge of sleep. He blinked sleepily to clear his vision and he was surprised to see a tired-looking Mace standing there. His robes were filthy with dirt or ash though he’d clearly taken pains to clean up his face and body, no doubt in order to get past the door of the Halls of Healing.

“Mace, hey…” Myles called out with a weak smile.

“Myles, it’s good to see you awake. You had us worried there for a while there.” Mace said with a grave smile and stepped up to the bed.

“Yeah, sounds like I picked the worst time to do my impression of some princess from a holonovel.” Myles joked but his eyes told a different tale. The guilt and worry in the man’s hazel eyes betrayed him.

“Or maybe you picked the best time to sleep through all of this madness of the past few days.” Mace countered gently and pulled up a chair to tiredly settle into it.

Myles held out his hand towards Mace and the Jedi obliged him by reaching up to lace their fingers together carefully.

“Not sure I agree with that. It seems like I get taken out, and things go to shit.” The Mandalorian continued to hide behind humor rather than confront his emotions openly. “You look exhausted, by the way.”

“There’s a lot of work to be done. All things considered, it could have been far worse. I had a few friends who ended up in the Halls of Healing so I was checking in on them.”

Myles squeezed his fingers gently. “Are they-are they okay?”

“Yes, thankfully. One has a broken leg and arm. They will need to undergo surgery, but the other is already to be released.”

“Good, I’m glad.” The Kiffar murmured, and Mace was once again struck by Myles's endless capacity for empathy. He’d been told Mandalorians hated the Jedi and feared them without reservation. And Myles especially had reason to be wary of the Jedi. Yet Mace did not doubt for a second that the other man was being utterly sincere when he said that.

If meeting this man and his companions taught him anything else, it was that the Mandalorians were not what the Galaxy made them out to be.

Or at least, not the True Mandalorians were not.

Death Watch was pretty much exactly as advertised, and after the traumas, they had inflicted upon the Temple, Mace would be lying if he didn’t admit to himself, if nothing else, that he needed to meditate and release his anger and heartbreak into the Force lest it fester within like an untreated wound.

But for now, he was content to sit here and bask in the comfort of his new friend and lover’s presence.

“I’m sorry our troubles were brought to the Temple,” Myles apologized, and Mace shook his head automatically.

“Death Watch would have come either way, I suspect. They’d been clearly planning this for weeks. They probably had collaborators somewhere who aided them. The chaos of everything probably saved countless lives because they got sloppy and cut corners in hopes of pulling off their plot before it got discovered.”

“I can’t believe they thought children were a valid target of opportunity. Tor Vizsla truly was a madman and a monster. I can scarcely believe he’s gone.” He admitted with an incredulous note in his voice.

“The Dark Side can taint even the purest of hearts and drive people to do some truly unspeakable actions. I cannot say for certain that this Vizsla was tainted by the Dark Side but I think it would be a logical assumption from everything I’ve heard.”

“Yeah, but he’s dead and in the dirt now. I just…I worry about the price that had to be paid to take him off the board.” The Mandalorian confessed softly. “I should be happy, Mij tells me Jaster and Arla are going to survive. But Jaster is wounded, maybe even crippled for life and Arla has so much internal damage she’ll be recovering for weeks which I know is just going to be hell for her.”

“But everyone is alive. So long as they are breathing, there is a chance to heal and recover.” Mace pointed out gently, reaching up with his free hand to push some of the riotous curls back from Myles’s forehead. “Same for you. You’re still alive, and you can be there to help them. It seems bleak now, but it will only get better from here.”

The Kiffar’s eyes showed bright and wet with unshed tears as he leaned into Mace’s touch lightly. “Thanks, Mace.”

“Of course, Myles.” The Jedi smiled softly, and they continued to talk for a few more minutes before the wounded man ended up surrendering the battle with sleep. Mace fully intended on getting up and leaving but he’d ended up with his head resting on the mattress while he and Myles were talking.

Mace told himself he would only rest his eyes for a moment but fell asleep, listening to the slow and reassuring sounds of Myles breathing in his sleep.

#el writes #wip sunday #fanfic snippet #seeds for the future fic #mace windu #myles the mandalorian