#may I point to Sunder and just... Sunder. :)

[transingthoseformers]

We need to abuse the idea of EM fields for angst more

[michaela-o]

Random things i think Cybertronians would find adorable about humans ~♡

1. Humans getting spooked by random loud noises because humans are naturally very jumpy about loud noises

Imagine:

you're sitting over at Swerve's bar, just chatting, having your drink on the counter Swerve let you sit on, because your makeshift little table and chair are work in progress. Suddenly some bot decides to honk their horn near you which makes you yelp and jump (like cats when they get scared of cucumber) which makes you almost spilling the drink as you were about to take a sip.

The whole bar stops and laughs at you. You just look at the bot who did it with the most unimpressed look ever (ㅍ_ㅍ)

2. Watching you stretch yourself because Cybertroniams aren't as flexible as humans

3. Sleeping

this may sound a bit creepy but from what i saw Cybertroniams sleep very eerily still and almost never move when they're in recharge because they're very vulnerable when doing so. So i think when they have their first sleepover with a human and they happen to fall asleep sooner and they start to either sleep walk or sleep talk (which fun fact, i do a lot ( -᷄ ᎑ -᷅ ) ) the bots would look in utter confusion like- "ya all don't stay still?? How???" I think Cybertronians would also find cute how groggy humans are when they wake up and them needing proper time to load into the world around them. Oh god and wait till they hear about the weird ass dreams humans can have or humans trying to explain déjà vu to a bot💀

(makes me think of Sunder being frustrated bc he wouldn't be able to get into a human's brain😝)

4. Physical Clumsiness

The occasional clumsiness and lack of precision in human movements. I think a lot of bots would find this very amusing to occasionaly watch since Cybertronias are typically more coordinated and precise in their actions. Like imagine bot walking with a human who let's say just woke up earlier to a meeting and are slowly walking around occasionaly hitting themeselves or their arm with a corner of a wall because their sleepy processor didn't calculate the trajectory good enough. I think they would find this rather adorable (๑´>᎑<)

5. Emotional Reactions

Yes i think humans are way more sensitive than Cybertronians are. Human's exaggerated emotional reactions to minor events, like getting overly excited about a sports game or being deeply upset by a small mishap, could be seen as amusingly disproportionate. Like imagine you drop your favourite mug on the floor and it breaks as much as your heart in that moment. You walk around the ship super sad, like a kicked puppy, and the bots can almost feel the sadness dripping off of you so they ask: "Hey uh- you okay?"

And then you proceed to explain that you broke your favourite mug and that you'll never find a mug similar to your favourite one. The bot stares like ಠ_ಠ. Oh so that's the reason? Okay so apparently humans don't pack bond with only random things that are alive but even with things that aren't.

6. The uncanny valley effect

I think bots would find rather fascinating how human brain responds to this phenomenon. Like- the human brain can feel that something is off and can't be fooled. Imagine holoforms in Cybertronians. Like yeah they can look very appealing but only up to a certain point which when that point is reached it tickles that one part of the human brain which tells us "na-a-ah something ain't right"

At one point they wanted to wtiness this in real life so some bots (Percy, Brainstorm) made a set up of holoforms and real looking hologram of humans and waited for you to figure out which unsettles you the most. They were surprised that you were 100% accurate in this and that you were able to tell which one are holoforms and which aren't.

7. Expressions of Wonder

the awe and wonder in the human eyes when we are encountering something new or beautiful, such as a breathtaking landscape or a technological marvel. I think Cybertronians would find this pretty adorable, very innocent and reflective of our curious nature.

8. Human Fragility

I think the most popular one. The general physical fragility of humans, along with our tendency to bandage minor injuries or get flustered over small pains, might be viewed as cutely vulnerable for many Cybertronians.

Feel free to add anything you'd like !!😄🫶🏻🫶🏻

[estinininininen]

FFXIV: Can you imagine the Ascians' reactions to Midgardsormr landing on this planet? They didn't know about life on other stars. If they missed his actual landing they'd be gallivanting around, jumping to the other shards, teehee we'll get that dastardly Venat, and then they come back and find

this thing

protecting a lake full of aether, it's the size of a skyscraper from the World Unsundered, it's immortal, it has funky aether they can't sense or manipulate like other sundered beings' aether, its soul is in its eyes, it's incredibly strong, it seems to be able to change its shape, holy shit it's like it's unsundered is it even ethical to fight this thing, and it may also be able to eat people to get their souls and then that soulshard is kinda immortal again? how did Venat come up with this thing -

And then the lizard opens its mouth to the nice mortals that are hanging around asking questions and it says, completely intelligent, that a goddess called Hydaelyn let him stay on this planet if he protects the lake and does her a favor every now and then. Oh, and meet his first baby. The other 6 are going to hatch at some point.

I think the Ascian in the awestruck crowd would have just shat out of their borrowed body on the spot and gone running to the others like "You will not BELIEVE what that fucking bitch beat us to"

[crownedwithstars]

I was thinking of Beren and Lúthien and how their story is so much more interesting than they get credit for. I mean, on the surface it reads like a fairy tale but it also elevates the rest of the story, it uses common fairy tale tropes but turns them upside down, and the way we see the heroine asserting her agency in this story is so fascinating. I think the story of Beren and Lúthien provides much needed contrast for the rest of the Silm, and both become more poignant because of this contrast. 

The familiar fairy tale goes like this: there's a a poor but resourceful peasant, set with a difficult task (which is in fact designed to be impossible to complete), but thanks to some magical help he is successful, retrieves treasure, and as a reward he wins the king's daughter and lives happily ever after as a prince, gaining all the earthly glory one can have in this life. But in the Tale of Beren and Lúthien, the hero is a traumatised outlaw, the king's daughter IS the magical help, she is an active and equal participant in the quest for her own hand in marriage, the treasure may actually be cursed, the hero and heroine die, and the ultimate reward is not a social rise from rags to riches. Beren does not become a member of the power-wielding elite of Doriath and he and Lúthien are not promised that their second life will be happy or long. But just that chance is worth it, and by choosing it they actually change the course of history. Lúthien is offered all the bliss that is possible to have in Arda, if she will give up Beren, but she decides that the love she has for him is still more valuable. And that idea, of loving someone so much that your love shifts the world, is so compelling to me. 

And I love that the story of Beren and Lúthien is also a rendition of Orpheus and Eurydice, and that just as the world was created in the Music of the Ainur, so is Lúthien's song powerful enough to change what those original notes dictated. She changes it with hope and a song. That is so simple and yet so beautiful, in the way some of the best myths are. (Insane that this is essentially a love-letter to Edith Tolkien.)

There is this fascinating contrast between Beren and Lúthien: at the time of their first meeting, Beren has lost literally everything and his family is either dead or lost beyond retrieval. Stumbling across Lúthien, he is fresh from terrible ordeals and suffering. But Lúthien's life has been full of happiness and without care, and she has lived in a literal fairy kingdom as the most beautiful of all the Children of Ilúvatar. She could have her pick of any prince of Eldar. But here she comes across this mortal, who has nothing to give except for his love and even that only for a brief time, and she is willing to risk all she has for it. The gall and courage it takes to take such a chance! She chooses this man and her choice changes everything. 

And that is brilliant! Because Lúthien starts with so little power and agency, and she is constantly belittled or even abused by those with more power around her. She is treated as a pawn, her will is undermined and she is coerced and imprisoned to make her compliant. But Lúthien shows her determination and courage in holding fast to her choice even when it's just her and Beren against the world. In the end, she wins agency and freedom to determine her own tale. In her beginning Lúthien is a maid dancing in the woods; by the end she will have faced Satan and death itself, and changed the world forever. Truly, to call her story "Release from Bondage" is more than appropriate. How insane is this all from Beren's point of view? He has lost everything, he is an outlaw, and has nowhere to go. What is left of his family is scattered who knows where. He has nothing but the clothes on his back and nothing to give. But here is this immortal princess, and she will go to hell and back with him! She will cross the Sundering Sea to bid him farewell! She pleads with inexorable death and for her, an exception is made!  It's so on brand for Tolkien that these two achieve with their love, and precisely because they act out of love, something that others with armies behind their backs can't even imagine doing.

Yeah. It's such a good, hopeful, bittersweet tale.

[emperor-kumquat]

"Public domain Sunder" outside of Tumblr (How my project art runs away)

This is NOT a general Sunder! As cool as he looks, he belongs to me and Mynametia/ Inishira (Instagram)!

I want to talk about how reposted art causes harm. It has been stressful to see and I hope fellow artists can sympathize or empathize. And please, if you base art off this Sunder, credit the project Transformers: Mercy!

Firstly, I've heard both "you're niche and unknown" or "you have a big following so watch your mouth"

It feels mean either way... :( Like the jab takes whatever stance is most convenient.

Bottom line: I don't consider myself special. I am just a very hard worker. The only reason I have gotten as far as I have was my hours of daily work for years on my project and YouTube channel.

I am awed when I reflect on how far I have come. Growing my social media platforms, working with 100 different artists from all over the world, commissioning comic artists like Alex Milne and Livio Ramondelli for posters, getting interviewed, collabing, or having shoutouts on other YouTube channels, sitting on panels at TFcon in front of hundreds (although it was t e r r i f y i n g) and getting to talk to them about Transformers: Mercy! And this year, I will be selling Mercy merch at a table at TFcon in the art gallery!

So I don't think I am niche anymore... I don't think my project Transformers: Mercy is. Over the years it has become very widespread with art posted on blogs across social media platforms. As I will discuss, maybe too widespread in one wrong way.

But... there is a long way to go to completing the project. I have about 1000 images now. That's insane! This is no tiny lil project. And I am gunning for 1000s more to make this TFP fan-made sequel. But, I have to pay so so much out of pocket despite making less than minimum wage most months. I need a lot of support to make this big dream possible. Thank you to all who have already helped me thus far.

I think I am just writing this post to clear the air. I am honoured deeply by fanart or fanfictions or fan animations people have created for Transformers: Mercy. It is very motivating and heartwarming and helps me keep up the pace of working hours every day on this project.

I don't mind inspiration being taken from my work. It is an honour. My project draws inspiration from James Roberts' MTMTE and would be nothing without his appealing takes on characters. We may critique MTMTE but where would we be without his Whirl, Rodimus, Drift, Ratchet, Pharma, Cyclonus, Tailgate, Chromedome, Rewind, Swerve, Overlord, DJD, etc.? I carried on from him, others may carry on from me.

A while back, I never meant offence when pointing out one animation of Sunder had features that looked eerily similar (to me) to the Sunder of my game. The reason I got a jolt of horror stems from the fact that this project has fallen victim to reposts on places like Instagram, Pinterest, Reddit, the fan wiki, and other TF forums with zero credit to me or the artists. The growing popularity of Mercy art has also caused it to appear in general searches for IDW or TFP characters. This is why if you search "Transformers Sunder concept art" you are likely to see Mercy Sunder right there but uncredited. So you would see our art but not know what it was for. And Mynametia/Inishira (the artist) did such a good job that it even looks like IDW concept art. It can be mistaken for official content.

But it's not. It was created for my project with very specific features to match my story. A project which costs so much of my time and money and it needs all the donations it can get. It is loses support when its art becomes popular with no tie back to this project. It is still a project in development and is therefore vulnerable.

Transformers: Mercy, after all the years, has become a famous project. But it is a struggling project due to the high financial cost. It is made with ok not blood, but real sweat and tears as I have pushed so hard to make it this far. It has been emotional. It even brought me the love of my life, my spouse.

I want to continue to work on it, the largest Transformers fan project that I believe has ever been attempted. But I need that support, that credit. It hurts when I use google/another search engine and search "Transformers Sunder concept art" and see our work totally visible to the public and not at all attached to Mercy. It then jumpscares me to see other people creating something that looks just like my creations. I see fanart that uses the face of my ghoul Sunder, the one-eyed purple-eyed version with a gaping black pit where the other eye should have been with a small white light within (or the other specific features I requested for Mercy Sunder).

It feels like my ideas are running away from me.

I do not believe anything was done with intent to harm or any malice or spite. I did not believe my project art had been knowingly stolen by any animator or fan artist of Sunder. But when I wrote my post in response to one animation, I did believe that Mercy Sunder had been seen and used as an inspiration because he does appear in general Sunder searches on the Internet. So this is where I came from and why I felt compelled to step in at the time.

I hope I have expressed myself better than last time and I just would like to voice that not this artist/ animator I first reblogged, but other people have reposted Mercy Sunder and caused him to become like.... public domain? Please, I just want it to be known that what you see on search engines, forums, wikis.... was taken from my project. Please do not base your Sunders on that art without crediting Transformers: Mercy and Inishira (Instagram or X).

I hope all the artists here can imagine the feeling of distress I feel seeing credit and support fly away from me and that talented artist, Inishira (who designed Mercy Overlord, Sunder, Crankcase, Fulcrum, Misfire, Krok, Spinister, Waspinator (bug form), and angel Starscream).

I don't want drama or a public back and forth. I seek amicable relationships going forth. Please be very mindful and go back to add in credits if you realize you used this Sunder design as a reference!

[hannieween]

THE SUNDERING [patreon exclusive]

CHAPTER ONE — THE EXPEDITION [teaser]

❝ the world has split in two.❞

An expedition turned your life upside down. What you once knew as home is now long gone, and the way back could prove to be the most dangerous mission you’ve ever come across. No matter how sharp your wits may be, there was nothing that could’ve prepared you for your destiny.

⤿ pairings: yoon jeonghan x female reader x jeon wonwoo ⤿ genres: isekai, dark fantasy, cos-horror, fluff, smut [18+] ⤿ aus: love triangle, hunter wonwoo, rebel jeonghan, archeologist researcher reader, boyfriend jeonghan, 90's au, falling out of love ⤿ word count: 1.4k teaser — 8k full chapter

⤿ warnings: [none in this teaser] — smut with plot, making out, oral sex, masturbation, love making, body worshipping, protected p in v sex, breeding kink. mentions of blood, head injury. weapons. pet names: baby, darling, sweetheart (hers) babe (jeonghan's) [full chapter]

⤿ thank you @aeristudios for helping me make the gif ♡

⤿ main masterlist

CHAPTER ONE — THE EXPEDITION

The night was hot. Even though the sun had gone down, the heat still pulsed in the air around you, wrapping you in an unwanted hug. Cicadas beat their wings in the air in rhythmic and irritating bursts, crashing against the lightbulbs, and occasionally getting sucked into the fans.

You hated this place. The air was thick and heavy, not helped at all by the fans on the ceiling that only swirled the heat around. Your room was decent enough, a couple of bunk beds and a tiny desk. What made it truly unbearable was the heat.

Books were scattered all over the desk. Your notebook lay open, pages stained with coffee and ink. Notes scribbled on napkins and scraps of paper were tucked between them messily.

It was your job to research, and you loved it. But sometimes, nothing made sense. You didn’t fully believe the translations you had come up with over the past few days. The language felt unnatural, even with all of your research put into comparison. But you had gotten to a point where ancient texts and looping symbols were all you could see every time you closed your eyes.

Your specialty was translating ancient languages and scripture. All you had to do was decipher, translate, and interpret the meaning behind fragments of alphabets. You spent your time looking at prayers, stories, and rituals etched in stone, sometimes in other odd places. That was what you’d studied for years to do.

Lately, though, even the most familiar patterns of translation began to feel foreign to you.

You took off your reading glasses with a single motion, then pinched your nose, sighing wearily.

You were supposed to be cataloguing inscriptions from a set of recently uncovered ruins deep in this jungle—ancient temple walls buried beneath centuries of earth, moss, and a lack of any human activity. But the digging team was nowhere near done yet. Instead, you were stuck in the tiny room decoding what felt more like fantasy than history.

You leaned forward on the table, letting your head fall against the wood with a dull thump.

“I just want something to happen,” you whispered into the quiet. “Give me something interesting.”

Your eyes fluttered shut, your body already sinking into sleep before you could take it back.

“Losing our minds already, I see.”

Startled, you raised your head from the desk, looking at Jeonghan, who was entering the room. He looked tired, like he had been working out or running around under the blazing hot sun. Sweat covered his sun-kissed face, and his long hair looked greasy.

Your heart jolted. “I thought you were coming much later,” you said, lifting your wrist to check the time. It was seven thirty. You sighed, you had lost track of time again.

Jeonghan hummed in acknowledgement, approaching you with a gentle look on his face. He bent down, placing a hand on the back of your chair and the other on your desk, looking at your messy scribbles. “Are you still working on this?”

You nodded, looking at his face. “I can’t get past the second page,” you sighed in frustration. “I think there’s something missing.”

“Well, yeah, there is a lot you’re missing,” he said, chuckling a laugh. “You’re supposed to wait until tomorrow, dummy.”

“There is no guarantee that we’ll find anything down there,” you blinked at him.

Jeonghan’s gaze examined the papers you had scattered across the desk. He breathed slowly, and he was so close to you that you could see the tiny mole on his cheek, the tiny beads of sweat on top of his lip.

“You’re staring at me,” Jeonghan hummed softly, looking at you through the corner of his eye.

“Yeah, because you’re sweaty, and all over me,” you laughed, shooing him away.

Jeonghan clicked his tongue, putting his hands on your head and rubbing his face against yours. You squealed and laughed, trying to back away from him, but it was too late. He had rubbed all of the sweat from his face all over yours.

“Jeonghan, you pig!” you shrieked as he pulled back, laughing merrily.

He grinned at you, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the hem of his shirt. “You’re welcome,” he sighed. “Now we could wash together.”

Your stomach jolted in nervousness. Lately, your relationship with Jeonghan has been falling apart. Not out of malice, but a worse sickness—indifference. And it was really hard for you to narrow down what the root of the problem was.

But deep down, you knew that the problem was you.

You wiped the sweat off your cheek. “I already washed, dummy,” you told him lightly. “If I break out tomorrow, I’m blaming you.”

“It was worth it,” Jeonghan said without hesitation, still holding that cute smile on his face.

You had fallen in love with that smile, long time ago. When you were teenagers, you dreamed of coming to places like this, to explore and to go on adventures. You fell in love with his passion and devotion to the art, to the science of researching. But as you grew older, you felt like something was missing.

But despite that, that smile still had some effect on you.

“Hey,” Jeonghan called, his tone falling into seriousness.

You turned on your seat to look at him. “Yes?”

He parted his mouth slightly, as though looking for words to say. “You’ve been working yourself to the ground lately,” he said, leaning against the doorframe that led to the bathroom.

You didn’t answer right away, feeling like you didn’t know where this conversation was going. “Mm-hmm,” you nodded.

He crossed his arms, and the air of hesitation lingered around him. “You get like this every time there’s something on your mind.”

Your heart fell to your stomach. “Right,” you mumbled, blinking dumbly at him. “Is this damn research, that’s what’s on my mind.”

Jeonghan saw through you. Always has. But he just nodded slowly, letting it go. “Yeah, this research is making you too tense.”

“I’m not tense,” you said, straightening your back.

“You’re always tense,” he smirked, reaching to tap your forehead gently with two fingers. “But up here. It’s like your brain is about to burst.”

You huffed a laugh, slapping his fingers away.

Jeonghan turned around, but something pulled him back. “Come sleep with me,” he said gently. “Those notes and those ruins aren’t going anywhere. But I am if I don’t lie down soon.”

You rolled your eyes again. “And you say I’m the one that’s tense.”

He offered you his hand. “Come on. You’ll think better in the morning.”

You got up, taking his hand without saying much. The room was dark, except for the only window in it that offered a view to the even darker exterior, lit only by a lone lantern outside. The whir of the fans overhead helped make the silence feel less unbearable.  

Jeonghan stretched out beside you on the lower bunk, one arm tucked beneath his head, the other extended and ready to welcome you in.

You sighed as you lay beside him, curling onto his body. Jeonghan wrapped you in instantly. This was entirely too familiar to you. You’d shared countless nights like this before with him, for years.

But it had been a while since it felt like something more than routine.

“Hey,” he said after a long silence, already knowing you’d still be awake. His voice was soft, like a cup of warm milk. “Tomorrow’s going to be big. I can feel it.”

You hummed in acknowledgement. You were staring at the slats above you, listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat against your ear.

“Yeah,” you whispered after a beat. “Let’s just hope it’s worth the mosquito bites.”

He chuckled quietly. “And the sunburn.”

You responded with a laugh of your own—but it failed to soothe the tight feeling in your heart.

You turned around, facing him now.

Jeonghan curiously followed you, finding your eyes. His gaze outlined the features of your face shallowly.

You knew that look. After years together, you could almost read into his soul.

“What are we doing, Jeonghan?” you murmured. The words had slipped out, barely holding themselves. But you’d said it, and it was too late to take them back.

He looked slightly taken aback by your question. Then he shifted, tightening his arm around you, as though he could keep you from drifting too far in case you grew tired of his hesitation.

But he knew what you’d meant by that question. He was aware that your relationship had been stuck in a rut for months now. And no amount of adventures and research was changing that numbing feeling inside you.

You felt lost.

⌈READ THE FULL CHAPTER⌋

⤿ author's note: hello, hi, hello there! 🩵

so this is a project that i have been working on since waaaay before i created hannieween. i explained more in my post but i'll share this series on patreon! so check it out? it would mean the world to me 🥺

also, if you read this far and you liked this, please show it some love? thank you for reading! i am sending y'all a big big hug! 🩵

i love you all,

toodles!

other places where you can support me: ♡ ko-fi or paypal ♡

© TO HANNIEWEEN I DO NOT ALLOW TRANSLATIONS, CONTINUATIONS, REIMAGINATIONS OF MY WORKS OR THEIR REPOSTING ON OTHER WEBSITES.

[themalhambird]

@malkaleh @plotdesigner - the top end of the Chain Of News following Adar et. al. arriving on the borders of Lindon...

"My King."

A glance is all Gil-galad needs to know that something is Not Right. Glorfindal has swapped his usual radiant armour for plain, hardwearing mail and a drab cloak, a standard guard's helmet concealing his hair in a manner that seems to defy the confines of available space. How on Arda he's managed to cram it all in-

...Eru, Gil-galad is even more exhausted than he feels if, pouring over maps and troop lists and correspondance with the dwarves in Khazad-dum and Thranduil in the Greenwood and what mortal men can be reached and reasoned with, his concern is skittering down tangents about Glorfindal's hair. "What news?" he asks and, taking in the waterskin and waybread pouch at his friend's hip, "Where do you ride?"

"The border," Glorfindal says. "News has come from the patrols that way, there is-" hope and distrust seem to war on his face. "The present unrest may have dislodged survivors from Gondolin."

...Gil-Galad stares. "What."

Glorfindal shakes his head. "I don't know. A group of strange elves, in the company of a man and his young offspring, sought entrance to Lindon using the old phrases. It is not clear, but whether that is because the report has come up to me via a chain of several tongues or because the situation itself is unclear...it is possible that a group of survivors fled Gondolin's fall to the furthest mortal settlement they could and have stayed there until the present conflict made it too dangerous to be so sundered from their king- the mortal may be a friend, or adopted kinsman, or- the patrol who met them may not have realised that the children are..."

"Peredhel," Gil-galad says quietly, as he senses the other elf's hesitation.He attempts a smile, though he fears it may be more of a grimace. "You can speak it without exacerbating my present griefs, old friend," he lies, and Glorfindel- though he is too well mannered and too loyal to argue with his king on such a point, does arch his eyebrow, which speaks his disagreement just as elequontly as any words might.

"The guards at the border sent a second report not long after their first," Glorfindal says quietly. "Of seeing a flash of gold, in a shade not seen in Lindon since the Lady Galadriel last rode out."

Gil-galad stiffens. "How would survivors from Gondolin come by a lock of Galadriel's hair?"

Glorfindal grimaces. "There are three possibilities. First, it is simple error- a trick of how the light from the Star of High Hope caught a coin, or some other token. Second, these strangers were taken from Gondolin, and held as thralls so long by the enemy that they ceased to be watched for signs of escape. They had some contact with the Lady Galadriel when she and the others were taken by Sauron, and have smuggled a token of her survival, and word of her whereabouts from whatever prison they have escaped. Third- this is some trick of the enemy's. I will go myself to find the truth of it, but do not care to trumpet my identity; if these elves do hail from Gondolin they will know me by my face; an enemy spy who knows the phrases only because his master pulled them from the mouths of those he tormented would rely on sigils and armour to see how he might play for my trust and pity."

Gil-galad nods. "Go," he says, "Ride as swiftly as you can."

"My king." Glorfindal bows and departs; Gil-galad, suddenly shaking, braces himself against the table for support. He takes a few deep breaths, and looks to the Page waiting discreetly in the corner of the room.

"Wake Lord Cirdan," he instructs. "Tell him that there is either imminent news of lost kin- or imminent news of an attack on Lindon's borders."

[last-flight-of-fancy]

hi hello i hope you don't mind but Special Interest Infodump Mode has been activated please keep hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times-

this explanation comes to us courtesy of Dark Road! You know, that cutesy little mobile game where literally the whole cast except the two protagonists dies. This is on brand bc the explanation has it's own fridge horror levels to it if i think too hard about it tbh.

So, worlds have hearts. We've known this since KH1, seen what happens to a world that loses its heart, and how they can be affected. It's rarely been expounded on beyond that however, aside vague allusions to the titular Kingdom Hearts being/harboring the Heart of All Worlds.

(which has. other implications now that i think about it but that's stepping into theorising territory. im sorry im trying really hard to stay on track honest)

fast forward to Dark Road, where we have a bunch of kids venturing out into the worlds for the first time, and as such have to have things explained to them (and thus the audience). NOW i will note here that KH looooooves unreliable narrators and characters imparting incorrect information without knowing it, so there is always the possibility that this could later turn out to be wrong, but currently I see no reason this would be the case and thus for now i feel safe in taking their words at face value unless otherwise contradicted.

Why are there no people? Because each world is alive, and after the Keyblade War sundering THE World into MANY Worlds, each needed to recover and restore what was lost; life, time, movement.

This bit here is important, bc as a result

All of this is the direct result of the Keyblade War of old. Even after so much time, the bits of worlds are *still* recovering, and I do think there's something to be said about how like... the repition between worlds and their apparent stagnation often *stops* after Sora visits them. I don't think it's because Sora's special(tm), but rather just because of who he is; the Dark Road kids are told never to interfere, and as a result the worlds they visit that Sora also visits later are exactly the same to Sora as they were 80+ years before.

But when Sora visits the same world only a short time after his first visit, things CHANGE. Hercules' story moves forward, Simba is having a crisis about being king, Jack Skellington has learned his lesson about Christmas and is on to new shenanigans. And that's only in kh2! in kh3 we see Twilight Town fill with people, barren Olympus expands into a full town (and there's more there too with BBS and how the Wayfinder Trio may have been Olympus' start towards restoring itself completely, and Sora's later arrival more speeding things along)

my point here is *connections*, which is a consistant and overarching theme of the series. Empty worlds are baby worlds, still healing and restoring from being broken away from the rest, and what helps along that healing? Being connected to others.

Which is to say that the keyblade weilder's doctrine of 'do not interfere' while most certainly well-intentioned (as Dark Road also points out, one persons darkness is anothers light, and morality is not a solid truth across worlds, so interfering is risky at best and dangerous at worst), the flip side to this is that without being connected, without that ''interferance'', the world's restoration stagnates and struggles. It will still get there eventually (the Tangled world seems to be doing alright for example), but chances are it might've been a little easier/faster if someone had done a little interfering.

tldr keyblade war broke the worlds and reset them all to zero. As the worlds heal time stops until it's People finally pop back into existance and their stories can resume. And that's how the invisible crowds in early kh games are canon.

[shewolfofvilnius]

I need to be feral about Dragon Age Veilguard for a minute. Does the "Romanced Bellara, who gets kidnapped by Elgar'nan and blighted" path have me so feral I am chewing on my enclosure? GOD YES.

You two have JUST had the big heart to heart before starting the final missions. Bellara and Rook are CLEARLY in love with each other, but still haven't committed. Bellara struggles with these things and the right words, and Rook is (in this case) from a military family and an awkward dork who prefers hitting things with her sword. EMOTIONS ARE HARD BUT MY DORKS ARE TRYING

and then Bellara gets kidnapped by Elgar'nan.

and Rook is so IMMEDIATELY DISTRAUGHT that she has to be physically restrained by DAVRIN, a man described as a "walking mountain of armour", because they KNOW she's about to get herself killed trying to kill an IMMORTAL ELVEN 'GOD' trying to get Bellara back. Everyone on this team knows Bellara and Rook are crazy about each other.

Then ROOK disappears. Into Solas' fade prison. And the first thing she sees? The pull of regret that hits hardest? It's not Harding. It's not even Varric. It's Bellara. It's the only time Rook's voice breaks. Meanwhile the echo of Bellara in the fade is tearfully saying 'You picked me to die." Rook powers through, breaks the regret prison's hold (with the rest of the team and Varric's help), but it's still weighing on her.

But once they seize Minrathous, the damndest thing happens. THERE SHE IS!! And...Bellara tries to kill her. MORE IMPORTANTLY is what Rook does next.

The lyrium dagger isn't used as a weapon very often by Rook. Primarily, against the Evanuris and potentially Solas...and here's Rook, using it to attack the blight tendrils that have Bellara trapped. Because it's THAT IMPORTANT to free her.

And just the looks Rook gives Bellara from that point forward.

Rook almost lost the love of her life. And with Bellara blighted. Rook still may lose her. And Bellara only kept going because she had Rook (and Cyrian) in her head telling her to hold on, constructs of the two in her mind as the last bastions of everything she ever cared about. Even Neve faded out. But not Rook. Never Rook.

And these two will NEVER lose each other again, whether they have a day or a century. Rook is the only living person that got Bellara through it, she is the center of Bellara's emotional life.

And Rook is there, and every moment she looks into her...what was Cyrian's word?...vora'shivan's eyes...when she sees past the anxiety and the blight scars and sees Bellara's soul?

Rook would follow Bellara Lutare to the ends of the universe and into the abyss beyond. And what's the translation of the last thing Bellara says to Rook before they kiss?

Your love humbles me, my eternal waking dream.

Not even ancient gods bringing thousands of years of planning during their imprisonment or the god of deceit, lies, and trickery could break these two up, could sunder their love.

I am feral about these two. It's the slowest of slow burn, but on this path you finish the game KNOWING that these two absolutely love each other, to the bitter end and highest joys, AND that Rook is already committed for both 'in sickness AND in health'.

[lu-is-not-ok]

I may have sent this before, but may I give the thought of Star Luminary for hong lu's waw? I'm not super certain on it for 'em, but I feel like with how his canto refers to a sundering there'll be a case that he can't go home anymore.

as a bonus, it fits our last waw reciever to a T.

Well, for one, it's not Sundered, it's Surrendered, which to me moreso implies that Hong Lu will have no choice but to be surrendered back to his home or otherwise have no agency in what's happening, which fits what his position in the Family is implied to be, that being one lacking agency.

Either way, let's take a look at Star Luminary.

I believe we're dealing with two major themes here - the themes of perception affecting the essence of things and the themes of wishing to go back to something that no longer exists. We're also dealing with a minor motif of fortune telling.

Let's get the fortune telling motif out of the way. This motif is primarily within the E.G.O gifts associated with the Abnormality, that being Tomorrow's Fortune, the crystal ball directly given by it, and Oracle, a small blue star surrounded by cosmic clouds, which while Not directly tied to Star Luminary just yet, has enough pointers implying they might be connected. This motif could also be seen through the Abnormality being described to be saying things as if they knew what the players was thinking.

The two major themes are exemplified in the different choices you can make with the Abnormality in its MD Event.

The choice to deny the marbles being stars results in an exploration of the first theme. Regardless of whether you succeed the skill check or not, the core of what Star Luminary says is the same - stars are what you percieve them as, what they are in your mind. If you see them as marbles, then that's how you see them and that's what they are to you. There's a sort of subtle duality to this idea, as in both results the orbs are essentially both marbles and stars at the same time.

The second choice, the one to agree that they are stars, lets us explore the second theme. Similarly to the previous one, regardless of whether you succeed the skill check or not, Star Luminary admits to wishing to go back to the blue star. A failure of the skill check will result in the Abnormality admitting that it can no longer go back, that the only thing it can do is try to become a star itself. A success on the other hand gives an interesting bit of text from the player's perspective - "You have no idea where it may be, and you certainly aren't from it, but you feel the urge to go back to it." The Blue Star isn't necessarily a 'home', but something that compels people to 'come back to it' anyway.

So, with all of that laid out... Yeah. Yeah I can definitely see Hong Lu fitting an E.G.O from this Abnormality.

The motif of duality is already a constant for Hong Lu, and the idea of perception affecting the essence of things fits very well with the "Truth becomes fiction when the fiction's true. Real become not-real when the unreal's real." motif of DOTRC that I believe is likely to play a big role in Hong Lu's Canto.

I could also see the second theme applying to Hong Lu, though not in the straightforward manner you imply it to. As is tradition of me at this point to connect everything to them, I believe this motif could apply to Baoyu's feelings about Daiyu. Daiyu is Baoyu's 'Blue Star' that he can't go back to, due to what is essentially their death. And, in the case of Two in One, just like Star Luminary can only try to become a star itself by emitting a similar glow, Baoyu can only carry Daiyu with him through bearing their visage.

Hell, even the minor motif of fortune telling works with him, and not just because his chosen emoji is a Crystal Ball. Hong Lu has this minor tendency to act as if he already knows what's going to happen. There's of course the TKT bit where he seems disappointed that things went according to plan, calling the world "as familiar and changeless as ever" in response. But it actually goes back much further. All the way back in Canto 2, Hong Lu seems to already be aware of the Sinners' exact destination for the Canto, even though the following conversation between Vergilius and Outis shows no Sinners were actually informed about that until after he makes a comment.

So. Yeah! It genuinely works shockingly well!

[polydamnory]

Which Redacted Character Would Have Which RWBY Weapon

I’m not sure how many other people will care/find this idea interesting but I’m doing it for me so

(Just for context for anyone who may not know, almost all weapons in RWBY are typically several weapons in one, most having both a melee and long ranged function - the long ranged function typically being some sort of gun. For example, the main character Ruby’s weapon is both a scythe and a sniper rifle. So if you see something a bit out of the ordinary about the weapon, that’s normal.)

Angel - Magnhild 

Magnhild is a maul that can convert into a revolver grenade launcher. Are you telling me you DON’T think Angel would want a big ol’ hammer that they could swing around and really do some damage with?

Avior - Winter’s Swords (not all of these have cool names lol)

Winter’s swords are two swords (obviously) with the smaller, thinner one being able to perfectly fit inside the larger one to form the illusion of only one sword. I had no particular reason for choosing this one for him 👀

Damien - Sharp Retribution 

Sharp Retribution are bladed gauntlets meant to mimic (in a way) tonfas. I liked the idea of giving Damien something bladed he could put his full strength/weight behind.

David - Sundered Rose 

Sundered Rose is an axe and a rifle. Okay, obviously the design isn’t very David but that’s besides the point. But similar to Angel, I felt a big, heavy hitting weapon suited him best.

Elliott - Anesidora 

Anesidora is a camera that is capable of creating solid "light copies" of any weapon the user has photographed using Hard-Light. The way the camera works just really reminded me of dreamwalker powers.

Lovely - Gianduja 

Gianduja is a handbag that can convert into a portable rotary machine gun. I said a while back that Lovely should get a gun and this is (in my opinion) the coolest gun in the show.

Ollie - Crocea Mors 

Crocea Mors is a sword and collapsible shield that is also the swords sheath that when combined from a thick bladed long sword. I just felt that the weapon of RWBY’s most basic of boys (both /affectionate and /derogatory) would suit Redacted’s most basic of boys (/affectionate).

Sweetheart - Gambol Shroud

Gambol Shroud is  a sword, a semi-automatic pistol, a sickle, a kusarigama, a sling, a grappling hook, and a  sheath which is also a cleaver. Something about Blake’s (the owner of Gambol Shroud, not the redacted character) fighting style just screamed Sweetheart to me for some reason idk

Honorable Mention: I was thinking of possibly giving Asher Sun’s weapons, Ruyi Bang and Jingu Bang, which are a pair of nunchaku made up of two revolvers each that can be stacked together to form a staff. Then I thought about it for more than two seconds and realized Asher would at best hit himself in the face several times while trying to use the nunchaku and at worst accidentally shoot either himself or someone else. Possibly both.

[jazzmckay]

"like walking through a world of tranquil": the titans, the tranquil, and solas' regret

in the trespasser dlc, solas tells the inquisitor:

Solas: You must understand, I awoke in a world where the Veil had blocked most people’s conscious connection to the Fade. It was like walking through a world of Tranquil.

already, with only the context we had at the time, this point of view was very sympathetic to me. dragon age: veilguard only gave it even more weight. solas remembers a time when magic flowed freely, an inherent part of the world, and all elves were connected to it. only he knows what the modern thedas is missing. to the player and the current, mortal characters, it doesn't seem like anything has been lost--except for what has been done to the tranquil mages in the circles.

tranquility has always been presented in the series as something most consider a fate worse than death. yes, some mages chose to go through the rite, but choosing tranquility when the only other alternative is the harrowing, which could lead to one's death, is a cruel choice for one to face. more often, tranquility is a punishment. the tranquil themselves seem content, some may even say they're glad to be free of their former self's struggle, but its undeniable that a major part of who they were was stolen from them when there may have been a better solution. while some non-tranquil mages care for the tranquil, many feel uncomfortable with them. the tranquil are a reminder of what could happen to them if they step out of line. the tranquil may have once been friends who are no longer recognizable, like they've died but their body is still moving around, claiming to be fine. the tranquil are still independent individuals who deserve respect, their state is just understandably upsetting and difficult for others to face.

for solas, how the modern people of thedas feel about the tranquil is how he feels about the whole world, and to him, it's all his fault. he carries an immense amount of guilt and regret, not just because of the veil, but because the veil was only the second time it happened: first, it happened with the titans.

solas was the creator of the dagger that felled the titans by sundering their minds, their dreams, and cutting off what made them who they were. he knew there would be consequences, he warned mythal about those consequences, but the plan went forward regardless. mythal believed this was how to end a war and save her people's lives, and solas trusted her, was loyal to her. they both made a decision with the information they had at the time, from a corner they felt backed into.

essentially, they made the titans tranquil. the rite of tranquility is a similar process: cut off the mage's dreams, their connection to the fade, so they no longer wield a power considered dangerous. both the titans and these mages were seen as a threat to others' safety, and the solution that resulted was to destroy the very thing that solas seeks to renew by bringing down the veil during dai and davg.

what he and mythal did to the titans was already one of his worst regrets, one of the decisions he feels the most guilty for. then, thousands of years later, he would wake to find out that by imprisoning the evanuris, he did it again. the veil was the new dagger; now not only the titans and their descendants were suffering from his actions, but the elves, too. his own people. he rebelled against the evanuris for his people. he imprisoned the evanuris to protect his people. and then he finds out that he has accidentally done to his own people what he deeply regrets doing to the titans.

it's little wonder that he fights so hard to take the veil down. it's little wonder that he views taking the veil down as necessary, as reparation. he isn't being stubborn, he isn't being cold and calculated, he isn't refusing to listen--he is just a man painfully aware of his own failings, as he tells rook in davg, and wishes he could undo it all. he admits lives would be lost if he removes the veil, but from his perspective, all the mortals of thedas are already akin to shades. despite his effort to avoid it, solas has formed connections with the modern people of thedas--especially in a solavellan run--but he must still be painfully aware of the fact that he, in essence, hurt them, and they don't even know how badly.

after viewing the murals of solas' regrets, lace remarks:

Harding: He passed me in the halls of Skyhold for a year. He made polite conversation, and he knew. He knew what he did.

in this moment, she's angry at him, she feels betrayed and hurt in a deep, (both literally and figuratively) earth-shattering way. it's an emotional response, and one that is utterly justified. she's right: he knew. he knew what he did.

and it haunts him. it's one of his greatest regrets. here, lace is angry enough that she's assuming solas didn't care, but even she can later show understanding for the pain and grief solas feels for his actions. it says a lot about her compassion that she can sympathize with him despite how hurt she feels. she sees how his regret has informed his actions and decisions going forward.

how much would be lost by the veil coming down? but how much would be restored? to solas, who carries the weight of all that regret, it must feel worth it to have the chance at giving back what he caused to be lost in the first place.

many players are likely in support of giving the tranquility cure to those who want it. tranquility is broadly viewed as unjust, as cruel, and now that the cure might be widely known based on world state, many would say the most ethical thing to do is restore what was taken away against a tranquil's choice.

solas wanted to do the very same; it's just that he can't do it on a case by case basis, it's all or nothing. with all of this context for his goals, it's that much more profound that he can be talked down at all. the fact that he can still be convinced to set his plans aside in the end is remarkable. it requires many voices, including mythal's, to convince him that he can help people in a different way. this moment is him switching from carrying the burden of the past and trying to fix it to letting go and finally looking to the future the world as-is can still have. he finds a new purpose he can commit to that will restore life without having to add yet more destruction to the world in the process.

it isn't a perfect ending, in my opinion. it isn't everything solas wishes he could give to the world. but it's enough, and it's a new beginning that may put him on the path towards forgiving himself.

[celestialholz]

The Resurrectionist (or 'Crowley's dying briefly because character-building, and here's why')

I should start off by saying, friends, that I have written exactly zero books. (Bloody lot of fanfiction, but no actual novels). And I like coffee, but not particularly with oat milk. (The poison's metaphorical, not physical), but... well, you guys can keep both of 'em, because they're just not relevant to this conversation. I am also, as you may have already guessed, not Neil Gaiman. A chick can only speculate, but she does like to back it up with actual evidence.

No, I'm simply here to ask you a question.

What's the single worst thing Heaven could ever do to Aziraphale?

What would drive our angel so far from the clutches of Heaven that he would never, ever wish to return? What would set him unequivocally free from six millenia of assumed responsibility; what would make him realise that God can never change? What would strip everything away from him?

Because of course, this is what we have to do next series. This is Aziraphale's whole arc. If he doesn't try and change things and fail, he will always wonder. Always have a 'what if.' Will never be able to truly move on, will never be free from the eternal abuse cycle.

And so the severing has to be monumental, and everlasting. Then we get our happy ending. Storytelling, loves, done flawlessly. (Again, not a novelist... just a girl who's been writing for over half of her lifetime.)

And so, I ask again:

What's the single worst thing Heaven could ever do to Aziraphale?

And, well, it's a manifold question isn't it, with lots of potential ans - no I'm just kidding. Very simple question, very simple answer.

So congratulations to the very likely hundreds of you who have just said 'murder Crowley,' because a. you're very much correct and b. we've all just predicted the end of series three.

(... I mean, probably not the very end. But the emotional crux, definitely.)

And naturally, I'm not talking discorporation. I'm talking 'wiped from the universe altogether, leaving our angel eternally alone' kinda murder. The real shit. The good shit. Never mind any of this 'editing the Book of Life leading to an ineffable paradox' kinda bullshit - this is Heaven, the natural source point of holy water. One miracled Supersoaker and our demon's ancient history, friends.

Because y'see guys, severing Aziraphale's connection isn't the only problem we face in terms of narrative romance. We've also got Crowley, who has spent six millennia being in love with a guy who just takes, takes, takes... him for granted.

And this is NOT to say that Aziraphale gives him nothing back - he so very clearly does. (I am a consummate Aziraphale apologist, Crowley's just as much of a fool post-series two as our angel is, and Aziraphale needs this, as I've mentioned.) But... Crowley is his teacher. His moral guide. His protector. It mostly goes one way, and despite all of that and him being happy to be that guy for all this time... right when it matters most, Aziraphale (to Crowley, at least) has abandoned him. He's told him he isn't good enough.

(... Which is bollocks. That's not what Aziraphale's said at all, they're both as overprotective as each other and have a desperate, painful longing to keep one another safe in their own best way. But it sure fucking looks like it to CROWLEY, which is what matters.)

And so, we have two issues in achieving our happy-ever-after.

Sundering Aziraphale from Heaven forever;

Ensuring Crowley trusts him fully and knows completely that he is Aziraphale's only choice.

(And also by GOD do they need to have a proper conversation, but that one kinda goes without saying. It'll happen.) We have to even up this relationship; we have to make it absolute narrative equilibrium, and I am absolutely sure Neil knows this probably far better than I do.

... And so, how do we achieve both these things in one hit, whilst also telling a Second Coming story and holding a celestial war?

Well, we kill Crowley. Obviously. Not until episode five or six and after an emotional, romantic reunion of mutual understanding, but... we kill Crowley.

... And then Aziraphale brings him back. Yes, from complete death.

I would like at this juncture to remind you that miracles, apparently (and this is a thing we've just learned guys, almost like it's suddenly going to be relevant ongoing) are measured in Lazarii.

(Great thanks to the Aziraphale to my Crowley, @porgthespacepenguin, for these few screenshots I'm showing off here today. You'd never leave me, not even for my own good. <3)

Lazarii is very obviously named after Jesus' apparently greatest miracle, of raising Lazarus from the dead in the book of John. They managed to achieve twenty-five times the necessary amount of energy it takes to bring someone back from death... without actually fucking trying.

Let's take a look at the book of John a sec. Or more specifically, its eleventh chapter and twenty-fifth verse.

Jesus told her, "I am the resurrection and the life. The person who believes in me, even though he dies, will live."

My thanks to Neil once again for murdering me like Heaven's going to murder Crowley. Cold blood, point-blank.

'Who believes in me.' Huh. Only for the past six thousand years, Aziraphale dear...

Here's a little of what the internet has to say about the number 25 in numerology, by the way.

And may I also remind you at this stage that there is a pub in this series called The Resurrectionist, and only Aziraphale goes into it.

I mean sure, Crowley's booksitting and trying to make the ladies hilariously like him and Aziraphale fall in love in the same way he himself did, but the fact remains... one relevant pub name. One guy. (We all need a narrative excuse sometimes Neil, I get you.)

Considering all this, friends, let me ask you another question. This one's a little more wordy, that's on me.

What do you think would happen when a being capable of raising someone from the dead twelve and a half times over for the sake of his beloved's protection loses said beloved beyond all doubt?

... And this will be after he gains the ultimate celestial power-up, by the way. In case we'd forgotten that that alone is also about to boost Aziraphale to the fucking stratosphere, and finally put him on an equal footing with Crowley. (Who is clearly an ex-archangel, but not Lucifer, so Neil's since said.)

... And I think we know the answer, don't we? The kind of miracle that

(You can't see me, but I'm staring into the camera like I'm one of The Office main cast right now.)

This is the kind of power that fucks with reality - the kind of power that scares Heaven and Hell to absolute death, hence Metatron being in the DMs. And crucially, this miracle was boosted because of love. Because of a desire to keep the status quo, their 'own side'. You amplify both those conditions to the nth degree by destroying one of them? It's over, lads. Resurrection is the beginning.

Resurrection evens up a playing field. It destroys Aziraphale and renews him in one hit; it proves to Crowley once and for all that Aziraphale loves him exactly as he is.

... It's a no-brainer, pals.

And what do they do after this? Well, fuck up the celestial order, naturally. I have theories, the main one of them being that they're going to be God and Satan respectively and unite Heaven and Hell in eternal marriage, but... that's just a theory. A television theory.

The resurrection thing? Not so much.

... See, this is the thing, my friends. You don't need to have written a 16k essay to predict the future.

All you need is the ability to tell a story, an observant eye for that which is already present, and a simple question. (Followed by a mildly more complex one. It's a working allegory.)

... I'm just going to leave you with this one shot of Aziraphale picking up his own destiny. Because poetic cinema.

[crownedwithstars]

Why doesn't Thingol just give the Silmaril to Fëanorians?

One thing I find curious about the discourse around the Silmarils and their ownership issues is how it seems to often simplify the Sindarin and especially Thingol's perspective. I mean, Thingol giving the Silmaril Beren and Lúthien stole from Morgoth's crown to the Fëanorians is framed as somehow easy and obvious option. But I don't think it really is?

It's not even about whether Thingol is right or wrong to act as he does, it's about why his actions are justified from his point of view (and why it is more believable than him being compliant to Noldor).

1. Noldor disrespected and antagonised Thingol from the start. They have given him little reason to be nice or helpful.

When the Noldor arrive in Beleriand, they immediately start to do their own thing, and disregard Thingol, the local sovereign who is regarded as the overlord or at least respected and revered by the Elves native to this region. But Noldor (and Fëanorians) do not attempt to gain his friendship and alliance, they don't establish diplomatic relationships, they bring no gifts (which would be expected in this kinda medieval based society) and neither do they ask for help as Exiles, they don't let Thingol know where they are going to settle down or ask whether it's convenient but grab lands whether the locals like it or not, they don't recognise his position even as a friendly gesture, they don't disclose the nature of their expedition, withhold important information, and most of all, they bring violent trouble to his backyard. This must seem deeply and outrageously insulting to Thingol, especially because these princes are children and grandchildren of Finwë, Thingol's close friend - and yet they treat him without an ounce of respect.

Thingol is no less proud or particular about his position than Fëanor or Fingolfin is. He probably has not had it challenged or ignored by anyone except Morgoth's servants. Also he may see it as indicative of general Noldor prejudice/disdain against Sindar.

Whether Noldor had justified reasons for the way they act upon landing in Middle-earth, you can't deny that they don't do even the bare minimum to win the locals over. Yeah, you could argue that bringing reinforcements at the time when Morgoth returns and becomes active in Middle-earth again is something, but this is still not a way to treat potential friends and allies.

2. The Kinslaying of Thingol's people and kin at Alqualondë and the burning of their ships.

Obvious, really. He may see himself as standing in for Olwë, and regards the Silmaril as weregild for slain relatives and friends - people he himself probably knew before Teleri were sundered. Also why would he respect Fëanorian property rights when from his point of view, Noldor don't give a damn about Teleri or their rights?

Thingol may also judge that the Kinslaying and burning of the ships disputes the Fëanorians' right to the Silmarils and their moral high ground to a degree where anyone brave and cunning enough to reclaim even one of them becomes a rightful owner. Obviously he is biased in Beren and Lúthien's behalf but it would be weird if he was not? After B&L's efforts and their suffering, and quite literally achieving the impossible, he may be of the opinion that they have more right to the Silmaril than Fëanorians who seem more invested in competing Morgoth for land than for the Silmarils. Thingol may share the same attitude as Dior has in one of the drafts: there are two more Silmarils in the same place where the one in his possession came from, so why don't the Fëanorians go get them first?

3. Celegorm and Curufin.

I mean, after the way Lúthien was abused and attacked by the two brothers, Thingol could be holding on to the Silmaril out of pure spite. His daughter never gets any apology for how she was treated, and Thingol has no reason to believe that C&C's actions - and the attempt to force Thingol into an alliance - were not sanctioned and approved by the rest of the brothers. These people have been consistently terrible at everyone Thingol loves and cares about, so why should he help them in any way?

4. The Silmarils mess with your brain.

It's clear that the Silmarils have an unwholesome effect on almost everyone who possess them. Time and again Tolkien describes how characters fall prey to this greedy, possessive lust for the Silmarils. I mean, Fëanor and his sons are ready to spill blood again and again just to get them back. There is something about the jewels that, if you desire them for their own sake, kind of enslaves you to them. Thingol won't give up the Silmaril to Fëanorians because he can't.

5. The Doom of the Noldor compels him.

It's explicitly stated in the Doom that while the Oath will drive the Fëanorians, it will never yield its objective, and the Silmarils will elude them. As soon as Thingol names a Silmaril as a bride price for Lúthien, he becomes involved in the Doom and what it dictates, limiting his control of the situation. Because of the Doom (and the effect the Silmaril has on him), Thingol is not free to give it to the Fëanorians.

[dankar-camoran]

"I'm here to help."

Savlian Matius, dumbfounded and furious, glowers at the young man when this offer is made, completely at a loss as to how to convey to him that right now is not the time to offer "help." Help was needed when the Gates first opened, and the screaming hordes of Daedra poured out, the wave of death broken only by the leviathan that was their siege engine. Help would have been crucial when the walls were sundered, and the first fires lit the streets up as bright as the midday sun. The people who needed help weren't the ones who made it out alive, but the ones who were too infirm, too young, too slow, too unlucky, and were now currently well past the point of needing anything. At this moment, Kvatch doesn't need help. It needs to be put out of its misery.

Savlian was going to offer the youth some grace initially. At a glance, he looked like any of those who had saved themselves, ragged and messy but alive and not seriously hurt. But he didn't look like any of the townsfolk Savlian recognized, and his face is absent the fear, anguish, and exhaustion that is now characteristic of the surviving citizens of Kvatch. This boy is an itinerant fool doubtless trying to live out a childhood fantasy of being a hero. Even if Savlian was in a mood to accept help, he would sooner throw down his sword and give himself over to be rent limb from limb than to expect any meaningful aid from this idiot.

"Run away from here," is what he growls at last, when it becomes clear that the look on his face isn't enough to turn the stranger away, "I can't guarantee your safety this close to the gate."

The young man looks over at the Gate to Oblivion as Savlian gestures towards it. It is an open wound in the air, blazing all the colors of the sun as it ripples and crackles violently, almost in sync with the sound of thunder in the air. He turns away from it and rubs his eyes after a few moments, eyes strained from having gazed at it for even that long. Savlian might have been amused at this, had any shred of his sense of humor still remained with him. Now, however, it just irritates him further; this boy is offering help for a problem he can't even look directly at.

The Acting Captain of the Kvatch Guard turns his attention away from the object of his ire, not wanting this boy, already a low point of an already bad day, to be what distracts him from his death at the hands of the next group of monsters to emerge from Oblivion. He shouts an order to make ready when the Gate seems to shimmer the way it does every time it lets something through, and hears the sound of a blade being drawn behind him, and steals a glance back at the would-be helper, who has a short sword at the ready, and this is enough and more than enough.

"What the hell are you still doing here boy!? I told you to run! Back to the camp beneath the bluffs, or better still, all the way to Morrowind!"

The gate settles back to its regular state of chaotic flashing, ebbing, and flowing: no daedric invaders charge out at the moment. Everyone on this side of the gate may still live in relative peace for however much longer.

"I'm not going to leave without doing something to help. I'm actually looking for someone who's not in the camp, and somebody said he may still be trapped in the city."

How much of a fool is this child? Because every time he speaks he provides more to quantify. Savlian, whose patience was one of the earliest casualties of the day, is struggling to find the words to respond.

"If you don't remove yourself from this spot before we are attacked again, I swear by the Nine I will make sure I and my men live long enough to watch them rip you apart, starting with your fucking tongue! Fuck OFF!"

Finally, the stranger's expressoin shifts, from its look of infuriating sincerity into one of surprise and mild contrition. That's what it took to get him to see the point? Not everything he's seen up until this point, the destruction, the bodies, the yawning hell a stone's throw away? A bit of profanity?

"I'm sorry. I know it must seem hopeless. But that didn't stop Antus Pinder and his men, and I won't let it stop me."

Antus fucking Pinder. He really is a child, a boy with more stories in his head than sense. Savlian always hated this story, even as it was regaled by bards and poets and authors for his whole life, and well over a century prior. His mother had told it to him when he first asked, only she was a scholar of history, and provided details not known to most.

"You are not Antus Pinder. You shouldn't want to be Antus Pinder," He seethes, each word dripping with the rage of a man who has seen ten years' worth of death in one night, "because Antus Pinder's 'valiant defense of Kvatch' lasted all of three days against the Camoran Usurper. And when his militia of herders and laborers and shopkeepers was slaughtered, he alone was kept alive. They cut his eyelids out so that he was forced to see Kvatch utterly destroyed, and all it's people slaughtered. He was kept alive for years afterwards, and if you truly want to know what they did to him during that time, then by all means, walk into that Gate and the Daedra will show you."

Before Savlian can see if his efforts to scare the fool away have succeeded, there's a shout from Jesan, followed by the high-pitched screech of a group of scamps emerging from the Gate. He turns, barks an order to hold behind the palisades, and prepares for another skirmish.

The fight is over quickly enough. Had it been Clannfears or Dremora, there may have been casualities, but the hardier stock of Oblivion haven't been seen for a few hours now. Menien's party inside may still be alive and diverting attention away from Kvatch. They may find a way to close it yet.

But looking back at the ruined city --his home,-- the mixed bodies of Daedra and soldiers--his friends,-- the red skies above --he may never see the sun again-- and the Gate itself, Savlian spits on the ground and kicks a fresh kill at his feet. He shoos away any notions of hope, determined not to die disappointed.

"What the hell are you doing!?"

He snaps his head towards Merandil at this. The young mer is shouting at someone walking towards the gate as it frames him like the sun such that he's only a silhouette from this angle. "Savlian, it's the wanderer! He's going into the bloody thing!"

In an instant, Savlian throws down his shield and begins to run towards the youth. He had rebuffed him, insulted him, declared he would gladly watch him die all for the sake of getting him to run as far from Kvatch as was possible and living beyond today. But the thought of this stupid child full of heroic fantasies dying in hell, the last words ever spoken to him being so cruel, makes Savlian move with an energy he thought he'd never feel again. The Daedra can have him, but they will not take this boy.

He's almost within arm's reach when something catches his foot and he topples over, hitting his head hard on the ground. There's a ringing in his ears and faint voices behind him, as he tries and fails to stand himself back up. His last sight of the youth is of his body being engulfed by the membrane of the Gate. He drags himself forward, and screams at his men to stand down as they pick him up and begin to take him back behind the palisades. But they tell him the refugees need him, and there's nothing that can be done for the boy.

The boy. The youth. The child. the fool. The idiot.

Savlian never asked him his name

Hours pass. The other defenders hold firm against the periodic sorties from Oblivion as Savlian recuperates. The daedra are still deadly and ruthless, but their attacks come farther and fewer between. It's as if feeding Oblivion enough bodies is steadily slaking its thirst for mortal blood. Maybe if he walks through the Gate, that will be what causes it to finally close.

And then the Gate quakes and its membrane ripples like troubled water, and the defenders all await the horde that it must surely be about to spit out. The colors of the Gate swirl and brighten, and there's just enough time to look away before it becomes as luminous as the sun, and even more blinding. When it becomes safe to look again, the gate has collapsed on itself; the membrane is gone.

Two figures stand in its place. The first is Ilend Vonius, who had been a part of Menien's sortie into Oblivion. The second is the boy.

Savlian watches them approach him without even the faintest iota of how to reckon what he knows with what he sees. The Gate to Oblivion had made itself an incontrovertible fact for two days. It had brought forth nothing but death, and it stood to reason that entering it amounted to suicide. And yet there were two people who had done just that, and now were not just alive, but had outlived the Gate, defying it by their very existence.

Ilend's face still bears some amount of haunted shock, but it is outweighed by an overwhelming amount of relief, and even a grain of amusement as he catches sight of Savlian's expression, "I didn't think I'd ever see you again either, sir." His exhaustion is clear, but there's still a smile on his lips.

Savlian puts his hands on Ilend's shoulders and squeezes firmly, "We owe you more than could ever be paid, Illend. You, Menien, and everyone else who went in there to close that Gate."

Ilend shuts his eyes and breathes deep, clearly enjoying the lack of sulfer and ash in the air, "Thank you sir. But I'd say you owe him more. I certainly do." He gestures to the boy, and Savlian looks at him again, reevaluating that which he had dismissed so definitively.

The leather he wears is in tatters, with several straps dangling free from the arms and torso. One of his eyes is blackened, and there's an unmistakable scamp claw mark bleeding on his face. Whatever other wounds he has, Savlian does not see, because he is transfixed by the expression on his face: It's the same. Maybe not exactly the same, there's certainly exhaustion and maybe even some bit of horror, but there is still that look of earnestness as he waits to be addressed.

Letting go of Ilend, Savlian Matius reaches out to firmly grasp the boy's sword arm. "What is your name, son?"

"Scipio," his voice wavers slightly as he answers, so he clears his throat and says it again more resolutely, "Scipio Amicus. I'm looking for a priest."

[shallowseeker]

Yes, yes. We've talked about the futility of windmills and striving wind with regards to all hunters, workers, and soldiers.

But there are other things in this hotel that are SO CUTE.

Dean and Cas are very often twinned by their morals and values. You could say that they're very often tilting at the same "windmills." Struggling with many of the same things, albeit at different timelines.

There's also...flowers in the decor.

LOTS of flowers.

Prominent yellow flowers in the bedroom appear between them, symbolizing pesky, bubbling happiness between the two of them.

There's often this concept of "blooming" between Dean and Cas. Springtime. Hell, we can even point to Dean's dance number in s15, "Let's Misbehave," originally written for Irene Bordini.

(They say the Spring Means just one thing to little lovebirds // We're not above birds // Let's misbehave)

There's April Kelly, the reaper, and also the Leviathan blossom (that grows OUT of death). An association to Lily Sunder and her daughter May, born after spring, as Jack will be born in May.

Dean himself is like a valley of death, but ALSO a valley proper, with the capacity for growth and spring-green, and it is this that associates him to many of the Lily characters, like Lily Baker.

Anyhoo, this cute motel is mirroring the blossoming friendship. It's full of Netherlands motifs, including the windmills but also tulips and blooms. The low-lying land of the Netherlands is what makes tulips flourish there.

Later The Empty will "tiptoe through Cas's tulips" as it reads his mind (and his love).

As Dean is undergoing individuation, he too is blooming.

And wooden shoes.

There's an abundance of tulips flanking the bathroom, sprouting up alongside the Dean side, over near the couch. On what will become "the Cas side" of the domestic space... shoes.

Dean is trying not to feel things. Cas is trying not to feel things.

///

Anyway, when Cas asks for help, he gets in REEEEEALLY close again:

And Dean gets a little nervous again, shifts, slightly pouts his lips and then cracks a joke:

They've been so mean to each other. Hehe.

After all, Cas's immediate reaction to seeing Sam and Dean again was to lay into them about being failures and not worth the effort and rebellion he put into them, so Dean's cattiness is understandable here.

It's tense. Awkward.

They've been disagreeing with each other and telling each other how they've lost faith in one another and don't believe in each other's plans...which oddly is EXACTLY the sort of emotional honesty that will make their bond stronger.

They keep orbiting each other, walking around and around each other in circles, and moving into each other's spaces. Even without the dialogue, the body language is interesting.

Cas is trying to read him, to figure out the human rules of him not being allowed to move threateningly into Dean's space, but Dean being allowed to move into his ... plus Dean making off cultural references that involve HOLDING HANDS and sailing off cliffs.

Then brushing past him so closely, and what exactly ARE the rules for personal space? Also, we see the yellow flowers between them here.

Dean may be under the impression that Cas doesn't care about him that much. That he helped him on a moral whim and now he's stuck with him/them.

And they're very close to one another again. Dean is fishing for information. "I'm your strategical bait, huh? That's all?"

And Dean relents.

///

So anyway, the body language is legendary for a reason, but the flowers are such a nice backdrop. :DDD

Aside///

I love how Cas just marches in on the case and tries to be frank with everyone.

Poor Cas. Just a mere hundred or couple hundred years ago, this would've worked. He really COULD march in there and start talking angels and demons with some authority, might have even been able to tell them that he was an angel.

What we call the modern world is still so new. We as a species have believed in supernatural worlds for so much longer than we haven't.

And Dean just... can't help getting into Cas's personal space. I find that so cute about him. He establishes the norms of personal space and then he proceeds to fiddle with Cas's clothes. Meanwhile Cas is just like ????? wow human rules are so illogical.

*Dean fiddling*

Dean, honey. I promise you that if you'd handed Cas the badge, he would've grabbed it somewhat normally.

///

Dean *fiddling with his own badge and coat and steadfastly NOT looking at Cas's face*

*can't resist*

Aside/// I love so much that SPNwin poked fun at THIS in particular (as well as SPNwin's John making silly voices).

Sighting on main: Man with a nascent, burgeoning mega-crush tries to make rules about personal space and then winds up being even weirder about space than the person he was accusing of not adhering to normal human etiquette...

DEAN: *buttoning, buttoning, I know I'm taking a while to button this, pay it no mind. now imma fix your tie...*