#incredible lore and writing

[seaglassdinosaur]

The most brilliant and impressive thing Ryan Coogler did in my opinion was figure out how to communicate to the audience the actual tangible power of Sammie’s music, so we could truly conceptualize what it was that Remmick wanted and what he threatened to take away.

[irenedubrovna]

Do not create a literal upper caste lower caste class divide in your show if you are incapable of presenting the nuances of such a divide it makes you look lazy

[theinsideofablackhole]

(More) Rain World Pearl Writings

Now with some hit-or-miss doodles I made to visualize the pearls. They might be incredibly compressed idk...

Bicker

Interesting… It is a debate forum on the punitive ruling of a homicide. To thrust an enlightened individual across the cycle was considered abominable.

However, the presiding Just Order decided that the perpetrator embodied “The Remorsive Luminance Within”, and recommended her for temporary exile to a temple.

The discourse over the sentencing is… vulgar, to say the least. Many of my citizens did little else but talk, and thus the political landscape mutated into a frenzy of dozens of quarreling factions.

Most systems were commanded by the dynastic Concepts, so the remaining scraps of governance were subject to vicious competition by these factions. Power changed hands constantly.

The perpetrator was lucky. Had it been any other cycle, the ruling Order would throw her in a sensory deprivation tank or wipe her memory. Or perhaps she would be declared unsalvageable and turned into fodder for ritual combat.

It’s a bit baffling that they rarely just transcended their criminals in a Void Fluid bath instead. Probably because it would defeat the point of their bickering…

Mast

Oh? This contains a very old intellectual offering to the 52nd Great Mind, or the Aetherial Mast west of here. It consists of a very flattering, complex riddle.

Since you’ve been to Five Pebbles, I imagine that you’ve seen those grand towers piercing into the sky. They once formed a communication network between iterators, but a few of them - such as this particular one - are actually older than iterators like me.

After the Void Fluid Revolution, people quickly discovered that if any construct got complex enough, it would gain sapience.

So they threw as much computational power as they could into these towers, and waited. They expected the Aetherial Masts to quickly discover a method to implode the cosmos into the earth, achieving global transcension.

It inevitably failed. The 52nd Great Mind was later connected to a larger, more deliberate construct, and underwent apotheosis to become Looks to the Moon. Which is me!

The first of us iterators were reborn from these Great Minds. Afterward, most Masts were created with an iterator already in control.

Thank you, little creature, for this memento from my distant past.

Brain Tree

It's a treatise on memorykeeping. There’s a crypt nearby here, under Five Pebbles - piles and piles of cabinets, holding the legacies of my departed creators.

Through a complex bombardment procedure, the storage components of a person's mind would grow a twin lump, which contained cherished memories. The "memory fruit" was then removed and placed in a cabinet.

When the crypts began to acquire a hefty pile of cabinets, my creators discovered that all the fruits had united via a network of roots. The formation bulged outward endlessly, breaking into a factory far, far away. The cleanup effort was monumental.

Now, a microbe system continually expels the fruits' boundless energy, and kills them if the defenses fail to keep the fruits from getting too large.

Rare as they are, mass fractal neural emissions are a worrying phenomenon. Please keep your distance if you see a fruit that has grown into a tree.

Don't touch it - I don't know what might happen to you.

[psychomusic]

oc time again! + her town & culture (heavily inspired by pre-roman italic populations)

she is suri sauthon. her story is linked to my swtor imperial agent, tar'x, but most of her life except for the one year away where she meets him, is spent in a town in the mountains of mirial.

despite mirial being cold and desert, and many cities developing underground, her town flourishes thanks to a force nexus, venerated in the form of an ancient, sacred, alive crystal. the ecosystem of that mountain depended on what "the horned crystal" was capable of giving them, but mirialans couldn't live off of that alone, so they developed trade and some rudimental technology, even if oftentimes it was bought thanks to the highly profitable trade of a plant used to make medicines that slowed down aging and had overall healing properties.

note: everything that's generated by this nexus has these healing properties BUT they have to be processed, except for those who bathed in the waters of the cavity under the crystal - the "real" nexus, but not the worshipped one. the waters were sacred but they were not thought to be miraculous, unlike the crystal, who instead was thought of as the keystone of the ecosystem: without it, everything would fall apart (and that is partially true: the cavity was the "real" nexus but thanks to the crystal, also strong in the force, the properties were spread all over the mountains). those who bathed in the cavity's waters - so, all of the town, who had a sort of baptism there - could eat the plant, make whatever food with it, and not only that plant, but everything generated by the nexus, that, again, had similar properties. this allowed people to live up to normal life-spans without advanced medicines or, much, really. to those who didn't live there, though, after the processing, had incredible effects, slowing down aging - for those who took it regularly - and making people able to live up to half a century more than the average]

originally, there were four tribes of nomads that lived thanks to horned farm animals that decided to settle down into one bigger town and other smaller settlements, to live off of transhumance. this division of the tribes stayed into the political and social organization: every person belonged to one tribe specifically, and had slightly different rituals and culture. for examples, each tribe had their own priests and healers, with different techniques and traditions. the town, tho, was guided by a group of people in the high priesthood, a position you could reach only by having earned the trust of all tribes. those high priests had many roles: they guided the people into sacred processions common to all the tribes, they managed the trading with outsiders, they did the maintenance of the temple of the summit (the one that functioned as casket to the crystal) and created a special liquid to offer the crystal that helps it grow.

this particular temple was important because 1. it was very visible, from every angle of the town, and it became an important identity symbol; 2. it stored the venerated horned crystal; 3. it had the altar where sacrifices were made for the crystals. that altar had a hole connected to the cavity, that allowed the liquids to reach the underground; 4. it had various symbols: statues representing each tribe + the high priesthood, and typical mirialan tattoos carved into the wood of the trees that served as columns for the temple, symbolizing 8 values that who dared to enter HAD to have; 5. it was on the way to an important lake (called "mother lake" because the lake the town was built around to depended on the waters of that other lake) where they traveled to in important processions; 6. it was said that a the wizard who unified the tribes made it with its magic, making the plant grow to hold the temple's roof. this wizard was, actually, a force user, obv.

BACK TO HER THOUGH: she's daughter of one of the high priests, who was in charge of managing the trades with outsiders, and lives in a house on the mountains with her mother and him. her parents are from different tribes (that's one of the things that earned him trust from the 4 tribes): when a child is born from two different tribes, they don't pick one to allign to, but they're usually linked automatically to the one with more relatives in it (in her case, the father's tribe: she had many uncles and aunts on his side while her mom only had one sister).

later, though, she got quite tied to her mother's tribe due to a mysterious illness that only her mother's tribe healer was able to cure. she spent 4 years (from 10 to 14 years old) living with the healer and learned her secrets. to better study, she wrote them down. when she returned home, she studied to become a priestess with her father. at 22 (the average age: you can't become priest before your 20s), she was supposed to take a test and become a priestess, but the healer of her mother's tribe died and the tribe asked her to take her place. she couldn't technically do that, but both tribes estimated both her and her parents and she was allowed to become both. she then decided to try to become a high priestess, and became one at 25 (a quite young age). being part of the council, she tried to convince the various tribe healers to unite their knowledges and write them down, and eventually made it. healers still remained tribe based but they now had an "upper, inter-tribe level" similar to high priesthood.

years later, the sacred horned crystal is stolen from the temple by some Hutt mercenaries looking for a profit. given the trust she has earned from all the tribes and the fact that her father is the high priest that deals with outsiders (and she's been hearing stories and advice about it since she was little), she is the one tasked with getting it back. without the growing crystal, the keystone to their ecosystem, the village would have lasted only a few years. in hrr quest, she meets imperial intelligence agent tar'x laran and, as they "solve the mystery" and fight to have it back, they get closer. they'll get married and have a daughter, Vegoia (who's the only one who actually will get to the plot of my story. this was all background)

[dragongobrr]

theres something about martyn and life beyond life

[skyward-floored]

Swapped (Part 6)

Took me a while to wrangle the plot with this one, sorry it’s been... months. Oops. We’re nearing the end, so it’s getting harder to just whip these out, I have to think about things more XD But I’m still working away on it. Please enjoy!

Mild injury warning, and brief allusions to... I guess medical whump is the best way to put it.

First | Previous | Next (coming soon)

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“Mom? Are we lost?”

Four watched Malon glance at him, then around at the area they’d ended up in. It was a dim and admittedly creepy hallway, one that seemed like it didn’t get much use. It looked nothing like the areas they’d been in with everyone else, and Four watched his mother glance at Artemis as well, who looked equally unsure.

“...I don’t know that we’re lost. We just... don’t quite know where to go,” Artemis answered for her, and Four gave her a look.

“So we’re lost.”

“Well... yes I suppose so,” Artemis admitted with a small heh, and Malon sighed, pulling to a stop.

“We’re not getting anywhere trying to circle back around to the others. Our goal was the top floor, maybe we should be looking for the elevator instead of wandering around aimlessly down here,” she suggested, and Four nodded.

“It’s weird we haven’t seen anyone though, it’s like this area is abandoned,” he said, glancing at a dusty wall. It’s kind of creepy...

“I guess the scientist just doesn’t do much here anymore,” his mother replied, and Four moved to walk a little closer to her, Malon gently ruffling his hair. “Is that the elevator there?”

Four looked, and saw some big double doors up ahead, ones that might’ve been elevator doors. It was hard to tell though, so they all walked closer, Four smiling at the definite sight of a button.

“It is! Now we can go get our powers back,” Four said in relief, and his mother gave him a look that had a fair amount of concern in it. Four ignored it. He knew Mom was worried about him, but she did that all the time. And he was fine. Totally fine.

Not panicking at all.

Four went to push the button, but the elevator made a noise before he touched it, like it was moving down towards them. They all froze, and Four felt a lurch of panic.

“Someone’s coming,” he realized, and Artemis looked around, zeroing in on a door.

“There, quick!”

All three of them ran for it, and Artemis shut it tight behind them, careful to do it as quietly as possible. Footsteps pounded nearby, but they ran right past the closet they’d wedged themselves into.

They all sighed in relief.

“Well, they probably won’t look for us in here,” Malon said once the footsteps had faded, and Four pushed a couple of really heavy-duty mops out of the way of his head.

“Do you think they’re gone?” Artemis asked, and Four looked around as Malon hummed. It was just a utility closet, full of old cleaning supplies and gear. Four poked some of the brooms, then leaned against the wall while his mother and Artemis discussed if it was safe to leave, idly moving his arm that had been injured earlier. It didn’t hurt anymore, and Four felt fine.

Well... except for the pit in his stomach.

Four swallowed. He really wanted to get a move on. Whoever got his powers was probably having all kinds of trouble, and he just felt... empty, in his middle. It was probably Artemis’s powers that were making him feel all weird, but he didn’t like it. He wanted his own back.

And though he’d never admit it out loud... there was a small part of him that wished he’d been left home with Sky, his powers safe and sound.

Four sighed and leaned back, then yelped, his body falling straight through the wall. He fell back to his neck before he stopped himself, and huffed in annoyance as he struggled. He’d gone intangible without even trying, great.

“Goodness, are you okay hon?” Malon asked as she hurried to his side, and Four kicked his legs as he tried to unstick himself. It was just his legs and head on this side of the wall.

“Yeah, I’m just— agh, I’m stuck,” he huffed, trying to figure out how to get himself out. “...Aunt Artemis?”

“Here,” she said as she crouched next to him, taking his legs and firmly tugging him. Four’s body wasn’t intangible anymore though, just the parts of him in the wall, and she couldn’t pull him out.

“Is the wall thinner here? Why did he fall through?” Malon asked, and Artemis made a helpless gesture.

“I think he just lost control for a moment. Easy to do. Happened to me all the time as a kid. But... Four, do you feel anything behind you? There shouldn’t be anything there except solid wall,” Artemis asked, and Four wiggled his arms around a little.

“No... there’s nothing,” he said in surprise. “Maybe it’s another room or something like—”

That weird ripply feeling went through Four again, and he couldn’t even yelp as the rest of him disappeared and he plunged backwards into the wall.

“Four!”

He fell into darkness, startled enough that his body entirely flickered back into tangibility, and abruptly hit ground of some kind with a small oof.

Four laid there a moment, stunned, then shook his head and cautiously sat up, squinting through the dark for any sign of... well, anything. It was pitch black where he’d fallen, so Four hesitated, then felt around in the dark until he found a wall, fumbling along it for any light switches or a door of some kind.

Four wasn’t afraid of the dark, not really. But alone in an unknown area so dark he couldn’t see his hand in front of his face... anyone would be a little scared, right?

Could use Shadow right about now, he thought sadly, muffling a yelp when his hip bumped what felt like a table. Shadow’s powers had been unstable ever since he’d almost died during the whole Screenslaver disaster though, and he’d been left in a sort of... semi-conscious state that Four didn’t totally understand. Fi and Ghirahim were trying to help him, but... so far they hadn’t made much progress.

Four sighed and kept feeling his way around. If Shadow couldn’t be here, couldn’t Four at least have gotten Twilight’s powers and been able to kind of see in the dark? Intangibility really wasn’t helping him here.

So far it hasn’t been terribly useful at all.

Four ran his hand along the edge of what he hoped was a table, slowly shuffling his way forward. Something suddenly caught on his leg, and he jumped, heart thudding as something else crunched under his foot when he set it down. Was that... bone?

Four’s mouth went dry. Were there skeletons in here? What if the room was totally sealed-off? Did he have enough air in here?

What if he couldn’t figure out Artemis’s powers and got stuck here in the dark forever?

Something creaked loudly in the dark, and Four squeaked in alarm, scrambling backwards until his back hit the wall. In a panic he instinctively reached for the part of him he always did when he split, but all that happened was that new ripply feeling that shook through him, and his leg went through the wall.

He scrambled to pull it free, and light burst into the room, blinding him. Footsteps rang out, and right as Four really started to panic, Malon and Artemis came into view, silhouetted by the light.

Four slumped in relief.

“Oh Four, you okay?” his mom asked as she joined his side and put a hand on his arm, and Four exhaled, his heart still hammering in his chest.

See? It’s fine. Quit freaking out!

“Yeah, I’m okay. I just keep getting stuck,” Four mumbled, looking at the floor. “How’d you guys get in here?”

“We found a trapdoor in the closet,” Artemis answered, squinting in the barely-lit room. “If you hadn’t fallen in I doubt we would have noticed it. I think this must be a— oh, here are the lights.”

The fixture on the ceiling flickered, and then wavering light flooded the room as Artemis flipped a switch. Four blinked as he looked around, and let out a quiet huh. There were no bones in sight to his great relief, just some broken glass on the floor. It looked like he’d fallen into the messy remains of a lab, tables and equipment scattered all over the place. It could maybe have just been a storage room, but... why hide it behind a trapdoor in a cleaning closet?

Four felt a flutter of excitement.

It looked like he’d found a secret lab.

“Whoa,” he couldn’t help saying, leg finally slipping free of the wall, and his mom nodded as she caught him.

“I guess this proves our theory that this area isn’t used for much anymore,” Malon said. “Goodness, what a mess.”

“I wonder what happened,” Four said, looking at a table that was splintered into two pieces. It didn’t look like it had just fallen apart, based on the marks gouged into it.

Four leaned a little more tightly against his mother.

Artemis looked around with the rest of them, poking at some things, then crouched down beside a fallen-over filing cabinet, picking up a dusty folder of papers.

“These look like notes on a project,” she said curiously, flipping through them. “Strange...”

Four looked around at the rest of the room while Artemis studied the papers, taking in the mass of various types of equipment all piled around. This room really didn’t seem like it’d been used in a while, and Four wondered what had happened. Why abandon a secret lab like this?

As Four further studied the equipment thrown haphazardly around, broken beakers and dusty surfaces, he saw what looked like shattered pieces of something tucked away in the corner. He picked his way over to them, glass crunching under his boots, and frowned as he saw the remains of what looked like some kind of large tube thing. At least, he thought so. It was kind of hard to tell since most of it was shattered on the floor. But it was definitely big, big enough Four probably could have fit inside of it.

Four placed a hand on it, and ran a slow hand over the glass, his heart picking up for some reason.

“Malon... I think you should see this,” Artemis said in an oddly serious voice, and Malon came over and looked at the paper she’d pulled out. Her eyes went wide, and Four walked back over, standing on his tiptoes trying to read it over his mom’s shoulder. He could only see a few lines of it though, and they didn’t make any sense.

Test 23: exposure to temperature extremes. Subject appears more vulnerable to heat than cold. Frostbite an.......e both possible only when abilities not in use. Further testing required.

Four frowned and tilted his head, reading a bit from a paper Malon’s finger was partially blocking.

...showing signs of power instability when emotional, fine-tuning will likely prove...

The rest of the paper was ripped, and Four wiggled under his mom’s arm, getting a better look at a different paper Artemis held out to her.

.....unable to manage direct sunlight while powers are active. Biggest weakness so far. Further.....ts suspended while subject recovers.

Something cold dropped into Four’s middle, and Malon and Artemis were strangely quiet. His mother slowly flipped to the next paper, this one showing signs of being partially burnt, but you could still see part of the photo it contained.

And the shadowy boy with red eyes was plenty easy to make out.

Four’s stomach lurched.

“Mom?” he asked quietly, and Malon swallowed, several emotions churning in her eyes as she looked at it.

“Project Dark Mirror,” Artemis read softly.

“This... it looks like me. Like Shadow,” Four said in shock. “Is this him?”

Artemis hesitated, looking at the notes with worry bright in her eyes. “It must be. I’ve never known anyone else with powers quite like his, and this... it outlines what he’s shown of his abilities almost perfectly,” she murmured. “This picture is mostly ruined, but... Did he ever tell you where he came from, Four?”

“No. He... he said once he wasn’t natural,” Four began, stomach churning. “But I thought he just meant his powers. He didn’t elaborate or anything. You know he just showed up in our backyard that one night, he never explained much. Do you... do you really think he came from here?”

“It seems likely. He was certainly here at one point,” Artemis said, and Malon leaned against a table, a hand to her forehead as she read more of the papers.

“Oh that poor boy...” she whispered, still skimming. A breeze began to swell in the small space, catching their hair and a few loose papers, and Four looked at her worriedly.

“There are papers here missing,” Artemis noted, grabbing the few that Malon had sent blowing. “This one starts like it’s going to go into detail about origins, but the next just has more notes on tests. I was hoping there’d be something about why you two look so similar, Four.”

“Dad thinks that’s just a coincidence,” Four replied, and Artemis frowned.

“Maybe. But regardless, there’s not enough papers here to know.”

“They must have gotten destroyed,” Malon said as she shut her eyes, face creased behind her mask. The wind picked up. “We’ll have to find backups, or ask the scientist himself.”

“Well then let’s go,” Four said, shaking with anger for Shadow. He hadn’t read everything, but the picture that was forming in his mind of his friend being stuck here and put through experiments that hurt him and probably being alone except for that awful scientist made him mad. “We have powers to get back and now information we need too! This guy might know how to help Shadow!”

“You’re right, we should get going,” Malon agreed, and began gathering papers and folding them up even though the wind was still blowing. “Let’s take these, maybe Fi and G will be able to use them.”

The three of them quickly gathered the papers that could still be read (not as many as Four would have hoped), and Malon put them in a small pouch on her belt, closing it securely. They all headed for the door Malon and Artemis had come through, but then Four paused, looking at a corner he hadn’t studied as intently before.

“Wait... look, another elevator!” he said excitedly, and Malon and Artemis turned to look where he pointed, Malon’s eyebrows raising.

“Well look at that. I think you’re right,” she said, and they moved to study it. It was small, tucked in an unassuming corner, but it looked big enough that Four was pretty sure they’d all fit inside.

“Where do you think it goes?” he asked, craning his neck as if he could see its path upward.

“Hmm... probably up to whatever personal offices the scientist has, since I doubt this room is widely known. I bet we came in the back way,” Artemis said thoughtfully.

Four felt a flutter of excitement. “So this’ll lead us right to him? That’s perfect!”

“Hold your horses there,” Malon said, putting a hand on his arm when he went to push the button. Four stopped and looked at her. “Is this a good idea? Surely he has some sort of defenses around his personal elevator.”

“Possibly... but there were quite a few guards outside, I don’t think we have any better of a chance out there than in here,” Artemis replied. “And I doubt the scientist will be expecting anyone from this lift, not with how abandoned this place looks.”

“He might hear us coming though,” Malon said with a frown.

“Then you can just blow him off his feet when the doors open. Or Artemis can shield us or something,” Four said with a smile, and Malon sighed.

“I just don’t want us to underestimate him again,” she said, but she let go of Four’s arm and nodded at him.

“Well... here we go,” Four said, and pressed the button on the wall.

A rumbling noise signaled the elevator moving, and Malon motioned them all a few steps back, her fists raised cautiously. Four stayed close to her, Artemis a few steps back, and the cheerful ding the elevator let out seemed out of place.

The door opened, and nobody was inside.

All of them sighed in relief, and moved into the elevator, comfortable despite its small size. Four pushed the button that had an up arrow on it, and the doors slid closed, the floor lightly jerking under their feet as the elevator began to move. An jarringly cheerful tune came from a little speaker in the corner, and for a few moments, it was the only sound in the space.

“I’m wondering if this was wise,” Artemis suddenly said as they got close to the top. Four looked at her, and noticed her expression seemed nervous, and still a little pale from her earlier healing spree. “None of us can reliably use these powers yet. What if something goes wrong?”

“Well we have to do something,” Four pointed out. “And maybe the others are already here and are in the middle of stopping him. Or already stopped him!”

“Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst, hon,” Malon said softly, and the elevator chimed, coming to a stop.

All of them stiffened, and the doors slid open, revealing a darkened room on the other side.

Silence met them, and they exchanged looks, then one by one stepped out of the elevator. The doors slid closed, cutting off the cheerful music, and they were left in total darkness.

Four couldn’t tell what kind of room they were in, just that there was tile under his feet, and a chill in the air. His eyes took a minute to adjust, but even once they did, he still couldn’t make out anything.

Four’s heart began to pound the longer the silence stretched, not being able to see anything making him nervous. Artemis attempted to make a shield, but she only managed a flicker of one, which didn’t light anything up enough to get a good look.

“What do we do?” Four whispered finally, but before anyone could answer, they heard a loud click.

And a bright light flooded half the room.

Four winced, covering his eyes at the sudden glare, but when he heard footsteps he quickly lowered his hand in order to see. And saw a middle-aged man in a white coat standing a few feet away, hands behind his back and a weirdly pleasant smile on his face.

It was the scientist.

“I was wondering when you three would show up,” he said brightly, and they all stiffened, slipping into defensive positions. “My cameras got a bit damaged, and you were the only group I didn’t have tabs on.”

“And who are you?” Four asked, and the man raised an eyebrow as he looked at him.

“Ah the short one. Bit young for a superhero, aren’t we?” he hummed to himself, ignoring the question. Then he looked at Malon and Artemis. “I must admit I wasn’t expecting anyone to find their way in here by this route. But I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, you’re the famous Malanya and Ethereal, after all! And the short one is a relation, I assume? Striking similarity to Fierce Deity in his early years. Very impressive overall.”

The man turned back to Four, still smiling, and Four didn’t like the look of it one bit.

“I can’t wait to study you, little one.”

“You’re not going to!” Four snapped back. “You’re going to jail! You can’t just... hurt people and capture them and mess up their powers! And you hurt Shadow, we saw his picture!”

The scientist raised an eyebrow. “‘Shadow’?”

“You know who we mean, we saw your lab,” Artemis said darkly.

Recognition lit up in the scientist’s eyes, and he made a pensive noise, writing something down on a notepad he pulled from his pocket. “Well, I suppose that explains where my little project ended up. Shadow. Of course he’d pick such a simple name.”

“That’s enough,” Malon said, nocking a blunted arrow. “You’re under arrest, Doctor, for illegal experimentation and child abuse.”

The scientist chuckled. “That’s all? I thought it would be a longer list. You didn’t even mention the cloning.”

“Cloning?” Artemis questioned suspiciously, and the scientist grinned.

“Of course, it’s a fascinating field. Add superpowers into the mix, and it’s even better. Very unpredictable! And so understudied. Though I’ll admit animals are better for initial cloning experiments, less costs involved. Which!” he said with a clap. “Brings me to my next subject.”

Malon shot her arrow, but it reflected harmlessly off of a clear wall Four hadn’t noticed was separating them until now.

“Oh come Malanya, none of that,” the scientist sniffed. “I’m about to show you unfathomable scientific progress!”

“We really don’t care,” Malon said dryly, and Four, though he was a little curious, nodded in agreement along with Artemis.

The scientist smiled. “Oh believe me. You’ll care.”

He pressed something on the wall, and the lights on the other side of the room flicked on, revealing another glass wall, this one more obvious. Four was more alarmed at the sight of what was behind the glass though, and he stepped back as his mother gasped.

A huge, slavering wolf, fangs bared and mouth twisted in an unnatural snarl paced around in the tank, red eyes boring into the three of them.

Four was used to what a wolf should look like— with Twilight around it was impossible not to— and the one in front of him was not natural. It had an odd gait, and was proportioned strangely, its front legs larger than a normal wolf’s, a strange hunch to its back. It had thick white-grey fur, long claws colored the same deep red as its eyes, and its teeth were unnaturally sharp and yellow.

“Have you three ever heard of a wolfos?” The scientist asked, placing a hand on the glass. The beast snarled. “Referred to in myth and old debated historical accounts, it’s been described as an especially beastly wolf, with huge forelegs and a hulking figure. Some soft-tissue fossils were... brought into my possession, and though I had to start with the DNA of a cold-footed wolf, I believe I did quite well. I’m sure there’s plenty of people who will pay for a genetically enhanced attack dog.

He sighed dramatically. “Scientific progress isn’t cheap, unfortunately.”

He turned and smiled at the three of them.

“But now we come to one of my first tests, for both subjects. We’ll see how well the Wolfos can fight against supers... and how well a super can adapt to a threat with misplaced powers.”

The door to the wolfos cage slid open.

“Have fun.”

The wolfos leapt out of the cage the moment it could, and Malon grabbed Four out of the way as it charged for them. Its claws swiped through the air right next to their heads, and Artemis aimed a sharp kick at the beast.

It let out a strange whimpering howl as her heel got its snout, and jumped backwards, pacing madly in front of them. Malon nocked another blunted arrow as Artemis drew a dagger from her belt, and Four hovered nervously beside them, unsure of how to help.

How were they going to beat this thing with messed up powers?

The wolfos jumped at them again, slashing its claws, and they all scattered, Malon trying to fire her arrow but missing, Artemis attempting to jump on its back, but the beast immediately throwing her off. Four ran around its back, trying to help, but the beast was so fast it was able to snap at him, then whirl around and attack the others before anyone could hit it.

Four heard a sudden beeping noise, and he glanced at the scientist behind the glass. The man looked down at his wrist, and his satisfied smile widened.

“Seems I’m needed elsewhere. I’ll record this experiment for later review, carry on,” he said to the three of them, then bowed and strode out through a door.

“You— get back here!” Four yelled angrily, but the scientist was already gone.

The wolfos charged at him while he was distracted, and Four only barely managed to slide out of the way, some drool falling on his shoulder. He ended up next to his mother, and the wolfos growled darkly, pacing around again.

“Four, you need to get out of here,” Malon said seriously, both of them ducking as the wolfos lunged and teeth snapped. “We can handle things here, and you can go through walls. Go stop the scientist!”

“But Mom, I— what if I get stuck? Or what if you and Artemis need my help?” he said nervously, and his mother smiled at him.

“Don’t worry, we can handle this big lug. It’s more important that we stop this scientist, we need to get our powers back.”

The wolfos interrupted them then, snapping at their faces, and Four and Malon both jumped to opposite sides. The wolfos was fast though, and it turned just as quickly as Four did, teeth catching his arm.

Four yelled, and in a fit of pain-induced panic, managed to make his arm go intangible. The wolfos’s jaw snapped shut, and Four fell to the ground, the beast jumping onto his chest and knocking the breath out of him.

Four heard someone cry his name, but he was too busy trying not to get his face ripped off to see who it was, teeth snapping and saliva hitting his face.

Claws came up and tried to slash at him, but Four twisted out of the way. One caught the very edge of his face, and Four kicked uselessly at the wolfos as pain seared his cheek, trying as hard as he could to go intangible again.

Please please please work just work please—!

Suddenly a rope slipped around the wolfos’s neck, and its head was tugged back, Malon lassoing the beast despite one of her arms hanging weakly at her side. Four took the opportunity to scramble out from beneath the monster while it was distracted, but the rope didn’t hold it long.

Malon’s lasso was made of incredibly strong rope, but she couldn’t hold on very well with one arm, and Artemis was still getting to her feet from being knocked into a wall. Malon lost her grip, the wolfos knocking her to the ground, and turned to Four again.

It had signaled him out as the weakest, and wasn’t going to give up.

“Prism! Get out of here, now!” Malon shouted, and Four backed up, his back hitting the wall.

“I’m trying, I-I can’t!” he stammered, reaching for the spark he always reached for when he split, but unable to grab hold of it in his panic. “Mom—!”

The wolfos jumped at him, and Four knew he wouldn’t be able to avoid it this time. He cried out, but then Artemis dove forward and snatched him up, a wavering shield appearing around them.

But it was enough to stop the wolfos, who hit it hard, and stumbled back with a yelp, pawing at its now-bruised snout.

Malon immediately went to get its attention, somehow snapping off a sharp gust of wind that pushed the wolfos’s head back. It snarled, and briefly turned its attention to her, snapping its teeth.

“You’re okay?” Artemis asked quickly, and Four nodded, shaking a little. “You’ve got to follow him, Four, you’re our only chance.”

Four felt like crying. “I can’t, not with these powers, I just—”

“Yes you can,” Artemis reassured, taking his shoulders in her hands. “I know you can. You used them earlier just fine. Find the others, and fix this. We’ll catch up.”

Four bit his lip, and when he heard his mother shout, he felt determination flicker through his fear. Someone had to go, and right now, Four had the only powers to do it.

He was used to dealing with foreign-feeling powers after all, he’d only gotten his own a year ago. This should be a walk in the park in comparison.

He could do this. Messed up powers or not. For his family and all their powers.

And for Shadow.

Four swallowed, then nodded, then focused intently on the weird feeling in his middle, trying to embrace it instead of shying away. It took a minute, during which Artemis had to fight back the wolfos more than once, but then it welcomed him, weirdly enough, sending a warm honey-feeling through his limbs.

Four still didn’t feel great, nauseous and tired and still just a little wrong, but this felt a lot better. Four stepped back from Artemis and turned to the wall, taking a deep breath.

Then he slipped through it with no issues.

Artemis and his mother both cheered, and Four reappeared on the other side, a determined grin forming on his face. His mom and aunt had to go back to fighting the wolfos almost immediately, but Four knew they could handle it.

And he ran off after the scientist, knowing he had to save the day.

[wildstar25]

While it goes fairly similarly to how it would in game, there's a lot of backstory related nuance that kinda shifts the entire vibe of their reunion... this is fairly long so im putting it under a read more

When the Exarch told Arsay her next destination would have her hopefully meeting with Y'shtola, Arsay was beyond excited. After the twins, Y'shtola was the next person on Arsay's list that she really, really wanted to see. She rode that enthusiasm through the entire trip into the Great Woods. Not even Emet-Selch's pompous attitude and unwanted presence could cut through Arsay's cheer. Which was likely for the best, had she not have her best friend to look forward to she'd likely have wanted to rip the ascians head off rather than entertain conversation with him.

They found themselves surrounded. Arsay's humour was NOT appreciated by Thancred 🙄. Emet made a show about leaving them to their fate. And then she heard it, the voice Arsay had been wanting to hear all day, though called by a name not her own.

It took a moment for Arsay to process it all: The new look, the fact that all these people seemed to be at her command, her intense hostility... Still, it was Y'shtola! Y'shtola through and through! Arsay's heart nearly jumped into her throat once her brain caught up to her other senses.

(I love how from far away the pixels make it look like Arsay had a big open mouth smile. She was so excited to see her friend! Were she not at multiple arrow/magic staff point she'd be running up to give Y'shtola a hug.)

Arsay thought perhaps this was a prank? A little unlike Y'shtola but then again she did have a darker sense of humour. Plus Y'shtola knows Arsay likes a good gag now and again so maybe...? But sadly Y'shtola again seriously insisted they were sin eaters so that couldn't be the case. Arsay was at a lost for words- a rarity for her.

The mere suggestion that Y'shtola could have forgotten Arsay... her heart deflated like a balloon, all the joy it once held rushed out in an instance. Personally I think Urianger was covering his ass here trying to mask his knowledge of the light corruption. Still there was no way he knew just how devastating his words were to Arsay.

No, Urianger couldn't have known that Arsay had spent much of her life believing herself to have been forgotten by her parents as they left her in the south seas for greater adventures. That they wrote her but a single missive, where in which they promised to write more. He couldn't have know how, when no other letter arrived for her, she took it as a sign of being unwanted; not worth keeping their word for. He wouldn't have known much of what Arsay does, she does in hopes to touch the life of another in such a way that they might dare think of her from time to time, even if only in passing. Urianger wouldn't have a single clue how a simple notion spoken in whisper could send Arsay down an immediate spiral.

Arsay stares at Y'shtola, hands held firm in the air, praying for Urianger to be proven wrong.

Once before has Arsay's soul been knocked clean of her body, and had it not been for the absence of said body in her immediate vision she would have sworn it had happened again. She felt numb. Any other word spoken after "The one I know not." was static to her. There was no rational thought happening behind those wide eyes. Not even a slim chance that Arsay could be considering that something was perhaps wrong with her. All she could think about was the immense and sudden heartbreak she was actively experiencing.

Meanwhile, Y'shtola struggled to come to terms with what she was hearing versus what she was seeing. Before her was a figure so immense of light aether, how could Urianger words possibly be true? She knew Arsay's aether. Such brilliance was not something she'd readily forget. In fact, she'd go as far as to say it's image plagued her mind despite her best wishes along with equally inconvenient and unsavoury thoughts. Y'shtola had been awaiting the day Arsay's aether came into view once more for gods know how long. Yet he insists that this unknown figure before her is that very same person; that this was her Warrior of Light. As much as she did not want to accept it what other rational explanation could there even be?

Y'shtola stood aback, her harsh tone wavered as she stammered in disbelief. Again she scrutinized the strange light infused aether. Though she could discern that it vaguely held the form of a person any potential detail was obscured by an intense glow that radiated from it's core. She supposed perhaps she could picture her memory of Arsay slotting into the blurry silhouette... oh by the twelve. A chill runs down her spine. Y'shtola has never been one to panic, yet if this is truly Arsay before her then that can only mean terrible, terrible things.

With the initial shock worn off things begun to come back into focus for Arsay including Y'shtola who's gaze was fixated on her, clamouring for answers. As if on cue her voice returned to her. Despite this not being the reunion Arsay had imagined, out came the words she would have said regardless.

Not a hint of resentment carried through her tone. If anything, she sounded as if she was amused by the situation. As much as it hurt to think that the person Arsay considered to be her best friend had forgotten the appearance of her aether (something she understood as being unique to her); Arsay couldn't help but feel like she should have anticipated it. Sure, it had only been a month for Arsay, but it was three years for Y'shtola. That's quite some time to be apart. More than enough for Arsay to no longer be relevant enough to be recalled from time to time in Y'shtola's daily life. The irony of it stung. Arsay had only just begun to believe she wasn't as forgettable, as insignificant, to others as she feared... Funny how things turn out. She felt foolish to have overestimated the depth of their friendship. Guilty too for burdening someone she cared for with her own lofty expectations. Arsay only had herself to blame for this outcome. One would think she'd learn her lesson by now. What a laugh. Compelled by this joke only she was privy to, a short chuckle escaped from her lonesome smile.

The familiar voice rang through her ears and stirred her heart. There was no denying it. Her friend was finally here ...And Y'shtola welcomed her with an ambush. Delightful. She breathed out a heavy sigh. This was not at all how Y'shtola had wanted their meeting to go but she'd not let herself be vexed by such things. She pushed the tinge of dissatisfaction to the back of her mind. Arsay of all people would understand the things one must do to protect others. This greeting would be water under the bridge to her in but a tic. What mattered most is that the Night's Blessed were no longer under any (immediate) perceived threat. Her dear friend's aether on the other hand... Her head began to swirl with questions. Questions surely the Warrior of Darkness could soon help her attain the answers for. The thought alone brought it's own sense of relief. A smile tugged at the corners of Y'shtola's lips. There was no denying how happy it made her knowing her wait was over.

The tension in the air settled along the fur on Arsay's tail. She gave Y'shtola nod of acceptance, mindlessly forgiving her when in truth the apology felt hollow to Arsay. It wasn't at all what she wanted to hear but it wasn't as if hearing anything else from Y'shtola would help ease her nerves. It is what it is. At the very least, she was happy that Y'shtola looked to be in good health. Best focus on that for now.

--

Arsay and the rest followed Y'shtola from a distance quietly through the woods. Even through the canopy strong light polluted the forest floor. It gave Arsay a headache, much like everywhere else she had been to on the First. She often relied on her headband to block out the worst of the sun's rays back home but it did nothing to defend her light soaking eyes from the ambient brightness. She had been getting used to it but for some completely and totally unknown reason it began to feel worse.

Now and again Arsay would spot Y'shtola looking back over her shoulder towards her. Each glance had Arsay suddenly anticipating, hoping, that Y'shtola was about to call her over, and when that did not happen it made Arsay like a fool all over again. Foolish, and then frustrated. A degree of frustration that could be easily alleviated were she allowed to wander off and drive her knives into whatever foul beast first crossed her path. Alas, Arsay had to stay with the pack and sit with her growing bad mood she was not supposed to have. Her cheeks began to feel weary from the smile she kept plastered on her face.

~

Y'shtola guided the scions along the path to Slitherbough at a steady pace. Though she maintained a lead on them by no means was she walking fast enough that Arsay couldn't catch up should she want to do so. That's what Y'shtola had come to expect from Arsay; if the opportunity presented itself, Arsay would not hesitate to encroach on Y'shtola's personal space. It was a habit Y'shtola was not all that fond of initially- it was overwhelming for someone who more often kept to herself- but in due time Y'shtola found herself yearning for Arsay's touch. A terrible yearning which only grew stronger in its absence. Though she tried with all her might not to, Y'shtola would quickly glance back at the group only to be disappointed that the insufferably bright glow of aether was just as far from her as it way before. For Arsay to be so unlike herself... perhaps it was not only her aether which has been afflicted. The thought gave Y'shtola pause, the roots of worry began to sprout within her.

She also had to admit there was the slim chance that being held at weapon point and accused of being a sin eater had upset Arsay. But, It could have been worse. At least Y'shtola didn't frame her for regicide. Y'shtola's brow furrowed. There was no way Arsay could actually be mad at her. Y'shtola has given her colder shoulders than that in the past and Arsay had brushed it off without issue. It had to be something else.

--

Be it her worry for Arsay or due to her general dismay of the earlier happenings that she could not seem to shake, Y'shtola was no longer in the mood to let sleeping dogs lie and Thancred had made the unfortunate decision of opening his mouth. She'd not been a fan of how he had been conducting himself to say the least. Nor was she willing to let his inability to move on rob a young girl of her autonomy. Tongue as sharp as ever, Y'shtola made her opinion clear and sent the man running with his tail between his legs. Minfillia too sulked out not long after.

~

Arsay, bearing witness to this, felt just awful for Minifilla (as she called her). The smile she had held onto dropped the instant she heard the cave doors close. While Arsay is usually in favour of Y'shtola's tenancy to speak her mind so openly, all the aggravation that had been stewing inside her had now suddenly come to a boil. She had to lash out. She wanted to be mad at Y'shtola, for anything, because Arsay still felt deep down like it wasn't right to hold her responsible for the thing she was actually upset about.

"Really, Y'shtola? You had to bring that up just now?" Arsay crossed her arms, unimpressed. "You're the last I'd consider to come to Thancred's defence." Y'shtola's eyes narrowed, "I am not indifferent to Thancred's troubles. Nevertheless, I will not apologize for holding him to a higher standard after all these years. He has ever been a man of considerable resolve, and that is what I will continue to expect." "Then I best warn you: expectations only lead to future disappointment." The accusatory tone in Arsay's voice made Y'shtola tail twitch. "Excuse me? Arsay, what has come over you? You've not at all been yourself. Pray tell, have you felt any considerable changes since defeating the light-" "Perhaps, Y'shtola, you should be more concerned with how you have changed." Arsay cuts her off with a hiss.

Silence. You could the tension in the air with a knife. Arsay turns on her heels, "I-." she stops herself when she heard the crack in her voice. With a click of her tongue she flees out through the cave doors as fast as she could.

Urianger, who had been a fly on the wall for their heated back and forth, clears his throat. "Should thine wish be to give chase, thou can entrust in me the beginning duty of reviewing the tablet." Y'shtola let out a sigh. "I realize I am not as I was on the Source, but I cannot say I regret the decisions that allowed me to come this far." She proclaims largely for her own sake before turning to Urianger. "Allow me a moment to settle this. I shall return shortly."

--

All of that finally leads into this scene which actually the first time I ever tried to pose and write a story type scene. So excuse the slight jank of it (and the fact that Arsay's character voice has absolutely shifted some since then. Also ignore the fact that Arsay is wearing the darklight bracers in that old pose. It was taken at a point before I was using mods and I was still figuring out Arsay's shadowbringer glam- they were a hold over from previous expansion's glams)

the director commentary for their make up is Y'shtola finally accepts that Arsay is mad at her but is still defending her actions because it was the right call at the time. Again she tries to explain that Arsay's aether is fucked up in a way only to be cut off by Arsay airing out one of her deepest insecurities- her begging for validation. It's only then that Y'shtola realizes what exactly Arsay is upset over- and that her friend had absolutely 0 clue as to the light corrupting her aether. In a moment of absolute kindness from Y'shtola: instead of explaining then and there of Arsay's suspected light poisoning, she tells Arsay exactly what she wants and needs to hear. (And its this act of kindness that later becomes the catalys for Arsay realizing how much she loves Y'shtola upon learning about the light corruption and putting two and two together that Y'shtola was way nicer to her then she could have been in that moment.)

This is like maybe the 1st time Arsay has a public-ish breakdown and it really is "out of character" for her. But I cannot stress enough how much this shit triggered her and how bad she is at handling negative emotions. Like she really has a problem of not letting herself feel bad about anything and all that pent up stress gets funnelled directly into fighting. Its super cool and normal if you think about it and totally healthy if you ask her. When she cant channel that rage through her knives it escapes other, less productive ways. She did immediately felt awful about snapping at Y'shtola. Even if she wanted to be mad at her it wasn't right and Arsay knew this. Literally hearing that Y'shtola cared about her and thought of her was all she needed to put herself back into order. Y'shtola, still worried about Arsay's aether, was more than willing to move past this awful reunion of theirs and continue on just as they had been back before she was sent to the first.

And from there everything is pretty much normal! They made up, Arsay caught up to Minifillia and Runar, Y'shtola went to work on the tablet, story stuff happens, Arsay has her oh moment, they get together and so on.

Thank you so much @darkmadorz for giving me the excuse to write about this!

[littlebittyhollowbugs]

Idk if you're still doing the "give me two characters and I'll discuss their dynamic" thing But I cannot forget this post you made about Bretta doing her whole "crush obsession" thing to Hollow and I want to hear about their dynamic. If they have one. Because I have my own thoughts on this but I'd like to hear yours!

Okay so Bretta and Hollow!

In our post canon series, Bretta develops a crush on Hollow pretty quick,

Hollow is a powerful, mysterious figure and she is instantly impressed and wants to know more (while also wanting to preserve the mystery and fantasize about the possibilities, as she does)

Because both of them are fairly shy, especially in the beginning, she doesn't really get to know Hollow on a personal level, and so the attraction isn't a lot more than surface level until she eventually gathers the courage to truly present herself.

Throughout our series Bretta goes on a character journey inspired by her last journal entry. (After you defeat Grey prince Zote)

"Her life's companion would not appear, for they could not appear to a maiden sat idle. She must instead seek them out, must find her love, and free them of their solitude. And thus her own journey began, out into dangerous lands, shielded by her love awaiting, guided by her love to be. With every step, the maiden could feel it, their fated meeting, coming ever closer."

She is still guided by her desire for a great fairytale romance, but now wants to take a more active role in her love life (and life in general) and works on becoming more confident and courageous.

This isn't an easy thing, but impressing Hollow becomes a big motivator for her.

On Hollow's end though, it doesn't harbor any romantic feelings for Bretta in turn. Hollow cares for her, as it does all citizens of Hallownest, and especially friends of its family, but there are no deeper feelings there.

As it gets to know her better, it does become impressed with her, especially for her creativity and determination.

And Hollow is a naturally selfless and kind bug, who also possesses a natural charm that makes it especially easy for Bretta to interpret its actions toward her as romantic when there isn't really any romantic intention there.

Hollow does eventually realize her feelings, and this doesn't change the way it interacts with her. It is formal but compassionate toward all. (unless given specific reason to act otherwise)

It doesn't alter the way that it thinks of her too much, either. It might find the attraction confusing except that it has experienced being the object of romantic attraction before.

Aside from the mysterious aspect of its character that many are drawn to, Hollow has always been physically impressive. (Its large horns, for example, are especially appealing to the ladies.) so it isn't entirely unused to the situation.

It has obviously never considered returning the romantic interest or pursuing a relationship itself. (Something that doesn't change for many years post-being freed from the black egg.)

So yes! The ship is cute, though I interpret it to be entirely one-sided, myself.

There are a few more details on their dynamic that will be shared when I post my series outline, but that's the gist of it for now!

[gabelew]

i draw enough pre-calamity and pre-botw zora art that creating a timeline spreadsheet was necessary for my sanity (not posting full size versions bc its still very much a messy wip, just wanted to show you guys the scope)

[not-kamenx]

Beyblade X Episode 45: You, Back Then

MYBTKEVWOW ENEVWNW WKWVWBWWHWVWW

haha. hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha CHROME RYUGU I’M GOING TO PAY TO PUNCH YOU IN THE FACE FOR THIS EPISODE LET ME AT HIM LET ME AT HIM YOU CHROME RYUGU YOU

if you haven’t watched the episode already PLEASE WATCH IT even if I explain it or summarize it it won’t have the same effect or impact on you if you don’t watch it yourself because holy crap that was one hell of a time for 22 minutes and 40 seconds I’m

alright, so we start off with Takumi versus Blader Z, except Blader Z isn’t wearing the mask and we see his actual identity. And interestingly enough, Blader Z is using Cobalt Drake, the exact same bey Chrome uses. Then Blader Z loses, and we cut to the intro

I wanna talk about the intro and the title for this episode for a second.

If you‘ve not skipped the intro or if you’ve heard it, or even listened to the entire song way too many times (like me), you’ll notice the lyrics fit a lot of the characters in the series. The song title alone explains it. Prove. These Bladers are trying to prove something to someone or themselves. Keep that in mind for later on. And I’ve noticed we’ve gotten a lot of characters memories or backstories in a row. I like how it starts from a team —> family —> you. It slowly narrows down into categories, and also explains what the characters think of their relationships with others. In episode 43 we’re seeing this from all three perspectives, a team. In episode 44 we see this from two perspectives, two sisters, a family. Then in this episode, we see it from Blader Z’s perspective alone. Which is why the title uses “you” and not him. Directed to Chrome.

ALSO ALSO keep in mind how they don’t reveal Blader Z’s name until much later on (unless I have poor hearing skills)

ANYWAYS

in a similar fashion to Robin from our first episode, Blader Z barges into Xenon City excitedly, impatient to battle in the Amateur Cup. Blader Z then goes on to defeat every amateur, and in the final match he says he’s going to be like “him” (while thinking about Chrome) and he wins. Everyone notices his talent, and Number Zero asks if he has anything to say.

Blader Z just smiles and says Chrome Ryugu rules, and that Chrome’s the ideal Blader, and then says he’s going to be just like Chrome. Soooo right away we establish this is an idol-fan kind of relation for now.

Then we get shown the battle we saw in the intro, and Blader Z gets defeated pretty badly. Back in his little apartment he says he doesn’t want to lose anymore and realizes he needs to work harder. We then cut to a timeskip later, where Number One talks about Blader Z’s numerous wins and takes notice of how he uses the same bey as Chrome.

AFTER ANOTHER WON MATCH, WE FINALLY GET TO SEE AN INTERACTION BETWEEN THE TWO. (After Number Zero says the prize, which was probably the meeting with Chrome, which is rather… strange, wouldn’t you say?)

Blader Z obviously looks very surprised and happy, because he wasn’t expecting this. Chrome said he saw Blader Z’s match against Takumi, and Blader Z acknowledges he became arrogant during that match, and Chrome says “one’s strength in Blading is the strength in one’s heart” and moves Blader Z’s hand to his heart. Recognize something? If you said the first time Jaxon and Chrome fought, you’re right! Jaxon grabbed Chrome’s hand in a similar direction and position, except he didn’t purposefully put it against Chrome’s heart.

also, I’d like to point out how one-sided this seems and a few other odd things. Remember how Chrome viewed Jaxon, after Jaxon said Chrome should have fun, blading with him? A similar light is shown here. Except, Chrome was drawn into that light himself. Here, only Blader Z is viewing Chrome that way. And to be fair, yeah, it makes sense, seeing how much Blader Z looks up to Chrome. But Chrome doesn’t seem to be very, well, he is obviously putting effort in the interaction. But his wording is strange.

he ends up giving Blader Z Obsidian Shell, which Blader Z pretty much treasures immediately, but I don’t like how Chrome said it when he gave it. He said, “you have the power to master this bey, and with it, climb your way to the top of the X. At least that’s what I feel you’re capable of doing.” Giving expectations already, huh? HUH CHROME? IM GOING TO SCREAM

anyways we end up learning Blader Z’s real name, and it’s Ciel Kaminari. Chrome says he’ll remember that name and gives him a handshake and everything is all fine and dandy, right? RIGHT?

Ciel is seen rejecting sponsors left and right, not going pro unless he goes on Team Pendragon. We then timeskip and there’s a little detail to notice. On one of the screens, it’s the frame where Team Persona won against Team Yggdrasil (I dunno if that was intentional or not but I’m clinging onto it for some sort of timeline). So Ciel is pretty late to the scene, but not too late: He’s been getting noticed but Team Persona was pretty focused on beating Yggdrasil so they may have not noticed themselves.

Then, we get a rematch! Takumi versus Ciel, coincidence or not? And WHADDYA KNOW? Ciel wins this time! And Takumi isn’t salty about this, and he even raises Ciel’s hand which I think is 😭 so sweet. Takumi, yay! I’m glad you don’t break people’s beys anymore!

(let us ignore the fact Chrome is watching this match and looking as if his entire world is ending!)

A WHILE LATER OR PROBABLY THE NEXT DAY CIEL ENDS UP BEING SCOUTED FOR TEAM PENDRAGON!!! Look how happy he looks GAHHH, he’s finally made it, made it onto the team his idol is on, happily holding the bey his idol gave him, just overjoyed.

if you want him to have a happy time you should stop the episode there by the way, because this next half was an emotional rollercoaster I was not prepared to even experience.

Before the next few moments even occurred, I thought a few things. What happened for Ciel to suddenly harbor hatred against Jaxon? Why is he Blader Z? Something obviously happened. I expected something surprising.

what I was not expecting, was to get slapped in the face with Ciel entering the room already full of everything Jaxon related, with Chrome, with the music cutting off from soft to uneasy, to Chrome Ryugu’s dead-inside eyes.

Ciel is obviously surprised, and Chrome simply… stares.

the complete opposite of their first interaction. The room is dark. Ciel doesn’t look so enthusiastic anymore, in fact, he looks nervous. His voice is flat as he speaks to Ciel, asking how his match went. Ciel GRABS onto the topic, for something familiar. He said he was glad the match was set up like that before stepping forward. Something that will appear a few minutes later. He just quickly glances at it, but Chrome’s voice interrupts him and he gives Chrome his attention instead. Chrome reveals he made the commission set it up.

Ciel is absolutely baffled, and we can hear Chrome rummaging for something. Lo and behold…

It’s the mask. The Z mask. And judging by the sounds, it seems as if Chrome had been holding onto it for a while, storing it away. You can HEAR Ciel getting increasingly more panicked and confused as he steps back and Chrome steps forward, and oh my god I’ve never wanted to PUNCH Chrome Ryugu more than I have now. He looked down, with a smile, with an EXPECTANT look as he held that mask. The absolute, the look, the look alone was horrifying??? I DON’T EVEN KNOW HOW TO DESCRIBE IT? Then Chrome says “But if you are who I think you are, I want you to live up to your expectations.”

Excuse me, who YOU think Ciel is? A fan who was really happy to receive a bey from you and lived by your words and aspired to be like you and made it onto your team? Or a fan who could be manipulated into becoming what YOU want him to become?

and here comes the part where Ciel realizes. He steps back, the noise similar to earlier when he stepped on something, and recognized the photos of Blader X, next to a photo of Jaxon Cross.

It doesn’t take a genius to put the pieces together, though I don’t know how he didn’t see the gigantic photo of Jaxon earlier (we saw it in the background when they met again), and Ciel knows Jaxon Cross is Blader X. Jaxon Cross, who left Pendragon, who wears a mask— a mask that Chrome is now presenting in front of him—

Chrome says he doesn’t need Ciel Kaminari and puts the damn thing on Ciel without a second thought. He wants Ciel to “lose” that identity and become Blader Z. He wants Ciel to fill in Jaxon’s shoes, and makes the most normal smile we’ve seen him make so far within this entire interaction. Like this is the only thing that brings him comfort. Something related to Jaxon. Then he hands Ciel Buster Dran, and his use of it makes sense now. That’s why Chrome told him not to indulge himself when he used Obsidian Shell facing Jaxon. He wanted Blader Z, not Ciel Kaminari.

What makes this worse is that even the episode itself kinda foreshadows this. Remember how they held off on revealing Ciel’s name this episode? It’s his lost identity. And it delays the reveal, like how the other episodes featuring Ciel delay in his face reveal. Heartbreaking. What, you thought this was the worst of it? No. Chrome tells him to become Blader X, traces the DAMN letter on Ciel’s mask, and says, “you can, right?”

His expectations. He sets them, AGAIN, like earlier, when he gave Ciel Obsidian Shell. The way he words it so carefully, like he knows Ciel would dread the thought of not doing something “easy” Chrome would expect him to do. Disappointment from the pro Blader you look up to? That would be a nightmare, right?

instead of realizing he needs to get the fuck out of there after throwing a right hook at Chrome and live FAR FAR away from Chrome and hopefully erase these memories, Ciel instead, tries to EMPATHIZE with Chrome. He tries to feel the emotion Chrome feels.

and he ends up crying. SO, if Ciel is right, Chrome isn’t feeling loneliness, anger, or sadness. It’s different, but more painful. Painful enough to make Ciel cry. And Ciel declares he’ll do anything for Chrome. Chrome says that’ll do, and Obsidian Shell falls on the ground, forgotten.

We cut to Ciel on the rooftop basically telling himself he’s Blader Z, remembering past events, wanting to do better. But what’s interesting is that he says he’ll SURPASS Blader X, not be him. So, Ciel isn’t fully complying. He wants to be better than Blader X, and earn Chrome’s approval.

Ciel oh my god you deserve so much better what the fuck Chrome this certainly cannot get wo—

another timeskip! Chrome’s talking to himself when Ciel enters. Ciel says it’s him, Blader Z, but Chrome doesn’t accept/hear that answer. It’s not what he wants to hear. But when Blader Z says Chrome’s name, Chrome just LAUGHS and says “you answered. You answered me, didn’t you!?”

Ciel takes a noticeable step forward and Chrome whips his head around like an owl, saying oh, Ciel is here. Ciel, judging by his stutter and momentary pause, thinks this is a test and says “I’m not Ciel, I’m Blader Z.”

what Chrome said next made me want to go through the screen and PUNCH, just PUNCH that face of his.

“Oh, yes, right. But, I’ve had enough now. Ciel, your role is now over.”

Chrome Ryugu, may Jaxon Cross never reunite with you, and may Ciel Kaminari take his mask off and throw it off at your stupid feet and tell you to your face you’re horrible and you’ll never understand Jaxon Cross or this X you’re chasing. May Jaxon Cross tell you he never wants to see your face again! You manipulated your fan from day 1 to momentarily replace and fulfill that emotion you had with Jaxon/Blader X, and basically tell him that he, as he is, is not good enough unless he’s Blader Z. And now, that you’ve had “enough,” the one thing that he knows that kept your attention on him, is thrown away, how the fuck do you think he’s gonna feel?

Ciel’s face speaks for itself as Chrome basically says how Chrome was a fool for thinking he could replace “that X”. Chrome clutches at his heart and says “The only certain X is right here within me. There’s no possible way anyone other than me could understand him.”

him. HIM. This X? Him? JAXON??? Don’t make me laugh. If Jaxon saw you right now I don’t think he’d like this. He was already somewhat worried by Chrome’s behavior change, how this Chrome isn’t like the Chrome he knew. But it turns out he didn’t know you well enough either because you’ve been slowly getting worse by the time. Actually, what’s even the timespan??? IT COULDN’T HAVE BEEN MORE THAN EVEN A YEAR, COULD IT??? Chrome’s mental state has declined faster than someone’s card out there. If it’s Jaxon, I’m going to scream. It reminds me of the ep from Zip and Zoom where Robin says no one knows Blader X (Jaxon) better than he does, no one in the entire world. I’m gonna scream.

Ciel has gotten dragged into this situation, and because of how he views Chrome, he directs the hatred to the wrong person, Jaxon. He asks out loud, “Jaxon Cross… did you know, about Chrome’s feelings? Did you even try to answer them at all? I’m the one who’s worthy of being on Team Pendragon! I’ll get you Jaxon Cross!”

I’m going to cry. Chrome and Jaxon have always been able to sense each other if one is thinking of the other, or seeing the other. Jaxon however, he doesn’t notice how Chrome is off, until he actually sees him in real life. That’s the only time when we hear him sound somewhat vulnerable, asking Multi (and probably Robin) to not get in the way of him and Chrome. But Jaxon doesn’t seem to get what’s exactly wrong. HE ISN’T GOOD WITH FEELINGS CIEL, HE LITERALLY TOLD ROBIN “so is that it” AFTER ROBIN TOLD HIM AND MULTI TO GO TO THE TOP OF THE X WITHOUT HIM IF THEY GOT CHOSEN IN THE PERSONAL VOTES AND MULTI HAD TO TRANSLATE BECAUSE ROBIN WAS BEWILDERED. But of course they haven’t met or interacted directly so Ciel doesn’t know this.

Ciel STILL has his mask on despite saying “I’m worthy”, so he might still be trying to salvage what’s left of his “role” to win Chrome’s approval and attention again. Or he might be also doing it for himself and his hard efforts, because he got smacked to the side. I have no clue how to interpret this because I’m just horrified. Is he saving a bit of his identity or still Blader Z for Chrome?

we then get footage of everyone, Chrome’s talking to himself again and smiling with his punchable face, Sigrid is on the car ride home, Team Persona is eating some sushi— WHAT THE HELL JAXON

we get this ominous moment where Jaxon turns and faces the viewer with an uncomfortable moment of eye to eye contact! Does he know more than he’s letting on? Does h— I CANT LIVE LIKE THIS PLEASE I NEED THE DISNEY XD CHANNEL PLEASE PLEASE I NEED THE NEXT EPISODE I NEED JAXON AND ROBIN BEING DUMB I NEED MY JOY AND WHIMSY IM TERRIFIED AND ANGRY AT CHROME PLEASE—

I could not keep my bias out of this analysis I am sorry

and last but not least! Prove, remember? Ciel is trying to prove that he can be better than Blader X and he deserves that spot on Team Pendragon more.

[sokodraws]

The Last Demon (Mire's backstory)

[witten as a comission by the amazing @ephemereos]

(this story will make more sense if you read The Fallen first)

The little peace and innocence he had been granted were gone, leaving space for an unstable, resentful demon. Every time he was attacked and berated he would laugh, acting brash, bold, swearing back at his attackers and posing no filters on his actions, further leading people to believe he had fully gone insane, but once he was alone and the mask fell it was as if his whole body was made of pain and grief.

~~

The Last Demon

War had been ravaging on for far too long, and both factions were running low on members, energy, resources…anything; it was not sustainable for much longer. Infelix was surprised that the King had been the one to decide on a plan to bring peace and a halt to this endless war, but he had no idea how he wanted to go about it. The King had stopped confiding in him as he once used to do, and Infelix tried not to intrude too much. Still, his curiosity and confusion were all the more prominent now that he stood by the King’s side where everything had first begun: the desolate patch of desert sand where he too had been brought to life, where countless of his kind had been born after him. It was somewhat of a sacred place; the demon population had spread across Deadramel and away from there, and the desolate patch of land had been left untouched and as a mere place for creation. A partial breakaway from the war that was ravaging on.

Infelix’s unease only grew once the King began to wield his magic. The King stepped forward, while Influx stood to the side, observing as he began the ritual the same way he had done many times before. The flow started all the same, but the energy emanating from the magic was far different than what Infelix had seen any other time, as if it flowed in a completely different direction than usual, stronger, yet void. He could feel the typical darkness that permeated every other blackened Soul, but it still felt foreign and odd, like the embodiment of the concept of rotting matter, although not in a way that could be tangible with any sense. The abstract concept of it. And there was another aspect: Infelix was hit by the memory of what he had experienced the first time he opened a portal to Ejoran, and how the wisps of light, the immaculateness of that realm, had hit him. Amidst all that void and rot that permeated the magic the King was wielding, there was also light. The faintest trace of it, but Infelix could clearly tell it was there. 

“My King…what are you creating?” Infelix asked on autopilot, not even realising his lips had moved and his voice had come out of his mouth, hoarse and breathless, before what he was seeing. He wanted to know, needed to know, but was sure that he would not like the answer the King was going to give him. There was a certain sharpness to the King’s voice when he answered, his focus solely on his creation, his ultimate creation. 

“Something to end the war.” 

Just as he finished saying that, there was a flash of dark energy, particles buzzing in the atmosphere and slowly cascading to the ground as the King’s creation came into view. Similar yet different from all the other demons who had come before it, the new creature stood there, lost and confused, overwhelmed with the sight before it. The vast desert, the desolate view, and two unfamiliar figures standing before it.

The King approached with slow, careful steps, trying to appear as least intimidating as he could, reaching out a hand to the newborn demon and speaking in a much softer tone than Infelix had heard him use in a very long time.

“Hello, Mire.” The demon’s name had been chosen, binding the creature to it from then on. 

“I’ve created you for a reason, to do a job for us all.” The King spoke slowly, his tone gentle yet firm, stressing the weight of this job. “You are extremely important to us.” 

Mire looked at him questioningly, still confused, but with a glint of excitement in his eyes; the prospect of being such an important figure would have made anyone giddy. Infelix waited to see what else the King would tell his new creation, but he remained quiet. The King turned slightly to look back at Infelix, his gaze hard to decipher, but Infelix had a hunch that he did not want him there while talking to Mire. 

“You may go back to the castle now, Infelix. I wish to talk to Mire alone. Everything is under control now, and I must attend to these matters myself.” His tone was poised to seem friendly and neutral, but Infelix could tell there was an edge to it that left no room for rebuttals. Mire peered from behind the King and watched as Infelix hesitated for a second before giving a slow nod. The other demon turned around and began to walk towards the castle. The King remained silent to watch Infelix leave, and only turned back when he was sure he was out of sight and out of earshot. 

Then, the King waved his hand, and a portal appeared. Mire felt overwhelmed by everything going on. He had only been brought into existence a handful of minutes ago, yet his brain was being bombarded with information. He already had the faculty to produce and understand speech, he knew what things were called, their names and labels, all except the name of the powerful being standing next to him. All he knew for sure was that he had to obey the King’s every order, no matter what. That was his mission, what he was created for.

The King placed a hand on Mire’s shoulder and started leading him into the portal, walking with sure, determined steps. He began talking, explaining to Mire everything about why he had come to be: the war that was ravaging on, his role within it, the “gift” that was his existence in saving demonkind, those like him who he had not yet met save for the King and Infelix, but that were all relying on Mire for safety. All the information at once felt like an overload; there was so much to take in, yet so little time. Mire wanted to know more, he had so many questions. He wanted to see more of Deadramel, but here he was, being led through a portal towards a completely different realm, so far from the appearance and energy he felt in his native place. The King told him this realm was called Ejoran, the place where the war was ravaging on, a land full of colours, plants, nature, animals, and all sorts of creatures so foreign to those of Deadramel, yet Mire felt a familiarity when observing them.

A few shapes made of blinding light stood opposite to them, and in a few moments, began to surround Mire and the King. Mire could feel pure anger emanate from them, their antagonism towards him and the King palpable, and the newly born demon felt small and powerless before them. But when he turned to look at the King, he found him calm and collected. He stopped, his hand still gripping Mire’s shoulder as he guided him forward, putting him in view of the shapes of light surrounding them, as if presenting a prized object. Technically, he truly was. The King began to speak, his voice strong and proud as he declared he had come to discuss a peace treaty between his kingdom and Ejoran, and had brought a gift to seal the accord between the two factions. The shapes of light seemed to quiver and tremble with disbelief, moving side to side and whispering to each other as the King spoke. The King continued, saying his gift was to demonstrate he was determined to put to rest the souls sacrificed for the war he had started.

The next moments seemed a blur to Mire: the white shapes of light encircled them and began to guide them, but kept a safe distance as if afraid they could be poisoned or infected by the King and him, as if their species could taint their purity. They were being led to the Queen herself, and Mire heard a cacophony of shouted orders, movements, and commotion at the announcement of their arrival. Threats and curses were thrown at the duo as they walked, mainly aimed at the King, who remained perfectly composed amidst the chaos. Mire wanted to react, he felt rage bubble up in his chest at the sound of such crass words towards the one who had brought him to life. But the King ordered him to remain quiet and walk behind him. So Mire obeyed, the warmth of anger still seething within him.

It didn’t take long for them to reach the Queen, who seemed like she had been waiting for them, like this had all been planned beforehand. This wasn’t lost on Mire, but although curiosity was eating him alive, he dared not speak and go against the order that had been given him. He walked behind his King, head bowed to protect his eyes from the blinding light emanating from the shapes around them, the pain like piercing needles into his eyes. He glanced briefly at the Queen, but bowed his head back down once he saw the way she was staring down at him. Her gaze was heavy on his form, he felt like he could crumble and be squashed on the ground like a bug from it. There was a deep, seething hatred in the Queen’s gaze, something Mire could not escape. He had no faults for the war that had been ravaging on; he was the last born, come to life not even an hour prior, but he bore the weight of his creator’s sins, and the ones of his whole kind.

She did not greet the King, and he did not greet her, making this feel even more like something that had already all been planned out, a strictly transactional business meeting. Mire felt even more unsure of his position, of his whole presence in that moment. But he could not leave, nor do anything else other than stand and wait. 

“Explain this creature’s presence. Why is it here as we speak?” The Queen asked, her tone more than glacial, making Mire feel even smaller than he already did. 

“I have created him with the purpose of a peace treaty. He is a gift, to you, from Ejoran, to seal the peace between our two dominions.” The King had begun to speak calmly, confidently, but the Queen cut him off before he could continue. 

“What makes you believe that offering me one of your kin as a gift of peace is a good idea in any capacity? Why would I want a member of your kind, the same creatures that have brought war, destruction, and bloodshed to my kingdom?” The Queen’s voice had taken an almost imperceptible growl, a slight vibration of rage in her icy tone. Mire was terrified. It felt like, at any moment, she could decide to blow him to smithereens just for being in her presence. 

“I do when I have created him specifically to reconcile the spilled blood and aid the lost souls of Ejoran to depart peacefully, so that they may stop roaming your lands and peace might actually be restored.” The King replied, not losing his cool.

Mire could not follow everything that was said. Some concepts were too difficult, too convoluted, a diplomatic battle of words. It was all strategy, striking at each other with sentences rather than with weapons or fists. Mire was in awe, fascinated, but he could not fully grasp any of the concepts, even if he knew the focus was on him, his existence. The King and Queen continued to talk for what felt like an endless stretch of time, completely ignoring him, as if he were nothing, a mere object. A toy offered to the Queen to do as she pleased. When a final agreement was reached, the Queen shot another icy-cold glance at Mire, making him cower in fear and respect. The King seemed satisfied, proud. He shot a glance at Mire, giving a firm nod, as if telling him to behave, then left without a word, leaving Mire in Ejoran and returning to Deadramel. Mire felt dizzy. He had just been left, alone, in a foreign land, with someone who looked at him like he was the most disgusting being, whatever had the misfortune to come to life.

“Go on, then. Make yourself useful and do your job. And don’t disappoint me, if you value your life.” She said coldly, turning around and leaving. That was the very last time the queen ever talked to Mire or spared a glance at him. He looked around himself, confused and a little lost on what to do or where to start. Two cherubs flew in, ushering him out of the room and hastily leading him to the battle sites. Ever since he had arrived in Ejoran, he could hear whispers, voices, sometimes even screaming, but they all sounded so far and foreign. Now, on the battlefields, the voices had become deafening. He finally knew what it was: the souls of the dead from that senseless war. He knew his job was to get them to the other side, to guide them. And although the King had not outright told him, he knew he was the only one with the ability to do so. He took a deep breath and focused, and felt like his mind was being split as his third eye opened. Not because of the action of opening it, but the pain was caused by the brightness of the souls. Everything in Ejoran was so bright it hurt, and while the souls were much fainter in intensity, they still felt blinding. But he couldn’t disobey and back out. This was his job, and he had to take care of it.

Now that Mire could see the souls, he could also see the true extent of their misery. They were lost, grieving, pained. None of them had enough consciousness to notice the living, as if stuck in a limbo of their own, and Mire was the only one who could enter that limbo of blinding light, misery, and pain. Some of them stood still in the same place, looking into nothingness. Others were stuck in a hellish time-loop where they were forced to relive their death, over and over again. And, sometimes, albeit rarely, Mire would come across soulmates that had died together, stuck in their own loop where they mourned each other. It was horrible, it was alienating. No one could understand how bad Mire felt through the whole ordeal. He hated it. Everything was too loud, too bright, he never had a moment of relief. On top of that, it was difficult to communicate with the souls and get their attention, stuck as they were in the limbo, which made it difficult to guide them to the other side and have peace. 

At the beginning, Mire did his best. He tried, over and over, carrying out this duty he hated with every fibre of his being, that made him miserable and depressed, that caused him physical pain. He wanted to be a source of pride for the King, for his kin, to amend for the sins of the past, and restore peace. He was the reason the war had ended; this task was crucial, was it not? He tried to convince himself, over and over again, that he couldn’t simply give up and run away, that he had to power through. But with each passing day, he grew more miserable and hated his job more and more. And the hatred he experienced from the people of Ejoran did not help. He never interacted with the Seraphs, but the Cherubs and Virtues that crossed his path looked down on him with hatred and disgust. He was seen as someone, no, something, beneath them all. Including the lowest of the lowest castes, the Citeri, outcasts reduced to living outside of their society and hiding in caves. He was considered worse off than them and was regarded with disdain and mockery. Mire was merely seen as a despicable object, only used to guide the souls of their kin to rest. And he was expected to behave with no complaints or rebellion. But he couldn’t deal with it. He tried as long as he could, but eventually his anger and resentment reached a tipping point. While out on the fields, as the Cherubs weren’t watching, he took off running. He ran as fast as his legs could, pushing his muscles even when they burned and screamed at him to stop, agonising.

He pushed on, mustering all the energy he had, all the magical power he could harness, until he opened a portal. He jumped inside, rushing back to Deadramel. He only took a breath and stopped running once he was finally in Deadramel. A wave of excitement and exhilaration washed over him. Surely his kin would welcome him back with open arms, surely now that there seemed to be peace between the two realms, the King would grace him and allow him to come back. But his hopes were vain and his happiness short-lived. Seconds after entering Deadramel, he realised the voices of the spirits here were even louder than in Ejoran. If souls in Ejoran were still and miserable, the ones on Deadramel were full of hate and anger. Not only did they wail, they screamed, piercing Mire’s ears with their shrill cries full of vitriol. Ejoran blinded him, Deadramel deafened him. He could never find any rest.

Still, he went back to the castle, hoping for some grace, but everything went downhill for him. He was not welcomed back by the King, who instead firmly told him to go back to Ejoran to continue his job. Mire hated it, no one had asked him how he felt about all of this, if he even liked doing any of that, if it caused him any pain. He found that the demons of Deadramel were not any nicer than the Ejoran creatures: they too looked down on him, going ass far as branding him a traitor of their race. Mire tried to put up a façade, pretending none of their attacks affected him, that he did not care. But it became harder and harder to deal with the idea that, no matter where he went, he would always be unwelcome and scorned. Not even the lowest of the most miserable creatures saw him as an equal.

Despite being sent back to Ejoran, Mire would sometimes go back to Deadramel for weeks at a time, just to get a break from the blinding souls and pompous beings of that realm of light. Of course, he got little rest in Deadramel, always hiding, lurking in the shadows to avoid being attacked and berated for his mere existence as a pawn for two worlds. As the years passed, he began to loathe and resent the King. No longer proud of his “important” role in the war, he did not believe anything the King said now. He had told Mire he was important, that he would basically be a hero. And yet he was treated like garbage, if not worse. And things did not get better. Dealing with the constant screams and wails of the voices was gnawing away at his sanity, and Mire was becoming more unpredictable. He lashed out easily and often talked to “himself”, arguing, yelling at the wind. Clearly, he was attacking the voices, trying to make them shut up, but other demons or dwellers of Ejoran could not see what he could, so they just labeled him as crazy. In a way, Mire almost preferred that. Better crazy than a traitor.

Although moving from hate to pity and contempt was not how he wanted people to view him. He wanted to be appreciated, thanked for his horrible and degrading job. But it seemed like no one ever had anything nice to say to him. Slowly, the little speck of light he had within him, the purity from Ejoran the King had infused into him upon his birth, began to be swallowed by his darkness. The little peace and innocence he had been granted were gone, leaving space for an unstable, resentful demon. Every time he was attacked and berated he would laugh, acting brash, bold, swearing back at his attackers and posing no filters on his actions, further leading people to believe he had fully gone insane, but once he was alone and the mask fell it was as if his whole body was made of pain and grief. Grief at the life and kindness he would never be able to experience because of things he had not chosen. No, everything had been chosen for him by the King, without leaving him any room for free will. He couldn’t bear the thought of the King going unpunished for his crimes, he wanted revenge. He needed it. The thought was obsessive and all-consuming, and it never left Mire’s head.

He couldn’t get revenge alone, it would be impossible to overthrow the King all by himself. But he knew he was not the only one to fester anger and disdain for the ruler. Hiding in the shadows, he had heard more than one demon complain about how the King ruled, how sour they felt over the senseless and brutal war they had been thrust into, and how some would be collecting the scraps of the war’s results for centuries to come. Mire was overjoyed to see that the dissatisfaction towards the King was spreading far and wide, and he knew where to start sowing the seeds of discord to get aid for his plan: Dorcha. The demon, unlike others, seemed to feel sympathy and pity for Mire’s situation. At last, someone perhaps understood his unfortunate fate. And as Mire had predicted, it didn’t take much to convince Dorcha to get on his side. He too was tired of the King’s unfairness, he was tired and scarred from the war. With Dorcha by his side, Mire knew the next steps would be a lot easier to complete than if he were acting alone. The last pawn standing in their way was Infelix, who was going to be much harder to convince. But if Dorcha did the talking, Mire knew they would be set.

“I cannot believe you would even dare come up with a plan so heinous. I could understand Mire, but you, Dorcha?” Infelix said, clearly outraged at the suggestion. Mire did not reply to the attack, but his brows furrowed, and he felt a bout of rage bubble in his chest. But as soon as Dorcha stepped in, his anger dissipated, and a smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. 

“I know this sounds horrible, but we are at a point where dethroning the King is the only step to salvation. Our kin deserves liberation from this endless loop of violence, don’t you think?” 

Infelix remained quiet, his expression showing his inner turmoil. His fists trembled from anger at the suggestion of something so preposterous; how could he ever go against the one who had created him, given him life? The King had cared for him like a father would, and they had shared in the creation of this world. And yet…and yet he could not erase from his memory how the ruler had changed. 

“I remember it well; time ago you told me, in a moment of vulnerability, how you hated the way he had been treating you. The way he stopped caring for you, as if he had cast you aside because he no longer finds you interesting or of use.” Dorcha said, before adding, “I see the way you scowl at him when he walks by. Many have noticed.” 

Infelix froze over as the words hit him. His gaze remained on the ground, as if he were deep in thought. He never realised, or perhaps he never accepted the idea that what bubbled up inside him when looking at the King was scorn and resentment. How could he feel that way for the man who had created him? And yet, Dorcha’s words had hit the mark and made his castle of lies crumble.

It was painful, but he had to accept the truth: the only way was forward, and to move forward, the King had to fall. He felt his whole body shake and tremble, while Mire watched with anticipation, overjoyed at the sight of Infelix’s resolve crumbling. He grinned gleefully once Infelix raised his gaze to look at them and mumbled, “I’m in.” 

The deal was sealed. 

The three worked on a plan, supposed to be foolproof. They rallied up a few demons who were just as dissatisfied with the king, and organised an attack. They would meet secretly when they were all free from their duties, conspiring against the unsuspecting King’s back. Everything was going so smoothly that the three demons believed they would succeed seamlessly, and the old era of Deadramel would see its last dawn, giving way to a new shift.

Mire did not have the battle experience the other two had, so he would not be attacking the King. At first, he was angry about being cut out, but realised it was for the best. Bringing down the King would be no easy task, and there was no room for any mistakes. Besides, as soon as the other two tasked him with attacking the other unsuspecting demons, he became excited again. He felt bloodlust like never before and couldn’t wait to jump into action. In fact, on the fateful night of their attack, as soon as Infelix and Dorcha gave him the signal, he rushed off, laughing maniacally and glancing back at them with a wide grin. The two demons chuckled and scoffed, turning back to the castle, ready to put their part of the plan into action.

Mire took his time to barge into the unsuspecting demons’ homes, accompanied by a few other rebels. He broke in and began to attack indiscriminately. The demons would scream, yell, and try to defend themselves, but Mire was a killing machine. Partly because his victims were still half asleep and taken by surprise, and partly due to his pent-up rage finding an outlet, none of the demons survived his attacks. He ripped at their throats, broke their limbs, did anything and everything to inflict as much pain as possible. The whole time, his only thought was the years of hell and abuse he had endured, all the yelling, the horrible words he had to put up with. He laughed hysterically, bringing down demon after demon, bathing in their blood and breathing in the stench of death. It felt so good to put his anger to good use. It felt so good to get revenge. Oh, how he hoped for Dorcha and Infelix to kill the King quickly. Actually, he hoped they’d make him suffer as long as possible. The bastard deserved it, he wished he could kill him himself!

As Mire killed and maimed his victims, he could hear the screams of the souls get louder, grow in number. But he didn’t care. He laughed at them, laughed at their pain and turmoil. Now they’d be in the company of other screaming souls and see what he had to endure every day. He wasn’t going to stop, he could have continued forever. But the noise coming from the souls and from his actions prevented him from hearing other screams. Screams of his rebel comrades and of the King’s guards coming to attack them. The plan had failed, Infelix and Dorcha had been busted and detained. The guards swarmed the house Mire was currently in, and he turned to stare at them, grinning widely and with a crazed fire in his eyes. He jumped, attacking a guard, but he was soon brought down as multiple demons attacked him. They hit and beat him multiple times, and still he trashed and fought back, until they were able to immobilise him. Even after being beaten down and tied, while he was carried to the castle, Mire continued to smile. A shit eating grin on his face, he panted and heaved, still in a high from all the killing. His body was covered in blood, some dry, some still fresh, dripping down his form and onto the floor. 

He was dragged and thrown into a room, right next to Dorcha and Infelix. He looked up at the king, his pupils blown and his grin wide. It didn’t matter that they had lost, that the rebellion had been stopped. He felt so good after all that bloodshed. He loved it. 

By the morning, the King came to them with his punishment. 

“I shall make it clear to you now: I do not wish to bring harm upon any of you.” The King’s powerful voice boomed in the room and bounced off the walls, adding to the sense of gravity of the situation. 

“But…I still have to punish the three of you.” Now that it had been a few hours since his killing frenzy, Mire was starting to sober up, and the reality of the situation was settling in. They had lost, and the rebellion had failed. He felt angry, betrayed. He expected the King to kill them, and yet…why did it seem like he was going to grace them? Why did it seem like he was going to afford them pity? 

“I shall banish you to live out your days in other vessels, in a different, unknown realm. Take this time to think about what you all have done.” The king did not seem pleased with having to punish them. Mire could feel a hint of pity, of heartbreak. It almost made him feel sad, too. For a second, he wished none of this had happened. His mouth opened and closed soundlessly, like he was a fish out of the water.

Before any of the three demons could react, the King waved his hand, and a flash of light consumed their vision as they felt their bodies being dragged back. Mire wanted to scream, but couldn’t, and the last thing he heard were the mocking, gleeful voices of the spirits in the throne room, laughing at him. Then, it all abruptly went black.

[wutheringmights]

CTB Side Story: Icarius Backstory Draft

I am chipping away (slowly and surely) on the next ctb chapter. I needed a bit of a creative break from figuring out this scene I've been stuck on, so I took some time today to write out what would be the opening scene for a ctb spin off story about the Icarius and Nephus backstory.

I don't know if I will ever finish this. If I do, it would not be for a long time. But please place your eyes upon this and give me validation or something.

Content warning: depictions of violence.

--

Only in his dreams did Icarius remember being branded. 

To be humane, the thrall must be branded when they are still very young. They were easier to hold down and placate, limiting potential injury. Young skin was faster to heal. A child could take the time to rest and heal the way an adult couldn’t. A child’s memory would fade with age, until the whole ordeal was nothing more than a footnote.  

It bred less resentment for the hands that held them down. The hands couldn’t feel horrified by what they did either-- it was more humane to brand a child who would forget than an adult who would remember. 

Nonetheless, Icarius knew some thralls who claimed to remember the day perfectly. They were lying, even if they didn’t realize it themselves. He supposed it made them feel rebellious, holding onto a memory they were ordered to forget. It was pathetic. 

As a thrall, you already were nothing. You were less than human. One of the cattle. The suffering of everyday was more tangible than the ever-fading echo of a memory. Why waste your time?

In waking hours, Icarius could barely remember his branding. He only knew the basics because his mother had described it to him. No matter how he worried the sigil seared onto his breast-- the octopus of the House of Nephus--nothing ever came to him. 

But in dream, he swore he could still feel the hands that held him down: one of a slave-driver, and the other of his own father. He writhed and screamed to be let go, only for more hands to clamp down on his ankles and legs. He screamed so loud that a rag had been stuffed into his mouth. 

In reality, he had been blindfolded. In dream, he saw the red-hot iron be lifted from the flames. From molten red to smoldering gold it was hefted high before being bore down onto his chest, right over his heart---no, no, please don’t hurt me. 

He screamed until his voice went hoarse. His words lost shape until his sobs were unintelligible croaks.

He didn’t faint. He cried and wailed, but he had been conscious through it all. His father would call it an impressive show of strength, but he always said it with a pin-point glint of pity. “Thank Opreun, you do not remember it,” he would say. 

After the branding iron was pulled away, his dream melted. The dark forge and the smell of burnt flesh slid away. The agony radiating across his heart would dull as dream was replaced by memory. 

It was his first time inside the main estate, his father’s hand on his back as he was ushered before the paterfamilias: a slight man who cut a more imposing figure than he should have been able to, with eyes that crinkled in good humor.  

A ceremony he did not quite understand played before him. Even at six years of age, he knew well enough to avert his eyes and wait patiently to be addressed, even as his uniform itched and the open V of his tunic invited a chill as much as it showed off his mark of the House of Nephus.

What he did understand was the little boy he was brought before. Two years his younger, he was still a baby shyly hiding his face in his nursemaid’s skirts. Both she and his mother had to peel his chubby fingers away to face Icarius. 

His freckles were the brightest Icarius had ever seen: beautiful white flecks adorning each cheek, bridging across his nose like a constellation map. 

“See this, Vas?” Heedless of her beautiful dress, the lady of the house knelt down to her youngest son’s height. A sheer veil conformed to the ridge of her nose as she held his shoulders straight and pressed her cheek into his. “This is Icarius. He’s the son of Papa’s valet. You like Papa’s valet, right? Well, his son is going to be by your side for now on. He’s going to take very good care of you.”

Bug-eyed, Vasileios turned and whispered something to his mother.

She sung a laugh. “Yes, Vas,” she said. “He’s yours, so you have to take care of him too.”

Vas accepted that with a solemn nod. When he looked at Icarius again, he flushed but managed to stretch his mouth into a smile so wide, Icarius could count each of his teeth. His cheeks were so chubby, his eyes disappeared into his brows. It was cute. 

His father nudged him. “Go on, Icarius.”

Icarius knew to bow his head and mutter his thanks to the paterfamilias for such a prestigious position. He knew he was still a thrall, but now he was something else as well, something that made him a step above the mud. He knew he was special, even with a common sigil branded into his flesh. 

He knew that if he had one thing in this world, it was Vas. 

He was Vas’s, but Vas was his. 

Then the dream would end, and he woke up.

[c6jpg]

so anyone else think the paralogism interlude sucked ass

[skyward-floored]

Names

(Incredibles au)

————————————————————

The name Link was a funny thing in Time’s life.

He himself had been born with it— or at least he assumed that was how he got it. Never gave it too much thought, but he liked it well enough. Less so when Mido called him “Stink” instead, but Mido was always looking for ways to get a rise out of him when they were kids.

Time had been told several times by the Deku, the old man who ran the home he’d ended up in, that Link was a good name, a courageous name. One with a lot of meaning behind it, but Time never really knew what he meant by that. And when the other kids he lived with noticed his uncanny ability to tell the time, he took on the nickname it came with willingly enough. Mido did start calling him ‘Slime’ then, but it was better than Stink.

Then the Deku died, and thoughts of names slipped Time’s mind. He grew up too fast, becoming a superhero in his own right, and it wasn’t until he was a teenager that names came back into focus.

When his younger brother showed up.

...

Warriors was the first Link to be dropped into Time’s life, though it was no fault of his own.

Time’s first meeting with him had been bloody and traumatizing, and even as an adult, Warriors didn’t talk about that day. Time had found him and his mother— their mother it turned out— being attacked in an alley, and even after he’d removed the threat, she’d been too far gone to save. Their mother hadn’t said much, but she’d recognized Time somehow, and part of her dying words had been to tell Time that she’d named her youngest son Link simply in hopes that it would be enough for Warriors to find Time one day.

Time had spent many a night pondering whether that had been all there was to it. Was it a family name? Had their unknown father been named Link? Had his mother simply regretted giving Time up all of those years ago so intensely that she’d given her other son his name?

Time didn’t know. Warriors didn’t either. Neither of them had many memories of their mother, and barely any things from her.

But with another Link came the need for another nickname, and with a random observation Time barely even thought twice about, the younger Link became Warriors, a bright smile on his small face as he declared the fact to Time.

And while Time likely wouldn’t have chosen to end up with a kid to watch over in his teenage years, Warriors somehow snagged his heart anyway.

And one Link became two.

...

The next Link in Time’s life came with his own nickname.

Sky was small, smaller than Warriors even, but cheerful and sweet for a kid of his age. He became friends with Warriors almost the moment they met, and the two of them thought it was hysterical that they shared a name, especially since neither of them went by it.

Only Sky’s parents actually called him Link, and Time didn’t really know why. He rarely saw them— nobody did too much, Sky included— but he suspected it had to do with the somewhat formal impression they gave off. He was likely wrong though, since whenever they’d return from a trip, Sky would see them coming and bolt, an eager grin on his face as his mother laughed and swung him around, his father kissing his head.

They loved Sky more than anything, and for some reason unknown to anyone else, that included not calling him by a nickname. At least, not in public.

And when Time learned of Sky’s powers, red wings he could use to glide effortlessly through the air, the strangeness surrounding his nickname made a little more sense at least.

Sky’s nickname was more set in stone than some of the other Links Time would later know, though. Sky’s parents died on national television before Sky was even ten, and Time finally realized their frequent absences were simply covering their superhero identities they’d been hiding all this time.

Sky moved in with Time and Warriors, and from then on flat-out refused to be called Link by anyone except his other friend Sun.

It took several years for that policy to relax, even slightly.

But that didn’t matter to Time or Warriors. They both pulled Sky into their odd little family as much as he would let them, and Sky reciprocated, two Links becoming three.

...

The next Link took longer to come, not until after Time truly grew up and got married. But when he did, it was by design, though Time had argued up and down with Malon about it.

He wanted to give their newborn son his own name, not one he would share with both his father and two uncles. Malon wanted to give him a family name, especially since she was so fond of the name Link.

Warriors said they should have named him Fuzzy on account of the full head of hair he was born with, but they both shot that down.

Malon did have her way in the end, though they compromised, with Time picking his middle one. Link Twilight Forester was added to the collection of Links, his middle name given for the time of day he was born in, and Time personally thought his tiny son was the best out of all of them.

He assumed then, that Twilight would be the last Link in their family.

And he had no idea how wrong he was.

...

The next Link was an accident.

Their next son was never supposed to be given the name Link— Malon had a whole list of names ready and waiting, but their lives had taken a turn in the past few years. People were angry and hurting, swept up in a sea of hatred towards supers. Time had been dragged into the middle of it, and when their son was born the very day the law banning them from using their powers to help people was enacted...

Time had been distracted. Malon had been distracted.

And so when the nurse asked them for a name, Time absently told her his own, not realizing she’d meant their son.

“Link? Like the legend?” she’d questioned, and Time had nodded without a second thought.

The mistake wasn’t caught until it was too late to fix, and to Time’s further bewilderment, the papers had their son’s full name as “Link Legend Forester”. Going through the process of changing things would have been more time-consuming and complicated than either he or Malon had the energy for, and they’d wearily admitted defeat.

Legend wasn’t a bad name at least, and Malon softly admitted to him on one of those first days that she actually rather liked it.

Time was inclined to agree, and as he watched their world get flipped into something new, he had a feeling some legends would be needed.

...

Next up was Wind, though the reason for his being named Link was honestly just embarrassing.

After the mistake with Legend, Time and Malon had decided to be extra vigilant in not making any mistakes in regards to names. They had several picked out in case of boy or girl, and Time was determined to get things right this time.

Only... that didn’t happen.

They’d moved since Legend had been born, and had a different doctor than the last time. All of the slight changes that that brought with it were just enough of a distraction that something got misheard, or something got written down wrong, or somebody just hated them— Time actually didn’t know precisely what it was that had happened, in the end.

But when they were handed their baby and congratulated on their son, Link, Time almost banged his head against the wall. Malon broke into laughter, and they admitted defeat again, giving in to having their third son be named the same as his brothers.

Link Windsor Forester was the sixth Link in Time’s life, and Wind’s laughter matched Warriors and Sky’s when they heard about his real name.

...

Wild came next, a Link by surprise.

Time had gotten an unexpected call from Impa one afternoon, and instead of being met with news that his family needed to move again, she asked a favor.

A boy had been found, a super, injured beyond belief. He needed a temporary home, and though Time and Malon were low on both space and energy, they had immediately agreed. Impa had called them because they were the only real option, and they both knew they couldn’t say no.

Impa hadn’t been able to pry a name out of the boy, and for ease’s sake (or perhaps Impa’s odd sense of humor), he’d been given the temporary moniker of Link. Malon laughed when Time told her, but he didn’t think it was so funny.

Or maybe it was, and he was just distracted by the seriousness of the situation.

Nothing much was amusing about poor Link’s situation. Injured and traumatized for merely being born with powers like the rest of them, his quietness took time to fade. But fade it did, and despite his nightmares, he blossomed into a silly, hyper kid, eager to help and enamored with them all.

Impa eventually found out his real name was indeed Link (which Time just... decided not to think about too hard), but Wild was what he went by now, the seventh Link bursting with enthusiasm and energy as Time and Malon added him into their family.

...

The eighth Link was on purpose.

Malon had gone into labor early, too early, enough to make the doctors nervous. They’d swept her off almost the moment they arrived at the hospital, and Time was left to sit, and wait, and pray to anyone who was listening to get his wife and child through this safely.

Those were some of the longest hours of his life, but finally their tiny son came out, red and oddly quiet, but alive. He was whisked off to be cared for, and Time and Malon were left alone to worry, and fret, and... discuss names.

Time suggested Link.

“Really?” Malon had asked in surprise, and he’d nodded, sighing.

“All of his brothers have the name. It would be strange not to give him it.”

Assuming he makes it.

Time had quickly silenced that thought while Malon considered, and finally she agreed, the shadows under her eyes looking a little lighter as she smiled at him.

“He would feel a little left out, wouldn’t he?” she said softly, leaning against Time’s arm. “I suppose he can go by his middle name then, and his first can be Link.”

“Just like the rest of us,” Time murmured, and pulled her close while they waited.

Little Link did make it, to everyone’s relief and joy. And so their family’s eighth Link joined the family: Link Smith Forester, smallest out of all his brothers.

Interestingly enough, he gained another nickname as he grew older— Four, so named for his odd obsession with the number when he was little. Sometimes his brothers got away with calling him Pipsqueak too, but Time generally discouraged that.

Three names was already more than enough.

...

Hyrule was the ninth Link, skittish and scared.

Time’s meeting with him was one of the most dramatic of any of the other Links— a burning building, a terrified super, borderline hypothermia, and a deep distrust and fear that Time could sense the moment he met him.

What he also saw was a little boy who was in desperate need of love and care though, and so he brought him home, and let Malon work her magic. His sons helped with that as well, and they easily pulled him into their chaos, opening him up and finding the person past all the walls. It surprised nobody to learn that his name was Link, and it didn’t take long for him to be given a nickname as well— Hyrule, named for the title of his favorite book of stories.

The title seemed even more fitting when the near-mythical power at Link’s fingertips was revealed, healing a broken wrist without barely a thought.

Afterwards Hyrule tried to flee, terrified that with his powers revealed his autonomy would be taken from him yet again. But Time and Malon coaxed him back, and assured him they didn’t care about any of that. They would love him anyway, no matter what powers came with him.

Hyrule had broken down in grateful and overwhelmed tears, and that was how the ninth Link came into their family; Link Hyrule Forester, finally home.

...

Time would look back on all of those different meetings sometimes, thinking about how different they all were, and yet... similar.

Himself, Warriors, Sky, Twilight, Legend, Wind, Wild, Four, and Hyrule, all of them unique people. More than half of them his children, and all related to him in one way or another. Yet they all boasted the name Link, and most of them were by complete coincidence or accident.

Some people laughed when they heard about the names, and others merely gave strange looks. It was an odd tale for sure, yet despite all the jokes and teasing everyone got for having the same name, Time knew that, like himself, they all loved their shared name. As well as the people who shared it with them.

Each of them had a different relationship with the name, but it was theirs. And maybe it did have a courageous meaning like the old Deku always said. Maybe it didn’t. Maybe it was just a popular name, and a strange fluke that Time had eight people in his life with the same name as himself.

But regardless of any of that, of how they’d come together, how they’d been given the name, whether they were blood related or not... Time was grateful beyond belief that he knew and loved each and every one of them.

Link.

[the-way-astray]

why don’t you like grizel?

super subjective reasons

she is such a hyper girlboss. like to an extent that goes even farther beyond shannon's typical. she's a classic case of shannon's tendency to write girlbosses instead of good female characters. (yes i know della is like this too but it's hard to find a female character that isn't like this in kotlc and i have made up lore for della so. lmfao.) also she insults an entire gender and god i despise men vs. women writing it makes me cringe out of my soul because it's either misogynistic or it's used to try to create a cool girlboss character (of which grizel happens to be the second) and it never works. i stand by the idea that true feminist narratives don't need to rub their feminism in your face with men vs. women writing but i digress. also this happens in legacy. like okay i thought the sexism was gone with the first few books but i guess it's still here okay i see how it is

her introduction to the series very much reads like shannon realized sandor had been around for like three books (technically two) and we still knew little to nothing about him besides the fact that he's a tough goblin warrior. so she gave him a love interest to try to "humanize" him, so to speak. grizel exists entirely to be sandor's girlfriend. it annoys me greatly. she is not a character by herself. seriously. name a characteristic or piece of lore of hers that isn't encapsulated by "she flirts with sandor and also makes the occasional snarky comeback". and shannon could, you know. we know that she was offered a position in the queen's guard but turned it down for a lost cities job because sandor was there. do you see what i mean. this could be an interesting piece of lore but instead shannon uses it to make her character revolve entirely around sandor. it annoys me so so so so bad. she's like ro in that sense, except instead of her only personality trait being "sokeefe shipper that occasionally snarks about the lost cities/sparkles", it's "sandor's girlfriend that occasionally makes a snarky comeback generally" idk it's just not something that appeals to me personally . . . the bodyguards in general are not very fleshed out but grizel annoys me the most because she's in the story enough to be fleshed out and yet she is not

so to put it together we have a hyper girlboss in the place of an actually well written female character who revolves entirely around a man . . . she's kind of an encapsulation of my main problem with most of the female characters in kotlc (della included . . . with her i just make up my own lore so i like her more but canon della leaves a lot to be desired)

[raiiny-bay]

uh oh!