#like the post where Cole just. becomes the woods

[bookofbonbon]

lamb to the slaughter.

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Reader x Aemond Targaryen. Aegon III Targaryen x Reader.

Warnings: Character death. Suicide. Sedation. This is dark, dark.

Summary: You have developed an unhealthy coping mechanism post-war at the detriment of your own safety and worry of your husband. Made only worse by the encouragement of your lovers.

Word Count: 1604.

You’re woken suddenly, screams smothered before they can leave your throat by a calloused hand already pressed over your mouth. Your chest heaves up and down, panic rising as your hands claw at the hand and you try to focus your vision but, it’s too hard as all your senses work themselves into a frenzy in the near pitch black of your bed chambers.

“Shh… do not fret my little lamb, it is your love,” a deep, raspy voice whispers from the darkness.

Your panic ceases immediately upon recognising the voice. Breath slowing, you allow yourself to sink back into the softness of your bed, eyes fluttering closed in relief as he removes his hand.

“Aegon…” you breathe his name shakily and open your eyes. “You frightened me.”

Your gaze meets his in the dark, mischief, desire, and something else you can’t quite place lurking in the depths of his eyes. His visits becoming more frequent, more urgent.

“You have my apology, sweet lamb but, we must go now,” he leans back and straightens himself.

His cold and calloused hands intertwine with yours as he helps you out of bed and leads you out of your chambers. The cold stone walls and floor of the Keep cause you to shiver, your free hand rubbing at your arm for some warmth. The thought to stop and have you put something warmer on crosses Aegon’s mind but, he quickly dismisses it. He likes that he can see the peaks of your hardened nipples through the sheer material of your night shift. Besides, you wouldn’t need warm clothes where he planned to take you.

“Wait-” you pull on his hand, bringing him to a stop. “What of Aeg-”

“He is sound asleep with the rest of the Keep,” Aegon is quick to answer you.

Pulling on your hand to continue, you hold your ground.

“What of Aemond?” you ask of your other lover, worried about his whereabouts.

A muscle in Aegon’s jaw twitches, there was no time for this but, you peer up at him innocently and, he softens. Dropping your hand from his, Aegon stands in front of you and cups your face between his hands.

“Aemond will meet us in the tower.”

“The tower?”  you ask, confused.

“Of my old room.”

A flash of recognition in your eyes.

“But we cannot stop again. Do you understand lamb?” he traces your bottom lip with his thumb.

You nod your head keenly and, he takes your hand in his again. The two of you fly through the Keep, feet feather-light and barely touching the ground as you navigate your way through the twists and turns of the castle. You can’t help the giggles that make their way past your lips. You felt like a child all over again, running from trouble with Aegon as his Queen-mother or Ser Cole would hunt the pair of you down as a result of whatever mischief the two of you had gotten up to again. You missed this feeling and as if sensing your reminiscing, Aegon squeezes your hand, looking back at you with a handsome grin.

Finally coming to a halt at a door, the worn wood is all too familiar as you recognise it as the entrance to Aegon’s child-hood bed chambers. Pushing on the heavy wood, both of you wince as it groans at the hinges. Aegon opens it just enough for the two of you to slip in, closing it behind him as you take the lead up the winding stairs. You come to a standstill once you reach the landing, eyes taking in the familiar space.

Coming up from behind you, Aegon’s arm snakes its way around your waist as he places soft kisses to your neck.

“It still looks the same.”

“Because it still is the same from the last time we were here,” he hums, and a warm flush goes through your body. Your eyes flickering toward the rumpled sheets from the last time you had been up here with him and Aemond years ago.

Aegon chuckles darkly as you recall the memory. Turning you toward him, he places his lips to yours, wanting to relive the memory once again. His kisses are bruising. Hasty, and lust filled, all tongues and teeth as he walks you backwards until the frame of his bed presses into your skin.

“Brother,” a smooth, velveteen voice calls Aegon, halting him from carrying out his lecherous thoughts. 

Your gaze immediately follows where the voice comes from. Aemond standing tall and strong by the window frame of Aegon’s bed chamber, broad back facing you.

“Aemond,” you smile, happy to see his ever-brooding self.

He turns toward the two of you, sapphire eye twinkling under the moon’s light.

“You forget yourself, brother,” Aemond address Aegon. “The reason we are here.”

Aegon rolls his eyes but, uncages you from between his arms.

“Come, sweet lamb,” Aemond holds his hand out to you. “I want you to see the view.”

You move toward him, hand sliding into his as he pulls you closer, Aegon trailing behind you.

Aemond releases your hand, cupping your face and bringing his lips down on yours. His kisses are deep and slow, savouring every touch as his tongue flickers out and slides smoothly into your mouth.

Unlike Aegon however, he does not allow himself to lose focus.

When he pulls away, you feel just as warm and fuzzy as you did with Aegon which is evident in the dazed look in your eye.

The two brothers share a look, you were exactly where they wanted you to be.

Aemond manoeuvres you in front of him as Aegon steps up onto the window ledge as he had done so many times before.

“Here, lamb.”

Aegon helps you and, you allow him to pull you up without question. Aemond joining you on the other side, each of them taking one of your hands in theirs.

“Do you remember what we spoke of lamb?” Aemond asks you.

You nod your head, recalling the past conversation.

“Is this the only way?” you ask nervously, voice shaking from the height.

“If we do not take this into our own hands, they will do it themselves and they will make it painful,” Aegon answers, adding just enough to frighten you but, not turn you away.

“Then we shall do what we must,” you exhale a heavy breath.

Your hand tightens around theirs out of fear. But you try to push it aside. You have them both with you. They are doing this with you, you have nothing to fear.

Eyes focused on the view below, Aemond and Aegon share another look across you, a sly smirk on Aemond’s lips and sinister smile across Aegon’s.

“Close your eyes,” Aegon instructs, and you do.

Silence hangs in the air, fear rolling off of you in waves but, both men squeeze your hand in comfort.

“It will feel like nothing and be over in less than a second” Aemond lies to reassure you.

“Now, all you have to do is step off,” Aegon’s voice whispers in your ear.

You do as your told and step off of the ledge, allowing your body to free-fall forward but, it lasts less than a split-second, your body violently pulled back and into the room.

The fall is cushioned by someone else’s body, and you roll to your side, coming face to face with your husband, Aegon the Younger.

Your face twists at the sight of him but, he’s the least of your concerns as your eyes flicker to the window. Panic flooding your veins as Aemond and Aegon are both gone.

You push yourself off of the floor and rush to the window, searching below for their bodies but, your pulled back just as quickly again by Aegon.

“You must cease this at once,” Aegon shouts as you fight against him.  

“You were supposed to be sleeping!”

“Why do you do this?” he grabs at your face, searching your eyes for an answer but, there is nothing there. Just a shell of your former self, lifeless and soulless. “Why do you try to leave me?”

“You know why.”

“I thought you loved me?”

“I do-” you choke, tears swimming in your eyes. “But I love them more.”

Aegon lets go of you defeated, tears welling in his own eyes. No matter how many times he told you, you refused to listen. This was not how it was supposed to be. Without another word, Aegon leaves you alone in the room as he disappears down the stairs.

Your solitude does not last long however, as his presence is replaced with his King’s Guard and the Grand Maester.

You try to escape but, the two of them corner you, his King’s Guard ceasing you and, forcibly holding your mouth open. The Grand Maester forces a liquid into your mouth and your forced to swallow. You try to fight back but, your limbs become heavy, vision blurring until you slump in the knight’s hold.

Aegon and Aemond watch on, jaws flexing, and fists clenched as your carried away from them yet again.

“My patience runs thin, brother,” Aegon speaks through gritted teeth. “I want her back. I want her on this side, now.”

Aemond holds his tongue, listening carefully to the conversation that takes place at the bottom of the stairwell.

“…the people would sooner put her to the sword than have a mad Queen who chases ghosts ruling over them.”

“All in due time, brother,” Aemond clasps Aegon’s shoulder. “All in due time will we successfully lead our little lamb to the slaughter.”

-

All fics are my own work - I have not posted my work anywhere else.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters/places mentioned above.

Do not copy. Do not translate. Do not repost.

bookofbonbon 2022. All rights reserved.

#aegon targaryen #aemond targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fanfiction

[codenamehazard]

.:Breaking the Shackles:.

.:InFAMOUS: No Man's Land Chapter 1:.

Hey guys! This is the first time I've posted a proper story onto here, so I am both nervous and excited to share it with you!

Since we probably will never get an InFAMOUS game that takes place after the evil ending of InFAMOUS 2, I figured why not throw my hat into the ring and have some fun with it?

Huge thanks to @rogueshadeaux for helping me out. She's a super talented writer and has her own InFAMOUS story, InFAMOUS: Erosion. Check her out, she's awesome and I have been learning a lot from her guidance.

I don't know if this is needed, but I'm putting it here anyways. MAJOR SOILER WARNING!

The story is from Cole's point of view, so be aware of that.

Buckle up and enjoy the read!

The night sky was clear, save for the odd cloud that passed overhead. The wind lazily blew as the fire before me crackled and popped. I warmed my calloused hands and closed my eyes, letting out a sigh. It had been a couple of weeks since I splintered off from the army I once begrudgingly led. A couple of blissful and quiet weeks of pure freedom.

It is in these times of quiet that I am able to think clearly, able to work out and make sense of all that happened over the past god knows how long. It’s hard to keep track of time when the only thing you can look at is the rising and the falling of the sun. I tossed a piece of splintered wood onto the fire as I began to think back. Think back to where it all began.

To when the shackles of the Messiah were forced upon my neck, arms and legs.

—-

I remember the day I became the Beast. After all that happened, all the pain, John just… Gave up and thrust his powers onto me. It was overwhelming, every nerve-fiber alight. The sensation was… Indescribable. It was heaven and hell all at once. It was… Incredible.

It’s a real shame that this buzz had one hell of a hang-over, the responsibility that John now shirked onto me. The task of raising up the next generation of Conduits. A burden I was now forced to bear, an expectation of greatness. Gee, doesn’t that sound fucking familiar?

In the beginning, everything was… Okay, I guess. I didn’t want to lead, never did and never wanted to, but who else would these people turn to? To them, I was their savior. I cured them of the plague that was ravaging their bodies and gave them powers, of course they were gonna look up to me. As much as I didn’t want to, I had to. I had to be provider, protector, teacher, mediator and all the lovely bullshit that comes from being a glorified baby-sitter of grown ass adults. I never sugar-coated anything; if they couldn’t follow me as I am, they won’t follow me at all.

God, and I thought dealing with Kuo and Nix butting heads with each-other was a real headache…

The only thing that made this hell tolerable was the fact that Kuo wasn’t riding my ass all the time, most likely thinking I’ve “turned a new leaf” and I'd suddenly become a changed man. I couldn’t help but scoff at the stupidity of it all, but who was I to look a gift horse in the mouth?

It wasn’t as bad in the beginning, the small group of fledgling Conduits all indebted to me was easy enough to manage. I could stay on top of everything and make sure they didn’t kill each-other while still having a tiny sliver of time to care for my own needs. Over time, as the numbers grew, so did the headache. It seemed like there was always something that needed my attention and if I ignored it to let them sort it out like adults, Kuo would be oh so helpful and “remind me” to go take care of it. I couldn’t get a moment’s peace, more and more I found myself unable to care for my own needs.

It. Was. Hell.

The responsibility of a savior, the nagging of Kuo, the neglecting of my own needs- God it felt like college all over again. My parents bore down on me when all I wanted was the freedom to do as I wished. A hunger started to grow inside, a need that I sated greatly when I had taken over Empire City and made it my own. A hunger for destruction, a need to take what I wanted. This hunger only grew the more I suppressed it. Every now and again, I would try and sate my hunger: toying with enemies, letting loose with my powers, instilling fear into those who followed me, but every time I tried, that icy bitch would get on my ass. If anything, she seems to be much worse than she was before.

It’s easy for her to say. Easy for her to bark at me from her pedestal and scold me, she’s not the one sacrificing anything and she thinks she has the right to judge me? HA! She abandoned her morality when faced with her own mortality, what high ground does she even have? She doesn’t have a fucking leg to stand on.

While infuriating as it was, as much as I wanted to leave, I felt like I couldn’t. I hated this role I was forced to play. Again and again, I was found in the role of the errand boy. Even with my choice, my choice to go against the “destiny” that Kessler groomed me to have, the greatest act of defiance I have ever committed to finally, finally free myself from this vicious cycle. All I seemed to do was to swap one set of chains for another. The breaker had been tripped and I was done!  I wanted to be free!

Yet, I couldn’t be free, as without me… All of my hard work would go to waste. I was the only one who could awaken these dormants, the only hope that some people come out of this alive. Without me, these people would die. It was a burden I didn’t want, but it was one that must be shouldered, one I was forced to bear. These shackles I must wear until the end. This was fact, whether I liked it or not.

That is… Until one day.

The small army of fledgeling and newly fledged Conduits and I had gone through Lawton, Oklahoma. I had leveled the city down to the ground and awakened the Conduits within, but I had noticed that there were… Less Conduits than I thought would in a population of around 90k or so. This had spooked Kuo a bit, making her frantic. She believed that the reason for the lower numbers was due to the Ray Field Plague picking up steam and starting to kill faster. A reasonable train of thought. I would have believed it to be the why had there not been something else that I had noticed before Lawton. Something that had been starting to gnaw at the back of my head.

While Kuo was too busy harping on about me not keeping every Tom, Dick and Harry in line because… Oh I don’t know, I’m only one person. I had been paying attention to what was around me and I had started to pick up on some interesting… Discrepancies, if you will. The kind of disturbances that only Conduits could make: scorch marks with no true source to be seen, areas that looked damaged by various elements with no cause, a slight echo of energy in certain spots. These oddities reminded me of the damage I caused back in the beginning, those two weeks in Empire when I was trying to figure out my powers on my own. It made me start to wonder. Was there something else going on? It couldn’t be another Beast or someone running around with a third Ray Sphere… Could it?

The thoughts only continued to grow as I traveled westward. More signs of Conduit activity, but no Conduits in sight or any signs of an activation method. I started to ponder heavily, was it possible for a Conduit to activate themselves?

I got my answer as I traveled deeper through the Great Plains.

It was there I saw them, the “missing Conduits.” I stood in shock as I watched as two small gangs of super-powered humans clashed. Powers of all kinds and creeds striking and igniting the area with colors and damage. If that wasn’t enough, these Conduits weren’t rookies either, the way they used their powers reminded me a bit of the gangs back in Empire City. They had experience.

They had been awakened long before I came. Now the pieces were falling into place as I gawked at these… Free-Ranged Conduits as they fought. For what, I didn’t know, but all I knew was it looked like one hell of a party and I wanted in. That feeling, that urge, my hunger, it now burned hotter than before. I was about to rush down before I felt a cold hand on my shoulder, stopping me.

I turned my head and let out a low growl when I saw it was Kuo, stopping me. “Leave them be, Cole. It’s a good thing we figured out the mystery, but we still have a job to do. There are still people who need you.”

We? HAH!! There is no we. The only time she ever lifted a finger was either to bitch at me or when I had to twist her arm to actually get her to be useful and actually help for once. I pull my shoulder away from her touch. “Don’t touch me, Kuo.” I had hissed out at her before continuing onto the next city.

That day, that moment… It never left me.

I continued to see these Wild Conduits as I traveled on. Seeing how free they were. Able to live their lives however they saw fit as they roamed in roving gangs, taking what they wanted, doing as they pleased. Having the freedom that for years I have been starved of. How they turned the Great Plains into a post-apocalyptic playground. Absolutely lawless. Seeing them made my blood boil. They got to be free while I was stuck in a cage. Such thoughts made me grow bitter and even more resentful than I already was. Even nature was reflecting the mounting rage. The clouds darkening and rumbling with thunder as the storm in my heart builds.

I slipped into my old Empire City habits, no mercy, no care. Why should I? It’s not like the world ever gave a damn about me, the only people who ever did are dead. Kuo only cared when I was doing the things she wanted me to do and the people I commanded didn't give a shit either. The hatred burning and gnawing away at my chest like a rabid animal, demanding I do something, anything, to let it free. To sate my long suppressed needs, to take care of myself for once, just as I had done before. I started to do just that, little by little. My attacks on cities became more brutal, my training and sparring more harsh and unforgiving, my temper growing shorter. The relief I felt was welcomed, but short-lived as soon afterwards; the screeching icy harpy would be at it again. Bitching at me, screaming at me, interrogating me, undoing all of the progress I made. One step forward and ten steps back. It doesn’t take a genius to see the obvious, I was a ticking time-bomb. All Kuo was doing was adding more gunpowder to the mix and shortening the fuse.

It was only a matter of time before I blew a gasket, and that day came sooner than anyone thought.

It was only two short weeks after that moment, I remember it well.  A pained scream rang out as I had thrown a pair of Fledged Conduits onto the ground, having beaten them senseless. They were getting into an argument about something; what it was, I didn’t give a shit. If they wanted to fight so much, I'd give it to ‘em. Now the two lay in the dirt, battered, bruised and pleading for mercy. I was about to knock them out when I heard the ear-piercing screech of that ice bitch. I felt the temp drop as she teleported over.

“What in the HELL do you think you’re doing??” She screamed indignantly at me. I turn my head to look at her, my eyes glowing with fury.

“What does it look like I’m doing? Dweedle Dee and Dweedle Dumbass wanted to have a scrap, I just gave them what they wanted. Is that a problem, Kuo?” My voice dripped with venom as I said her last name.

“What in God’s name has gotten into you? I shouldn’t have to tell you not to take your anger out on these people!” Her voice was like a fork on glass, piercing and painful. “You're a leader to these people! You can't just beat the shit out of them just because they piss you off!”

My face curled into a snarl as I walked up to her, I could feel the electricity in my arms building up as I got closer to her. “I can’t fucking win with you, can I?” I growl at her as I loom over her. “If I do something, you’re bitching and if I don't do something, you’re bitching! So which is it, huh? Do you want me to do something when these idiots act up or do you want me to let them sort out their shit on their own?” 

“What I want you to do is to be responsible for once in your life!” Kuo screeches out. “These people rely on you, Cole! You can't just do whatever you want! You saved them, you must protect them! It's your duty!” Those words. Those fucking words. It felt like my blood was replaced with hot plasma hearing the pure and utter audacity she has. She was a hypocrite.

A crash of red lightning overhead as I finally snapped. That’s. It.

Before she could speak another word, I raised my hand and unleashed a torrent of electricity dead center in her head. The force of the shock sent her flying backwards as the crimson glow of the bolts changed to a color I haven’t seen, a hue I had missed.

Black and red.

I walked over to Kuo as she laid on the ground, her eyes looking up at me dumbly. I could see it in her face, she was gobsmacked. She tried to get up to shout at me again, her hands forming the tell-tale mist that she was going to fire back a volley of her own ice, but I shocked her again before she got the chance. She writhed in pain on the ground as I stared at her, electricity arcing off of my arms and thundering rumbling above us. She slowly tries to get to her feet as she gets control of her body.

“Cole! Have you lost your mind??” Her voice screams out, full of fear and indignation.I couldn’t help but to scoff. 

“Lost it? No Kuo, if anything. I have found it.” I growl out with a sneer. “I’ve put up with your bitching and hypocrisy for far too long and I’m done.”

Kuo looks at me with that stupid shocked look, like she hadn’t known this had been a long time coming. “Are you giving up?” She gasps. “Wake up, Cole! This isn’t something you can-” I zap her again before she can utter another word. 

“No! You’re the one who needs to wake up, Kuo! It must be real easy barking demands and telling people what to do while you get to sit on your ass. Not even lifting a finger to help unless I force you to help me.” My voice dripped in malice and hatred as I got into her face. “It’s so easy to yap and bitch while not having to do any of the hard work or make any sacrifices.” I can tell she wanted to say something, but she seems to have enough sense to shut up, especially since the Beast is staring her down.

“What? No retort? No backtalk? Good!” I snap. “It’s high time you shut up and truly listen to me for once in your damn life.” I could feel eyes around me as I could feel the others coming around and spectating in fear. “They way you talk and act; you think being a leader, being a messiah, is a walk in the fucking park. You’re not the one sacrificing. You’re not the one bearing the weight of everything on your shoulders, having to neglect your own needs and go against your very nature because there’s always somebody who needs your help.” I could feel the static building on my skin as my mind rushed with thoughts of the past. Of all the moments I had been denied the ability to choose my path. “ You never had to deal with the pain of being forced into a role you never wanted, the feelings of being an animal trapped in a cage.”

“But, Cole…” I hear the harpy’s voice speak up, much meeker than before. “John gave you those powers for a reason, you have a duty to fulfill, a moral obliga-” I hold my hand up and she shuts up again.

“Oh no, don’t you even think about going there with that “moral obligation” bullshit. You don’t have a leg to stand on!” I hiss out, teeth bared. “You’ve always been like this, Kuo. You act all high and mighty but when it came down to the wire, you sold your soul to the devil. You’re no better than me, but at least I’m not a hypocrite like you.” I spat out those words as if they were acid in my mouth. “I know I’m no saint, I never have been and you’re a fucking idiot for even entertaining the thought that I had become a changed man after John shrugged off his responsibility onto me.”

“Look! I get it!” Kuo squeaks out. “You were hesitant to take on this responsibility, but I was trying to help you! Regardless of whether you wanted to be a leader or not, you are now! You have to step up to the plate and be better!”

Was she serious? Was she that dense? Did she not hear anything I said?? “Oh, you don’t like how I do things??” I snarl as I grab her shirt. “You think I’m such a terrible leader! You think being a messiah is so easy, Why don’t you try it!?” Venom dripped off of my words as I growled. “You think you know how to be a better leader, be my fucking guest!” I pushed her back, knocking her onto the ground. “I’ve had it with you, I’ve had it with all of this. I’m done.”

I turned around and began to leave, leaving Kuo in the dirt as terrified onlookers watched me. Hearing Kuo stand up and reach to grab my shoulder, I turned around and unloaded several thousand volts of “fuck you” into her. It wasn’t enough to kill her, but it was enough to hurt like hell. I wanted to make sure my message to her was loud and clear, I was done playing nice.

I stand up on a rock to address the crowd of onlookers. “I’m taking my leave of this hellhole.” I stated, my voice firm and matter-of-fact. I wasn’t going to pussyfoot anymore. “If you want to continue to follow me, I won’t stop you. That’s your choice to make. Just know that if you do, I’m not gonna hold your hand anymore. You sink or swim and you take care of your own shit like adults.” With that, I step down and I walk out into the open plains.

I walked, then I ran, then I sprinted. I could hear Kuo’s voice calling out for me, but I didn’t pay it any mind. My body was filled with adrenaline as I made my mad-dash towards the very thing I have been denied time and time again, like a wild animal broken out of its cage. Freedom.

I ran out into the wildlands and I never looked back.

—-

The fire was starting to dim as I slowly came out of my moment of reminiscing. I had been on my own for a couple of weeks and it was goddamn heaven. I was now doing what I should have been doing from the very beginning; whatever the fuck I wanted. The shackles of the messiah were finally broken and I revel in every second of pure freedom I have. For once in my entire life, I was now truly a free man. I answered to nobody but myself.

I tossed a piece of wood onto the fire to give it a little bit more fuel before I looked out onto the horizon. My lips curled into a genuine smile, the first time in forever. Endless possibilities now at my feet. My eyes catch sight of a small band of roving Wild Conduits and my smile turns to a grin. What lay before me was a lawless world, full of people just as lawless as I.The world before me was a chaotic Eden. Ripe for the picking and now it was time for the Beast to come and play.

I just hope, for their sake, that they’re ready for the storm that is now coming. After all, it wouldn’t be much fun if I broke my new playmates, now would it?

#infamous 2 #infamous #cole macgrath #Xeno Writes #fanfiction #Evil Ending #SPOILERS #tw spoilers #Evil Karma #Lucy Kuo #Also #just a heads up #My dislike for Kuo shows heavily here #So my deepest apologies to any Lucy Kuo fans out there! #Evil Cole #Evil Cole MacGrath #demon of empire city

[firesofdainix]

October 22: Masters | "I wish you never told me about the prophecy."

When it’s MY prompt!!! WHOOO!!! (so is Day 20 but THIS is the one I’ve been waiting for). I’ve literally written half of this before this gets posted, and let me just say... I’m practically VIBRATING in my seat rn.

@morrotober

AO3 Version

*

An excerpt of my S5 rewrite in which Morro talks Wu into joining his expedition to destroy destiny instead of becoming the Green Ninja.

*

The Bounty was oddly silent without his ninjas' presence— whether it be loud whooping from each of them in the living room as they watch a game, or bickering about serious matters, it was always filled with life.

The ship rocks slowly as it passes through the ethereal blanket of the night, nearing a rather stormy region in the continent. There were the sounds of rickety old wood, the fire of the rocket boosters burning, and shuffling furniture as the Bounty swerves from left to right. But, it lacks the invigoration of the marks that the ninja have; Kai's fiery protection, Jay's electric energy, Nya's fluid hobbies, Zane's ice-cold calculative nature, Cole's sturdy dependency, and Lloyd's lively disposition. They were not here marking the Bounty in ways where they have made it clear this is now their home, but rather, leaving it cold to the touch.

Wu wanted to come with them— the ghosts have his own nephew, after all. Say what you will about Wu, but by his own father he wanted to be with his family to save Lloyd Garmadon.

You let Lloyd slip through your fingers once more, the teasing lilt of Garmadon's voice becomes angry, ravenous even. If he was still alive right now, he would have prevented this. What kind of sensei does that?

Wu cannot apologize. He has nothing to say sorry for.

Want to know why he stayed behind?

Because he knows his ninja could do it alone.

He's seen their determined gazes as they look at one another, devoted to saving Lloyd and stopping Morro's plan.

"Master Wu, you should stay and watch the Bounty," Nya tells him, donning her ninja gi as the others prepare. "They might target our own home."

He feebly tells yes because… who is he to deny their whims?

Once the door closes, and he has no staff to lean on as his aging body has to remain old, a shadow passes over his face.

A shadow of regret and anger.

Anger for himself, of course.

Because he has assigned the ninja to clean up the mess he’s inexplicably made.

Was he ever a good teacher to them?

Yes, the sound of a voice that is currently swimming around him tells him, but he doesn’t believe it one bit.

NO! A voice reminiscent of a howling wind threatens his ears, a ringing sound of a child crying following soon after.

He believes that voice over the former.

As the Bounty calmly rocks at a slow, sedated pace, thunder rumbling outside, Wu walks down the familiarized hallways, having to use the wooden walls as a pillar to substitute his missing staff, stolen by the boy who had it all, before the weapons took it all away like a tornado.

He still could not believe it— after years of searching for the clue to his father’s tomb, it had been right under his hands, and he just had not suspected, even when his own father sat him down on the porch of their monastery, handing him his beloved and prized staff, before bidding farewell and walking down the steps as Wu watches on with confusion and stupefaction.

(Perhaps he had not listened. Perhaps he just didn’t want to listen.)

A strong wind blows against the ship, and he staggers backward as the ship struggles against this torrential wind. His mind ponders if it was Morro, summoning the winds to torment him over his regrets and decisions, but he shakes his head. While Morro and Wu are currently at odds now, he is not quite focused on defeating him— rather, he was focused on outdoing Lloyd, taking the title of the Green Ninja.

Admittedly, he is thankful that Nya had pressed the autopilot button before she left; he doesn’t know the intricacies of working on a ship such as this.

Hobbling to the outside of the Bounty, his hat almost flies over his head once he fully walks outside, the winds a ghastly beast. He catches it in a reflexive manner, setting it on his head hard.

He stares at the wind with a slightly puzzled expression.

The wind is quite wild tonight. Ninjago City did not broadcast monsoons coming so soon; it was still in the middle of the dry season, after all.

The ship enters a rather cloudy and foggy section of the sky, the ground and the moon being covered by the deep blue-gray of the puffy clouds, perspiration flowing around him. Cold vapor touches his skin, like a cold child’s hand touching his warm face all those years ago.

How time flows past him, he cannot comprehend either.

Wu inclines his head upwards, somewhat disappointed that the clouds have blocked his view of the moon. One of his favorite things to do when he was alone was brew some calming tea, settle himself on the ship’s deck, and stare at the moonlight with a content expression.

Just like old times.

“Wow Master Wu! The night looks so pretty up in the mountains.”

Wu grits his teeth.

Just like old times.

Somehow, for some reason, the wind grows stronger than before, to the point he has to hone in his training to cling onto the ship before he is blown away.

“The wind is angry today,” he muses to himself, feeling slightly worried. “It is as if…”

Clouds start to gather in front of the hull.

Wu stares at it with wary eyes.

A green glow starts to emanate from it.

Wu gulps, his throat coarse; had a ghost followed him?

The cloud starts to settle on the main form, as it continues to move at an inhumane pace, floating over the ship’s hull as the color green starts to glow brighter contrasting the darkness surrounding them. Wu transitions into a fighting stance, narrowing his gaze as the cloud continues to shift back and forth, before the tails of a scarf emerge from the tails of the clouds first, bending over the hull whilst the winds blow wider, definitely trying to veer the ship off-course, now that Wu is completely deducing the situation.

And, seeing how only one Elemental Master of Wind exists at this point in time, and he has a certain fixation on scarves, Wu knows his guest by now.

It still does not make his heart settle down, however.

Because now, he is being confronted by Morro, alone and without any interference.

The wind starts to tame itself as if it has been pacified by the arrival of its master. Or rather, Morro just wants the dramatic flair every villain must have when they reveal themselves.

While he feels something akin to a dreadful excitement in his heart, his calloused and bony hands hold him together, regret pooling as Morro’s own form continues to be built up by the clouds, soft and hard edges uniting as one.

Then, green-gold eyes stare at him through the dark.

The cloud dissipates, and the ghost of his first student appears in front of him.

“Morro,” he says, brazen and brusque. First student or not, he is actively attacking both him and his students. He lets out a deep breath, “My ninja are seeking your headquarters. Should you be there to stop them rather than waste your time on me?”

Morro raises a hand; shaped like a claw, fingernails sharp enough to distract him. He has an idle expression on his face, but Wu knows it was simply fake. Morro has never been an idle boy. "Why can't we not talk to each other anymore?"

"Because," then Wu becomes speechless as he tries to remember what he has to say without sounding as if he was objecting, "You are now against us, are you not?"

Morro hums, like a whisper against a loud crack of thunder. He turns to face him once more, a sneer on his lips. “Perhaps I am. But I know you hesitate to fight me, your first student.” He leans closer, but they are still far apart, something sincere passing over his gaze before it flickers away. “Your son.”

Wu’s eyes grow wide. Morro’s lips curl into a smile.

His thoughts betray him; Morro has indirectly called him his father. He has recognized that, in the short time they’ve been together, they have envisioned each other as father and son.

Huh, this feels familiar; a father on one side, and a son on the other.

Green eyes stare towards the wasteland in which the red ones reside.

Ah, now he knows why.

“... Son?” He repeats, walking further into Morro’s trap. He knows it’s a trap. And yet, he doesn’t step backwards.

“I denied you the courteousness that you deserved to be given, master.” Morro turns to the side, as if he was hiding the laugh that threatens to fall from his mouth. “You are my father; not the bastard that smokes and hits me with a tray over my head.” Bitterness explodes from his speech. Wu was merely hypnotized with the way he has called him his father.

But, while he could feel the joy that is being called a father by the only student whom he had failed (You do not deserve being called a father, Garmadon’s spiteful voice returns with a vengeance), he immediately remembers what has transpired over the past few days.

His mind was at a large impasse.

Must he always choose?

If he chooses nurturing and to aid the ninja, casting Morro out of the newfound circle he has found himself in, Morro will fall, deep, deeper down to the abyss in which he has perished. (Was it now too late to save him?)

If he chooses Morro… What of the others?

Why must Destiny make him choose? Why could he not forge his own path? Why must he let one suffer so the others shall thrive?

“You cannot save me any longer, father,” Morro says, resentful. A tragedy embedded into the stone. “I have chosen to side with the people who are willing to let me obtain what I want.”

"I know you want to join me, deep down," Morro's voice was deep, a reverberating sound of his suffering because of the worst mistake Wu has possibly made that affected his own loved one, and his thinly disguised anger and resentment, stored in the years he's been out of Wu's life, a killer, a villain in the making.

A villain which Wu had created, all because he thought he was the hero that would save them all.

Did you want to kill me, brother? Is that it? Garmadon's voice, always harsh but blunt, comes back to haunt him on the fateful night in which Misako had an epiphany to get her and the object they were arguing over out of that accursed monastery, disappearing like the stars that had once lit Wu's life with happiness and content.

He didn't think that, in the very end, Wu will pay the price for the mistakes he'd caused.

Telling too much to a starry-eyed, ambitious child who wanted to seek validation from his own master. His words filled with the glory and excitement he's had over finding the one in the guide of the prodigious child that has too much, so much talent.

(And, in the very end, it wasn't him, and those eyes that shine like the sun give way to the dreading feeling of fucking up someone who has so much to live for.)

He already knows what he is after— the Realm Crystal, a priceless artifact coveted by many ambitious individuals; they kill themselves to find the Tomb of the First Spinjitzu Master to purloin it.

And, once again, it is his own father’s fault that the world has come to such a conclusion.

Blaming someone else for your own wrongdoings is the most immature thing you have done, Garmadon's soft voice, never having left him alone, says, as if floating above his head in a wisp of eternity. You should know better. You should be better.

Indeed he must be.

But he seems to never have gotten better.

Now, he is faced with one of his worst mistakes and biggest regrets in his life: the ghost of his first student, tainted by the influences of the Preeminent that rendered him into… what he is now. It takes Wu a long while to adjust, having to look at Morro through a lens where he was now the villain after years of viewing him as the child he had lost both to destiny's whims and his own foolishness. Yet, no matter how much their fates are tied together, they will always be at different sides fighting for a different cause. He was perched on the Bounty's hull, as if he was a bird crying out a war that will befall on them all, his claw-like hands scratching his own ship with force (soft hands help him with chores, the embrace they have together). His scarf flows wildly in the wind; a wild element, unbound by both the master who it serves and the storms that it always accompanies, soaring through the skies as if it was some sort of hummingbird. (A wind that was once warm and filled with the sounds of passion, ambition, and pride, souring to become what it feels now: as cold as the storms that rack the entire world, anger, envy and resentment flowing like a whirlwind in the making.)

He was not the Morro he remembered.

And yet, in his heart, he knows it is the boy whom he had attempted to raise to become the savior of the world.

His idea of saving the world, however, was not in a way Wu had taught him.

"This is not who I wish for you to become, Morro," he continues to speak when he has no right to even converse with the young man whom he had failed. His voice was no match for the howling of the wind, beastly and ghastly, like the shrieking of a banshee. He did not know if his voice is carried by the wind towards its destination; now that its master is back, they are now inclined to follow his every order.

He hopes that the sadness dripping in his voice would carry well to him.

Morro sneers, poison and conflict evident in his expression. Even after all these years, he could still read him like a book. "You made me like this, Master. You told me that destiny has spoken the day the Golden Weapons refuse to react to my presence, how I was nothing more but the Elemental Master of Wind but the Green Ninja." His green eyes, filled with a chafing torrent of feelings, makes him pause. His scarves fly around the wind like claws racing to tear him apart. "But now, I realize it is not you, nor the pathetic son of Garmadon who denied me of my destiny." As if on cue, thunder rolls from the distance.

Wu remains standing against the impeccable storm, hoping to knock some sense into his first student. If he can do the same with his own younger pupils, what is the difference between them and a man he's wronged? His beard flies and his conical hat threatens to be blown away as the Bounty's autopilot hits a rather bumptious section of the skies. "Why have you returned then, Morro? If you no longer desire the title of the Green Ninja, what is your motivation?"

He smirks, his grip on the hull becoming loose as the wind attacks the wood of the Bounty, ripping apart its rough surface like paper. He stands in the midst of the ship, a shadow in the limelight cast in the night sky. He was thin like a twig, and yet, he was just as strong as his pupils, possessing a strength he had once seen in those who started training with their own elements early. His strength is, indubitably, one of the sole reasons Wu has deduced him to be the Green Ninja, only for that ever-living hope to be turned down. The green glow emanating from his skin differentiates him with the other darker surroundings, scarves tailing around him like snakes coiled and ready to attack.

"Destiny is a malady that must be destroyed," he replies in a settled, motivated manner. The wind then picks up thanks to the revelation of his motivation.

Wu frowns at this statement. He should not have expected any less of a person who was so adamant about refusing to listen to destiny. "And… how shall that be possible? Destiny is not a person or a place to destroy nor conquer.”

“Oh, but I know who are the harbingers of Destiny,” Morro replies dubiously, staring at the skies above, towards the clouds which the Bounty can never reach. “I am going to save them all. Saving them from having to become the pawns of destiny.” His eyes stare back at Wu. “A Green Ninja will save his people from the Dark Lord. Not… save them from D Rate villains that would return to bite them in the ass. A Green Ninja must solve the problem, nip it in the bud.”

“And you presume that Green Ninja to be you.”

“Precisely,” Morro sounds a little too proud about this.

“So, you are still attempting to prove Destiny wrong, that you are the destined Green savior.”

Something dark grows upon Morro's face. "I have no love for the title any longer. I have a new dream; a better dream than the measly prophecy you deceived me to believe was mine."

Wu winces. "I… you were a prodigy among prodigies. It is not an excuse, but it is an explanation as to why I chose you." He shakes his head. "I apologize for the consequences of letting you need a destiny that is not yours. It wasn't designated for you."

It was the wrong thing to say, towards a ghost who lost everything because he had wanted to appease that word.

"Was it all just a matter of destiny?" He repeats in a barely hushed tone, as gales of wind start to blow against the Bounty, almost haphazardly taking it out from the sky. Wu's entire body buckles, as he holds on to his staff to form some kind of boundary against the impending storm that Morro is currently creating himself. In front of him, his first student snarls with years' worth of anger, slowly storming over his already tumultuous face. Thunder passes the two of them, and Wu remembers what element lightning bows to. Morro takes a dangerous step forward. "Was it my destiny that I was not chosen to be the Green Ninja? Was it my destiny that I decided that to prove I am worthy, I must find the Tomb of the First Spinjitzu Master? Was it my destiny that I be sent to the Cursed Realm after I use my last breath to curse my existence? Was it my destiny I must become the villain in your story so that you and I must be on different sides?! So my torment is nothing but the Writers of Destiny deciding to give me unfortunate happenstances in my life?!" His voice rises every question, every crime against him, and the wind continues to howl, like a thousand souls screaming at Wu about his wrongdoings.

"I did not mean it that way," Wu replies, holding his conical hat down so that the wild winds wouldn't fly it away. "Destiny simply cannot be fought against."

"So you're going to stand idly as I suffer because of your foolishness?!" He asks, walking towards him with a sweeping speed. "How can you be my loving father but also be a braindead sensei?! You are so ridiculous."

Wu sighs. "Even when old age offers wisdom, I still seem to have an impulsive side."

Morro stares. "You have to be joking."

"Why would I be?"

Morro opens his mouth, and he shakes his head, feeling annoyance grip his soul. "You may be old and senile, but you never change." Then, feeling as if he's getting quite off-topic, he scowls. "You are distracting me from the greater good I must commit."

Wu meets his eyes. "People forget that sometimes, the greater good will only be good to them, and not to others."

"I won't care," Morro replies harshly, tone sharp as a knife. "They'll be thanking me once they realize I've destroyed destiny. You will show gratitude to me as well." Morro's eyes turn back toward Wu. "Join me, father. Perhaps my Mistress will spare you when you show your loyalty to us prematurely."

Wu frowns. "What makes you think I will join you?"

Morro scoffs, raising his arms as if the answer was obvious. "How many times has Destiny screwed you and your family over? The Great Devourer biting Garmadon, his slow descent to evil which led to you forcing your hand, and your own nephew having to bear the brunt of the heavy title? Don't you feel… angry towards destiny? At yourself for listening to an ungrateful concept?"

Wu doesn't speak for a while. Morro was, as much as Wu hates to admit it, sounds so convincing he can feel himself swaying without any complaint towards his wind. It was noisy and hushed at the same time, whispering deceitful, deceptive promises into Wu's ear. Perhaps Morro learnt from the Preeminent, like a siren in the water that sings dreams until you are tired of listening from afar. And, like the novice sailor warned of their lovely voice, he makes the mistake of listening, feeling his senses go numb as the dreams he has gotten rid of return to haunt him.

Him and Morro being together again was his prime dream.

And this was an opportunity he could not fathom and believe would come by.

He feels as if he is currently in the temptation, taking the apple from the snake.

But once again, his mind returns to the ninja he has the opportunity to teach.

Lloyd, Nya, Kai, Zane, Cole, Jay.

Something heavy settles in his heart.

Morro is his student as well, but…

He feels his heart puncturing into tiny pieces.

Again, he has a new family now.

He did not know when Morro grew so close towards him; his face was leaning forward now, expecting his answer, hoping that his answer were words of affirmation. There was that hope in his eyes again— the hope that crackled and burned when it was clear to everyone else that Morro was not the destined Green Ninja. Wu almost chokes at the sight of it; by his father, this ghost was a child. A child he condemned to a life of misery and doom!

Wu swallows.

He was no good at this.

He cannot choose someone without consequence.

Wu lets out a deep breath.

Morro raises a brow, his face expectant. “Well?”

The old man lets the wind whoosh around them. It was so noisy he could not even hear his own thoughts.

“I am sorry Morro,” Wu says, gravelly and broken. The wind suddenly stops turning against the Bounty, as if it was just as shocked as their master, who was currently staring at him with a shell-shocked face. Even his scarves, alive like serpents, lay still on his feet. Golden eyes meet his green-gold ones, currently experiencing a rough inflammation. “I cannot join you. My ninja— they need me. To fight against you. I, as their master, cannot give up on them; the way I gave up on you.”

Morro stares at Wu in horror, completely in shock as if these turn of events were unprecedented. Well, if his own son did not expect this… were they even able to reform the bonds that strained them to the point of no return.

The ghost recovers immediately, however, like a whiplash of wind bending back to a wilder, more lightning-forged shape. How invisible, yet how formless, the wind is. There was still hurt and sadness in his eyes however, as if he was hoping that in some form and way, the two of them would not have to fight on different sides, never tearing apart into tiny little pieces. But, Morro cannot be saved by talking, as he’s already declared which side he is going to have to fight with; Wu cannot teach those who would not listen, after all.

Morro’s corporeal form shifts, liquid and random; to a helpless, young child almost in the brink of starving to death, a young man in nomadic clothes searching for an answer to all his problems, another young man that looked happier and lively, and, lastly, back to his ghostly form, his humanity whittling away ever so slowly when Wu tries to look at him coherently. It was as if he is going through all of the appearances that can warrant pity and the memories seeping through the cracks. Wu sees him hunching over, his face obscured by his unruly hair as he starts to laugh. It was a haunting laugh, too beautiful for a man that has seen it all, too terrifying for a young man, a harrowing take of regret.

"You're throwing me away!" He says between laughs. "You're throwing me away like I was just garbage!"

Wu watches on as his regrets, already being piled up into a mountain, become even higher.

Morro stops laughing, and the wind, for the first time, stops speaking; falling silent as they bow to their master. There was a burning sense of betrayal and hatred in his eyes, his own form of cyclone forming in his expression, wild and abandoned.

He grits his teeth out, shaking with intensity as a bitterness like never before explodes within his surroundings.

"I wish you never told me about the prophecy."

#manji wips #ninjago #lego ninjago #morrotober #morrotober 2022 #morro ninjago #morro wu #sensei wu #wu ninjago

[izzylegothefirst]

TW!!!! Suicide attempt is mentioned during the March of the Oni season along with bullying in Secrets of Forbidden Spinjitzu.

In the movie and in season 8 and up is where Izzy changes her cat gi into a bunny gi!

In Sons of Garmadon Izzy was eager to meet up with Cole (and the others of course) after not seeing them in a long time. She practically squeezed him as tightly as possible! She baked a cake for him but because of his secret diet, he rejected her gift. He claimed that he will eat it later but just ending up throwing it out, which made him feel guilty. When Izzy noticed his new eating habits she panicked if there was something wrong and kept prying until she got an answer out of him. When he finally tells her he gained weight Izzy happily supported him and said that she will always love him no matter what. She also comments how it would simply make it more fun to hug him now as well. Izzy was fascinated by the palace, but she is a country girl by heart and preferred a cozy cottage. She said there was too much space and that if it was her palace she would fill the place up with plushies, gemstones and flowers. She was kind to Harumi at first but the very SECOND she turned on Lloyd she wanted to straight up murder her. Izzy does her best to comfort Lloyd since she had a rough idea about what he was going through. Izzy had a lot of fake friends that turned on her before she joined the ninja. Izzy also absolutely LOVES seeing Cole with baby Wu and became eager to have children with him someday. She also adored Cole's singing and didn't laugh about it, she simply fangirled and kept saying that he had the voice of an angel.

In hunted Izzy becomes a very different person. The girl has (H)ANGER issues. At first she was a paranoid wreck but after a few hours without food...she started to change...into a feral hungry gremlin who was ready to turn cannibal! She crafts spears out of wood and throws them at any lizards she sees crawling around. She actually wanted to eat Faith a few times but the ninja insisted they needed her. Izzy also almost ate Jay at some stage too. She also sometimes crawls around on all fours like a little demon. The second they got back home, Cole took Izzy to mcdonalds to get her some chicken nuggets. The moment she ate them she turned back into her normal self.

In March of the Oni, things get dark. Izzy becomes an absolute wreck. When Cole falls and everyone thought he had died, Izzy just lost it and screamed in absolute agony until her voice became hoarse. She even tried to pull a Juliette and tried to end her life a few times just to join Cole. The others had to watch her carefully when she got like this. She got into a bad argument with Kai and Nya, since Nya said it was her fault, Izzy just lost it and started screaming at her. Kai came in and almost got into a fist fight with Izzy but was stopped by Zane. After a few hours Izzy apologized to Nya before having another wave of violent sobbing. Nya feels horrible and holds onto Izzy as she cries. When Cole came back, Izzy was overwhelmed with joy, she ran to him at full speed and clung onto him tighter than she ever did before. She held onto him and refused to let go, even when the oni arrived and they had to fight. It took everyone to pull Izzy off of Cole!

In Secrets of Forbidden Spinjitzu, Izzy starts to act very differently. While the other became lazy and gained weight, she remained skinny and did not have much of an appetite. No one was really sure what was going on with her. Izzy was still getting hate by their fans and out of desperation she tried to catfish as "a fan of Izzy's" in hopes she can try to talk to these haters and tell them the truth. Perhaps make herself popular as well by posting "fan content" of her and Cole. She drew art of herself and was hoping she and her persona could start a trend that would stop the hate. Things do not end well and she ends up running away by the end of season 11. This is a lead up to Izzy Spirit. I was gonna make it stop motion but now I think I will make it a comic using lego photography and a bit of editing.

#ninjago #izzy spirit #tw suicide #tw bullying #ninjago oc #ninjago si #ninjago self insert #ninjago izzy

[chronic-ghost]

👀👀👀 tell me about ‘The distance between us’ please!!! 💕

okayokayokay

so this is another post season 3 fic where Kate is really struggling to get back to her old self. She doesn’t feel close to Scott any more, she can’t quip with the boys any more — she just feels weird to be back in her body. It’s gonna be in three parts (mirroring the stages that a snake sheds its skin) and it’s basically a character study (a sexy character study because Seth) about her realizing that she has to become a new person, a newer version of herself to embrace the world. It’s just a really emotional, really dragged out coming of age story, but this bitch (I’m this bitch) can’t write anything under 4K.

Here’s some so far: 

Memories of her life before Amaru unfold like flower petals in the rain. Like the one with Jessica and Jared and Cole, it wasn’t there and then it was. A void, then a white-hot flash, and then existence. The taste and weight of memories come soon after the pictures dance across her mind. She remembers Cole’s almost sticky hand, how he smelled like BO the closer he got to her on the couch, and the disgust and anger at the writhing knot of bodies in the back of the room. 

She doesn’t know what triggers the memories and she certainly can’t stop when they come or how they will make her feel. Just the other day she smelled pancakes and a mother’s day from seven years ago rolled in, reminding her of her mother’s laugh, how sweet joy makes her head spin, and how that was one of the last happy mother’s days she ever had. 

They come and go, settling deep in her mind in their rightful homes again, she feels almost winded after they pass. The memories, the emotions, the almost invasive undertow — sometimes it leaves her gasping, as though a ghost had just blown through her body, and it sucks her dry. In a single burst, she is consumed by the expanse of an emotional depth she no longer thought possible, and it's gone and she is empty. She has to right herself in the hallways, in the dark, until the last bit of wind leaves her and she stores the memory, knowing it happened to a girl just like her, but perhaps one with a fuller face, with a belief in the divine, and a home. These memories happened to someone, but maybe not her. 

Kate gulps in cool air which, given that it was summer in Texas, was a minor miracle. She’s standing, no, leaning in one of the back hallways of Jack Knife Jed’s. As sound returns to her, she can hear the bustling of the staff, the low laughter of a bad joke, and the clutter of plates being tossed around. It’s a buzz, but it’s comforting. Grounding. 

She can swallow the wind, so she turns and heads to the managers’ office. 

It’s a wood box and she knows a part of Richie dies every time he’s forced to do paperwork here instead of his plush, black leather offices in the back of the warehouse, inches from his scotch and silk robe. It looks exactly like what you’d expect the office of a two-bit rest stop in the middle of nowhere to look like and it is, in a word, tacky. There's a shift schedule pinned to a ratty corkboard. There are depressing brown file cabinets that hold disturbing dark secrets. The peeling shelves are filled with food regulation manuals and inspection binders. The single window is boarded up, as if to complete the look of absolute despair, but that in fact serves a purpose. The simple purpose of keeping one of the co-owners alive and not burnt to a crisp, which by the sounds of it, the co-owners might wish were not the case.

“For the last time, you dick, it’s about progress! And reinvention and revelation!”

“You’re completely missing the point. When it comes down to it, a weapon is a weapon and no amount of big brain thinking is going to save your ass!” 

“How can you still think in these miopic terms, Seth? After everything you’ve seen?”

“Miopic? Miopic?? Using SAT words doesn’t make you more right, you mio-dick!” 

“You don’t even know what it —,”

She knocks on the door frame and — Richie’s hands molding into fists into Seth’s black shirt, Seth’s furiously fingers wrapping around the coffee mug at the desk — both froze in place. 

They stare at her like a corpse who had been declared dead had suddenly gotten up and started tap dancing on the table — with shock, surprise, and a fair amount of concern.

No one moves. The old Kate would know exactly what to say to pop them apart, a disapproving comment that was just glib enough both would have been a little ashamed but amused. Instead, her memories are few and far between and her tongue tastes like the sand in her bed and she can’t think of a damn thing to say.

The moment drifts until the two Gecko boys release each other with side eyes and scowls. 

“What are you fighting about?” Her tone is more judgemental than she means it. 

Is that blush that’s creeping up Seth’s dark skin on the back of his neck?

Richie adjusts his glasses and says, with stern confidence, “we were arguing who would win a fight: an astronaut or a caveman?”

Seth’s expression is unreadable as steps away from his brother, sliding easily into the shoddy wooden chair behind the metal desk. 

“So settle the bet, Princess.” He says casually as he nudges Richie off the edge of the desk with his foot. There is some energy about him as if he isn’t done antagonizing his brother and intends to take the fight outside of the small office. “A poindexter or man with an animal instinct?”

Richie scowls, but says nothing. 

To her absolute horror, they are waiting for an answer. They want to know what she thinks. They value her opinion. 

She begs silently for another gust of memory, but nothing comes. “I, uh, I —,”

“C’mon, Kate, just tell Seth he’s an idiot and I’m right,” Richie says smugly. 

This is a dance they did, a repertoire. An ebb and flow to a music she can no longer hear. 

Her scalp itches.

“I actually came to ask if Scott’s room was made up.” She wants to dig up under her nails to get to the sand there, but she restrains herself, knowing how it would look. “He’ll be back tomorrow and I just want to be sure everything’s ready.” 

Seth leans forward and grabs a pen. “Don’t think so, but I’ll get one of the cleaners out there and —,”

“No, no, it’s okay.” 

His eyes lift up and finally meet hers directly. His soft, warm eyes full of — what is it? What is he feeling when he looks at her?

She swallows and shakes her head. “I want a project. Even if that project is manual labor.” 

She tries to smile and she can feel each of her teeth screaming, Liar. 

Richie exchanges a glance with his brother at the desk, who takes something silver out of the desk drawer and tosses it at her. A pair of keys.

“Laundry room is downstairs. Ask one of the bus boys if you need help loading the machine. It’s industrial. Brooms and shit are in the supply closet.” He’s thrilled, she knows that much. He’s thrilled she left her room and wants to do something. The light in his eyes is almost enough to give her hope. “Knock yourself out.”

#taylor talks #fdtd #sethkate #from dusk till dawn #THANK YOU FOR THE ASK! #myletternevercame #wip

[givemethatgold]

Fix’er Upper Pt. 6

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Reader

Warnings: Angst, morning wood

Length: 1.5k

Notes: Back at it with their bullshit!  Finished this and even though I’m not as ahead as I’d like to be with this fic I have a general idea where it’s going so I’m posting this before I feel like I should? Enjoy! Divider by @firefly-graphics 💛 Header by me 💋

Parts ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, FIVE

Sleep slowly faded away, like a heavy fog evaporating in the morning sun, and your consciousness was becoming aware of a few things all at once. You were unseasonably warm, you had a raging headache already, and you really needed to pee. The arm slung over your waist was doing nothing to ease the latter issue, but it was also the reason for your warmth. 

This was the first morning, since moving into the drafty old farmhouse, that you had woken perfectly cozy and warm. You could say it was due to the fact that you had passed out in your leggings and hoodie but you didn't even want to pretend it wasn't because of the living furnace currently snoring softly into the back of your neck.

Normally, as a morning person, you would jump out of bed and be putzing around the kitchen by now. However, you had no desire to disturb the peaceful atmosphere that waking up cradled in Frankie's arms had created. Morning light was already streaming through the edges of your curtains, casting your room with a warm glow. You watched dust motes dance in the air as you relaxed and matched your breathing with Frankie’s even as his mustache tickled your skin with each of his exhales.

Deciding to give yourself another ten minutes you carefully, as to not wake the grumpy farmer behind you, pulled up the blankets and wormed your body further backward so his curved fully around yours.

Frankie hummed in his sleep as his arm subconsciously tightened around your waist, his large hand spreading out so that his pinky was touching your hip bone and his thumb caressed just under your breast. His mind was still deep in slumber but his body was, er, waking up.

Visions of last night bombarded your mind as you laid there, body frozen and barely breathing to avoid waking Frankie. 

Opening up to Frankie, and he to you. Crying, him making you tea, you asking him to stay so you wouldn't be left alone with the ghost of Brad to haunt your dreams... Frankie had surprised you both, if the look on his face was anything to go by, when he had agreed. The initial awkwardness of laying in your bed together, fully dressed. He had eventually started telling you stories of his childhood friends and their adventures and his soft, raspy voice had lulled you into a peaceful sleep.

All of that, however, had been more intimate and exposing than you'd ever been with anyone. Having Frankie wake up, after all of that emotional intensity, to having his boner pressing into your ass? It would be too much, you didn’t want that level of awkwardness detracting from how each of you had let down your walls for each other.

Slowly, very slowly, you rolled to the edge of your bed and slithered to the floor, avoiding the creaky floorboards on your way to the bathroom.

As you stood at the sink, gazing at your reflection, you were pleasantly surprised by your complexion. No bags, no dark circles under your eyes, just a bit of smeared mascara that was quickly wiped away. Last night's slumber had done wonders for your body. Before this morning you hadn't realized how much tension you had been carrying, or how your poor nights had been weighing on your mental state.

One great night's sleep, the best night's sleep you'd had in a long, long time, had completely restored you. Just sharing a bed with another person, nevermind the fact that he was extremely sweet, thoughtful, and hot as hell, had given you the tranquility you were missing. You instantly craved more. 

It killed you to acknowledge it but a battered, bruised, yet healing part of yourself cried for independence. Reminding you how little of it you've had. It wanted you to be happiest on your own and not need someone else to feel comfortable and safe.

Hating to agree, you knew that bitch was right. For however nice that sleep had been, and however much you craved it again, you knew that you also needed to find happiness in yourself first. Brad had done so much damage, you needed to heal yourself and find yourself again before adding another person into the mix.

Taking a deep breath and coming to terms with your new resolve, you finished your morning routine before exiting the bathroom. Seeing that Frankie was still snoring away, you decided to run to town for coffee, thinking it would be a nice way to thank him for his kindness and company.

Writing a quick note and leaving it on the table, you stepped outside into the beautiful Autumn morning. Grabbing your bicycle you made the short trek to town, unable to wipe the smile from your face.

Town was busy for such an early house, and you were met with a line of customers in the bakery when you entered. The din of chatting friends nearly drowning out the bell chime above the door. Agnes, the owner ‘for over forty years!’ gave you a wave before giving her attention back to the tourist family at the counter. The smell of cinnamon, coffee, and yeast instantly enveloped you and your stomach growled making you want to order everything they had to offer behind the counter.

Knowing it would take a while before you could place your order, the owners of the place liked to stop and chat with customers, you meandered over to the community notice board that hung on the wall near the little bistro tables that graced the front window.

Amidst the notices for lost dogs, babysitting services, church service meetings, and town hall meetings was a poster for a fundraiser that caught your eye. The local youth group was organizing a county fair to raise money for a skateboard park to be built near the school. Visions of cotton candy, excited girls bursting with glee, and purses bursting with prizes flooded your mind. You had loved visiting the fair when you were younger, and decided that helping out would be a great way of experiencing that excitement again.

Grabbing a phone stub you called and signed up as a volunteer. The lady you spoke to was ecstatic and your offer to help and couldn’t wait to meet you. This was a great opportunity to meet more people in the community as well, you realized. You’d been so busy working at Morales Acres and then on your home, you hadn’t put very much effort into getting to know anyone else.

On the bike ride back home, you felt like you were walking on sunshine. Not only was your bike basket laden down with sweetbreads and a new French coffee press, which Agnes had sworn was foolproof, but you had also convinced Jacquie to volunteer for the fundraiser. It hadn't been hard as her eldest child, Cole, was very keen on becoming the next Tony Hawk.

Your future was looking so bright. There was guaranteed girl-time with your new best friend, meeting new people doing something that sounded super fun, and while you had decided to not dive into anything romantic with Frankie, you were looking forward to spending more time with the grumpy guy hiding a heart of pure gold.

Regardless of the crick in his neck, his belt digging into his hip, and his feet sweating from sleeping with socks on, Frankie woke with a smile. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept so well. Despite the discomfort, he'd had a dreamless, deep slumber and woke fully rested.

He could try making excuses for it, blame it on the cider, the tiring workday, the spent emotions, but deep down he knew it was due to you. You, who had asked him to stay. You, who had given him so much comfort by just laying next to him. Not only that but he felt like you truly saw him when he spoke. He had opened up more in the last twenty-four hours than he had in the five years since he'd moved here.

He hadn't told you everything yet, the last time he'd done that he had scared away his wife and lost his daughter. He feared that he could lose you too if he told you about Columbia, Tom, the money, and how it had brought out the worst in him. 

Frankie had felt safe enough to share his struggles with cocaine, his failed marriage, and losing custody of Annie. You had only shown sadness and concern, there had never been pity or judgment in your gaze.

Coming out of his inner reflection, Frankie soon became aware of just how quiet your house was. He could tell you had left the bed a while ago, as the space you'd occupied had gone cold. There was no usual humming or singing, no footsteps or signs of life. Slightly mystified and erring on the side of caution, Frankie slipped silently out of bed and began sweeping your house room by room.

By the time he made his way into your kitchen, his heartbeat had gone from a panicked staccato to a slow beat heavy with dread. The truth slapping him in the face: you had left. You'd woken before him, slipped away without saying anything, and left your own house in order to avoid him. Frankie couldn't help but wonder if you regretted your plea for him to stay.

Had he taken advantage of your emotional state? Was staying the wrong thing to do? Even though nothing sexual had happened he still felt like he had done something wrong, and felt horrible for it. Had he talked in his sleep, or maybe lashed out from a dream he didn’t remember? 

Should he leave and give you the space you seemed to want? Should he stay and apologize? Glancing between the stairs that led to your bedroom and the front door, Frankie hesitated while weighing his options. With a sigh, he shook his head and made up his mind. Grabbing his coat from where it rested on the table, he told himself he was doing the right thing. You’d call when you were ready to see him again.

The lightness in your heart very abruptly turned to confusion when you arrived back home, just shy of an hour after you'd left. Frankie's truck was missing from your driveway.

Walking inside, you placed your breakfast and coffee on the table and had a quick look around for any signs of Frankie. When your search turned up nothing, not even a note back, you slumped down onto a dining room chair with a huff.

Had Frankie just got out of bed, grabbed his coat, and left? You tried to not read too much into it. Maybe he had run home for a shower? Or new clothes?

After finishing off your third cinnamon twist, you pushed the bag away from you in disgust with a little too much gusto and it thumped onto the floor. Heaving a dramatic sigh, you reached down to grab the muffins that had spilled out of the paper bag, and that's when you noticed the note that you had written to Frankie had fallen under the table.

Despite yourself, and what your therapist had cautioned you against, your mind automatically conjured up a scene. Frankie waking, glad that he was alone. Making his way downstairs, reading your peppy little note and throwing it away with a scoff. Leaving in a hurry, glad to be free of you and your issues.

Your heart sank, even while your brain fought against the imaginary scenario. Eventually, just barely, your head won. 

When he hadn't shown up after two hours you began to worry. The two extra-large coffees in your system, why let his go to waste? didn't help matters.

By dinner, you were miserably painting the guest bedroom, alone. You told yourself he just needed some space as he had opened up his heart to you in a way he probably hadn’t in a long time. You decided to wait for him to call you once he felt comfortable enough.

Part Seven

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[spinchip]

I Will Answer to Knife

Word Count: 3600 Pairings: Gen Warnings: Post s11 Ice Chapter. PTSD, mentions of blood/murder, Zane isn’t in a good headspace.

Summary: Zane struggles with weapons he isn’t used to. Zane struggles with what he offers.

Wouldbelove, do not think of me as a whetstone until you hear the whole story: In it, I’m not the hero, but I’m not the villain either so let’s say, in the story, I was human and made of human-things: fear and hands, underbelly and blade.

He overcompensates, loses his balance and skids across the courtyard. His side takes the brunt of it, and if he were human the bruises would be layered one on top of the other, each time he slips imprinted onto his skin in a motley purple-blue-yellow. He’s not human, so all he has to show for his fumbling is radiating pain not unlike cracked ribs, a dirty gi, and tight-lipped irritation that barely masks shame. The impact sends his shuriken out of his hands, arcing in an unrefined fling that has one stuck out of the gate across the yard and the other lying, like him, in the dirt.

He rolls to a stop, flopping back onto the ache of his shoulder blades to stare up at the sky. Without thinking, he balls his hand into a fist and bangs the side of his palm against the edge of the training mat he can reach. Frustration seeps hot across his throat and down his chest, like blood from a fresh wound. He rolls over on his sore side by mistake but doesn’t dare suck in a hissing breath, not with the others watching so closely, gathering his legs underneath him and rising to his feet.

Kai looks sympathetic from his spot on the blue mat that is not big enough to keep his failure contained, the dirt on his gi proof of his mistakes spilling over. The wooden swords in his hands are awkward and out of place, their weight different from his normal weaponry yet even with this disadvantage, he puts Zane down over and over.

Well, Zane does most of the work for him, really.

Lloyd watches with a pinched expression as Zane dusts himself off, his position at the head of the training session a solid presence, “I think that’s enough for today.” He says, and he almost seems apologetic.

“I can go again.” Zane insists, and refuses to stumble as he collects his discarded weapons, wrenching the edge of his blade out of the gate with his dwindling strength.

He’s exhausted. They’ve been running basic drills, ameatuer hour stuff Zane should have been able to do in his sleep- but it’s been years. Decades upon decades stuck on the throne of the Never Realm, and now he’s out of practice and off balance. Nindroids don't have muscle memory, and his regular memory has been shredded enough that things like this didn’t bother to stick. He can’t get through a single move without losing the dexterity that used to come easy and sending himself to the dirt- Lloyd had gone from advanced moves to novice to beginner slowly throughout the day, yet the result was the same: Zane in the dirt of his own accord, aching and weak.

To add insult to injury, Kai is obviously holding back. Jay had been too, yesterday, Nya the day before. In the span of a week he went from the most formidable man in the realm to an uncoordinated child who needed to be treated delicately. He could barely land a hit on the training dummy, and it didn’t even move.

“Maybe you can try your bow again?” Zane can’t meet Kais eyes, the pity he’s trying to mask making his wires curl.

“We saw how well that went.” Jay mutters not uncharitably, another string of disappointments a few days prior where his aim left much to be desired, and quite nearly took his eye when he’d lost his grip.

The others had been training too, but they’d stopped to watch as Lloyd summoned Kai and Zane to spar.

“We need to assess your skills in combat,” Lloyd had said earlier that day, the so we can make up for your shortcomings going unsaid but heavy all the same. Or maybe Zane is the one being uncharitable- but he’s in pain and tired and his mask of calm is harder to keep a grip on now.

And Kai had hesitated on the edge of the mat, holding the steel of his swords, and with his head down had swapped them for wooden fakes. The insult threatened to make Zanes lip curl, but he’d been forced to concede to his foresight when dull wood blades cracked against the side of his thigh and forced him to the ground, in one of the few times Zane had managed to stay on his feet long enough to be taken down by something other than his own shortcomings. He should have been able to dodge.

The shurikens are so small in his hands, and he hasn’t used them in so so long. He's rusty.

“I can go again.” He insists, stepping back onto the mat. In a real battle, he’d be less than useless. They couldn’t protect him, he had to be able to take care of himself. He had to keep going until he could at least survive. He was good at surviving, he’d spent decades hanging on by a thread- countering a wooden sword shouldn't be so difficult compared to parrying the knives from assassins or the swords of dead men walking. He’s weak.

Lloyd gets that look on his face that he only gets when he has to do something he really doesn’t want to do, mostly when he must flex his status on the others when they're being particularly stubborn. It’s a pained stony sort of expression, “That’s enough for today.” he says more firmly, shoulder squaring. He loses the soft edges of the boy he used to be, Master Lloyd filling in the spaces rigid.

Protest raises on his tongue, “The longer I go at the skill level I am at now, the more dangerous it becomes.” fear, frustration, and desperation simmers below the surface, “I am a liability on the field, I cannot stop until I can hold my own.”

“We can continue training tomorrow.” Lloyd says, unyielding. Green eyes trail down to Zanes' sore side, assessing.

He bristles and tries to tamp it down, “You do not need to go easy on me-” he starts.

Lloyd interrupts him, “Yes we do-” frustration cracking the facade of the master, the others looking on in wide eyed worry.

“Lloyd, Zane, enough.” Wu's voice rings out in sharp tones, his presence slamming the lid on the boiling over pot, “I believe I have a suggestion to solve our problem.”

Problem. Zane tries not to let that sting as he spins to face Master Wu.

The man is descending the stairs of the monastery into the courtyard, the others parting like the red sea, his cape trailing on the edge of the steps as he comes down. In his hand is-

Zanes vision tunnels, Lloyd, Kai, the others all fading away as he takes in the smooth metal, leather bound handle, the wicked curved blade- a piece of him howls, jagged and frozen fingers scrabbling at the corners of his mind, the sight of that staff is like going snowblind. All at once he’s standing in the courtyard amongst his friends and the throne room at the same time, realities overlapping in brutal contrast.

His shuriken bounces off his foot and he is thrust back into his body, his hands empty where he’d dropped his weapons in shock. Wu approaches him with the staff and he takes a shaky step backwards, wiping at his mouth with wobbling hands, half expecting to wipe away spit- salivating at just the sight of it. His wrists and fingers ache, begging him to take it in his hands.

Wu disregards his reaction, walking into his space among the group on the mat. He thunks the staff down in front of Zane, the weight of it digging into blue, like it is the answer.

He’s so spooked he doesn’t dare move, looking at it with wide eyes. Now that he’s more present, he realizes it’s nearly identical to the Staff of Forbidden Spinjitzu, except this one is notably missing the scroll that gave it the corruptive power. It’s just a staff, plain and simple.

No one says a word. Zane stares at it, trembling.

Lloyd is quiet, then, “Are you sure that this is a good idea, Master Wu?”

Wu looks sad but he’s trying to mask it, “You are their teacher, Lloyd. When Zane falters, what do you see?”

Zane is listening, sort of. He’s tracing the edge of the blade with his eyes- sharpened to a fine point, clean and perfect. It looks heavy, the whole thing does, he can nearly taste the weight of it on his tongue. He wants to take it so badly it hurts, and in the same breath he wants to cast it off the side of the mountain or freeze it solid and shatter it against the stone under his feet.

“He’s off balance. He’s compensating for a weight that’s not there.” Lloyd looks like he’s swallowed a lemon, “The shuriken are too small.” He admits.

Wu nods to the weapon in his hand, glancing from Lloyd to pin his eyes on Zane, “You’ve had a lifetime of practice with this weapon. You’ve wielded a staff longer than a shuriken or a bow, perhaps it is time to embrace that.”

Zane doesn’t even look at him. He can almost feel the whisper on the back of his mind- it’s not there, the staff is a replica without the extra power, but Zane can imagine it all the same.

He reaches out and takes it.

The feel of it in his palm is like a starburst of agony, an ice burn that jumps up the metal of his forearm and digs into the plane of his chest. Flickers of memories flash in his mind's eyes all like looking through a pane of frosted ice-glass, cold seeping into his skeleton. A memory rises unbidden, a man he did not freeze, who had been close enough to strike with the blade- red red red

He chucks it across the courtyard without thinking, staggering away from it, “I can’t.” he nearly gags, before darting past Wu and Lloyd and narrowly avoiding Coles worried brush of his fingers. He takes the stairs two at a time, throwing open the front door and not bothering to shut it behind him.

He holes himself away in his room, sitting on the floor next to his bed, trying to hold himself together.

Too much too soon, the staff wrenched memories he’d been ignoring and hiding away free.

He doesn’t want to admit it, wants to choke it down and pretend it didn’t happen, but he can’t deny that- even with the pain and shame and bloody wounded guilt overwhelming him- taking that staff had felt like coming home.

Home was supposed to be Ninjago. Somewhere along the way, it became the throne room, too. He’d been split in half, pieces of him trapped in a realm he could never return to. The closest he’d ever get to sating the pervasive homesick itch is to hold a facsimile of his tool of violence.

Perhaps it is time to embrace that Wu had said, holding out the weapon he’d bloodied his hands with.

Evening comes and goes, and he skips dinner again. He’s crawled into bed at some point, staring up at the ceiling, trying hard not to think. He swallows down the threatening urge to crack under it all. In the darkness, he stares at his palms.

Vex is standing at his side, the throne room an open doorway behind them, and the staff is a curling presence he’s never without. It’s hard to think about these memories because he doesn’t form thoughts like he did when he was broken, the memories jagged and warped. Trying to understand is like catching a blade you’ve dropped- a falling knife has no handle. It hurts.

But in this memory he and Vex are walking through the palace hall. Grand windows might as well be painted white with the snow obscuring the now frozen wasteland, but the Emperor had no desire to see the outside world, or anything at all. This is before he had snuffed out the rising rebellions, this is before he’d flexed his power and made the people afraid, this is before they’d even given him the moniker Ice Emperor. He is nameless now, even Vex only calls him by his title. He doesn’t even know he is missing something so vital.

Vex says, “You don’t need to worry about the inconsequential things,” he’s a step behind Zane, and when his emperor slows he can prod him so he keeps moving, “You are an instrument of power, these things are beneath you. I will handle the day-to-day for you, my Emperor.”

The click of his staff ticks across the hall as they walk, “And what am I to handle?”

“Nothing. Simply keep your hold on our eternal winter, and raise your staff when I ask it of you.”

There's a stirring of thought in the empty caverns of his head and not a hint of it is kind, “I am your attack dog, then.”

To his credit, Vex doesn’t falter, “You are my Emperor.” he says immediately, and then- carefully, and almost genuinely curious, “What do you have to offer other than violence?”

Zane lays in bed and stares at the shapes in the dark that might be his hands. Shurikens don’t fit right any more, his arrows shoot askance. If the next threat arises in the morning, what can he do except cost his friends focus?

He is a bleeding wound. They need to treat him gently and delicately- but life is not gentle and delicate, and perhaps it is time to take a knife over a fire and cauterize the injury.

He slips and goes horizontal and his blood spills across the dirt. It’s metaphorical until it’s not and the newest adversary forgoes fake wooden swords for real ones, sharpened blades sinking home. If he were human he would bleed red blood. He’s not human, so it’s oil and coolant and hydraulic fluid seeping into the soil.

He is a liability. Weak-link. He has to learn to fight again. He has to embrace it, even if it feels like frostbite chipping away at him, even if it hurts. Vex had forged him into a knife, forced him into the shape of a blade and sharpened him with blood instead of water, if he can accept these pieces he can make himself useful once more. It was all he had.

He wants to feel strong again.

Morning comes in slanting lights though his window, the blanket is too hot under them. He hadn’t slept enough but he rolls out of bed and changes into a clean gi anyway and trails out of his room. Conversation falls hushed when he comes into the kitchen, and he eats breakfast despite the way his stomach churns- it tastes like it always tastes, bland and unappetizing. The ache in his side had faded over the night, nearly non-existent. He can spar fresh.

“We didn’t think you’d be joining us today.” Nya tries, smiling over her bagel.

He doesn’t shrug, putting his fork down, “I meant what I said. I cannot stop until I can protect myself.”

Nya’s face grows pinched and worried, “You can, though.” She reaches across the table and sets her hand on top of his, and she doesn’t jolt or comment at all about how cold he is, “You can take a break, Zane.”

Wu had called him a problem. Zane knows that’s not what he meant, but it weighs his shoulders like lead, and he doesn’t respond. He stands up and takes his plate to the sink, and her hands falls flat against the table.

The staff is sitting on the porch, leaned up against the wall. He focuses on it the moment they walk outside, and Jay ducks his head nervously- he was probably supposed to put it away so Zane didn’t see it again, but they thought he was going to skip like he had the first few days after he’d come home. Never put off until tomorrow what can be done today.

They do warm-ups, then Lloyd pairs them up for sparring, and his eyes skate over Zane reluctantly until, “Cole… Zane. Come spar.” The others don’t need for Lloyd to supervise them, or the training mat. Zane needs both.

They both go to the weapons and Cole, like Kai yesterday, avoids his hammer. He reaches for the wooden training swords but Zane catches his wrist.

He looks up, startled, “Zane?” He asks, confused.

He manhandles his hand over to the grip of his hammer, “Do not hold back.” He says firmly, and then jogs up the stairs and wraps his fingers around the staff.

Expecting it this time, he compartmentalizes the memories the instant they surface, shoving them back. In the absence of pain there is comfort, the weight so achingly familiar a hole inside of him he didn’t know he had is filled. Like coming home, he’d felt it yesterday. Confidence pours into his system- he knows how to hold this, to swing this, to fight with this. He picks it up and it’s perfectly balanced, a missing limb reattached.

Carrying it down the stairs, he’s aware of their stares.

Kai and Nya break formation, moving back to give Cole and Zane room. Jay follows their lead, and they settle back to watch.

Cole is holding his hammer and his expression is grim, “Are you sure you can handle this?”

He feels like he’s being filled with ice, chill threatening to frost over his eyes. He’s not sure at all, but he says, “Don’t hold back.” Again anyway.

Shurikens are small. To fight, he has to stand back, give space, evade and dodge. Bow and arrows are much the same. They are largely defensive. Before the Never Realm, he was good at defense.

“Whenever you’re ready.” Lloyd says and Zane carefully tunes out the apprehension in his voice.

Now he is more comfortable on the offense.

He moves.

The Ice Emperor rarely fights in close combat- he rarely fights at all, actually. He waves his staff and freezes, he calls ice and allows that to do the work for him, but when he does face off one on one, he does so as brutally efficiently as he can. He is all offense, blow after blow after unrelenting blow- he pours bone-shattering strength into each strike, driving rebellion leaders to their knees, knocking back a town's most elite soldiers, and if they don’t go down on the first hit he wastes no time lashing out again. He rushes his opponent, he overwhelms them, and he offers not a single second of reprieve.

He hauls back, crossing the mat in half a second, and slices through the air in a clean and powerful swing. The crack of his staff against the handle of Cole's hammer sounds like a gunshot with the terrible force behind it, and before Cole can gather his bearing he swings again.

He beats him back faster than he expected- Cole underestimated him, and it cost him precious ground. He tries to put distance between them to get a moment to make his move, but Zane is with him step for step, suffocating any moves before they can breathe.

To fight with his shuriken or his bow is like oil against his water, they don’t mix now that the staff has imprinted itself onto his mind. He cannot reconcile the difference, not yet. He compensates for the weight of the staff, keeps his balance, and advances on his target with brutal efficiency.

He sweeps his leg out while splitting Cole's attention with a strike intended for his side, and Cole goes down with a startled shout. Zane twists the staff so the flat side of the blade is sitting on his chest- the intent is clear, but there’s no danger he’ll accidentally cut him. It’s over in heartbeats, and Cole looks up at him, astonished.

“Holy moly.” Jay breathes.

Zane moves the blade aside, shifting the staff to hold it upright. He glances over at Lloyd, who looks a shade paler than before the fight, whose eyes are a bit too wide. He was the only one who’d seen the Ice Emperor in action, and the last time he’d held the blade against someone's chest it had been him- sharp side down, the intent had been clear then, too. Zane averts his eyes, guilt threatening the progress he’d made even picking the staff up, and focused on holding out a hand so he could bring Cole back to his feet.

Cole winces as he pulls him up, “Zane…” He says, staggering, “That was like nothing I've ever seen from you.” He flexes his fingers, the blows stinging his hands even now.

He doesn’t flinch or shy away from his friends' looks, “It’s how I fought.” He’s hoping he doesn’t have to put any more context to that sentence, he doesn’t want to say the Never Realms name out loud.

“How?” Nya asks, “You left so many openings, how did you win?”

“Overwhelming force.” Zane says.

“The openings mean nothing if I can’t even swing.” Cole shakes his head.

Master Wu smiles from the doorway, “Very impressive, Zane."

The pieces of himself snapped clean down the middle don’t mend, but they aren’t bleeding anymore either. Satisfaction, purpose, strength floods his system. He is not striped with dirt or bruises, he is no longer a failure- he is formidable, dangerous. He can fight, now.

What does he have to offer other than violence?

Zane cannot be the man he was before, but he can be a weapon. He can't remember any other way to be.

The staff sits comforting in his hand.

I like to call myself wound but I will answer to knife.

Underbelly by Nicole Homer

#zane julien #lloyd garmadon #wu ninjago #ninjago #ns11 #zangst #cole ninjago #kai ninjago #spinchip fic #vex ninjago #ptsd #blood

[lavellander]

hello im feeling extra “touch the stove”-y today so. i was looking for any dialogue where solas just straight up lies and (of what i could find online/transcribed, obv) i didnt find anything that was 100% untrue. he’ll completely avoid the question, change the subject, give part of the truth, etc etc etc, but nothing was just Entirely A Lie

what really gets me is that there’s a handful of convos where someone infers something from what solas says, and he will even point out that he didn’t directly say that. like, he tells people how to see through his shit, lmao

here is an embarrassingly long ass list of examples, all sorted by what kind of not-lying he’s doing lol, just bc i am unhinged<3

*note that some of these are cut from longer bits of dialogue or have been split up from one conversation into different categories*

literally just Not Answering The Question lol

Dorian: How much “will” do they have? They’re amorphous constructs of the Fade. Solas: Hmm.

Dorian: Solas, have I offended you? Solas: If you have, why would it concern you?

Dorian: Solas, what is this whole look of yours about? Solas: I’m sorry? Dorian: No, that outfit is sorry. What are you supposed to be, some kind of woodsman? Dorian: Is it a Dalish thing? Don’t you dislike the Dalish? Or is it some kind of statement? Solas: No.

Dorian: Let me get this straight, Solas. Dorian: You’re an apostate – neither Dalish nor city elf – who lived alone in the woods studying spirits. Solas: Is that a problem for you?

Solas: [has a whole tactical moment about the red jennies lmao] Sera: Where d’you get all this, then? Solas: Do you wish to be unnerved by another tale of my explorations of the Fade? Or do you wish to learn something?

Vivienne: You must be pleased with what was revealed at the Temple of Mythal, Solas. Solas: Why should those ruins please me, Enchanter?

changing the subject before he backs himself into a corner

Gatt: I don’t see any tattoos, but you’re carrying a staff. Are you from a Chantry Circle? Solas: No. And I would prefer not to discuss it.

Solas: I find the fall of the dwarven lands confusing. Varric: What’s so confusing about endless darkspawn? Solas: A great deal, although that is a different matter.

giving the truth, but not the whole truth

Blackwall: Skyhold. How did you find it? Solas: I looked. Blackwall: Now you sound like Cole. You looked? Solas: This world is full of wonders for those who seek them.

Blackwall: You spoke of seeing death and destruction. Did you fight in a war? Solas: There are struggles across Thedas at any given time. I doubt you would have heard of it. Blackwall: An elven skirmish? Solas: In a manner of speaking, yes.

Cassandra: Solas, have you always lived alone? Out in the wilderness, as an apostate? Solas: For the most part.

Cassandra: Have you ever encountered templars before? Solas: Only at a distance. I am an apostate, after all. Cassandra: And they never caught you even once? Solas: I am a very careful apostate.

Dorian: We found elves, living ancient elves, at the Temple of Mythal. Does that bother you, Solas? If Inquisitor allied with the Sentinels: Solas: I am pleased we were not forced to kill them, if that’s what you mean.

Iron Bull: You’ve got an odd style, Solas. Your spells are a bit different from the Circle mages or the Vints. Solas: That comes from being self-taught. Solas: I discovered most of my magic on my own, or learned it from my journeys in the Fade.

Vivienne: So, an apostate? Solas: That is correct, Enchanter. I did not train in your Circle.

Solas: You are a man who made a choice... possibly the first of your life. Iron Bull: I’ve always liked fighting. What if I turn savage, like the other Tal-Vashoth? Solas: You have the Inquisition, you have the Inquisitor... and you have me.

from cutscene at beginning Inquisitor: [mentions the anchor closing a rift] Solas: Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand. I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach's wake – and it seems I was correct.

from cutscene at beginning Solas: [to a Dalish Inq] You are Dalish, but clearly away from the rest of your clan. Did they send you here? Inquisitor: What do you know of the Dalish? Solas: I have wandered many roads in my time, and crossed paths with your people on more than one occasion. Inquisitor: [Crossed paths? dialogue choice] Solas: I mean that I offered to share knowledge, only to be attacked for no greater reason than their superstition.

from “I’d like to know more about you” convo in Haven Inquisitor: What made you start studying the Fade? Solas: I grew up in a village to the north. There was little to interest a young man, especially one gifted with magic. But as I slept, spirits of the Fade showed me glimpses of wonders I had never imagined. I treasured my dreams. Being awake, out of the Fade, became troublesome.

actually telling the truth but no one picks up on the gravity of it

Solas: [...] I believe the elven gods existed, as did the old gods of Tevinter. But I do not think any of them were gods, unless you expand the definition of the word to the point of absurdity. I appreciate the idea of your Maker, a god that does not need to prove his power. I wish more such gods felt the same. Cassandra: You have seen much sadness in your journeys, Solas. Following the Maker might offer some hope. Solas: I have people, Seeker. The greatest triumphs and tragedies this world has known can all be traced to people.

Cole: No, inside. I don’t hear your hurt as much. Your song is softer, subtler, not silent but still. Solas: How small the pain of one man seems when weighted against the endless depths of memory, of feeling, of existence. That ocean carries everyone. And those of us who learn to see its currents move through life with their fewer ripples.

Cole: You didn’t do it to be right. You did it to save them. Inquisitor: Solas, what is Cole talking about? Solas: A mistake. One of many made by a much younger elf who was certain he knew everything.

Solas: Empires rise and fall. Arlathan was no more “innocent” than your own Tevinter in its time. Solas: Your nostalgia for the ancient elves, however romanticized, is pointless.

Solas: Our people used to be here. Sera: Pfft, you say that everywhere. Solas: It is more true than you want to believe.

Vivienne: You must be pleased, apostate. With the Templars dissolved, your rebels will be most difficult to pacify. Solas: My rebels? Am I an agent for their cause, whispering poison into the Inquisition’s ears? Solas: How comforting. Vivienne: You enjoy seeing yourself as a villain? Solas: No more than any other clever man who wonders what he could do if pushed.

Vivienne: [about the Temple of Mythal] Now you know the elves were once a mighty nation. Solas: I always knew, Enchanter. The Temple of Mythal is just another reminder of what was lost.

(in the Emerald Graves): These forests have changed much since I was last here.

during the Fade!Haven cutscene Solas: It seems you hold the key to our salvation. You had sealed it with a gesture... and right then, I felt the whole world change. Inquisitor: [romance option] “Felt the whole world change?” Solas: A figure of speech. Inquisitor: I’m aware of the metaphor. I’m more interested in felt. Solas: You change... everything.

pointing out that people assume he means things he did not directly say

Cole: There is pain though, still within you. Solas: And I never said there was not.

Solas: You may well become fully human, after all. I never thought to see it. Cole: When did you see it before? Solas: I did not say that I had.

Iron Bull: We’ve got the alliance with my people. Given how much you love the Qun, I figured... Solas: I might scold you? Berate you for your decisions? Iron Bull: Hey. The Chargers died as heroes for the good of the mission. Solas: I never said otherwise.

Sera: Don’t you start. Solas: I’m reasonably certain I said nothing.

Vivienne: [talking shit about grey warden mages] Solas: I never claimed mages should be above the law, Enchanter. Vivienne: No, darling. You merely implied it, while offering no viable suggestions for improvement.

after infamous “side benefits” dialogue Warrior Inquisitor: You find my muscles enjoyable? Solas: I meant that you enjoyed having them, presumably. Warrior Inquisitor: Ah. Solas: But yes... since you asked.

diminishing things he does actually know by saying he he “believes” or “thinks,” or that things were vaguely “said” or “told”

Solas: I say what I believe to be true, even if it gives offense to those who prefer the lie.

Dorian: That orb Corypheus carries... are you certain it’s of elven origin, Solas? Solas: I believe so. Why do you ask?

Solas: It is said that we lived at a pace that sustained us for... ages.

making it sound like he’s talking about something/someone else, but it’s just him lmao

Cole: Do you know a lot about wolves? Solas: I know that they are intelligent, practical creatures that small-minded fools think of as terrible beasts.

Solas: No man can kill so many people without breaking inside. To survive... those you fight must become monsters. Iron Bull: The ones that kill innocent people, yeah. The rest... I don’t know. Solas: The mind does marvelous things to protect itself.

during In Hushed Whispers Inquisitor: I’m glad you understood what he just said because I’m not sure I did. Solas: You would think such understanding would stop me from making such terrible mistakes. You would be wrong.

misc

this one i wanted to include because it’s the only circumstance (that i came across) where someone directly asks solas to lie and he literally says he can’t

during the fucking crestwood breakup scene Inquisitor: [angry option] Tell me you don’t care. Solas: I can’t do that. Inquisitor: Tell me I was some casual dalliance so I can call you a cold-hearted son of a bitch and move on! Solas: I’m sorry.

*also note that most of these are banter transcriptions from the wiki; some are cutscene / other dialogue posted by either @/daitranscripts or u/karinini on reddit; it’s not all his cutscenes obv, but I’m not about to look up every single one individually sdlkfj*

#i am................incredibly embarrassed that i did this #forgive me. the brain worms would not leave until it was Done #also sorry that its ugly no matter what i did tungle was NOT happy w my formatting. just know its clean and easy to read in my mind :/ #and i know none of this is new information but i am riddled with terminal grad student brain disease so i like having my evidence organized #long post #(bc its long as hell if u open the read more) #im going to put this in my #ref #tag. bc i sometimes get tripped up writing his dialogue to be cryptic but true

[twdmusicboxmystery]

10x17: Home Sweet Home - Details

Alright, let’s talk details!

***As always, spoilers abound below for 10x17. Don’t read until you’ve watched!***

As many  have already pointed out, Maggie and Judith talking about the stars and how “she” is looking up at those same stars is interesting. Sirius symbolism, and of course they’re talking about Michonne, but when they use the pronoun, it could be adapted to anyone. Beth, obviously. But even Rick or anyone else who is missing.

I did notice something of a “rule of threes” theme in this episode. Right at the beginning, when loading the wagon, Lydia counts, “one, two, three.” That wouldn’t be very noteworthy on its own, but later in the episode, exactly three of Maggie’s people fall to the snipers. So again, a bit of a theme.

Also, Lydia is wearing a bright pink shirt at the beginning when she counts to three. I noticed it mostly because the color is so bright and it might be the cleanest thing Lydia has ever worn, lol. Not sure what it points to. This is such a minor scene, it’s hard to draw any conclusions. But it caught my attention.

When they go to see the ruins of Hilltop, it’s interesting that the only thing really left standing is the water tower. Water = Beth, so we always make note of things like water towers. It almost feels like a “standing amidst the ruins” sort of thing.

As they walk to get Maggie’s people, we do hear some interesting dialogue. Cole says there’s shelter 10 miles to the East. Just having 10 (think roman numeral X) and East in the same sentence catches my ear. At one point, one of them says “if we’re lucky.” So, Luck Theory. And we see lots of shots of sunlight filtering through the trees. We’ve always seen that as a Beth symbol.

Okay, let’s talk a little more about the cut on Maggie’s arm. It’s a rather large cut across her left forearm, right? And I mentioned yesterday that it isn’t the same as Beth’s because it’s on the wrong arm. Although, it IS in the same place as Beth’s cast, just the opposite.

So, here’s why I noticed it at all. There are two other times when we saw a big cut like this. Since the Leah rumors broke, I’ve rewatched the episode Scars several times. In that episode, Judith gets a cut in the exact same place: her left forearm. It looks exactly like Maggie’s does in this episode. That can’t be a coincidence.

The only other time I remember seeing this exact cut was on Tyreese in 4b. Now, I don’t want to freak anyone out, but Ty’s cut definitely foreshadowed his death. When he was bitten in 5x09, the bite came in exact same place he was cut.

Now, I don’t at all think this suggests both Maggie and Judith getting bitten and dying. I’m sure the symbolism is more complex than that. I just don’t understand exactly how they’re using it, yet. 

What I can say for now is that all three of the episodes I’ve seen it in (and there may be more; these are just the ones that spring to mind) are Beth-heavy episodes, at least when it comes to symbolism. So there’s 5x09 (she’s actually in Ty’s death hallucination), this episode, where she’s mentioned twice after 6 years of silence, and then Scars. I still haven’t posted my Scars post, yet. I just have a lot of stuff to post right now, but I’ll get it posted eventually. Just trust me when I say that episode has TONS of Beth symbolism in it. So, we’ll just leave it at that for now.

Maggie and Daryl’s convo:

So, I’m getting a lot of messages about how people are disappointed that we didn’t get more of a reaction from Daryl when Maggie said Beth’s name. And I get it, but let me answer this two ways.

1.  It’s not all that surprising. We saw Daryl’s huge reaction to losing Beth in Coda, in Them, and then in pretty much every episode for the next 3+ seasons. Eight years have passed since he lost her, and, while of course her death still affects him and of course he’s not over it, it’s not unrealistic that he has his reaction to it more controlled now.

2. Having said that, I actually disagree that we didn’t get huge reactions here. They looked subtle onscreen, but again, they were never going to have him burst into tears in this scene. That wouldn’t have really worked for the scene, or been terribly realistic. So let me lay out what we did see.

First off, when Maggie first says Beth’s name (“Bethie”), we don’t see Daryl’s face, but we can kind of see the side of his head in the foreground. When she says the name—like, the INSTANT she says it—he sort of tosses his head. Almost like a nervous horse. There’s definitely a reaction there guys, even if we can’t see it directly.

But pay attention to him when it DOES show his face again a few seconds later. He keeps shifting his eyes to Maggie’s face and away. He does it at least half a dozen times over several seconds. Again, it strikes me as him being nervous about something. And you know it has to be the mention of Beth.

So why is he nervous? Is it merely the mention of her name that makes him nervous? Is he afraid he might get emotional, and is trying not to? Because we don’t have a window into Daryl’s thoughts, there’s no way to know for certain. But the reaction is there. You just have to watch closely for it.

And to confirm it even more, I watched him closely a minute or two later when she starts talking about Glenn and Negan. If anything, you’d think that would be the subject that would make him more uncomfortable. Both because he dealt with so much guilt over Glenn’s death, and because one might see Maggie returning to Negan as a free man would feel like something of a betrayal. I could see Daryl feeling guilt over that.

But when she starts talking about Glenn and Negan, his eyes don’t do the shifty thing. At all. He just watches her steadily with no hint of discomfort. It’s ONLY when she mentions Beth that his eyes shift.

And before I move on, I want to mention one more things you can all go look for. (Yes, I’m giving you permission to go watch that scene over and over again. :D) 

Just before Maggie says Beth’s name, she has a peculiar reaction, too. Now, she’s talking about Glenn and Beth sort of simultaneously, so it’s hard to say whether this reaction is for her talk of Glenn or Beth. What I mean is, it’s right before she says that after Bethie died, she and Glenn talked about going to the ocean. She feels the need to throw in that it would have only been for a little while, not forever. So maybe that’s what she was feeling discomfort over saying: that she and Glenn contemplated leaving the group for a time.

But if you watch, right before she says the line, “after Bethie died,” her eyes get wide and she shrugs as though she’s about to says something she doesn’t want to.

So it may be about Glenn, but I can’t help but wonder if it’s because she realized she had to mention Beth as part of her explanation, and she knew that would be triggering for Daryl. Go watch that again and tell me what you think.

I don’t think I have to go over the importance of the ocean symbolism, right? Beth = water, and we’ve seen tons of ocean/boat symbolism around her. She also mentions the waves and the sunrise here.

In the morning, Cory calls the containers they sleep in “rust coffins.” Kind of an interesting label, suggesting death. But of course the thing that came to mind is the coffin Daryl lay in at the funeral home.

Kelly checking the truck, as I talked about yesterday, brought a lot of callbacks to mind, including Bob, and the notebook is something we could link to Beth through her journal/notes, as well as to the note left as part of the wolf trap in 5x16. This truck was even a little reminiscent of the “How the Harvest Gets Home” trucks.

One thing I couldn’t help but notice was Daryl’s line about how he’s gone looking for Connie “so many times.” That doesn’t actually make much logical sense. From what they show us, this episode picks up directly after 10x16. It would be different if weeks had passed and this was there way of telling us that Daryl has been looking for Connie in the interim. But this is literally the next day. How could he have gone looking for her “so many times?” Sure, we saw him searching a little bit early in S10, but the Whisperer War always got in the way, and honestly, I don’t think we saw him search more than two or three times.

So my point is, this is kind of a discontinuity. But I think it’s purposely placed to emphasize how often Daryl looks for people and maybe be another way of reminding us both of Rick and of Beth.

Maggie says, “We don’t know that.” Pretty much exact Beth dialogue and it’s about whether any of her people survived the fire and might still be alive in the woods. That’s exactly what Beth said this line about in 4b after the prison. Just saying.

Another line that jumped out at me was Cory saying that The Reapers had followed them. He didn’t know how. He’d been so careful. But somehow, they did.

Now, maybe this guy was just an awesome tracker. But I feel like this line had meaning. Like maybe they truly shouldn’t have been able to track Maggie’s group, but somehow still found them. Kind of makes me wonder if we should be linking this group to the CRM or not.

There’s been some discussion about whether Kelly and Elijah might become love interests. I’d be okay with that. And I can see that the way they connected and became all simpatico in this episode might be leading to romance.

Now, here’s why that might be important from a TD perspective. Did you notice the pear he gave her at the end? 

I looked up pear symbolism. As with all things, different cultures treat it differently. But in Chinese symbolism (and there’s a lot of that in the show) it sometimes means ‘separation.’ So there’s a superstition that friends and lovers should not eat pears together or they may be separated.

So when I first looked this up, I wasn’t really thinking of Elijah. As Kelly is definitely a Beth proxy in many ways, and also based on symbolism we’ve seen around her in the past (S9/S10) that I wasn’t sure how to interpret, I was thinking that maybe at some point she’ll be kidnapped or taken and be separated from Maggie. On TTD, Lauren said Maggie and Kelly became surrogate sisters in this scene. So I thought that maybe, on top of all the Beth symbolism, maybe this is also pointing toward another (surrogate) sister separation on the horizon.

But then it occurred to me that Elijah gave her the pear, and that’s probably really important. If (and this is still a big if) they become love interests, her separation will probably be from him. I’m just saying we might have another Bethyl proxy in the making on our hands. ;D

I have to say that I thought the scene where Daryl grabbed Maya and put a knife to her neck before realizing she was one of Maggie’s people is one of my favorites. You heart has to go out to the poor woman. She’s been traumatized like 5x over at this point. But she was looking at Daryl like he was a serial killer. Every time I watch that scene, I laugh. It’s rough being Daryl.

So how about the title? Well, we’ve already established that Daryl said this back in Still, at the moonshine shack. And given that I think Hershel Jr.’s arc here was a small scale replay of Beth’s (missing, searched for, eventually found and brought back to Alexandria) it makes sense that they used this line here.

But I think you can go as simple or as complicated as you want to with this. Because we also had the “coming home” theme in this episode a LOT. And it’s fitting, of course, because this was Maggie’s homecoming (which you could also see as a type of Beth’s arc, of course). But if you apply the “coming home” theme to what Daryl said in Still, all that tells me is that Beth and Daryl are one another’s “home.” And if Daryl is ever going to find his real home again, it will have to be with Beth, wherever she is.

For the record, I think they’ll explore Daryl’s side of this theme a lot with Leah. He was lonely, and searching for a home, and maybe he’ll think he’s found one for a time with her, but she’s not his real home.

Okay, finally, the song played at the end, You Want it Darker, has TONS of biblical symbolism in it. Since this post is already long, I’ll wait until tomorrow to post it.

Anything you can think of that I missed?

#beth greene #beth greene lives #beth is alive #beth is coming #td theory #td theories #team delusional #team defiance #beth is almost here #bethyl

[mollyollypuddingpolly]

Home For Christmas

Anne and Gilbert

A/N : I began writing this way before Christmas, I don't know why a was in a Christmas-y mood this summer but anyways I thought it turned out good enough to post.

---

He'd told her he'd only be home two days before Christmas. He told her it was the only ticket he could get because he had been so busy studying for finals that he forgot. She was disappointed, but didn't let that show in her letters. The last few times she has seen him where in two day intervals when she ventured up to Toronto on a free weekend, so she had hoped for much longer. Of course the break continued after Christmas, but his classes resumed early, so they couldn't even ring in the new year together.

Anne decided she'd make the most of her time before he arrived, spending it with Marilla and Mathew so when he did come she could spend more with him without feeling guilty of neglecting her family through the holidays. Of course, they'd share Christmas dinner together. A tradition since Bash joined Gilbert at the Blythe farm.

Anne and the other girls stepped on to the snow dusted platform and pulled their coats tighter across themselves as the warmth from the train gave way to the chilly December air.

Anne smiled, remembering her first time standing on the platform. She glance at the small bench where she once sat, eagerly awaiting what would become her home. As the train cleared the station, She spotted the cherry tree now not white with bloom but with snow. Still beautiful and breathtaking. Pure white amongst many evergreens. Still a bride, she thought and a warmth filled her cheeks when her brain reminded her, you'll be a bride someday after all Anne. And what an adventure that will be. She shook her head to clear away the thought, still plenty of time before that of course.

"Anne!" Diana's voice pulled her from her thoughts, she turned toward the sound and noticed Diana had already approached her parents who had offered to bring Anne home too. She quickly made up the distance, allowed Diana's father to take her bag and climbed into the carriage.

"What ever had you so preoccupied?" Diana asked with an raised brow. Anne smiled sheepishly.

"I was just remembering the first time I got off at this platform. When Mathew picked me up and didn't have the heart to tell me they'd sent for a boy," Diana smiled and took Anne's gloved hand.

"And I am forever grateful to him for doing so," She said. Anne hummed with a smile, "Just think, if you'd been sent back not only would you and I never have met, but I'd be in Paris being 'finished'," she said saying the last word with such distaste she she received a sour look from her mother next to her. Anne only smiled, she could only imagine where she'd be if the Cuthberts hadn't kept her, and her imagination could come up with some horrifying possible alternatives.

To keep her mind off that she looked at the passing scenery. Snow had fallen the night before, just enough to give the fields a soft cover but not cause difficulty along the roads. She inhaled the cold air and exhaled watching her foggy breath disappear into the winds. She gazed at the lake of shinning waters, it's beauty enhanced by it's now glistening frozen surface. And she held her breath when the crossed the bridge, as she always did because her imagination didn't often like to let her think crossing one wouldn't end in tradgedy.

The carriage slowed as it approached the gate of Green Gables. Anne's heart jumped at the sight of her home. She hadn't been to visit recently due to spending her free time preparing for finals, but now she was home. And there was nothing that could make her happier.

Or almost nothing.

Anne walked towards the front door, which flew open before she reached it. Mathew stood, arms outstretched, which she willingly jumped into. Dropping her bag onto the wooden deck. He squeezed her tight and she breathed in the warm smell of a wood fire on him. Then he picked up her bag and led her inside.

"Marilla!" Anne said, walking into the kitchen. Marilla stood inspecting a tea cup. Which she quickly set down at the sound of her name. She turned to her Anne and beamed before pulling her in as well.

"Oh how we've missed you!" She said, then more sternly, " I trust that you did well in your exams."

Marilla leaned back, her hands still resting on Anne's shoulders.

"I believe I did, we get our results when we return," She said. Marilla nodded asking about Diana and the other girls before Mathew spoke up once more.

"Well we best get you set up in your room, I can carry up your bag," he offered, halfway to the steps.

"Nonsense," Marilla said quickly with a sharp look at Mathew, "Anne can carry her bag up herself," Mathew nodded suddenly.

"Right, here you are then," He said passing her the bag. Anne looked at the two quizzically.

"Okay… just let me take my jacket and scarf off first," she said, setting the bag down again. The two nodded, smiles plastered on there face. Anne looked at them with narrow eyes before turning back out into the hall.

She took the steps slowly, taking in the comfort of being back home. She remebered again her first day at Green Gables, she was too upset then to enjoy her walk down the simple hallway, but now this was a place filled with memories. Like the time she and Diana had raced up the steps giggling about bosoms before getting in terrible trouble that almost forced them to stop being friends. When Ruby Gilis had to stay with the Cuthberts after her house burnt down. And Anne finally made a second friend. When she realized she did love Gilbert and raced down the steps and to his house, but then thought she was too late. Caught up in her thoughts, she almost didn't notice that her bedroom door was slightly open.

Almost.

She shrugged, Marilla probably left it open after dusting. She pushed open the door, excited to see her simple, cozy room after the long train ride. But when the door pushed back her heart leapt with joy, and it wasn't over her small, comfortable bed.

"GILBERT BLYTHE, YOU DEVIL!" She hollared, tossing her bag and running into his arms with a grin. He grinned back and laughed as he squeezed her tightly.

Anne wouldn't know it, but down stairs Mathew and Marilla were giving each other a knowing smile.

She leaned back before diving back in, this time their lips met, his arms twist up her back, her finding solace in his hair. A chill went up her back every time they kissed and her face turned warm. She couldn't help but smile into the kiss as did he, she pulled back unable to contain her laughter, instead resting her forehead on his.

"What are you doing here? You said you couldn't get in untill the 23rd!" She said, her arms at rest on his shoulders. He adjusted his around her waist with a cheeky smile.

"I actually got back yesterday, but I wanted to suprise you. So when you told me that you wouldn't be home untill today…" he left it off letting her fill in the rest. She pulled back, lips pierced, intending to give him a sour look, which gave way to a smile.

"You sneak! And Marilla and Mathew where in on it?" She leaned back, still in disbelief, how did you convince Marilla to let you up here she thought but didn't ask. He smiled.

"They were, and so was Diana. I had to make sure you wouldn't get some funny idea of coming up to Toronto to suprise me," he said, she sucked in a breath at the thought, she wouldn't put it past fate to cause that kind of chaos.

Anne lead Gilbert downstairs, where tea and family was waiting for them.

"Bash!" Anne shouted, dropping Gilbert's hand to give the man a hug, he accepted squeezing her back tightly.

"Anne! Ah it's so good to see you! Gilbert's been here only one day and he's already talked my ear off over how much he missed you," he said as he let her go, she turned to Gilbert, smug, who suddenly seemed interested in a spot on the ground.

Anne greeted Delphine she's so big! Then everyone sat down for tea and scones.

Anne laughed when Delphine bit into a scone, smearing jam all over her face. She leaned forward and helped the small girl by whiping the corners of her mouth. Marilla was having what started out as a friendly conversation about Gilbert's studies turned into a long, explaination of all he'd learned so far, Anne commented when she could, and made a mental note to check out some medical books from Queen's when she returned so she could keep up.

It warmed her heart to see him so passionate about becoming a doctor. She remembered briefly a time when he almost gave that up, thinking the task too much for him bare. She didn't know if it was her words that day or his own self reflection that brought back his desire to purse medicine, perhaps some combination of both.

After tea, the two went for a walk through the forest. The path that she took to school untouched since the snowfall, their foot steps were the first.

"Diana isn't sure yet if she'll be aloud to continue to Redmond, but I really am excited about the idea," Anne explained, she knew he'd heard it all in her letters but something about him being here made it feel more real. " Of course, I can only go if I get the Avery Award, but everyone says I have a shot at it. Oh! And Cole has applied to an art school in Nova Scotia too! So at least I'll have one friend,"

Gilbert smiled, rubbing his thumb in circles on her hand as he held it.

"There's not a doubt in my mind that you won't win it, Anne," He said turning to look at her, she peered into his eyes. Eyes she could get lost in and had many times before, even before realizing what that meant.

"I hope so," She said, still unsure. But she wouldn't know until end of spring, so no point in worrying.

Gilbert seemed to think the same thing, taking hand he turned her around, spinning her slightly so they stood face to face, she laughed as he did it.

" I was just thinking about when we first danced together, and how we haven't had the chance to do that again,"

"Well," she said with a smile, "There isn't any music, but I do believe my imagination is more than strong enough to make up for that," she said holding out her hand and he took it, guiding her in a waltz as he hummed along to a tune he'd heard once before.

They stepped back and forth, through the clearing in the woods, as snow began to gently fall down on them. Anne looked up at Gilbert with such happiness and piece in her mind that nothing could have ruined this moment.

Nothing.

Stepping into the middle Gilbert spun Anne once more, but it was hard to tell with all the snow how safe the ground was, and catching a bit of ice, Anne slipped, falling down and taking Gilbert with her.

"I'm so sorry, are you alright?" He turned to her urgently worried she'd hurt herself. But she was staring up at the sky with a smile, and when she turned to him she began to laugh, which he returned as well. They laid there, laughing for far longer than anyone in there right mind would lay in the snow. Then Gilbert laced his hand in hers and began to help her up.

"Merry Christmas, Anne," he said once they both were on two feet again.

"Merry Christmas," she replied, giving him a kiss.

"

#anne with an e #shirbert #awae #gilbert blythe #anne shirley #anne shirley cuthbert #anne x gilbert #awanefanfic #fan fiction #anne with an e fan fiction #christmas fanfiction

[pearlsongfromstuff]

Hi its the oc ask anon from before! The New God OCs look intriguing and im always a sucker for dnd!

I watch Kyo's stuff too so all of that is really interesting as well, but the New God thing is drawing me in. If you want to talk about other ocs that's okay, but thats the one that has my interest atm

Have a good day pearl!

Thank you so much, Anon! I'ma nickname you Anny, Anny. So anyways, with just New God OCs (The name New God actually is name of my biggest AU that houses most of my main stories and my OCs. The name was inspired by the name Bad God but instead of a "Bad" God, there are "New" God's running the world. Fun little fact)

So with just these OCs alone we have 33 OCs, so I'ma give brief explanations for them

(Note: All the OCs with (*) are made by @chaoscorners-blog since we share these OCs but they were his original concepts)

(Also some other vocabulary you might need to know for this AU:

Minnrig- A fake Micronation near Ukraine and Romania where most of the stories take place. This place holds all the power in this universe

Red Eye Curse: Also called the 2p Disease or Madness Curse, the Red Eye Curse was a magical curse that plagued most of the 2p Universe. It drove people to madness by making them selfish, power-hungry and manipulative. It's also why the 2p Universe was known as the "Evil Side" while the 1p Universe was known as the "Good Side". It eventually disappeared 10 years as fast as it appeared)

Pearl and *Angel (He/they / He/They): The "New Gods". They run the universe and live in a castle near Minnrig. Though they may seem kind and thoughtful on the surface, they're actually not that good of people. I recommend not coming close to them.

Darling (She/Her): Adopted daughter of Pearl and Angel, she is known to have any magical powers. Not much is known about her since she rather hide in the Ancient Records within the castle

Star and Rose (He/Him, She/Her): Star and Rose are also adopted children of Pearl and Angel but unlike their older sister, they have magic. Star and Rose are probably more powerful than Pearl and Angel combined. Star is more adventurous and wants to learn about the magic in the world while Rose tries to live a more normal life, away from her godly heritage.

*Viktor and Sal (He/Him, They/Them) : Two 2ps that escaped to the 1p World, they live with Pearl and Angel as caretakers for Star and Rose. Star is the most attached to them, calling Sal "Mama" and Viktor "Dad".

Lewton (He/Him): The personification of Minnrig, Lewton is also the Detective of the town. He's also the husband of Bazarov (who we'll talk about if anyone asks about 2ps) and he's also responsible for the end of the Red Eye Curse.

*Zargon and Diablo (He/Him, She/Her): The Adopted children of Bazarov, sadly they were found around the time Bazarov had the Curse, they were taught since adoption to become soldier, and they're mainly representative of Heart (Zargon) and Mind (Diablo). Bazarov actually stole Diablo's heart for years, making her very heartless and making her a war criminal like her father while her brother always seemed to get the blame. After many years and while Lewton was working on saving the world, Zargon found Diablo's heart and they got the fuck out of there.

Deera (She/Her): The eldest sister of Zargon and Diablo, Deera kinda left her siblings for dead after the death of their birth parents. She instead headed to the Fantasy universe and kinda became a fucking villain in the stories, mainly manipulating anyone for whatever she wants.

Riley (She/Her): Another adopted child of Bazarov (He has a lot), She was raised while Zargon and Diablo were but sperate. She later on took over her father's place as General.

Abble (She/her): An (say it with me now) adopted child of Bazarov but with a twist: She's also Lewton's daughter. She actually has a nice upbringing unlike her other siblings because Bazarov was free of the curse when she was being raised. Her siblings are highly jealous of this.

Bean and Loki (He/Him, He/Him): Bean is a cat who radiated too much magic and can now turn human. Loki is a Mochi America but somehow, during hatching, gained more of a conscience than his other Mochi brethren. They're also married after many weird circumstances.

*Azreal (She/Her): To put it shortly, she's a bootleg Dr. Frankenstein. She has a never ending thirst for knowledge and uses such knowledge of other universes to bring people to life and to create life. And in one story, she kills Nevo......sooooooo-

*Mono (He/Him): During life, he was a simple manga artist with a wife and child but after horrible circumstances, he ends up dead at the hands of a gang. Azreal takes him and brings him back to life. Sadly, during the "bringing back to life" process, his soul is merged with a more evil soul, so now two personalities are contained in one body. Mono being the more awkward side and Parasite having absolutely no chill.

Pearl Song (Any Pronouns): Originally my very first cringy Marysue OC, we revamped her into being another of Azreal's projects. She has the power of the everything due to her past life and now uses that power in her current life to cause chaos with her favorite brother, Mono.

*Foalina and *Matthias (She/Her, He/Him): Another project by Azreal, they are two bunny twins that travel the world as performers. On stage, Foalina is seen as meak and weak while Matthias is more flirtatious and cunning. Off stage, they hate each other with a burning passion

*Caddy (She/They): Another project by Azreal, she is a mute traveler of the many universes. She is very excited soul that likes any good story.

*Shyane (She/Her): Azreal's first project, at first, Azreal saw her as a daughter and she saw Azreal as a mother but after time, their relationship became more strained and she became more of a servant than a daughter. She is very nurturing and caring.

*Demonic and *Ivan (She/Her, He/Him): Demonic is another project by Azreal which Azreal didn't just take a dead body and reanimate it, she actually created her. She was mainly used for experiments until she finally left. After many unfortunate events in her life, she gives birth to Ivan, her son. Ivan is the light of her life and just is an absolute sweetheart. We see more of them during Ages AU.

*Lilla (She/Her): A girl from the 1500's that left her home to become a Teutonic Knight so she didn't become a maid, after her entire crew is supposedly murdered and the enemy is after her, she starts working for a witch in the woods who eventually send her to the future to escape death sentence.

Amelia (Amy) (She/Her): Basically Amy Rose (from Sonic series) but she is an old interpretation I had of her in 2016 that she basically became my OC. Anyways, she also comes to our present and meets Lilla and after she helps her understand the world around her (which Amy sees as old technology), they actually fall in love and get married, yay!

Cosmo (She/Her): Daughter of Amy and Lilla

Amore (She/Her): Amy's past lover that basically gets in fights with Lilla a lot

Kaarlo (He/Him): Lilla's past lover that dies of hypothermia after looking for her in the snow. F in the chat

Berry, *Duke, Nicholas, and *Cole (Any Pronouns, He/Him, He/Him and He/They): Basically two femboys (Berry and Cole) and two hunks (Nicholas and Duke) in a Dream Scape

AND THERE ARE ALL MY ORIGINAL CHARCTERSSSSS. Damn that's a lot of typing for one phone. Anyways, I hope this entertained you guys! I will take any asks you have. I will also post some art of all of them later

[powerosewaterpuff]

so i was having mary and john grayson feels bc i always do ofc, and i decided well if i can’t find any other fics and headcanonns? imma make them myself hehe soo enjoy ! (heads up tho, it’s a l o t hehe)

Mary Grayson

-cannot cook, she is absolutely a w f u l at it but oh my god she loves watching john cook. she even follows him around, writing in a little journal about all the different recipes and steps, bc she is d e t e r m i n d to be able to make something other then cereal

-she always lets dick attempt to braid her hair, and even though it might come out looking bumpy and uneven, she couldn’t care less bc the smile on her sons face is priceless

- loves the summer, basking in the sun on a wide beach is her ideal happy place, because the winter reminds her a little too much of memories she wishes she could suppress

-she always sticks her tongue out just a bit when she’s focused on something, john still blushes when he sees that

-isn’t an avid reader, but she could watch johns facial expressions as he rereads the same twist in his favourite novel for the rest of her life

-she has a small array of ear piercings, which include three piercings on each lobe and upper lobe (the first she had received when she was a baby, and it had been her grandmothers idea), then she has a helix hoop piercing on each ear with a little stud underneath the hoop of the right ear. (Dick loves them, and always had a habit of fiddling with them even as a baby.)

-her laugh could be described as, (as courtesy of john grayson), “the sound of wind chimes billowing against the breeze, and then she starts snortin—Hey! It’s the truth, what do you want me to lie, mary?”

-dick most definitely inherited her eyelashes, long, dark and curled. she also tends to argue that he got her humour too, but john adamantly defends his honour as, “the most hilarious human being to walk the earth, and dick most definitely got my sense of humour, e x c u s e you, mariam.”

-she is infinitely glad that her and john have a very equal parenting system, without one person needing to be the primary disciplinarian as they work as a united front. (except when john and dick come inside the trailer, dragging in mounds of dirt from a flimsy soccer game. then? shes usually the disciplinary one then, shooing them to go take a shower and telling them that they needed to make sure every i n c h of dirt is out of the trailer before she’s done her afternoon stretches.)

-she’s a very bold and opinionated person, but stubbornly independent with a strong moral system and a fierce temper. she isn’t accustomed to asking for help, and is always expecting to be disappointed or let down. she’s always waiting for the catch to come into play, with john though? it never did

-the second dick gives her his puppy dog eyes, it’s over. she’ll give up the cookies she’s hidden in the top shelf, she’ll give him the biggest hug, she’ll practically do anything, and mary thinks john is the exact same.

-her gut instincts are scarily right, to the point where her best friend, the magicians assistant, is convinced she’s a psychic of some sort.

- the day she met john, she had heard about a young circus boy about her age coming to live with his great aunt in her neighborhood, but hadn’t really paid it any mind.

-it wasn’t until one neighbourhood party, that she locked eyes with a pair of vibrant blue eyes with a deeply rooted fire within them. it gave her a shock of adrenaline, and excitement, the same thing she felt when she was about to go on stage as a ballerina or about to face the uneven bars as a gymnast. it wasn’t a nervous bout of a adrenaline, it was a calming rush, one that filled her bones with a thrill beyond all compare. (Little did she know, the second john had locked eyes with a pair of lively green eyes, he had found what he was looking for.)

- mary was a natural born contortionist, with a flexibility she acquired from years of ballet as well as gymnastics. learning how to work the trapeze was a whole other thing though, as it was a little odd to adjust at first. she loved johns freedom and wild nature while soaring through the air though, a lot more then she loved the rigidness of her own form. (john disagreed vehemently, the way mary moved was like she was one with the air and the air was one with her, and he admits that was she an incredibly quick learner.)

-will always watch cartoons with dick, whether it be The Simpsons one evening or Tom & Jeremy the next.

-johns singing is her favourite thing ever, she always begs him to sing her to sleep and some nights, when john feels a deep rooted knot tug at his chest, mary is sweetly singing, “here comes the sun,” by the beatles in his ear

-her and johns go to song to get dick to sleep is, “little bird, little bird,” by elizabeth mitchell. she always changes the last bird, a whip-poor-well, to a robin bird. it’s a little offbeat but she thinks dick likes it. (dick loves it.)

-has an unparalleled amount of energy, and is always bursting with exuberance, the only one who can really challenge her on that is dick. both of them are absolute adrenaline junkies.

-has an insatiable love for period dramas, it is her absolutely guilty pleasure and will be found watching tapes of her favourite show in the living room at like 3am

-she loves the smell of burning wood and loves sitting outside of summer nights, taking in the sounds of the cicadas and the cold breeze.

-she is absolutely exasperated with her sons ability to make friends with injured woodland animals, it was adorable and absolutely darling to an extent, but oh my god if she had to handle one more skunk with a broken leg or a fox with its leg stuck to a wooden post, she would consider barricading the circus.

-(she loves buying matching clothing for her family and her, but what she loves the most is dressing john and dick up to match, she has a whole box filled with those pictures, which would be perfect blackmail material once dick was in his teens.)

John Grayson

-is one of the most laid back human beings, he always has a lazy smile and gentle mischief twinkling in his eyes. (but fuck with his family and see what happens, he dares you.)

-his eyes are practically identical to dicks, in every shape, way and form. but dicks have an unstoppable light in them, that his just don’t have but he’s so happy they do.

-loves to overspray his cologne just to irritate mary, her scrunched up nose his absolutely adorable. (but he still couldn’t get why she didn’t like that cologne, it was fucking amazing)

-curses like an absolute sailor, and mary isn’t any better but she’s far better at censoring herself. john has had to slap a hand around his mouth a few times to avoid having to explain the word, “shit,” to dick.

-christmas is his favourite time of the year without a doubt, and loves to be curled up on his worn couch with a novel in hand in front for a fire.

-is an avid prankster, but if you confront him about it, he’ll give you a trademarked Grayson smile, and tilt his head to the side questioningly.

-his laugh is like (as courtesy of mary grayson), “a crash of waves, refreshing and loud with a distinct clarity, and then he starts to w h e e z—Hey! it’s the truth! I thought you were against lying, huh?”

-he’s ticklish, and his brother along with his wife and son take advantage of that way too much.

-dick is legit attached to this mans hip 24/7, like if you see john strolling around the circus there is a 94% chance that dick is either riding on his shoulders or settled comfortably on his hip.

-the day he met mary, he had felt a little out of place and stilted at this neighbourhood party. but he sucked it in bc anything was better then going back to his home, so he took a shaky breathe and tried to converse with his great aunts friends, until the music started and he locked eyes with a pair of lively green eyes, and he had found exactly what he was a looking for. a fleeting purpose that could so easily slip between his finger tips but the thrill to latch onto it was expanding in his chest. and he realized that if he didn’t march right on over there and talk to this girl, he would’ve lost something he didn’t even knew he could lose.

- playing guitar had always been a little bit of a therapeutic thing, because even though he tried to be practicing their act every single minute of his day, there were times where he needed to sit under a tree with his son curled in his lap, his leather jacket draped on him. the love of his life and the afterlife curled up next to him, with his blistered fingers from dealing with ropes all day strumming the guitar.

-the biggest elvis presley, beatles and rat pack fan in the world. he also loves louis armstrong as well as nat king cole. (he grew up with this music as his first big introduction to north american music as well as culture.)

-open communication and emotions are a big thing for him, he never wants anything to be misinterpreted and he tries his hardest to make sure neither him nor mary ever go to sleep angry with one another. they argue a decent amount, bc they both have wild tempers (johns is a flame that’s difficult to light but once it does he’ll have a vicious tongue of a temper, and mary’s is a quick lighter that can be easily put out but for the time that it burns holy shit she’s scary,) but they always work things out by talking to one another at the dinner table.

-this man lives and breathes sarcasm, to the point where people never really know if he’s being sarcastic or not (mary does, and it annoys him to no end.)

-always playing with his hair, or he’s playing with mary’s or dick’s. it’s become a little of a nervous habit for him, but also a way to relax.

-was always insecure about how short and scrawny he was as a kid, even now once he’s filled into pure muscle and but still a little short compared to others. however, he uses his body to his advtange though, he can easily be the strong man of the act, and can easily balance both dick and mary with one hand. he’s immensely proud of that, and shows it off as much as he can.

-just to annoy mary, he’ll slowly lift his son up and they’ll give the exact same puppy dog eyes and pout. mary will legit do anything they want (he wasn’t ready for mary to come in one day, blinking her beautiful green eyes and pouting, with dick settled on her hip doing the exact same thing as they ask for chocolate pancakes one morning. it’s fair to say he sprinted out of bed and straight to the kitchen.)

-despises hunting for sport and guns, his father owned an array of hunting guns that were always proudly polished and hung on the walls of their trailer. john fucking hated it, and was about to blow a fuse when one of the circus members decided to take dick on a hunting trip without asking. (he held dick close that night as he cried bc he didn’t understand why they had shot the deer when it looked so happy.)

-is the absolutle biggest crybaby when it comes to Heidi (the book) and has rewatched Kiki’s Delivery Service with dick like 30 times? he cries every time ( “mARY SHES SO SAD OH MY GOD AND SHE DOESNT UNDERSTAND J I J I ANYMOREEEE.”) (“sEE GRANDFATHER DOES CARE AND THE SYMBOLISM MARY THE SYMBOLISM.”)

-loves looking up at the stars, and liked to memorize their names as well as patterns as a kid. he was overjoyed to share this with dick, as they lay down on the roof of their circus caravan, point out constellations and tell their stories (dick would always perch himself on the tallest skyscraper in gotham, on a clear summer evening, just to get a one glance at the stars at again before the smog rolls in. he swears he saw cassiopeia once, but maybe he was just wishing he did. )

-is equally stressed by dick’s unprecedented love of making friends with the most random things, is also stressed because his son is this tiny kid who keeps getting himself stuck in bushes then runs home, covered in thorns but still has the biggest smile. john is usually on first aid duty, and he just knows that his kid would run into the sun exploding with a bright smile plastered on his face.

#mary grayson #robin #dick grayson #john grayson #flying graysons #wholesome #fluff #lots #of #father and son #mother and son #this #is so #bittersweet #oh my god #nightwing #s a d #no one #talks #about the flying graysons #bUT I GET SO #MANY #FEELS #so many feels

[duhragonball]

For the Ask Game: Son Goku

Give me a character and I will answer:

Why I like them: Goku is the main character in Dragon Ball Z, an anime that I have enjoyed tremendously for over 20 years.  He kicks aliens really fast and hard, and he eats wolves and bugs and clouds, and he’s very cool and good.   

That may sound kind of basic, maybe even borderline sarcastic, but I’m not sure how else to put it.    I’ve gotten so used to liking Goku that it’s hard to articulate why.   

Like, okay, you know that one episode during the Cell Games, where he’s gonna pick apples from his favorite apple tree?   And he does the special karate punch that makes the apples all fall out of the branches without really hurting the tree?    In the dub, he says to the tree “Ready for one more round, old timer?”  Or something like that, and then after he hits it, he’s like “See?  That didn’t hurt a bit.”  I’m not getting the lines right, but you get the idea.    That’s some choice Goku right there.    He’s friends with that tree!   

Why I don’t: hE gAvE mOrO a SeNzU bEaN-- ha ha just kidding, but can you imagine not liking Goku?   Because of something he did in some horseshit fancomic that doesn’t even count?

Lately, I’ve been hearing a lot of guff from people about Goku showing mercy to his enemies.   This is humorous to me, because I’d bet you dollars to donuts that they’re fans of Vegeta and/or Piccolo, and that only happened because Goku decided to have mercy on their stank asses.    “Well I like Vegeta because he kills people.”  He only gets to do that because Goku allowed him to live.    Best Green Dad doesn’t happen without Goku, period, end of sentence, new paragraph.   

I’m not a lore expert like that guy on Twitter who only watched DBZ Abridged, but here’s some cool trivia for you: Cell could have self-destructed and destroyed the Earth at any time.    It literally does not matter that Goku gave Cell a senzu bean before Gohan fought him, because Cell would have done the same thing no matter who beat him or how.     If Gohan had wiped him out quickly, that nucleus would have survived and regenerated, and he would come back even stronger.   The senzu bean just delayed the inevitable outcome, and not even by that much, because Cell wasn’t that worn out in the first place.   The whole thing with the senzu bean was Goku playing headgames with Cell and no one seems to understand that but me.   

But what about Moro, you ask?   Hey, come here.  

Closer.    No, closer.   

Listen to me.   I love you, okay?    But the Dragon Ball Super manga isn’t canon.   Hating Goku over something he did in Super is like hating Superman for something he did in a Mad Magazine bit.      

“Blargle blargle he doesn’t kiss his wife bad father, tournament of power--” I super mega don’t care about any of these ice cold takes.      Every day I go on YouTube and it recommends me the dirt worst Star Wars commentary videos.   “Maybe the SITH were actually the GOOD GUYS and the JEDI were the BAD GUYS!  Huh?  Did I just BLOW your MIND?   Be sure to like and subscribe!”  Every dope with a keyboard seems to think they can flip the script and pretend they’re some kind of genius.    “Thanos was right!”  “Magneto was right!” “Dr. Doom was right!” “Antifa are the real fascists when you stop and think about it!”  “Masks and vaccines are bullshit, COVID-19 is a hoax, but if it were real, maybe it’s the good guy in this situation!”

I didn’t mean to go off on a rant here, but the whole point of Goku is that he’s a pretty cool guy, and the hero of his particular adventure, and you see all these people trying to outsmart that somehow, like it’s not the premise of the character.   It’s like all those fan theories about how every show is really one character having a coma dream in the hospital.    It’s fake-deep, like when Will Smith’s kid goes on the internet and says something like “Water isn’t wet when you stop and think about it.”  

I’m not saying everyone has to like Goku, but I don’t get the hate-boner people have for him.    I don’t like cole slaw, it’s soggy and insipid and I don’t understand it, but I don’t go around trying to convince people it’s not made out of cabbage.  

Anyway, Goku’s awesome. 

Favorite episode (scene if movie): It’s hard to choose, but DBZ #248 always fucks me up.   I looked it up in my liveblog archive to get the episode number right, and the first line of that post: This one always fucks me up.

Moving on.

Favorite season/movie: In Dragon Ball terms, I guess this refers to the sagas, so I’ll go with Cell Games.    Goku goes into the battle with this flawed, touch-and-go plan, and it works.    He defeats perfection with imperfection, and it’s glorious.  

Favorite line: “What I represent can never be destroyed,” is one of the most metal lines ever uttered, anywhere.   It’s a threat and a moral lesson all in one.   

Favorite outfit: Two answers for this one.  

Shu’s outfit in the Fortuneteller Baba Saga was awesome.    I used to wear yellow T-shirts to work, so when I put on my blue labcoat I would see myself in the restroom mirror and think: yeaaaaahhhhhh.

I’m also big into Goku’s look during the Cell Games, classic orange outfit, blue shirt, with the Super Saiyan form ready to go.    That may sound obvious, since this is kind of Goku’s default look, but it takes a while to get all of this together.  For me, it was a big deal to see Goku in action as a Super Saiyan in his standard fighting gear, because the whole time he was SSJ on Namek his shirt was ruined.   Against Gero and 19 he was sick, but starting with the Cell Games, we get him fresh as a daisy, and it’s worth the wait.   Harder to stealth cosplay, though.

OTP: Gochi.   Come on.    I don’t even care that much about ships, but they’re adorable on the show, and the internet backlash against Gochi only intensifies my defiance.   

Brotp: I wrote a fanfic with Goku and Yamcha just joyriding in the desert, and that seemed pretty awesome, so maybe we need more of that.   

I dunno, maybe I’m giving this to Bulma.   They don’t get a ton of screen time together after a certain point in the show, but the bond between them is this really sublime thing.    In the same fanfic, I wrote Bulma and Goku interacting, and that was just a pleasure to write.

Head Canon: I think Goku being an alien orphan matters more to him than he lets on.   Early on, he knew he had parents but he didn’t know why they left him in the woods.   Pretty much every interaction he has with the outside world is about him being different.   Then he finds out he’s a Saiyan and all the Saiyans hate him for being weak and sentimental and so on.   He can kick all their asses, but that doesn’t make him any less of an outcast.   

I think becoming a Super Saiyan is a bigger deal to him than he lets on.   That moment kind of serves as this unspoken proof that there’s more to being a “true” Saiyan than Vegeta, Nappa, and Raditz ever knew.   That maybe, if his great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great granny could see him, she might approve.

Unpopular opinion:

Yukio Ebisawa is underrated. 

A wish: I always wanted to see Goku style on Broly ‘93.   It seemed unfair to me that they kept bringing Broly back, and even teased a rematch with Goku in Movie 11, only to not deliver on it.    I wanted Goku to turn Super Saiyan 2 and Broly’d be all “oh noes!” and Goku would look at him and be all “Yeah.   What now, bitch?    That green shit won’t cut it anymore.”

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: I think my darkest fear about the Dragon Ball franchise is that it’ll get bastardized like Superman, where some giant multimedia corporation owns it, has no idea how to tell new stories with it, and refuses to let it lapse into the public domain.   I have no idea how public domain works in Japan, but “Disney Toei’s Dragon Ball KH” doesn’t sit well with me.    Hopefully I’ll be dead by the time that happens.  

Like, Rise of Skywalker wasn’t that bad.   But it did lead me to worry that they really have no idea how to make Star Wars work.    They got it right enough, but the part where Rose is going to stay and guard the base or whatever, it just made me realize they’re only guessing, and they just happen to guess right often enough to succeed.   And it’s not like you can jump over to some other studio and see how they handle a Star Wars movie.

5 words to best describe them: Ain’t nothin’ to fuck with.

My nickname for them: Geeko.    Ha ha, just kidding.  

#dragon ball #ask duhragonball #goku #son goku #jcogginsa

[felassan]

Tevinter Nights: Non-Solas major stuff

This is a rundown of the other major stuff in Tevinter Nights; big developments in Thedosian current events and significant new additions to the lore, things which are unrelated to Solas. Not speculation or theorizing, it’s intended as just a broadstrokes short-form report for ease of consumption. Organized into the major factions/groups. (The Solas motherpost is here.) Obvious spoiler warning for the whole book under the cut.

The Qunari and their invasion

The Antaam have invaded the south without the permission of the rest of the Qunari branches. Their efforts are somewhat hampered without the usual support of workers, healers etc. Small things aren’t going well like supply lines and ship repairs. They’re taking many prisoners and enslaving them in work-camps. With no Ben-Hassrath to judge or regulate, they’re intentionally giving mentally-lethal doses of qamek to all captured bas mages. Small doses shackle the mind. Large doses completely break it and leave the recipient effectively lobotomized forever. Ben-Hassrath who investigated this are disappointed in the Antaam, believing they’re not acting in accordance with the Qun and that it’s these actions that are what threaten it. Although fractured and without the Ben-Hassrath the Antaam still have assassins. The Ben-Hassrath have been staying out of the war, remaining neutral on the sidelines. They do not work for hire but can be persuaded. The Antaam are agitating for the Ben-Hassrath to assist openly but they are remaining officially neutral and trying to blunt the Antaam’s strike. There’s also a new Darvaarad. Because the last one’s walls were ineffective (lol), this one is a ship; they want to keep it moving with speed and secrecy instead of fortifications. 

The invasion passes Ventus and moves into Rivain. Many Tevinter relics were uncovered and sent rolling thanks to the Antaam chaos in the north. The Antaam kicked up all sorts of ancient, dangerous objects. Many women and children have been injured in the northern battles between Tevinter and the Antaam and several makeshift hospitals have sprung up. The invasion has the southern nations on edge. It also seems to be a certainty that they’re going to invade Antiva (see below in the section about Antiva and the Crows). The southerners assumed lack of workers and priests would hobble the Antaam but they were wrong, those Qunari would have been a moderating influence. We’re told that in Tevinter the Antaam have crushed the Vint opposition in the east and that it’s possible everything east of Vyrantium will be under their control inside a year, and northern Antiva as well. Some Ben-Hassrath infiltrated the Archon’s palace to steal an artifact. Interestingly at one point some Antaam led by Rasaan appears and she refers to them as “her” Antaam. Attention is drawn to this.

The Dalish

Some intrepid Dalish elves snuck into Ventus as it fell to steal info about the Qunari’s invasion plans. They succeed and dispatch a messenger to warn the clans in/beyond Rivain before the Qunari land there. We learn a new clan name, Oranavra. This clan sell their goods. At one point recently a group of them - a family - were wiped out by Vint soldiers on the order of a Magister. The clan saved up money and hire a Crow to kill those involved. The Crow succeeds. The Magister had also stolen an ironbark halla from the clan, which was a symbol of Ghilan’nain. The clan don’t remember how they came to own it, but they believed that as long as they kept it safe, the goddess would protect them and guide them to new fertile lands to grow food, areas to hunt and beautiful lands in which to raise their children. The Crow they hire has a helper whose uncle is in the clan - the Crow is the helper’s mistress and his cousins are Dalish. Tevinter soldiers, it seems, regularly scour the countryside for Dalish to drive away/eradicate. Some have truly horrendous views concerning them.

The Executors

An Executor appears at a meeting with Carta, Mortalitasi and Inquisition. It speaks in italics. For their opinions on and interactions with Solas, go to the Solas post. It’s unclear whether it’s male, female or other, or young or old. It’s covered head to toe in leather gloves and dark robes of Vyrantium samite with a thin mesh covering the face. Underneath the hood it’s featureless black. The robes are trimmed in an unknown pattern. It doesn’t appear to drink. A faint whiff of the ocean and something beyond it comes from its robes. Its voice is less a voice than the idea of a voice, rendered acceptably but no more. Its words carry a weight that made a drink ripple. At one point it comments another char stinks of lies and fear. It’s not clear if it is a mage or not.

The Wardens and darkspawn

The Wardens have discovered a new kind of darkspawn in Hormok Thaig which is ancient and below a mountain near a Nevarran forest. Some have extra heads and limbs or the wrong parts attached, like a genlock with a hurlock head. Others have weird parts like avian skulls, scorpion tails, wings, snake heads for fists. They’re also strangely cunning. In the same place the Wardens also discovered twisted grotesqueries like a halla with a serpent’s maw and varterral legs and a giant centipede creature whose ‘head’ is the fucked up fused torso of a missing Warden. The creature refers to a “she” and “her”. The origin of all this stuff is a big pool of gross gray liquid. Above a huge lyrium crystal is suspended glowing green. Streams of energy flow from it into the pool. Darkspawn walk in, the water flows round them and when the cocoon shatters another fucked up darkspawn comes out. The pool also changes people who drink from it, like the lost Warden was forced to do. This is an army, but not of darkspawn, of something worse. This stuff is going on under 11 other mountains too.

Recently a summons has called available Wardens to Weisshaupt Fortress.

Nevarra and the Mortalitasi

Every mage in Nevarra is part of the Mortalitasi. They are a group that train the gifted in the mysteries of magic and serve as Nevarra’s arcane protectors and priests. They believe that when someone dies a spirit is pushed out of the Fade into our world. In exchange they invite those spirits to inhabit the empty bodies left behind. This is common orthodoxy for the Nevarran populace. Nevarrans believe the Grand Necropolis is a fitting resting place for the bodies of all good souls who go to the Maker. Mortalitasi spend most of their time in or around the Necropolis. They rarely go into Nevarra City unless tending to a death. Mortalitasi raise spirits in the dead to do menial chores for them. Other spirits give consent to inhabit the dead and work for the death mages in roles such as librarians. The Mortalitasi have a branch called the Mourn Watch, a select group within and an old fraternity. Watchers’ jobs are to serve as elite guardians, keepers of the Necropolis. They have absolute authority over funerary dead. They assist both the dead and the living and help confused/unbalanced spirits resolve themselves, dealing with magic gone awry. Another sect is the Guides of the Path who shepherd the corpses. Yet another sect are described as the “truest” mages as they bind spirits and the Fade and in doing so can bend the world beneath to their will. A bunch of Nevarrans think the Mortalitasi were sent to save the kingdom from civil war. Another bunch of them think they do “secret rituals” and “mind-control experiments”. Many Nevarrans have great respect for the Mortalitasi. Prior lore suggested the Mortalitasi rule through influencing the King, whose mind is weak. This is confirmed. They rule the king with a small investment of time and through him rule others. This is in contrast to Tevinter Magisters who rule directly. 

The Necropolis is full of weird and wonderful shit and has amazing bewildering architecture. Public gardens, trees in sunless tunnels, ornate carvings, open-air mausoleums, walking dead, uncatalogued dead-creature things, streams. Flowering Gates, a bridge made of giants’ bones, a maze of mirrors, spacious tombs, exotic terrors. Its lower halls are not always in the same place at the same time. Some parts of it are forbidden even to the dead. Some parts are very old, even to the Tower Age. 

In Nevarra the royal families have tumultuous histories and ever-changing status in the King’s court. There’s currently so much tension between the Nevarran royal families that it wouldn’t take much to tip the whole country into chaos. At present, the centuries-old feud between the Van Markhams and the Pentaghasts is the most imporant thing going on to most Nevarrans. When the King dies with no successor, the Markham-Pentaghast conflict will probably become more than just a squabble over the heir in spirited discussions behind closed doors. They might drag their war into the streets. Some nobles are worried that the empty throne might prompt Mortalitasi to slither into it. Other noble houses are doing what they can to increase their current standing in the court also, including assassinating rivals. We come across one plot where a noble wanted to take down the Mortalitasi, and a Mortalitasi who thinks it’s time for them to intervene and step in to rule the country directly.

New spirit lore: complex/’complete’ entities in Cole-like situations are rare. Some Mortalitasi argue these ‘higher dead’ still have their mortal souls. Others say this is impossible and that these entities are actually caught between 2 opposing spirits e.g. anger and curiosity. Whatever the case they are unbalanced.

Elfy stuff

Arlathan Forest is full of old and powerful spirits. It’s also home to rare entities known as forest guardians, which are large quadrupedal structures made out of wood, stone, runes and lyrium. They have two lethal blade arms which they swing around in combat and may be powered by magic, but it is not clear. They are not usually hostile to elves in the forest but are shown responding aggressively to hostile Qunari.

Ghilan’nain is implicated historically in fucked up monster shit (see the Wardens section). Elven bas-reliefs and carvings are found which are eerie and disquieting and show elves with prison-ship aravels and insectile halla carting victims to what are essentially fucked-up-experiment-dungeons in mountains; elven mages doing horrid things; and contemptuous elven rulers over their terrified subjects. There’s also a repeating painting showing a person/supplicant, a priestess/queen and a monster. Each time it repeats the person and monster change and the priestess looks crueler. This painting appears to be OF elves, but IN dwarven style (done by dwarves). Curious.

Tevinter and the Venatori

There’s now an anti-slavery movement in Tevinter. Tevinter has a less than cordial relationship with Rivain. We meet a Tevinter mage who is a thief and one who is a private investigator. Tevinter is full of advanced magical marvels like floating buildings and barman-less bars, and magic use there is so common-place that defective magical lightning flasks (for example) are even just thrown out into the gutter. We hear of one mage healer who could attach a severed hand. There are chemist mages. One mage tried to perform a ritual to influence and direct the Fade against the Antaam so that demons, spirits and dreams would urge them back north. This was supposed to weaken the Qunari resolve and crumble the invasion, but he fails. Livius Erimond’s sister is involved in the Venatori (racist blood mages!). One especially effed up high-ranking Venatori has been using red lyrium to do horrid experiments on slaves to create ‘art’. This guy was in possession of one of the ancient elven artifacts that strengthen the Veil and is such a supremacist that he gets super triggered when he even hears a foreign language being spoken.

Corypheus wanted Tevinter reborn. He trusted Minrathous to be the jewel of his new world. He planned to return there after his victory in the south. After the fall of Cory, the Venatori cult lost its bite. A good number of cultists, who never admitted they were Venatori in the first place, distanced themselves from the whole affair. That doesn’t stop remaining loyalist fanatics from acting delusional and stirring up trouble. Some Venatori recruit others by saying they will end slavery. There are Venatori street prophets who try to spread the good word. It’s noted that it’s not illegal to be a cultist. Venatori believe that Tevinter was once glorious and is a lot shitter now, and want to rectify that, even though the old empire was even more corrupt and heartless than the present day. Some believe that Cory’s machinations live on in them. They think their gods would see them lifted and believe in their veins runs true Vint blood passed down from the dreamers. They still want to enter the Black City. They think Minrathous has lost its way and would give their lives for the glory of Tevinter reborn. The Loyal believe Cory’s fall is a test.

There are ancient Catacombs beneath Minrathous, old as the city itself, officially for storage in case of seige. Unofficially they hold many shady corners, forgotten places, and dark secrets. Weird pendants start turning up in the city. They are seals, round clay discs seated in polished black shell on gold chains. A long, thin 4-winged dragon is etched on the front, rising from a dark sea. They have blood magic enchantments on them and there’s 8 of them. There’s a man who looks at objects people don’t want others to know about. He realizes a pendant is blood magic but he says he hasn’t seen blood magic like this since Cory. This makes him scared and he clams up and refuses to study it any further, throwing the POV char out. It turns out the Venatori have been doing expeditions beneath Minrathous looking for a specific cave. The cave is hidden in the Catacombs and contains a trapped demon sealed beneath the city. The Venatori want to release it and have been unfolding the seal enchantments so they snap. They refer to the demon’s coming as “The Hour [of Minrathous’ return]”. Demon probably isn’t even the right word, it’s not like any demon Minrathous has fought before, and it’s something only a god or godlike figure could summon. It seems like the plan was originally for Cory to release it and then he could rebuild Tevinter. Then if Minrathous wasn’t ready to kneel, the demon would have made sure it did. Even though Cory is gone the Venatori wanted to proceed with this. Apparently releasing it will kill most of Minrathous and destroy the city.

About 30 Venatori attempt the release ritual, which involves blood magic sacrifice and a stone obelisk. There’s a strange sick buzzing in peoples’ heads and an “expansive need for emptiness” pervades the area. A formless shadow beneath moves at odds with the lights that cast it. The demon is described as “the edge of something deeper”. If it’s a demon at all, it’s older and larger and more nameless than any demon regular folk have heard of and so much worse. It’s implied the ‘demon’ doesn’t care about Minrathous/Tevinter glory and that the Venatori wouldn’t be able to control it. At one point someone stumbles into the shadow, it wraps around his wrists, he convulses and his body sinks into it. The Venatori’s attempt to release the thing is foiled and it’s sealed. Nobody talks about it because doing so admits the Venatori still have too much power. Some Venatori will face their crimes, others will claim they’re victims of blood-magic control, especially those with money. Sounds to me like the demon was maybe the Formless One, of the Forbidden Ones. Possibly a Forgotten One, remember the lore suggests a link between the 2 groups (Band of Three). Or maybe even a remaining old god, why is the seal pattern a weird 4-winged dragon? But the Formless One seems like the most likely candidate given the way it’s described and considering that it’s the only one of the Forbidden Ones left for us to encounter.

Tevinter Templars

The templars in Tevinter, unlike the rest of the world, lack the ability to stop magic. They’re only guards with fancy equipment doused in lyrium, often armed with swords or maces. It gives them chips the size of trees on their shoulders, and probably explains their surliness. They’re basically cops in shiny metal armor. A Tevinter mage in one bit wonders if the Tevinter templars could prove they’re worth the Chantry’s levies and hunt a monster plaguing Minrathous. Some mages think they’re useless. In Tevinter, templars only act when magic is used outside the law, except in special cases where a bribe makes it special or the mage-based justicars step in. If a job doesn’t need justicar attention or the templars want to consult a mage without being walked all over, they hire outside assistance like from PIs. Some of their offices/buildings seem cramped, it seems they’re not held in high respects by the Circles and aren’t allocated lots of resources. They have enchanted weapons made of Fade-touched metal and marked with the Circle’s seal designed to subdue mages, but in order to keep the mages happy they aren’t always allowed access to them. The weapons are assigned for specific and approved circumstances only. These weapons can shoots beam of light.

Antiva and the Crows

We meet old Crows who are still active in the field. Some of the Crow leaders are also old. The Crows are known for usually putting on a show and being bird-masked, ornate, flashy and jester-motley. The Crows are mostly heroes in Antiva. Antivans tend to romanticize them as freedom fighters. In the Towers Age they were hired to kill the top templars in retribution for them enacting the Right of Annulment and covering up the slaughter. Crows’ tattoos mark which house they belong to.

We learn the identities and names of the Eight Talons - a mix of men and women, old and young, humans and elves - and the names of the 8 houses. One of them is a bastard son of the Antivan king (his illegitimate children are given the choice of joining the Crows or living a life of luxury in exile). He sometimes briefs his father on Crow business. Another Talon is a lyrium addict. At 28 another is an elven woman who is the youngest Talon in history - to her, the Crows are family. There are various romantic entanglements and associated jealousies between some of the Talons. Between them on the business side of things are various plots, intrigues, deals, maneuvers for position etc. Houses can gain and lose ground/standing. Some of the Talons have rules like don’t kill the help/servants, unless they’re guilty. Rarely do the Talons meet in 1 location but a summit was called by the First Talon because the Qunari invasion has left them with no choice. Without an army, Antiva’s only line of defense is the Crows. If the Qunari attack, the Talons need to be a united front. The Talons attend the summit to plot a course of action and discuss the security of Antiva. Two of the Talons have recently run a lot of contracts together in Qunari-occupied Ventus and seen the dangers of the Qun first hand. They believe that if they present a united front between their houses, it will be easier to sway the other houses into an alliance. The Crows are also worried that if Vints and Qunari wipe each other out it will be bad for their business.

They know the Qunari will not just be satisfied with Tevinter. The Qunari invaded northern Antiva 200 years ago and that part of the country still bears the scars of this. The Talon of Arainai is an elf woman called Guili. She doesn’t often stand up to the others because her House lost face when Zevran failed the contract on the HoF’s life. Her position is still precarious after a long bloody battle back to the top. Crow Houses are sometimes referred to as “families”, sounding mafia-esque. Talons are supposed to be untouchable but at the summit several of them are assassinated one after the other. Antivan Crows don’t run so they stay to solve the crime. One Crow trick is an influencer serum that causes a warm feeling in a person and makes them feel safe, that they can say or do anything. It turns out 2 of the other Talons were engaged in secret (kept secret from the First Talon) to make an alliance between their houses. The First Talon would have never approved of this because united they could have overruled her, and they didn’t want to go to war against the Qunari. Before houses, masks and tattoos Crows were monks near Treviso. They poisoned a duke who was terrorizing a village. They were a group of individuals who did what was needed to be done to protect the Antivan people. Over the years, they’ve lost sight of that. Now, it’s all about family and blood instead of being a claw working as one.

It turns out one of the Talons had plotted to kill the others at the summit. They catch him out before he can complete the lot and assume he did it for money. He says he didn’t and disparages that it’s always about money for the Crows now, when in the beginning they were protectors who fought for Antiva, for the people. He feels they’ve chosen profit over patriotism somewhere along the way. The Qunari approached him and said if he killed the other 7 Talons their invasion of Antiva would be peaceful and the Antivans could keep their way of life without submitting to the Qun. He believed them because he believes Qunari honorable. One of the Talons who saw Ventus says there was no honor there. The guilty party says he made the deal so it would be different here. The First Talon asserts he made the deal to be the only house left, so he wouldn’t have anymore annoying contract-sharing or territorial disputes. He says that under one Talon at least they could stop squabbling and get things done and that Crows are nothing more than glorified mercs now. One of the Talons who was in Ventus says they do have standards and that he’s beneath them. They kill him. (There is also a reference to a former ninth house that used to exist and no longer does due to the ruthless First Talon.)

Now with half her Talons dead, Antiva is more vulnerable than ever. The remaining Talons settle in to come up with a plan to protect Antiva, knowing that the Qunari invasion of Antiva is now not an ‘if’ but a ‘when’. They want to be ready for any eventuality. The Qunari have struck a mighty first blow killing so many Talons but failed to finish the job, which is a fatal error. The remaining Talons inform the heirs to the now-empty Talon positions of what’s occurred and hope they’ll join their cause. The remaining Talons resolve that the Qunari will regret this and to show all of Thedas why no one messes with the Antivan Crows.

Elsewhere, someone mysterious has contracted the Crows to kill a bunch of prominent Venatori, 9 so far. Some of the Venatori are scared, particularly of a notorious Crow known as “the Demon”, who has been doing a lot of these contracts. He’s the great Lucanis Dellamorte, grandson of the First Talon. His cousin Illario is also a Crow. Lucanis is the rumored favorite to be heir to his house, but he doesn’t want it. The Venatori say they won’t cower to foreign mercenaries like the Crows. It’s implied the mysterious Crow-hirer/anonymous client is connected to elves as they gave the cousins info about a magical secret passage inside a statue of a vhenadahl to help them on their way. The passage is lit with veilfire and guarded by an elf in a scarlet coat who seems to be a mage. Lucanis knows some things about demons and the supernatural, and can tell when the Veil is thin. He’s somewhat sympathetic to elves/the downtrodden and has a sense of justice/morals despite being a Crow and gruff. He releases a bunch of elven slaves on a job and gets them to safety, his cousin chiding him that Crows aren’t revolutionaries. Lucanis thinks death is his calling and doesn’t want to quit. He is going to kill a bunch of other Venatori, and enjoys killing racist evil blood-mage supremacists for top dollar, but they now know he has a heart and plot to exploit his weaknesses.

The Fifth and Seventh Talons first appeared in the comic Dragon Age: Deception.

The Lords of Fortune

A new addition to the lore, Lords “beholden to Fortune”. They are a famed Rivaini guild of treasure hunters, dungeoneers and glory-seekers - roguish daring lucky scoundrels that live thrilling lives essentially, a level above ordinary thieves. The guild contains members of different races and genders. Members of all genders are “Lords”. Indiana Jones-esque, they take jobs and travel all over the world stealing and adventuring, and “specialize in pulling gems from the eyes of statues” from places like lost temples, dealing with ancient curses and resurrected beasts along the way. They’re the best treasure hunters in the world and in Rivain stories are told of their exploits. For an added cost they lead and protect/guard the softer people who hire them to do so on the expeditions. They usually wear colorful sashes, capes, pants, shirts, belts, scarves, charms, gold jewelry, ancient coins, trinkets they’ve found and trophies of their exploits - this is the the right and privilege of any Lord of Fortune that lasts a year or two. This practise is described as “wearing their expertise”. They also do things like infiltrating buildings and retrieving artifacts from rich collectors or which were stolen. They do jobs for a cut or to sell onto others. Some seem to pickpocket and take contracts killing monsters. Sometimes they operate in pairs or crews. They seem to put stock in ‘spending’ luck and in what ‘hand of cards’ they think they’ve recently been dealt. It seems like they’re known for usually completing their jobs with a flair for the dramatic/causing clamor. Many individual Lords seem to have different specialties and how they do their jobs differs for all of them. Some Lords steal an artifact from Starkhaven to sell to Vaea. (the Inquisition therefore have contact with the LoFs) It’s a big red amulet with great healing properties. it also seems to have anti-aging effects. It doesn’t work on the dead though. It seems like people from other countries can also join the LoFs.

Named Lords are ‘Hollix’, Elim, Bharv, Herold and Mateo. ‘Hollix’ (a pseudonym) is genderfluid/nonbinary or similar and a master of disguise; clothes, makeup, wigs, vocal changes, different genders, even different species i.e. human, elf etc. They are a former circus acrobat and use a saber and smoke pellets. Bharv is a dwarf nearing retirement with 4 daughters, whose specialty is escapes and exit strategies. He lives on a farm in Rivain. His friend Herold was also a Lord. Herold was a friend of Vaea. A little girl Mizzy is remarked to act like a LoF in the making. Elim was a female elf with a gift for imitating accents, knowing 12 or more. Within the Lords she was a renowned specialist at things like lockpicking. Mateo is a ‘delver’, which seems to mean an expert in underground things. He has an appreciation for history and is described as a warrior. His weapon is a dao. 

The aftermath of the Inquisition

After the Inquisition defeated Cory, “10,000″, a deliberately-inflated-to-be-alarming guess of how many soldiers, assassins, diplomats and others the Inquisitor had amassed, floated around. Nobility thought the Inquisition was a massive, destabilizing militia with allegiance to an ideal, not borders, and feared this. They were worried what this big force would become if controlled by a lesser hand. Sutherland and Co sometimes still carry out tasks relating to the Inquisition. Sutherland and Co were dispatched to Skyhold to deal with a demon that appeared there. Sutherland however suspects they were really sent there to fail and disappear during the effort; to confirm Skyhold was a problem and give officials license to permanently erase the Inquisition’s legacy. Sutherland and Co were perfect candidates for this because they’re loyal/true enough to be discreet but small enough to disappear. (That doesn’t happen though, they suceed).

For info on what the actual remains of the Inquisition have been and are currently doing, see the Solas post.

What became of Skyhold

Skyhold valley is abandoned now, spotted with the stones of dead fires of the many who once gathered there. The fortress itself was left only with a skeleton crew of caretakers, a permanent staff of 7. Ten other people were in the supply caravan. The main caretaker was carefully chosen, a Chantry brother with distant family and an unremarkable name, who welcomed long pilgrimages and repetitive but important work. After the Inquisition downsized or disbanded, Skyhold itself posed a unique problem. Too symbolic to be razed, too fortified to be left for just anyone to claim. It was eventually decided Skyhold would be shuttered, preserved but defanged, a distant beacon so all would remember the Inquisitor’s deeds. Many departing Inquisition recruits took a keepsake with them when they departed, to remember the place that so completely changed their lives. Officials promised the Inquisition would fade away. “If there was doubt, if lingering assets proved troublesome, fear and fighting over its legacy would resume. Skyhold had to be boring and safe.” It’s now set up almost like an exhibit, just with no visitors coming. Everything is monkish-ly clean, the remaining furniture is arranged like they’re in a display and people are still using them. What seems to be a commemorative plaque is put up commending the efforts of the Inquisition members both large and small, and wishing them well in the future.

Dorian, Mae and their efforts in Tevinter

Dorian’s House no longer has slaves and now only employs paid servants, a change he says he’s ashamed to have only made recently. Someone he met in the south, obviously Inky, changed his mind on the matter. He’s one of the few mages of his station to do this. Dorian and Mae are on the outs with most of the rest of the Magisterium because of their efforts to make it better/enact change. The state of the Magisterium makes Dorian raggedly depressed. He and Mae’s duty to their country that they feel means they have to be well-informed. Lately the foul political rumblings in the Magisterium mean they’ve had to spend all their time keeping their eyes on scoundrels. They are trying to win a few of them over. It’s been slow but they’re giving them a chance to prove they’re not complete fools. They also do things like posting flyers with rewards to get monster-hunters to kill monsters that are plaguing Minrathous. They’re so busy crusading for change that they don’t have time to hunt them themselves. Dorian and Mae want to show that not all Vints are heartless and don’t like the idea of bad things in their city. They hire a Lord of Fortune to kill a monster in the city. At one point House Pavus hired expert thieves to break into the Archon’s Palace but the thieves didn’t manage to succeed.

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We also get updates on what’s become of some minor chars and some insights into the backgrounds of some minor chars.

Give me a shout if you have any questions/desires for clarification/further stuff you wanna know.

#dragon age #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #tevinter nights #bioware #tevinter nights spoilers #tevinter nights spoiler #spoilers #spoiler #video games #solas #mj meta

[ekebolou]

I haven’t forgotten the wordbuilding stuff.  I got distracted by planning the Academy grounds.

It’s funny because I started off with all the ideas about strategic design, and comparison and addition to the previous structures (let’s face it, they copied the Palace tower - it’s copying - actually it’s puerile dick-measuring, but that’s still copying).  And then I started thinking about who is actually building it, and how long it would take to build.

Because the foundations of the idea of the Academy are laid out by Keadar-Ainjir himself.  And he definitely builds the Academy Tower (diiiiiiiiick-measuring).  But he doesn’t live that long.  He’s pretty young when he initiates the rebellion (older than Nika and Cole during the war, so less late-twenties and more early thirties, but since paths to advancement would be very different back then, that would be young for the position he takes on), but it takes a long time to come to fruition, and the coup at the Palace is several years after the war starts, and then he’s got to, you know, establish a whole new system of governance.  And deal with when they find out the royal family was not eradicated. and then there’s more rebellions (because of course there are).  Wulsh starts to get uppity.  Adineh starts meddling.  It takes a long time to get stable.  He dies maybe in his sixties.  Maybe it’ll be early seventies, but probably not. 

And the Academy is a major engineering project.  It’s built out of the same basalt the Palace is (only more, and better, because penises need to be compared).  It’s not that easy to mine.  A lot of stone will have to come from somewhere else just because you already have city built over where the original mines were.  Those are the places (out in the Ards and Namera) the tend to rebel, too, and being looped into a massive engineering project doesn’t help make ‘em NOT ornery. 

He focuses on the wall, and the Tower.  He’s a smart guy, but he’s not a builder. And he’s distracted.  He doesn’t know what he’s going to do with the palace, but he knows it can’t be a seat of new governance, and then it turns out a royal baby lived (Adineh and the nobility both frown on baby-killing, post-coup anyway) and any idea of maybe trying to tear down or convert goes out the window because he can stash the nobility there and not spend any more money on them, and he’s now got a real excuse for a whole new center of power for the military.  So he builds the tower and the starts (and mostly finishes the wall. 

His lieutenant takes over after him and really has enough to be getting on with making sure nothing gets fucked up once Keadar-Ainjir is dead.  It’s really remarkable.  He does some sketches, defends the principles of the place as written down by his predecessor, but mostly lets whoever cares most keep developing the Academy.  The first classes are tiny - maybe 20-30 kids - and the grounds are fucking huge.  Because I’m phenomenally bad at picturing spaces, the rather arbitrary picture I drew is sectioned off to something like 800 acres.  Good-ol’ K-A walled off 800 acres (remember - some of this is existent city walls that he added to, so he didn’t build the whole circumference wall) and built a fucking enormous tower in the middle and died.

Originally, I was concerned with what an actual experienced military tactician would decide for how the grounds were planned, and then I realized it’s going to be the work of decades.  Plans will be found, lost, discarded.  Different visions will intervene.  Resource scarcity will have a say.  The things that Keadar-Ainjir can gift to the physical presence of the place are limited, but important, and probably would’ve faded without his lieutenant being so adamant about them, if nothing else.  That thing, as per the grounds, is not defensibility, but the idea of self-containment.  Now, this isn’t like a castle is self-contained, obviously, because the major food supply for the Academy comes from way far from the grounds, as discussed in earlier ramblings.  He builds a wall, he builds a tower - he sets a boundary, and gives it a center.  Everything needed to go from boundary to center - from periphery to seat of power - is within the walls.

The result being a kind of stupidly designed campus. They plop the first building down right next to the Tower, some 80 years after K-A dies, and it’s kind of all-purpose - dorms, classrooms, storage, library, spaces for combat practice, etc.  But this is dumb, and the outgrowth of temporary buildings as class sizes starts to go really points up how dumb this is, because the Tower is supposed to be special, but they can’t move the whole building because labor costs money, so sort of... semi-wall the rest of the space around the tower, then start plopping buildings around the original building, and at one point they wall off what was a nice arch-lined walkway which becomes the famous seldom-used hall of alcoves by the kitchens (because damn me, I did establish some places in previous writings I want to keep). 

And they toss up some dorms, but one of the reasons to build on the other hill back in palace-building days (other than the fact that it was slightly taller) is that this hill has an awkward slope, and is actually quite narrow where it levels out, so they either have to level the ground, build off-level or into the hillside, or just put shit where the ground is already level.  They generally opt for the latter. 

And now I like it.  I’ve drawn it out a few different ways, but I like it - because it’s  messy.  There’s an idea behind where everything is, but it’s a very big idea and anything less wouldn’t get expressed properly.  And at this point - the Academy Dayz stories - they’re still behind, because they’ll always be behind, and the class sizes have required the building of extra dorms for the First and Second Year classes that are wattle-and-daub and shitty wood and bricks, pushed all the way up against the walls, and the Southwest gate is stupidly built, because the city started to creep around the Academy walls and they didn’t want that, so the destroyed a bit but couldn’t destroy it all (because people live there), so they just built a new wall and now there’s a double gate - like, two gates, fifty feet apart and it’s super inefficient.  And there’s all this shitty detritus up by the Northgate, which is actually brick and nice and an extension of the street outside but it’s awkward because it violates the sacred boundary between City and Academy, so cadets are strictly forbidden from going over there even though it’s right near the Second Year dorms.  It’s like Hogsmeade, only instead of magical candy and butterbeer you’ll just catch an asswhooping if you go in there without permission (but who wants to, because ugh, townies, amirite)

I still don’t know where the showers are.

#worldbuilding notes #kostas stuff

[johaerys-writes]

Dorian Pavus/Trevelyan

A World With You, Chapter 31: Gates of Porphyry

Dorian and Cole are in the Fade, trying to rescue Tristan from the nightmare’s clutches. Dorian sets fire to a great many things.

This chapter is a bit long, so only the first part here! The rest is on AO3 :)

Read from the beginning

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The gates of the keep loomed before him, high and impenetrable. Dorian let his gaze sweep over the wide expanse of houses, snow and trees that lay beyond the wooden walls. The familiar noises of a large settlement reached his ears; people chattering, ladles banging on pots and the beat of blacksmith hammers, mingled with the sighing of the mountain wind.

“Well,” Dorian said, gripping the hilt of his staff. “Shall we announce ourselves?”

Cole bit the inside of his lip, his eyes wide as they took in every detail, nimble hands hovering over his daggers. He glanced at Dorian, and nodded.

It was time.

Dorian let the power of the Fade suffuse him. A trickle at first, then a rushing river that made his lungs swell and his skin prickle. It had been a while since he’d used magic in the Fade, a long while, and the sheer amount of it, the ease with which it flowed through him startled him. It made him feel just a little lightheaded.

With a wide swing of his staff, Dorian cast, focusing all his intent on the walls before him. They looked dense and strong, rife with protective magic that seemed woven into the stone and the wood, but he knew this could be just one more trick the demon that controlled this part of the Fade had used. With enough focus, he could tear it apart at the seams, he knew that. Mages could manipulate the Fade to some extent, more if they were somniari, and that was what attracted spirits and demons to them, like flies over honey. Getting past the demon’s elaborate defences wasn’t just a demonstration of physical prowess or magical skill, but a battle of wills.

The gates caught fire with a loud, satisfying whoosh.

It was as if a bubble had been popped. A low rumbling drifted from beyond the walls, hundreds of booted feet striking the earth. Dorian could just make out the outline of figures gathering on the battlements and the watchtowers behind the thick, dark cloud of smoke that soon obscured the sky.

“It knows we’re here,” Cole remarked, taking a step forward. “It is angry.”

“You don’t say.” A small smile curled the edges of his lips as Dorian followed, already preparing his next spell. Sneaking about was never his strong suit. When in doubt, dazzle.

Or burn everything to the ground. That was always an option.

An arrow flew past him, then another. And another. Soon, there was a hailstorm of bolts, their dark feathery ends quivering on the ground all around them. Dorian’s barrier sprung with a soft, electric buzz, just in time for a particularly thick bolt to slide past it and away. Surely, they didn’t expect to defeat a mage with arrows, did they?

He hadn’t quite finished his thought when the blazing gates peeled apart and what seemed like an entire division of soldiers poured forth, the clanking of their armour and their loud bootsteps only barely swallowed by the wind and the thick carpet of snow. Well. That was more like it. Anything less, and Dorian would have considered it a discourtesy.

“This is it,” he told Cole. “Get ready.”

As if in agreement, Cole disappeared in a cloud of smoke, his form engulfed by a darkness that dissipated in a heartbeat. Dorian had seen him do that before, but here in the Fade he seemed to blend even more seamlessly with his surroundings. It was… just a little unnerving. What was even more unnerving was the sight of the man that ran forth to attack him, only to have his throat slit by thin air. Blood poured down his neck and the front of his jerkin, and he fell face down on the snow.

More and more came after him, their swords brandished, their armours polished to a shine, the sign of the Inquisition on their left breast and that strange sigil on their right; a horse, a sickle and a sword. What could it mean? Whose banner was it? There was barely time to think as he stepped to the side, away from an incoming attack. He swung his staff in a wide arc, and the middle of the division erupted in a fiery explosion, pieces of armour and body parts flying in all directions. Screams rose all around him as the soldiers scrambled away from the flames and the onslaught of limbs and broken weapons. Dorian fade stepped, back and safely away from the thick of the battle, landing next to a wide tree trunk. From his vantage point, he could see the sharpened edges of Cole’s daggers flashing in the light for a blink of an eye before sinking in necks, bellies, elbows, sides. One by one, the panicked enemies fell under the spirit’s swift attacks.

More kept coming, though. There seemed no end to them. Dorian knew they were not real people, only figments of memories and dreams, likely plucked from Trevelyan’s mind and manipulated by the demon. Still, it all felt real. The smoke clung to his throat, the smell of blood, spilled guts and burning flesh filled his nostrils, their panicked screams rang along the mountain top. It was odd and jarring, attacking something that looked and felt so much like the place he had come to call home for the past few months. In the minds of those soldiers, he was surely an intruder, and they were all defending the safety of their houses, of their families. Of their leader.

Speaking of which; where on earth was he?

Dorian’s mind swiftly supplied all sorts of terrifying scenarios to that answer as he summoned spell after spell. Perhaps he was bound somewhere, tortured by the demon until the last of his defences left him. Perhaps he was holding on by a thread before his resolve was entirely eaten away. Perhaps, and that thought chilled him to the bone, perhaps he had already succumbed.

Dorian had seen that before. He’d seen what it was like, to have one’s mind taken over by a demon. To become an abomination. He’d seen mages, fellow researchers and students, falling prey to the taunts of malevolent spirits from the beyond, their consciousness eroded beyond repair. Their shape remained familiar, but their minds… those were gone. Permanently, more often than not.

He squared his jaw, battling the feeling of nausea that came from drawing infinitely more power than he was used to. He wouldn’t let that happen to Trevelyan. He would do anything, absolutely anything to bring him back. Even if it meant cutting through an entire army to do it.

It certainly seemed like he was very close to that, right at that moment.

Cole was weaving smoothly through the soldiers, cutting them down one by one, more and more bodies falling prey to the ease with which he wielded his daggers. Dorian’s spells too, were doing considerable damage, burning and zapping anything in their path. Still, it wasn’t enough. They kept pouring. And pouring. How much power did that blasted demon command?

It was time for more drastic measures.

Dorian closed his eyes. He took a deep breath to slow the rapid beating of his heart as his tongue wove the incantation. The fact that they were in the Fade was an inconvenience- there was no telling whether the spell would react the same way it did on the other side of the Veil. Still, he had to try. He and Cole needed all the help they could get.

As the words left his lips, the sky overhead darkened, twisted and writhed, then split in two. Bolts of lightning filtered from the dense clouds, falling on the soldiers, paralysing them and sending them flying. Dorian concentrated his focus on their center, carving a path through the melee. The long stone bridge was just within view, and past them Skyhold, and within that-

“Cole!” he shouted, running towards the path his spell had opened for them. “Follow me!”

The spirit blinked at him, the side of his face drenched in blood. Whether the blood was his own or from one of the people he’d cut down Dorian could hardly say. His blade slid across a man’s neck swiftly, effortlessly, and then he disappeared in a wisp of smoke. When Dorian glanced beside him, after crossing the threshold of the bustling village, Cole was right there, quick footsteps falling in line with his own.

People stopped and stared as they ran down the long, straight road that led to the wide stone bridge. It was fortunate that they seemed not at all inclined to do anything other than stare or dart out of their way. The demon, it seemed, could control some things, but not all. The village and the keep beyond was fed by Trevelyan’s own memories or thoughts. Dorian should be thanking him, he supposed, that there weren’t villagers with pitchforks and torches running after them just then.

The lightning storm he had summoned was slowly subsiding, and it wouldn’t be long before the soldiers came after them again. Dorian’s heart was beating furiously from the exertion, but he had to do something to stop them before it was too late. As soon as the heels of his boots touched the stones of the bridge, he stopped and turned around, twirling his staff above his head. A wall of electricity sprung from the ground, blocking the entrance. He tied off the spell hard and fast- it would keep longer that way.

“They won’t stop coming,” Cole said, the barest hint of a pant in his voice. “The demon is strong. It’ll send as many as it can.”

“It definitely seems like it,” Dorian muttered as he resumed his running. He could only hope that they reached Trevelyan before those… people -memories? Figments of his dreams? Whatever they were, anyway- reached them.

A few quick fireballs took care of the handful of guards by the main gates- thankfully, they were at the same posts they occupied in real life. Dorian knew well how Skyhold’s defenses worked, so clearing the path was only a matter of time. As soon as they’d stepped past the gates of Skyhold, they both stopped dead in their tracks.

Where there had been a clear, cloudless day before, now a night sky littered with glittering stars hung above them. Where the courtyard had been filled with people going about their daily chores, now those same people were dressed in their finest outfits, dancing to the cheerful music of fiddles and lyres, drinking from cups filled to the brim with ale. Lit lanterns hung from the walls, or floated around them like wisps. Laughter chimed through the expansive gardens like a thousand tiny bells.

“What is all this? A celebration?” Dorian asked, thinking out loud. “Where did all the guards go?”

“Elsewhere.” Cole took a small step forward, eyes wide, scanning the place around them. “It knows me,” he said on a huffed exhale. “It doesn’t want me here.”

“It can sense you?”

“Yes. It can sense you, too. It doesn’t want you here either.” He weaved seamlessly through the people, making his way towards the main keep, and Dorian followed him, glancing about him warily. No one seemed to take much notice of them, let alone attack them, which only added to the eeriness of the place. He could feel his skin crawling, the hairs at the back of his neck standing on end. It all looked so familiar, but foreign at the same time.

“You must be careful,” Cole whispered to him as soon as they’d reached the wide staircase that led to the throne room. “The demon, it will try to get in your mind, too. Do not let it.”

Dorian waved his concerns away. “I’ve dealt with demons before. I can hold my own.”

“This one’s different,” the boy muttered, chewing his lip. His fingers twitched and tightened over the daggers on his belt. “Look for him. I’ll look for the demon. Go, now. There’s not much time left.” With that, he disappeared in the shadows.

Read the rest on AO3!

#dorian pavus #dorian x trevelyan #dorian x inquisitor #dorian/trevelyan #dorian/inquisitor #pavelyan #dorian pavus fic #dragon age fanfiction #dragon age inquisition #dorian x tristan trevelyan #tristan trevelyan #a world with you #johaerys writes