#star+gate™

[basicallyanotherwitchesthing]

Star+Gate™ 'The Decision Maker', board game, Star+Gate/CLOUD Enterprises, 1984

[millimeraki]

A Writer & A Painter | Verso Dessendre

[Real Verso / Gen!Reader]

(Reader is a Writer)

Part 1 ▸ Part 2

Word Count: ~ 7k Rating: T Author's Note: Ok so I've been thinking a lot about the writers. Who are they? Why do they have beef with the painters? What are their powers? I have so many ideas, but most of all I love my babygirl Verso (thank you Ben Starr), so have a fic about a Writer, Real Verso™ and some first interpretation of the Writer's powers. This is pre-canon. Will be a "little" multi-part series where more gets explored in the next parts 🤗

This was wrong. So wrong. It had been wrong from the very beginning. And now you sat here, at your desk in your bedroom in the city. Outside the open window, the star-strewn sky stretched out above the rooftops, a warm breeze brushing against your face and playing with your hair. It was a perfect night to write something. But not this. And all because of him.

– Some weeks earlier –

“Soleil!” You've been rushing through the streets of Paris for far too long now, always following the little fluffy white tail like Alice chasing the White Rabbit. If only you had paid more attention when you opened the door to your house. But oh, Soleil had darted right past you, always the freedom-loving spirit, and had forced you onto her heels, into a most unexpected and deeply unwelcome chase.

You weren’t used to running this much, you were long out of breath and no closer to catching your little friend. Worse still, you began to realize she was leading you straight into the city’s more upscale neighborhoods, right toward the Eiffel Tower and beyond – an area where, yes, some members of your faction lived, but far more of the others.

Your fears were confirmed when you spotted her, right in front of one of the grand mansions belonging to one of the most influential Painter families, as the little white blur slipped through a gap in the hedges toward one of the vast gardens.

“Merde,” you panted, unsure of what to do next. You paced in front of the manor, out of breath, wondering if maybe you should just knock after all, but if your parents ever found out, they’d never let you stay in the city residence alone again. They always warned you to stay away from Painter estates. Soleil didn’t know her way around this part of town, she had to be afraid and look for somewhere to hide.

Knocking was out of the question, who knew how these people would receive you, even if they didn't know or recognize you. So you hurried toward the right-hand side of the manor with small, careful steps, where hedges twice your height obscured the view into the gardens beyond, with only a gate farther down allowing access.

Hoping the Dessendres were either not home or at least somewhere deep inside the manor, you checked if the gate was unlocked. It swung open with ease, didn’t even creak. You took a deep breath before slipping through. It was just a matter of grabbing Soleil quickly and disappearing unseen.

Someone inside was playing the piano, and as much as you would’ve liked to stop and listen, you were too nervous and far too distracted. The exterior of the house had already been impressive, but nothing had prepared you for the beauty of these meticulously kept gardens. For a moment, you stood there, mouth slightly agape, examining the fountain on the huge lawn, a small pond beside it, and a charming bench set right in front. Further back, just before turning the corner, you spotted several garden beds. Apparently, the residents practiced more than just painting. And right in one of those beds, you saw your not-so-white-anymore cat, gleefully rolling in the dirt.

“Oh no…” you muttered, glancing up at the towering manor and its many windows. Please, please, they just shouldn't be home. “Soleil!” you hissed quietly, just loud enough for your cat to hear. Her ears perked up, she stopped rolling around and looked your way. She seemed to like it here, because she didn’t run, but meowed cheerfully, emerged from the garden bed, and strolled toward you with her tail raised high, a dirty, fluffy plume of pride.

You let out a sigh of relief. At least she wasn't running any further away. Carefully, you walked toward her, crouching and trying to coax her closer. She was almost within reach when what you had been afraid of happened: you were discovered. Not by a person. From around the corner came the sudden barking of two dogs, getting louder and closer by the second.

Your heart leapt anxiously. Before Soleil could bolt again, you dove forward and grabbed the little cat, who, eyes wide in panic, immediately tried to scramble out of your arms, claws digging into you in her attempt to climb over your shoulder. But you held her tightly, just as you saw the two barking dogs round the corner, running straight toward you.

“Putain! Soleil, you're going to get us both killed,” you gasped, turning on your heel and running toward the gate. It wasn’t far, you just had to slip through, and the dogs wouldn’t be able to reach you. The only issue? You had to outrun them, which wasn’t exactly easy with a flailing cat in your arms.

You were almost certain you wouldn’t make it when, to your horror, a human voice rang out: “Boys, down!”

The barking ceased instantly. The dogs were no longer chasing you. Instead, you exchanged one evil for another. You briefly considered just walking on without showing your face, but then he spoke to you: “Sorry they scared you. They’re harmless, really. They probably just wanted to play. Are you alright?”

Your heart was pounding into your throat, your breath still ragged. A Painter was speaking to you, not just any Painter, one of the Dessendres. A personal exchange like this had likely never happened before. At most, your kind only spoke to theirs during joint council meetings. And even then, you wouldn’t be there – of course not, you weren’t nearly influential or powerful enough to attend. Even Soleil had frozen in your arms, as if she knew she’d landed you in serious trouble.

Summoning your courage, you turned around. The two dogs sat in the grass, tails wagging, tongues lolling, looking surprisingly happy, at least from what you could tell, as they stared up at the house wall. You followed their gaze to spot a young man leaning out of a second-floor window. It was clear he hadn’t planned on going out, or being seen, today. He seemed drowsy. His hair was tousled, his expression a little tired, his beard in need of a trim. His wardrobe was rather casual: a simple white shirt, slightly too unbuttoned, fluttered in the breeze and clung softly to his frame. You blinked and fought the urge to stare at his neckline, managing to rein in your gaze just before it wandered over his collarbone.

You knew him. Or at least, you’d heard enough about him to recognize him. That was Verso Dessendre, the son of the house. It had to be him. The Dessendres only had one son, who had kept largely out of the public eye, much like the rest of the family, in fact. The only truly visible member was Aline Dessendre, head of the Painters’ council.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammered, casting another careful glance at the dogs. They continued to pant happily up at the wall toward their master. You looked back up at Verso, a little less anxious now. “My cat, Soleil here,” you held her up, “slipped out the door, right through my legs, and bolted. I had to chase her all the way across the city. She rolled around in your garden beds. I hope your crops weren’t damaged.” You gave him an apologetic look.

Verso furrowed his eyebrows and glanced toward the garden beds, as if assessing the damage. For a moment, you feared he’d be angry, but instead, he let out a soft laugh. “Maybe she just gave us a reason to actually go outside for once.”

Now it was your turn to furrow your brows. “With a garden this big, I figured you’d have a gardener.” Instant regret. Why were you making polite small talk with Verso Dessendre? You should apologize again and leave before he figured out, in true magical Painter fashion, that you were a Writer.

“Well, yes,” Verso replied, “but sometimes we tend to the beds ourselves. Kind of a hobby.” His eyes lingered on you, studying you in a way that should have unnerved you. The Dessendres weren’t exactly cast in the brightest light in your social circle, the Painter's powers described as something diabolical. But Verso didn't look like he had diabolical intentions. His dreamy eyes had a strange calming effect on you, and the gentle smile tugging at his lips nudged yours into mirroring it.

Soleil was growing restless in your arms. She squirmed, dug her claws into you for leverage, and smeared you with dirt in the process. You groaned and wrestled with the surprisingly strong little beast, determined not to let her go again.

“You wanna,” Verso’s voice reached your ears, smooth and mild, “maybe come inside? Freshen up? You, and your cat, I mean.”

“Oh!” You couldn’t help your reaction, it was immediate and a bit too forceful. “That’s really not necessary! Soleil… Soleil! Would you calm down?!” You groaned again. “I already intruded, I couldn’t possibly take advantage of your hospitality any further.”

A soft chuckle drifted down. “You wouldn’t. Just stay there. I’ll come down.”

You caught just one more glimpse of the now-empty window before the dogs resumed their excited barking, disappearing around the huge house. This was your chance to leave. With Soleil squirming in your arms, you had already turned toward the gate. With your hand already on the handle, you hesitated. You bit your lower lip, stared at your hand, and shifted your weight nervously. All it took was a little push and you would be gone. Why were you hesitating? Because it would be rude to decline a friendly invitation? From a Dessendre?

“Merde,” you cursed once again, more than you usually did in a week.

Your hand dropped from the handle, you turned again, shook off the discomfort, earning a meow from Soleil as you stepped deeper into the estate grounds.

You ran into Verso at the corner - in fact, you almost bumped into each other.

“Oh, sorry.” He flashed a friendly smile.

“Oh, no, no, I’m sorry for being such an inconvenience because of my wayward cat.” You couldn’t help but smile back. Now that he was standing in front of you, you realized he was taller than you. In addition to the loose white shirt, he wore black, comfortable-looking pants. His black hair looked a bit more tamed now. Maybe he had quickly smoothed it down on the way. For a moment, the thought charmed you, though you shook it off just as quickly.

Verso’s gaze shifted to Soleil. She had calmed down once more, her big blue eyes fixed on the man before her. He raised his hand, letting her sniff it briefly, she blinked, then pushed her little head into his palm. On top of that, she began to purr.

“Soleil,” you sighed. “Well, she seems to like you.” You kept to yourself the fact that Soleil had always been a little charmer and liked to shamelessly lose all inhibitions around men. You were still in enemy territory, after all.

“Let’s see how much she likes me once we get to the bathroom,” Verso joked and gestured for you to follow. “I brought Monoco and Noco into the kitchen so they won’t scare you anymore.”

“The two dogs?” you asked, although the answer was obvious, as you followed Verso along the house to a door, apparently a side entrance. Verso nodded.

What you saw of the manor as Verso led you through it was almost too impressive to put into words. And that coming from a Writer. The opulence of the interior was hardly to be topped: immaculate, high-end wallpaper on the walls, artistically crafted marble floors, incredibly high ceilings, everything screamed wealth. Many of the painters were well-off, but the Dessendres were in a completely different league. So influential, so wealthy, and then also so unimaginably powerful.

There was no way out of the situation anymore, so you showed as much polite curiosity as you could, all while a crushing discomfort settled in your stomach. What if the other family members saw you? You weren’t a known face in council circles, but what if they asked around, investigated, and found out you were here? And then what? Then they would hold your family accountable. What could they do with their powers? What had you gotten yourself into?

"Are you all right? Something bothering you?" Verso noticed the look of panic on your face. 

You did your best to relax your tense facial muscles, forced a practiced smile, and replied:

“Sure. It’s only... this house is enormous, I feel small just looking up at the ceiling.”

He made a sound of recognition. A surprisingly thoughtful expression flickered across his face. “I know what you mean,” he murmured. He blinked, his features softening. His foggy eyes rested on you. “I never asked for your name.”

Mon Dieu. Would he recognize your name? Should you use a fake one? You realized you were staring, he’d get suspicious, you had to say something. Impulsively, you told him your real name, only to regret it the moment it passed your lips. To your immense relief, he didn’t react with recognition, instead saying: “A beautiful name. I’m Verso.”

“I know,” you blurted out, and wondered if you had a death wish. Even Soleil looked at you, as far as you could interpret her expression, as if you’d gone insane. “I mean,” you quickly added before Verso could react, “I heard of your family.” That you could at least say with a straight face.

“Hard to miss word about the Dessendres, right?” asked Verso, and was that a note of sadness in his voice? “Here we are.”

He pushed open the door to a large, bright bathroom. The sun cast gentle rays through the expansive window façade, bathing the room in cozy warmth, and you immediately felt oddly calmer. The luxurious-looking bathtub in the center of the room, placed on a small platform, gave the space an almost throne-room-like charm, except, of course, you were here to bathe a cat.

Verso walked toward the tub. “Let’s get to work.” Rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, he revealed his forearms, the arms of an artist, not muscular but delicate. What made your skin tingle was the way he carried out the motion and the fine black hair he exposed in doing so. You swallowed hard. Damn you if the sight of Verso Dessendre could fluster you. With a single brushstroke, what could he do? Trap you in a canvas, if he wanted. Or say one word, and an assassin might lie in wait for your mother. No, this was not a man you should be casting glances at.

With iron will, determined to play this game, leave this house, and never return to its vicinity, you stepped up to the tub, into which Verso was letting some water flow. “Grab plenty of towels,” you instructed, before loosening your tight grip on Soleil.

Although Soleil had been bathed several times in her life, she did not appreciate the treatment in this unfamiliar bathtub at all. On first contact with the water, she had tried to climb up you again, and when Verso had grabbed her, she’d hissed. Verso had given her a surprised look but stayed calm. Soleil, very forgiving in the face of his handsome appearance, let out a tiny kitten-like meow and licked his knuckle.

“What a little charmer,” Verso had commented amusedly, earning a laugh from you. The crooked grin he threw you in return sparked something that made your breath hitch. You looked at each other for a second longer before Soleil’s indignant meow brought the attention back to her.

“Verso, what are you doing?” Startled, you turned to the door. There was someone else at home after all. Your worries quickly evaporated, however, when you saw a petite, red-haired girl, about teenage age, standing halfway in the doorway, her eyes shyly fixed on you.

“Alicia, great,” Verso addressed the newcomer. “This is my little sister Alicia. Come, help us get the great beast under control and, most of all, clean.”

“Beast?” Alicia asked. Her curiosity seemed piqued, and she stepped further into the room to get a look into the tub. “Oh, what a lovely little cat. Why is she so dirty?” She took another step closer.

You smiled apologetically. “She rolled around in your garden beds, I’m sorry.”

“Oh,” said Alicia. “Monoco and Noco dig around in there from time to time too, it’s no problem.” She now wore a gentle, charming smile of her own. “How can I help?” A trustworthy girl, to top it off. If the members of this family were so helpful and kind, why did you have to be so cautious around them? Or was it the parents? Either way, together you managed to clean both Soleil and yourself up, and then wrapped Soleil tightly in a towel so she could no longer resist the journey home.

Just before you finally, and thankfully without encountering any other family members, were about to leave, Alicia asked you: “You should come by sometime with Soleil,” and flashed that sweet smile at you again.

Verso was quick to nod, placing a hand on Alicia’s shoulder. “We would love to have you for dinner sometime.”

“I-I…” you stammered, searching for the right words, ones that should definitely be a polite decline. But Verso’s hopeful expression stopped you. “I’ll think about it,” you said instead, before finally making your long-overdue escape.

Unfortunately, that day had left a lasting impression on you. For days, you wrestled with yourself, brooding over your writing, unable to string together even a single poetic sentence, your mind entirely preoccupied with how very much you shouldn’t want to return to the Dessendre estate.

So despite your better judgment, you went back, though you didn’t knock. Instead, you paced in front of the huge manor, chewing on your thumbnail, still fighting against giving in to the pull of the double-doored front door.

Verso must have seen you from yet another window, because the manor doors swung open and you saw him coming out toward you. That day, he wore brown-grey-ish trousers, once again a white shirt, and over it, a vest as raven-black as his slightly curled hair. But what truly warmed you up was the sight of his gentle smile as he walked toward you, hands in his pockets.

"You came," he said, voice dark as a night’s sky. You only noticed how husky it was in that moment. That was when you felt the second spark. You were sure you looked like a startled deer.

"You wanna come in?" he asked, nodding toward the house.

"Uh," you replied. You hadn't thought that far ahead.

Noticing your hesitation, he offered an alternative: "Or maybe go on a walk?"

That suggestion appealed to you much more than the idea of meeting the entire Dessendre family over dinner.

An unexpected routine began to creep into your life. You extended your stay at the city residence, writing to your parents that you wanted to soak up a little more of the stimulating buzz to improve your craft. And in fact, you truly did. You did it more cheerfully than you had in a long time. In the mornings, you opened the windows to let in the fresh air, greeted a new day, fed Soleil, and then sat with a freshly brewed coffee on your balcony to jot down notes for your novella.

What you looked forward to regularly were the walks with Verso. Somehow it became a habit for you to wait some distance away from the manor for him. He would come outside, sometimes even with Monoco and Noco, and you would go for a walk, whereas you made it a point to steer him into directions where no one would know you. The Painters didn’t seem to know you, apparently, but the Writers definitely knew Verso. It would not end well for either of you if people saw you together. So you mostly walked through gardens on the outskirts of the city, played with the dogs, talked.

You told Verso you hailed from the countryside and visited the city – not a lie – and that you came from a family of farmers – a half-truth. Your family did belong to the Writer faction and made most of their money from the works they published, but then you also ran a small farm.

Verso, who couldn’t hide his family background as you could, also shared some things about his family: about his mother Aline Dessendre, his father Renoir, his older sister Clea, and a bit more about his younger sister Alicia. They all sounded like kind, open-minded people. Aline, the head of the Painters Council, while a very busy woman, was also open to other arts of the world, like music, which she had taught her children, and yes, even writing. Alicia seemed to love typing away on her typewriter, while the eldest sister Clea was quite adept at playing the harp. And then there was the father, Renoir, not too involved in his wife’s affairs, but certainly renowned. Verso spoke affectionately about his family, each member so different from the next, and yet they were a unit. They seemed to be really close.

After everything Verso had said, you couldn’t help but find yourself, just one week later, at the Dessendre dinner table, invited, no, practically forced, by Verso, who now knew you lived alone in the city. And yes, the Dessendres were just as delightful as Verso had described them. Alicia was happy to see you again. Clea seemed a bit stricter than her siblings but still gave you a smile and a few warm words. It didn’t surprise you, the oldest child always had it the hardest. Aline and Renoir Dessendre welcomed you warmly and invited you to the table, the two of them, from what you could see, completely devoted to each other, exchanging loving glances here and there, asking you interesting questions, but not too personal, and the story of how you ended up sitting here now became a source of amusement for everyone.

They saw you off with a small portion of the delicious dinner to take home. You thanked them profusely and just as firmly declined when they invited you again for the next day, although the family’s kindness touched you deeply. As you chatted with the Dessendres, you found yourself more and more wondering why your factions were enemies in the first place. They didn’t seem like dangerous, corrupt people at all, just completely… normal.

"We insist," Renoir interrupted your vehement opposition. "Verso told us you're visiting the city alone." He raised his hand commandingly to stifle any further objections, you'd already inhaled to speak. "We will accept no arguments. Your presence is most welcome." He smiled.

You exhaled and smiled back. "Alright then. Thank you. I promise, I won’t inconvenience you too long. My family probably already misses me."

"I mean, Verso would for sure not mind you inconveniencing us forever," Clea mumbled in amusement, but loud enough for everyone to hear. 

You looked at her with your stomach twisting in surprise, at the exact moment Verso shot her a withering glare, his parents a reprimanding one, and Alicia a curious one.

Luckily, your wit didn’t abandon you in that moment, so you chuckled and replied, "That’s nice. I’m thankful for your hospitality." You turned away to begin your walk home.

“Let me bring you outside,” Verso offered, but you stopped him advancing. 

"That’s not necessary. I know my way. Thank you, though. I will see you tomorrow." Quickly, you closed the door behind you, hoping the Dessendres hadn’t noticed your nervousness or your hammering heartbeat. For a moment, you stood in front of the door, trying to steady your breathing, and from inside, you heard Verso growl “Clea!” and a giggling Clea run off.

You had let things go too far. The Dessendres had invited you into their world, and you, an imposter, kept visiting. It wasn't long before you were there during the day too, not just for dinner. Verso offered you a long tour through the entire estate, and for the first time, you saw up close the paintings of real Painters. Verso explained in great detail the different brush techniques, the eras and their styles, all while your tongue burned with the urge to tell him the truth so that afterward you could explain everything about sentence structures, terms, points of view, and writing styles. Sooner or later you would have to tell him - or leave town and never return. 

You learned that on that first day you had entered the property, it had been Verso whom you had heard playing the piano through the wall. The instruments he had told you about stood in the grand dining hall.

"Can you play something?" you asked, pressing a key on the piano. It emitted a bright, fine tone.

"Wouldn’t wanna force it on you," Verso answered, but still sat down on the bench.

"I did ask," you replied and sat next to him. Your shoulders touched – you suppressed a shudder and quickly added, "In fact, I can play a little bit myself." You lifted your head proudly, followed by a grin.

He returned the gesture. "Really? Why haven’t you mentioned that before?"

"I never claimed I was any good." Behind your rudimentary musical ability was nothing more than a knack for reading sheet music, the rest came from your occupation as a Writer. You wrote the sheets, and the rest was your power. In the course of time you learned the odd key combination, but the difficult ballads, those you could only play once, came to you solely because your fingers absorbed the written notes. A pity that the sheets would always be blank afterward, as if the music had never existed.

"I bet you’re good," Verso encouraged you with a smile.

But you could never be as good as he was. He played a symphony so captivating, so utterly passionate, that shivers ran down your spine one after another. You stared at the piano keys over which Verso’s agile fingers flew, as if he had never done anything else in life, as if the art of music, not the art of the canvas, was his true calling. It was enthralling, not just the melody, but how he carried it. His body moved with the music, became one with it, completely absorbed in the sequence of sounds, with a look you could only describe as tenderly loving. When he stopped, you were speechless for a moment, even had to suppress the urge to applaud.

He looked at you, a soft smile on his lips, his eyes resting on you expectantly, waiting for your reaction. And with that shy, gentle gaze fixed on you, the third spark hit you.

It couldn’t go on without him knowing the truth. You kept on stalling your parents, weeks turned into a month smoothly and unnoticed. You were no longer working on your novella, and Soleil seemed to grow lonely. The little cat was the only reason you didn’t permanently invite yourself into the Dessendre manor, the thought becoming more and more appealing, subtly but insistently, by the day. And the more it occupied your mind, the more troubled you became.

So you did what no one would ever believe you, because you didn't even believe it yourself. You didn’t dare write a letter. In fact, you hadn’t even dared to pick up a pen in front of the Dessendres or to type a few letters on Alicia’s typewriter after she showed you one of her self-composed poems.

But you dared to write music. A ballad that would reveal the truth to a skilled musician like Verso. Music in which you hid your secrets. You wrote the notes with trembling fingers, excited, anxious, desperate. And all the while you kept asking yourself why you were doing this, why you felt so drawn to this family and their son. The answer was clear, but it couldn’t be true. On the contrary, after this evening, you suspected you’d leave the manor and never return. It hurt, but better now than later, when it might tear you apart.

That evening, when you stepped into the entrance hall of the manor, let in by Verso, you looked around. It was strangely quiet. Granted, it was always quiet at first; the house was far too big for just five people. But guests were usually greeted quickly.

“The others are out today,” Verso explained in response to your wandering gaze.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Should I come back another time?” you asked, even though you didn’t want to leave.

“Of course not,” Verso insisted immediately, closing the door behind you. “I stayed here to see you. You’re making such a mystery out of where in the city you live, so I couldn’t send a courier with a letter.”

“There was no need for you to miss a family night because of me,” you said, although deep down you were glad he had waited for you. “I would’ve gotten the memo if no one had opened the door.”

“I could never leave you standing in front of a locked door,” he replied with a gentle smile that almost brought tears to your eyes. Instead, you managed to return one. The momentary silence that followed hung between you like a heavy blanket. With all your might, you had to sweep it aside to bring the words over your lips that marked the beginning of the end: “I, uh, I have a present for you.”

There was a sparkle in his eyes. “A present, for me?” His hand found its way to the back of his neck in an awkward gesture. “That’s quite – I mean, that’s not necessary, really. Besides, I should really be the one to make you a present.”

You scoffed in amusement. “I think it’s perfectly fine for me to gift you something without expecting something in return. It’s really nothing special.” You raised the sheets in your hand to eye level. “I composed something. Would you play it for me?”

Verso took the sheets from your hand, examining them with that concentrated look he always wore when faced with musical notes. “This looks a little odd,” slipped from his lips, immediately regretting the words as he looked at you with an apologetic expression. 

“Yeah…” was all you managed to say. He followed you to the piano. Sitting side by side on the bench, just before he began to play, his fingers already poised on the keys, you were struck by a sudden impulse. “Wait.” Instinctively, you reached for his hand. The cold shiver ran down your spine like it had been poured over with ice-cold water, all the while your cheeks grew hot and your stomach performed a somersault. Avoiding eye contact, you stared at your joined hands. Verso’s thumb gently stroked across the back of your fingers.

He said your name, so you looked up. To compose yourself, you had to take a deeper breath. The affection in his eyes was clear as day when he asked: “Are you alright?”

You knew you needed to respond, to get a grip on yourself, but it was as if your throat had closed up, so lost were you in his eyes and the feeling of his hand in yours, his thumb continuing its steady path across your skin.

“I…I…” You cleared your throat, pulled your hand back, held it with the other. “I just wanted to say that I truly enjoy our time together, and that you play the piano for me. It’s magical hearing you play.” You had actually wanted to say that you had enjoyed the time, but you weren’t ready to really say it out loud.

A flicker of confusion crossed Verso’s face, quickly followed by a smile. “Me too. I mean,” he chuckled, “I enjoy our time together as well.” He turned to the piano. “Now, to your present.” His enthusiasm was palpable, and you were certain he could also feel your sadness.

Still, he began to play, without needing to remove the sheet music from the pages, entirely guided by his talent. In a way, it was comforting to know that a piece of your music, and on top of that, the truth about your life, would, for once, not vanish into nothing. As Verso played your little melody, you watched how his initial joy turned into confusion. He even paused a few times, uncertain whether to continue, but then he did, and his confusion became something darker: disquiet. Even though he already knew the truth, he played the piece through to the end. When the final note faded, the silence crashed down on you so suddenly that your vision finally blurred. Verso’s gaze drifted unbearably slowly from the keys to you, the gentle, shy, adorable expression on his face now gone.

“I’m so sorry.” Your lower lip trembled as you tried to steady your voice, the tears now running freely down your cheeks. “I should’ve told you so much earlier. I should’ve never even come back here. I made a mistake and then everything just… happened. A-And you,” that’s when your voice cracked, “you were so kind, all of you. I’m sorry for betraying your trust.” You inhaled shakily. “I truly, truly enjoyed this time. Nobody else ever has to know. Verso,” you said his name, “you are an inspirational artist and a beautiful soul. The type of soul one writes poems about. I will…” But you didn’t want to lose yourself in a flood of words, so you held them back, the pressure building so high that another wave of tears rose up.

Verso didn’t move a muscle during your outburst, not even his expression changed. He simply looked at you, his eyes roaming over yours, down to your trembling lips, and back again. You didn’t dare look away, but you noticed the way his hands slowly lifted. You let out a sob as he cradled your face. Gently, he wiped away the tears, and his expression melted from stoic to utter devotion.

“Please… Please don’t,” you whispered in despair. “I will be lost.”

His face leaned closer, and you knew, just as you’d always known, that you shouldn’t let this happen. Panic fluttered in your chest as you watched him move, everything unfolding in slow motion. And then suddenly, his lips were on yours. He broke through the last bit of resistance your mind had managed to hold onto, and ignited the fire. Everything about him was soft and warm and gentle, just as you’d imagined. The way he held your face, the way his lips brushed over yours, claimed them, only to pull back briefly and repeat the pattern.

And yet, just as he wrapped his arms around you, drawing you closer, and you leaned into him, pressing against him, your fingers gliding through his full, smooth head of hair, you discovered a trace of desperation in his touch. A feeling that wasn’t foreign to you. You felt it, too, this ache for him, and the knowledge that it could not be.

You both knew it. That’s why you delayed the inevitable moment when you’d have to pull away, drawing the now out as long as you could, your hands wandering across each other’s faces, necks, arms. You reveled in the feel of his gruff beard, grounded yourself on his strong shoulders, all the while he seemed to try to pull you even closer, his hand at the back of your neck, only to tease your skin with a featherlight, goosebump-inducing touch.

And when the time came, your faces still close, his heated forehead resting against yours, his breath mixing with your own heavy one, your tears had dried, but the despair was greater than ever. 

“I don’t care,” he whispered, “I don’t care what you are. I just care who you are.” He caressed over your head, playing with a strand of hair. 

For just a moment, you imagined, what if… what if everything wasn’t the way it was? Then you could give in to this, here and now, scandalously and in secret, and you and Verso would spend more time together, and someday he would, maybe in the park, maybe surrounded by your families, get down on one knee and…

You opened your eyes with an exhale. That would never happen, and you both knew it. “We can’t,” you said with all the conviction you could summon. “It’s forbidden, it would never work out, they would never let us.”

“Then we will convince them,” Verso replied immediately, “my family already loves you, if my maman vouches for you, maybe we can…”

“Stop,” you interrupted him. What he was saying was ludicrous. “They will not make peace over some idiots like us. Tensions are already high, we’d have to be more than stupid to stir unrest.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Like stupidly in love, you mean?”

Your heart skipped a beat as he said the words you would’ve never dared to say, and you withdrew. You stood up almost too quickly, Verso with you. It was time to go, before you got even more entangled with one another. You had told your truth, but you hadn’t expected him not to care.

“Au revoir.” You turned around, retreating, hearing his echoing footsteps following you toward the front door, but he didn’t try to stop you with words. As you opened the door, he stepped in your way, his arm a barrier between you and the cool evening air, pain and desperation in his eyes.

“Please, Verso,” you pleaded, “we should’ve never let it get this far. If you have the feelings for me that you claim to have, just let me go.”

That seemed to convince him, for he only hesitated another moment before stepping aside to let you pass. You walked away, slowly at first, then faster, fleeing into the city, not looking back for fear that you would run to him again.

You threw open the door to your room on the top floor of your city residence and immediately opened the window. It wasn’t a luxurious house, your family wasn’t rich per se, not like the Dessendres, but wealthy enough to call a nicely furnished house in the city their own. Your bag arced through the air and landed on your bed, startling Soleil, who jumped off. Just when you needed her. You paced back and forth, trying to calm your wrangled nerves, to let the thoughts of Verso Dessendre drift away, but the more you tried, the more firmly he rooted himself in your mind.

Your brain was in overload, painting every possible scenario of things you would never experience with Verso because you refused to fight, your fear of the consequences too great. Time and time again, your gaze drifted to your desk, and little by little, a new notion formed, just as crazy, just as taboo, but maybe a way out.

“Are you out of your mind?” you asked yourself, the idea so outrageous you wished you could shake yourself.

Among Writers, weaving others into a story was highly polarizing. The topic was often discussed in your council, but never resolved. One side claimed it was part of healthy literature to seek inspiration or even manifestation in the presence and essence of others. The other side, and your entire family belonged to that one, wholeheartedly, saw the danger in writing down stories in which real people appeared. Anecdotal evidence showed that those with a weak mind could lose themselves in the world they wrote, the story they wanted to live, shaping it as they pleased, down to the tiniest detail, and in doing so, robbing those they placed in it of all autonomy.

And that danger was what troubled you now. If you sat down at your desk and wrote what you wanted to experience with Verso, poured everything you could into a few hours to get just a glimpse of the life you imagined, you could live it, but at what cost? Then again, maybe it would help you – maybe you just needed that brief experience of a perfect moment with him to end the chapter, to pack your things in the morning and go back home.

Anyway, writings about the lives of others did exist. The difference was that such works were created under strict supervision and then locked for entry by a Writer, purely out of caution, until the subject could be laid to rest. You knew, just from the discourse alone, that there were people who wrote about others and then entered their own stories. What happened to them? Had they gone mad?

Carefully, you sat down at your desk, your gaze fixed on your neatly arranged folder and pen. Your grandmother would turn in her grave. She had been the first to tell you about the perils of obsession, how you would want to relive your perfect story over and over again until you could no longer experience real, human ones, because no story was ever as perfect as the ones you created yourself.

You picked up the pen, suddenly very calm, and opened your folder. It was the moment that usually brought you peace, the instant just before writing the first word on a blank, white sheet of paper, but now, it sent a cold shiver down your spine.

This was wrong. So wrong. It had been wrong from the very beginning. And now you sat here, at your desk in your bedroom in the city. Outside the open window, the star-strewn sky stretched out above the rooftops, a warm breeze brushing against your face and playing with your hair. It was a perfect night to write something. But not this. And all because of him.

Your hand trembled slightly as you pressed the tip of your pen to the paper and wrote the first sentence: “Verso Dessendre enters my bedroom in the city residence…”

[glasvera]

if your request still open, can I request with Loki with fem reader?? Reader is also a magican/witch with star/celestial magic like channel power of the sun/moon or summon meteors(In Marvel comic I don't notice many or any characters who use this type of magic much, which differentiate her fron other magic users) They have some bicker about magic and teasing while in battle, getting jealous with someone got too close with another and basically a tsundere to each other. Until other heroes started teasing them both then they start opening up their feelings. I hope this is not too much!

Okay, first of all, I am SO SORRY this took so long! My requests had originally filled up when I first got this ask, but I liked the idea of it so much that I wanted to go ahead and carry it over to the next batch I did. It also kinda turned more into a "rivals to lovers" sort of thing with more focus on them bickering, but I hope you still enjoy!

Vexing

Loki x Fem!CelestialWitch!Reader

Description: One has the powers of a god. The other has celestial power to rival that of the gods. Surely that won't affect anyone's fragile egos and bring about a rivalry that is definitely not a cover for underlying romantic tensions, right?

Warnings/Disclaimers: (Marvel) Rivals to lovers, mild (canon typical) violence, Loki gets a meteor chucked at him, Loki gets pinned to the ground, lots of name calling

A/N: I love putting Loki in Situations™. Also, I've been playing a LOT of Baldur's Gate 3 lately, so I feel like some Astarion crept into my Loki characterization. I think I have a soft spot for devilish, cocky guys with tragic/muddled pasts.

Word Count: 2.7k

It was business as usual on the front lines. Your team prepared themselves in a small yet intricately designed and gilded bedroom while awaiting the order to move. Of course, with it being his, Loki takes advantage of the downtime to lounge across the bed. Emerald eyes stare daggers into yours. 

“Careless.”

“Insensible.”

“Infuriating.”

“Egotistical.”

“Irreverent!”

“...Cowardly.”

Loki gasps, hand over his heart, pausing this ridiculous, verbose exchange of insults that was all too common between the two of you.

“I am many things, you fool, but to call me cowardly--”

You sneer, victorious. Rare was it that words cut him so deep. Rarer still for only one to accomplish it. A snicker hisses through your teeth.

“What do you call that last battle, then? When you left me to die?” you accuse, fully aware of the exaggeration of your aforementioned situation. Command of celestial forces meant you were hardly ever in a position quite so dire or lethal.

He scoffs in disgust. “I call that trust in my allies. Duty called me elsewhere, and you handle yourself well enough.” He gives you a once-over from head to toe and back up again, crossing his arms. “Clearly you made it back unscathed. Mostly.”

“Excuses,” you retort. Still, his compliment doesn't escape you even under the veneer of irritation. “You were invisible the moment someone aimed a gun at you.”

“Well forgive me if I have a sense of self-preservation!” he snaps.

“Can you two lovebirds keep it down!?” Rocket butts in. Clawed fingertips massage at his own temples. “You're giving me a flarking headache!”

That’s the one and only thing that bothers you both more than each other. “We are not lovebirds!” you argue in unison.

The raccoon bristles at your combined exclamation, using his oversized gun to gesture wildly at both of you while he talks. “Yeah, right! Maybe if you idiots exchanged spit instead of insults, the rest of us could enjoy a bit of peace and quiet!”

You flinch away from the firearm and feel your face heat up in a frustrating cocktail of embarrassment and anger. One glance at Loki reveals a flushed face with teeth bared in a snarl. Still, you refuse to admit just how alike the two of you really are. After all, if you're so much alike, then you might as well have spent all this time hurling insults at a mirror.

“That you would even suggest such a thing is more potent an insult than anything either of us have conjured,” Loki bemoans. “I wouldn't dare taint my lips with the likes of this… this starry-eyed witch.”

“Take that back,” you snarl, embarrassment gone and replaced with the competitive fervor that comprises much of your rivalry. “You're just jealous that I wouldn't let you.”

“Pah!” he exclaims. “Projection is a terrible look on you, my dear.”

Power courses quietly through your veins. Under the guise of rolling your eyes and puffing out a sigh, the swift incantation goes miraculously unnoticed. You cross your arms wordlessly and stare at him. Your hip pops out. The silence draws an inquisitive, distrustful side-eye from Loki, but you simply watch and wait. It's only a matter of time now.

“Stop staring at me like that. It’s unsettling.” His lip curls as he sits upright on the mattress, crossing his legs. You catch the twitch of his eye as the seconds go by. “What is wrong with you!? I know I must be lovely to look at, but--”

A meteor crashes through the ceiling and into Loki and his pristine four-poster bed. Everyone except you scrambles away from the wreckage as stone and dust clatter and crunch from the impact. A high-pitched screech sounds from beneath the fiery rock. With a wave of your hand, the celestial matter crumbles into glittering stardust, leaving a slightly crushed and charred Loki crumpled atop the ruined emerald sheets.

“How…” He braces himself on one arm before his hand slips on the rubble dusted silk, leaving him to face plant right back onto the bed. “How dare you, you… you lunatic!?!” Embers glow at the fringe of his cloak and he yelps before frantically slapping it to put out the budding flames.

You don’t grace him with an answer. You simply giggle at his misfortune.

-----

Things like that were becoming the new normal between you two. In fact, you often spent more time in training and scrimmages sabotaging each other than you did fighting the enemy team. It was headache inducing for everyone involved.

One day, while the two of you were wholly consumed with your argument, three of your teammates huddled together to discuss strategy. Not strategy for the upcoming battle, mind you.

They needed a strategy to get the two of you to work with the rest of your team.

“I say we just use these flark-faces as meat shields,” Rocket suggests, irritation clear as day as his lips pull back over his sharp teeth. “Maybe the rest of us will survive longer.”

“I am Groot.” He closes his eyes solemnly and shakes his woody head.

“I know it’s messed up, Groot. But is it really more messed up than covering their asses!?” the raccoon argues.

“I am Groot,” the tree counters with a nod.

“A gentle touch!?” he exclaims. “Have you seen these idiots?” He gestures with a paw towards the two of you, still oblivious to the rest of the world as you shout obscenities back and forth. “They wouldn’t notice a flarking slap to the face unless it came from one of them!”

“He… may have a point,” Adam Warlock chimes in, bringing a fist to his chin pensively.

Rocket narrows his beady eyes at the golden man. “Who, me? Or mister sunshine and rainbows over here?”

“Dare I say both?” he responds hesitantly. When that only intensifies Rocket’s squinting, he continues. “Perhaps if one or both of them felt encouraged to perform their duties…”

“Yeah. Right. These are full grown adults, ya golden dunce. You can't just slap a gold star on their forehead and expect them to behave.”

“I am Groot.”

“I know you'd like a gold star, Groot. That's not the flarking point right now!”

“Just…” Adam interrupts, holding up a golden palm towards them. “Allow me, if you will.”

As expected, you and Loki are so caught up in the throes of your heated argument that you nearly jump out of your skin upon feeling a gentle finger tapping your shoulder from behind.

“By the stars, I--!” You clasp a hand over your heart in shock. But the tension fades upon seeing the newcomer’s face. “Oh, Adam. It’s just you.”

The golden man smiles warmly. “Forgive the interruption. I had hoped to discuss strategy with you before the upcoming battle.” He proffers a hand to you. “Would you care to join me?”

Loki cocks his head to the side and scoffs quite loudly. One hand finds his hip as he leans towards the so-called “perfect” being.

“Excuse me?” Loki was not about to be ignored. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, considering you were grown in a lab, but I always expected a bit more decorum from you.” The barbed words are accompanied by the curl of his lip and the furrowing of his perfectly trimmed brows.

You hadn’t even had the chance to accept Adam’s offer. You’re not even sure you were going to in the first place. But if this was to be your rival’s reaction to such an innocent gesture, far be it from you to deny yourself the pleasure of his irritation. Your eyes narrow, crinkling a bit in the corners as your lips pull into a cheshire grin.

“His manners are perfect, if you ask me. As is his taste. Clearly you’re not needed for this conversation, Loki Laufeyson.” You take a step forward, prodding a finger into the supple, silken fabrics he adorned himself in. Delicious adrenaline courses through your veins as you allow yourself to indulge in this daring cockiness. “Know when to step aside for your betters, hm?”

“That was not my intention--”

Loki ignores the golden man completely as he slaps your hand off of him. “My betters? Dare I remind you that it is I who was assigned the role of strategist on this team?” he hisses. “If anyone misunderstands their place here, it is you.”

His face is dangerously close to yours now, nearly spitting his words onto your skin. You glower at him, daring him to continue, to dig further down the grave he’s already begun for himself.

“You are a duelist. Yet you can’t even excel at that, can you? Face it. You are worthless on your own,” he jeers.

Tension snaps. Adam is long forgotten as your fists find their places at his collar, crumpling the expensive garment as you express your barely concealed rage behind the sharp exhale that hisses through your teeth. Suddenly you’re pushing him to the ground, pinning him beneath your body weight, practically snarling as your face hovers inches above his.

“I can duel just fine, you disgusting snake,” you snap. “But I’m happy to continue this little demonstration if you’re not yet convinced.”

“If the two of you could please just--”

“Leave them, Goldie. We tried,” Rocket interjects. “Maybe we’ll get lucky, they’ll kill each other, and then we’ll get new teammates!”

“I am Groot!” If trees could gasp, that would perhaps be the best way to describe the noise coming from their verdant companion.

Yet none of it matters. None of the others matter.

All you can hear is the frantic cadence of your own heartbeat.

And all you can feel is Loki pinned beneath you with his own heart pounding in his chest.

You press your forearm against his clavicle, just beneath his throat. A warning.

Loki has never excelled at heeding warnings.

“Well?” he sneers. “I am on the edge of my proverbial seat waiting for the rest of your… demonstration, my dear.” His tone is taunting, teasing even, with a face that is the picture of calm. Still, you know the organ caged in his ribs beats to an entirely different rhythm. 

And yet still you stay your hand. For Loki is nothing if not deceptive, resourceful, clever. All the wonderful little compliments you daren’t feed his ego with by admitting them aloud.

“I vex you, don’t I?” he whispers with a coy smirk tugging at his irritating lips.

Your forearm inches higher, applying pressure to the base of his throat. It merely restricts the airflow rather than cutting it off completely, but clearly more than warnings were needed.

“Projection is a terrible look on you,” you retort with a tilt of your head.

He chokes out a laugh. “Ah, how wonderful it is to know my words have lingered this long in that pretty little head of yours.” He nearly had you with that. Nearly. But neither one of you missed the tail end of his attempted jab. Heat rushes to your cheeks. Your current position suddenly feels much more compromising than before.

No. He’s toying with you. You have to stand your ground.

Fire with fire, then.

“I would never claim to have had a normal childhood,” you begin, perplexion twisting Loki’s features at your sudden change in topic, “but I do remember that the adults loved to talk about how boys would always tease the girls they liked.” Satisfaction bubbles within you as you watch the realization and resulting irritation dawn upon him. “Never believed it until now.”

The master of deception is quick to mask the way you so easily riled him up. “Childish nonsense.”

“Then why were you turning red a moment ago?” you ask with a snicker. You know it’s a lie, but you need to dig your claws in further, crawl deeper underneath his skin.

“Perhaps that is because of the brute on top of me that is trying to choke me!” he exclaims with no small effort.

You roll your eyes and withdraw your arm, but you’re quick to grab his wrists and pin them above his head. Can’t be too careful.

…Even if it means you’re practically straddling the object of your ire.

“There. Better?”

Though he does his best to hide it, the god of mischief does feel a blush burgeoning beneath the surface of his skin now. A celestial goddess sits atop him, loathe as he is to admit it. Or, at least, as close as any mortal being could get to godhood. Some part of him deep down finds you deserving of the title.

Truly, you were much closer to the mark than he would ever willingly admit. When he looks at you there is fascination and vexation in equal measure, yet above all there is respect. After all, only those who have earned his respect are worthy to be deemed a proper rival of the Asgardian god.

And when Adam had come to speak with you? Oh. He couldn’t care less about strategizing with the team. But the fact that you interacted so willingly, so amicably with a man with more goodness and light in his heart than Loki could ever hope to achieve across all lifetimes? It was unthinkable. Unbearable.

“Loki? Anybody home in there?” Your voice interrupts the turbulent flood of feelings miring any coherent thought in his mind. To his surprise, he thinks he detects a hint of concern in your tone.

“Simply plotting your demise in silence,” he finally replies in jest.

A laugh huffs through your nostrils. “I would have assumed that would be second nature for you by now.”

There’s a shift in the air. You’re not glaring at him anymore. Your grip remains firm in restraining him, but you’re careful not to cut off circulation. 

Vexing, indeed.

His head thumps softly against the ground beneath you as he lets out a dramatic sigh. “Perhaps it is difficult for you to imagine, but I think of things other than you throughout the day.”

“So you are thinking about me?” you retort with a cheeky grin. He winces. Damn. He walked into that one. But if there’s anyone who could meet your wit, surpass it even, it was him.

Fire with fire.

“And what if I am?” he counters boldly, his emerald gaze meeting yours unflinchingly.

Oh. Well… shit. You don’t have time to rein in the soft, surprised gasp that whispers through your slackened jaw. You blink several times, as though that might somehow blink this situation out of existence, and your eyes dart around everywhere but Loki’s face. What composure you had left was crumbling. You feel too close to him now, releasing your grip as you sit upright.

The two of you have exchanged countless banters, infinite contests of insults and prose, yet your actions now have spoken more clearly of your true feelings than anything he’s heard from your lips.

He shifts, and you let him, until he has propped himself up with you still straddling his lap. You feel confused, frozen, intrigued. When words continue to fail you, he speaks again.

“Perhaps it wouldn’t be so terrible to admit that you plague my thoughts nearly every waking moment,” he mutters, voice barely above a whisper as his hand delicately cups your chin. The pad of his thumb brushes gingerly over the plush of your parted lips. “Perhaps it wouldn’t be so terrible if you admitted the same of me.”

“You…” Your breath tickles his thumb. Words are difficult to come by when his admission has utterly stupefied you. Still, subtle glances speak clearly enough. Loki is nothing if not perceptive.

“Yes, me,” he replies cheekily. Fingers tug your chin closer as hooded eyes fixate upon your lips. “It’s always about me, after all.”

A quiet snort leaves you. “You’re right. You do vex me.” Still, you lean in until your lips are a hairsbreadth apart from his. There was an undeniable something between you. These sparks were not of your celestial doing, after all.

He chortles, the sound low and rumbling in his chest. Delicate, soft lips press almost tenderly to yours for but a fleeting moment. “The feeling is mutual, my dear.”

[evilminji]

You know, i just had the mental image of a sith in star wars finding a ritual or something to summon a ghost and end up summoning danny, while in space. The sith is struggling to try and convince this otherworldly being to help them do evil and their just staring out the nearest viewport in awe about the amount of new space things to discover.

How does it feel? To have such a big and wrinkly brain? So full of smartness?? :O

That? Is Brilliant~☆

It could be a Krell situation. Stress of the war got to be too much. Or a Dooku situation, discontent fed and fed until it burst. Like a silently festering wound, left unseen and untreated.

Regardless of HOW it happened?

The lil shit steals from Madame Nu. Like a CRAZY PERSON.

Rightfully terrified that she will Kick Their Ass into the stratosphere for touching HER archives, they head straight for the "Sith Stuff". What does it DO? What RESEARCH did they do? HA! You ask too much of them! There is no PLAN here!

Their brain has gone to SOUP with the Dark Side. It's all wild mood swings and impulse decisions! Research and careful precautions takes PATIENCE. Planning. The calm and rationality they just THREW OUT AN AIR LOCK.

They are high on the initial high of the Dark Side that few, if any, Dark Siders ever SURVIVE. That TEST of their character and control, as they stand in the storm they have unleashed upon themselves.

You want POWER?

Okay.

HAVE IT.

Like trying to swallow a waterfall. Drink the ocean, one cup at a time. Endless, yes, but equally so? It is BRINE. Not the life giving waters of the Light. The more you drink... the deeper your thirst. The faster you die. Can you control yourself? Suffer it? For that's all that's left... suffering. Thirst. Endless, Endless Thirst.

Water water everywhere, and it shall grind your bones to DUST when next you drink.

Welcome to the Dark Side! Was it WORTH it?

But, ah, our Fallen's brain is muddled soup. They think so. They are not themselves. May never be again. That's why it's a tragedy. Because it both IS and ISN'T their hands that takes that Sith artifact. Because who they WERE would be appalled.

They don't even know what they are grabbing, do they? No one does. Seized from the ruins of a laboratory. Long dead horrors, painted upon the walls. A Sith's obsession with the afterlife of his people. Ghosts. Beings that were, supposedly, DIFFERENT then Force Ghosts.

The notes speak of "green". A vision or experience in his youth. Brief. The world tearing open. A gate to somewhere "green". The Sith believed it was the afterlife. Felt death inside the gate. Described as "peaceful, joyful, driven, and eternal", he was ultimately unable to full articulate the full scope of what he believed he saw.

Now his last device is in the hands of a fallen jedi.

Who is going to USE it.

P A N I C

Obviously, the Temple gaurds chase the crazy mofo as hard as they can. Without a DOUBT, every master on hand and available, is roped in by Madame Nu to FOLLOW that psychopath, before he unleashs FORCE KNOWS WHAT, directly over CORUSCANT AIRSPACE!!! The SENATE. THE TEMPLE?! HUNDREDS OF MILLIONS OF LIVES!?

Fallen McFuckface? Clearly did not think this through (nooooo, REALLY? Everyone is SHOCKED! Shocked, they tell you!), panics. Which is, unfortunately, the LAST thing they wanted them to do. FUCK™.

Masters and Knights are LITERALLY cutting through the hull, kicking down the door, they can survive limited Space exposure and honestly? We're not THAT high yet! Let's see you jump to hyperspace with HOLES in your ship! (Fucking, DONT GIVE THEM IDEAS! They're insane, remember?!) (Shit. You're right.)

When?

.......Green...~¤~

Hilariously? The Sith can plan all they want. But you can NEVER plan for stupid. Make a plan idiot proof, as they say, and the Universe will just build a better idiot. All that carefully curated misery, hatred, and suffering? That DISPAIR. The webs upon webs of Darkness carefully spread across the Senate district? Choking the Temple?

Mmmmm, tasty kindling. Good fuel! Sith Artifact LIKEY~!

It RIPS and TEARS. A screaming MAW IN THE SKY. A black hole for Dark Side energy that takes and takes and TAKES. Dropping people all across the district below. KILLING the particularly irredeemably monstrous. After all~!

The Force? Is in all things.

You DON'T have to be Force Sensitive, to Fall. Just a BASTARD. Just cruel and selfish, hateful and needlessly petty. All the things that would sour and turn a Jedi? Can sour and turn YOU too. Just slower, quiter, and with less explosions. But! It still wraps the Dark around your bones. Feeds it into your blood.

Kills you, when it all gets ripped away.

One must wonder.... how many Senators die instantly? And how many die in the days to come? Slowly, painfully, bed-bound as they reflect on who they had become? The fall out will be SPECTACULAR.

The Jedi's fault? How? How is their being stretched so thin they could not mount a proper response THEIR fault? How is YOUR corruption, THEIR fault? Please note all the individuals who were FINE! Baffled, but FINE!

But perhaps you are correct.

Perhaps, for the safety of ALL, we should MOVE our main Temple.

We've done it before. We can do it again. Or do you not want to HAVE that conversation? Hmmm? No, no, we wouldn't want to be a THREAT to you FINE people! You HONORABLE senators! Please, continue to yell and make demands! SEE HOW FAR IT GETS YOU!

Would they normally send someone more diplomatic? Yes. But STRANGELY all of THEM had weird SITH Darkness on them that got violently ripped off! They are in the halls of healing. Unconscious. Because getting Sith shit, that was hooked into your brain, violently ripped out? Not GREAT! 0 out of 10 healers recommend!

Fuuuuck you! Yes, I bite! And be warned, my Race is VENOMOUS! *aggravated Jedi Senior Padawan noises, hissing*

Danny? Got pulled out in FULL regalia. Just FULL on Ice and Stars. Full "I am the Cosmos beholding itself, I am the dead child you could not save.", beyond vanta-black armor and cape like a window to ever shifting stars, crown of aurora borealis playing off the eternal ice, all upon a youngling that seems forever floating... frozen in time. By death.

Was it sacrifice? Natural? Is it just a shape the spirit takes? IS he a youngling?

They both can and can not feel him.

Both can and can not SEE him.

He is so young....

A child king, hsmiles with such shared grief, when they look upon that too large crown, upon a head that should never have been forced to wear it. Like a child, forced to wear his father's mantle too soon. Is that what happened? Was it something worse? They can not bring themselves to ask.

Not when he is so... so DELIGHTED?

Playing with the younglings. In AWE of each and everyone of them. The things they learned each day. "Who wants to go flying?" "Try to float me!" "I believe in you." Oh, he BASKS in their Light like a desperate thing. Showers them with praise and attention, gentle corrections and undivided attention.

He is empathic. Alive and dead. Fascinated by the stars.

And of course... King™.

No, no, he's not interested in your Senate. Doesn't like um, Doesn't trust um. The vibes are RANCID. But I mean... if you REALLY need an army so bad? Since it seems you guys are pushing yourself WAY outside of your normal duties? Like, he doesn't know, uhhh farmers burning crops to prevent starvation? Something like that.

Just? Since you hate it? But are worried people will die? Or those Clone guys (Sweet! Clones! Ellie is gonna be HYPED.) Are gonna die? He could, you know... fix that for you?

JUST you.

We're gonna have to get it in writing. And they won't do anything BUT stop the robots and help people. They don't actually answer to you. Soooo.....?

.......are you offering us an army? (Yeah. An endless skeleton army. Lead by the greatest Generals to have ever died.).....(they get bored.)

And SUDDENLY? Oh look! The Galactic suffering levels? Just fucking DROPPED. All those SENTIENT Clone soldiers! Dying in vain, in agony, ALONE? Not happening! Skeletons can get blasted apart, fade, reassemble, and march RIGHT BACK OUT! This is GREAT fun!

And even better? Unlike with Pariah? THIS time they march? King PHANTOM is sending them to HELP people! Woooooo! Destroy metal crunchy things! Help clean up rubble! Build a house! Rescue trapped people from rubble! Tireless effort! Honor and service! Thanks for the FREE METAL! *rips apart your robots*

There are no anti-ecto technologies here! The BEST they have is Force users! Which? Ha ha ha! GOOD LUCK. That's what? One? TWO? Of you?? To HOW MANY of us??? *cackles in bone army*

And! If they happen upon OTHER things they don't like? Whoop! Should'a thought of that! Before being a DICK! King Phantom says slavery is ILLEGAL. And we, the FORMER slave army of King Pariah, have Millennium Long ISSUES with that! (Easy to remove that chip, when you can reach THROUGH a person. Here you Slaver FUCK. YOU have it! In fact! Have ALL of them. From each and every slave.)

Anikin LOVES his new Bone friends. They are WONDERFUL. Him n them? Bonded. He's made them all speech boards. They're plotting the gruesome end of the Hutt cartel together. He's showing them the holo of his wedding. They're making Super Advanced Chip scan-.....

W....Why is his scanner going off? There should be nothing near by for it to recognize. The only thing HERE is him, his Bone Buddies, and Rex for supervision.... *mounting horror as he slowly waves the device around* *beep*

R-Rex?

...

......

The Clones? De-chipped in like... two days. There are too many skeletons to NOT have them be able to just? *reach in, feel for the Non-Clone bit, grab it, pull out* didn't even need surgery! But boy, oh, boy! Is Anikin upset. That sure is a Slave chip! Hey, Kamino! Have a Chosen One and his Bones Bros! Some Clones in orbit with Real Big Guns.

And Palatine? Is? PISSED.

His whole ass Empire is dissolving in his hands. The Sith Master Plan! Going up in smoke! Walls are closing in! All because of ONE(1) glowing BRAT.

Wanna bet he goes after him... with LIGHTNING? In human form, of course. Danny. Who DIED to electricity. Who has, throughout ALL of this? Been chilling in the Jedi temple, finally... FINALLY! Unwinding. Putting down the stress on his shoulders. Healing from his childhood. Cuddling cute babies and laying on the grass to nap, listen to the waterfall. Be at PEACE, surrounded by the Light of the Jedi.

Danny, who has been making friends. Enjoying the archives. For once in his stressful, STRESSFUL life? Letting OTHER PEOPLE deal with it. Playing with alien puppies and weird not-cats. Trying new foods! Seeing about adopting some droids that Tucker might get on with. Sorry "buying" some droids. (As though those Restraining Bolts aren't coming off the SECOND they droids are in his hands.)

It's been cool. Relaxing. Great for his mental health.

They have folks LITERALLY called Mind Healers here! Jazz would love it!

So obviously Sith face ruins it. Hurts his friends and blasts him with LIGHTNING. The kids are crying and terrified. This was supposed to be some sort of "learn about how the Republic works" day trip to the Senate! He was helping chaperone. They are being so, SO brave. Staying together. Trying to get their teacher out of harms ways.

He? Is? PISSED.

How DARE you. How FUCKING DARE YOU?! A fight between adults? Not his Reality, not his business. Clockwork drilled that into his head. He CAN'T keep the Multiverse together. Fight every fight for everyone, save everything. People have free will. Have to decide for THEMSELVES. Choose to do the right thing.

It doesn't mean SHIT if they don't save themselves. Wont last, in the end, because they won't have LEARNED a damn thing. He GETS that! But KIDS?! Ooooh ho ho! He DRAWS THE LINE AT KIDS! At shocking the SHIT out of him with LIGHTNING!

You want to poke the sleeping titan 'til it wakes up?

Well congrats!

YOU HAVE HIS ATTENTION NOW!

*inhale*

*Wail*

Palpatine goes through the HOLE where about fifteen walls USED to be. Half of Coruscant physically hears it and EVERYONE with even a TOUCH of Force sensitivity FEELS it. Across the entire planet and up into orbit.

Dying screams and the crackle of electricity. Regret. Fear. The desperate need to protect, in your final moment. Pain and pressure, the cool slide of Death come to take it all away. You were just fourteen. You were just fourteen! You died screaming, you came back screaming, in the place between... will you ever stop screaming?

You are the Galaxy, the Cosmos, the INFINITE. You are just a child.

How many souls died screaming?

Can't you hear ALL OF THEM?

Pissed or not, kids come first. Fuuuuuck that guy. Danny picks up the teacher, the kids, and back to the Temple they go. Teacher survives. Kids cling. Senate gets itself into a snit over the "unprovoked attack". But the thing is? A whole CLASS of Baby Jedi say the Chancellor is the Sith Lord. Look too spooked to be lying. Their teacher, too WOUNDED for this to be a prank.

The Jedi close rank.

Palpatine tries to use the Clones.

You know... the De-chipped by their Bone Bros Clones.

Commander Fox? Gets to finally, FINALLY(!!!) live out his long time fantasy... of shooting the fucker. Slug thrower. Tragically, fails to kill him. But the attempt WAS enthusiastic! We applaud his attempt. Commander Fox gets to join Danny in the Gardens, under a Crechelings pile, staring at the stain glass ceiling and Not Thinking Or Having Responsibilities.

Huh.... kid's right. This IS nice.

Fox enjoys being a climb-able lump for the Crechelings. Welcome to the club, my dude.

The other Jedi? THEY can figure it out. The Temple is literally unassailable. If needs be, his army can PICK IT UP AND MOVE IT. Danny is Vibin. Have a fruit. You hear about Skywalker? Making pretty good ground on his whole "one man and massive bone army campaign against Slavery" thing. Missed the whole.... his buddy was an asshole reveal. Apparently reception is spotty. *shrugs*

His wife's nice though! *various married Jedi agree, Obi-Wan continues to sulk because: "REALLY?! You didn't even INVITE ME!? My own Padawan! To his WEDDING! Anikin how COULD YO-!?"*

[thatskynews]

Sky Patched Calendar Ver. 0.26.0: A Guide for Sky Events

SkyFest (Sky Anniversary Celebration)

Season of Duet

Tournament of Triumph

SkyFest: A 5th Birthday Like No Other! (July 12 - July 26)

Duration: 17:00 July 12th through 23:59 July 26th; all times PDT, UTC -7. (Yes, not the daily reset time. This is so the in-game celebration starts at the exact same time that the in-person SkyFest celebration starts in Tokyo, Japan!)

From July 12th through 14th, you can find actual in-game livestreams of talks in these locations:

History of Sky Gallery (Isle of Dawn)

Art of Sky Gallery (Hidden Forest)

SkyFest Cinema (Eye of Eden)

Scheduled Events

July 12

19:00 - Guided Tour of Sky’s History with the devs (History Gallery) - Join us on a live tour through the History Gallery as we share stories and more about how Sky became what it is today!

20:00 - SkyFest 2024 Keynote with Jenova Chen (SkyFest Cinema) - Let’s just say, you don’t want to miss this one…

23:00 - How We Got 10,000 Players into a Level (SkyFest Cinema) - Here’s a peek at how our engineering team created the tech that helped us set a GUINNESS WORLD RECORDS™ title!

July 13

18:00 - Design at Record-Breaking Scale in Sky: Children of the Light (SkyFest Cinema) - It’s okay, you can cry! Learn how the team designed the AURORA Concert to make it a memorable and moving experience.

19:00 - Guided Tour of Sky’s Art with the devs (Art Gallery) - Take a tour through the Art Gallery as we talk about some of the art that played a key role in Sky’s development.

22:00 - An Exploration of the Art of Sky (SkyFest Cinema) - How did Sky first come to life in its earliest days? See how art played a key role in the ideas that ultimately evolved into Sky’s world and lore.

July 14

00:00 - Designing to Reduce Toxicity in Online Games (SkyFest Cinema) - How do you make a game that welcomes everybody, with a world that allows compassion and generosity to blossom?

01:00 - SkyFest LIVE Community Concert (SkyFest Cinema) - Sky’s first-ever live in-game concert! Player musicians from around the world will give a memorable performance featuring classic favorites, original compositions, and of course, some of the community’s favorite Sky songs. (This is a one-time-only concert that won’t replay after July 14th, so be sure to join us at the SkyFest Cinema to see it!)

During SkyFest, you can take a shortcut to the secret area by meditating at the Events Shop in Aviary Village. The gates are open to all, so you can join the dance party and watch Spirits take the rooftop stage. Just for the 5th anniversary, the Secret Area will have a display of three capes from past collaborations—the display will allow you to teleport to the special areas that came with each collab, no cape use necessary!

Four star-shaped tokens can be found around the village each day.

New Items

SkyFest 5th Anniversary Headband: 4 event currency

SkyFest Jenova Fan: 8 event currency

SkyFest 5th Anniversary T-shirt: 12 event currency

SkyFest Star Jar: 16 event currency

(40 tickets in total / 4 = 10 days to get all items - 15 days of the event = 5 days extra time)

New IAPs:

SkyFest Oreo Headband: $4.99 (all prices USD)

SkyFest Wireframe Cape: $19.99 - This cape comes with a special ability: After SkyFest ends, it can be used to access the SkyFest version of Aviary, including the History and Art Galleries plus the SkyFest Cinema. Videos from the SkyFest Cinema will replay after SkyFest on a schedule. (Please note that this cape provides access to the SkyFest event spaces ONLY.)

Returning Items

Anniversary Party Lights: 33 Hearts

Anniversary Sonorous Seashell: 33 Ascended Candles

Light Fence, Birthday Flag props: 20 Candles each

Balloon prop: 30 Candles

Happy Birthday Music Sheet: 10 Hearts

Confetti Launcher: 20 Hearts

Anniversary Plush: $9.99

Season of Duets (July 15 to September 29th)

Season Pass holders have the chance to unlock three Ultimate Gifts, and a mask can be unlocked for regular Candles even after the Season ends.

Season of Duets begins at July 15th and continues until September 29th.

Tournament of Triumph (July 29 to August 18th)

New Format to the Event Currency System:

2 event currency in the event area daily

Event currency pool (1): 25 in the first ten days of the event

Event currency pool (2): 25 in the second ten days of the event

5 event currency in the event area on the last day (Aug. 18)

Players can earn one event currency each time they complete a Tournament game, including after repeating a game, up to the total number of event currency available in each “pool.” Then, 25 more become available when the second half of the Tournament begins.

Event Items

Tournament Curls: 25 event currency

Tournament Torch: 37 event currency

Tournament Golden Garland: $4.99

Tournament Tunic: $9.99

[andthekitchensinkao3]

20 Questions with a Fanfic Author

Thanks for the tag @lavender-tea-fling :D I’m always surprised when someone tags me in these things - keep ‘em comin’!

*cracks knuckles* … *no, not really, because OW*

1. How many works on AO3?

I TOO HAVE 48 WORKS ON AO3! Find them all at this handy-dandy link: andthekitchensink

2. Total AO3 Word Count?

I’m almost embarrassed to tell. 947,443 words. How can there be almost 1 MILLION words on there?!?!?!?!

3. Top 5 Fics by Kudos (disclaimer: I loathe kudos. The hits go up, but the kudos stay at the same “Less than 10%” of hits, and even fewer people leave comments, so I’m left convinced nobody likes my stuff, or are being too polite to be mean in the comments)

Silent Treatment - Detroit: Become Human AU, in which Connor is a human, Selectively Non-Verbal, and there are no androids. Instead there’s a Nefarious Government Project having used children as lab rats. It’s basically a sci-fi thriller.

Great Pretenders - also DBH. Undercover as a Couple, Hankcon. Mutual pining, a convention dedicated to getting the most out of one’s relationship - what could possibly go wrong?

Tapestry of Time - Loki (TV) my first ever Lokius fic, full of Norse mythology. A fix-it fic set after the series finale.

Spa Day - five chapters of Hankcon smut. Gentle dom Connor, greedy sub Hank.

Metamorph - my first ever DBH fic, and also my first ever AO3 fic, uploaded back in 2018. Hankcon, set after the events of the game.

4. What fandoms do you write for?

I have written for FAKE, Yami no Matsuei, The Sentinel (TV), Star Trek: Deep Space 9, Metal Gear Solid, Harry Potter, Final Fantasy VIII, an anime style fighter game I can’t even remember the name of, Tin Man - but those aren’t on AO3. I’m not even sure I still have copies of them. Might have gotten lost in one of my computer crashes. This was before the days of cloud storage, people. Even going so far back as the days of ~dial up modems~. I also stopped writing fanfic altogether because I didn’t fit into fandom spaces, and some interactions with other fans made me think I couldn’t write for shit.

Be kind to your writers, folks. I didn’t write for ten years. Imagine the fics I could’ve written if I’d had more love from my fellow fans.

More recently, since I got my own AO3 account, I’ve written for Detroit: Become Human, Person of Interest, Loki (TV) and Dragon Age: The Veilguard.

5. Do you respond to comments?

I try to always respond to comments, but I have the memory of an empty fishbowl, and I work a fulltime job. So if I’m late to respond, it’s not because I don’t love your comment. It’s Life(™).

6. Angstiest Ending?

I don’t do angsty endings. I do angsty everything leading up to the end, which invariably ends on a happy note.

7. Fic with the Happiest Ending?

All of them, but I am particularly fond of the ending to A Promise Kept, my Lokius fairytale mashup set in the world of Baldur’s Gate 3.

8. Do you get hate?

So, that anime style fighting game I can’t remember the name of? The creator of Manly Guys Doing Manly Things once roasted my fic in the comments for being too stereotypical of the shounen ai genre - ie beefy boys crying, angst galore, so on. My sole claim to fandom fame, I guess. But no outright hate.

9. Do you write smut?

OH YEAH BABY

10. Do you write crossovers?

I want to, but I seldom come up with a neat way of meshing two fandoms and sets of characters together. A Promise Kept is my only finished project thus far. I do write AUs, though.

11. Ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge. Kids. Don’t steal people’s fics. Write your own.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated

Nope. I suppose I could translate one of my own into Swedish, but… I don’t see the point.

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic?

I co-rp’d 200 pages worth of historical romance fanfic with a dear friend once. That was fun.

14. All time favorite ship?

Why you wanna make me choose? Come on. I will say, though, I shipped Kirk/Spock even as a kid, because they were so obviously in wub with each other and I thought they made a cute couple. Ah, Star Trek reruns back in the eighties… 

15. WIPs you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I have a Hankcon/Passengers (movie) AU that I’m not sure I’ll finish. But never say never. Inspiration might strike again!

16. Writing strengths?

I’ve been told I do dialogue well, and that I’m funny. IMHO I think I’m kinda good at plot twists, but I’ll let the reader be the judge of that.

17. Writing Weaknesses?

I am utterly self conscious of Telling too much, versus Showing too little. But I’m working on it.

18. Thoughts on mixed language dialogue?

I do it all the time, when appropriate to a character. Being bi-/multilingual myself, it’s always fun. I’m a language geek at heart.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

FAKE - the anime/manga about two cops in love.

20. Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

Again with the choices, tut tut. However, I am REALLY fond of How to Create a Monster, in which Connor goes deep undercover to expose a drug kingpin preying on androids.

Tags under the cut!

@ghoulehhh @natendo-art @in-my-loki-feels @kusakichan15

@devilbearingtrouble @impulsemuppet @mirilyawrites @scifikimmi @silentxsymphony

@rin-love-is-green @confetti39x @stillwanderingflame

@insert-witty-user-name-here @blackbirdofasgard @dreamycloud @distracteddream

@mobius-m-mobius @dilfmobius @adorbspotat @lgwilt

 @redheadsramblings @starfleetteddybear @mercars-musings @starrose17 @holyglassbone @genocidalfetus @wolfpup026 @elodiah @lokimobius @thosegayoldmen @kcscribbler @tinygameralec @notyourmamasdeerbat AND anyone else not mentioned 🧡💜💚

[tremendouskoalachild]

The Acolyte episode 1 is so fucking good, part 1

(just using the 1 year anniversary as an excuse to talk about how great the premiere is at easing the audience into the setting and genre, laying the foundations for the show's mysteries, as well as rewarding rewatches. also praising other random stuff that occurs to me because i love the show so much)

(also also this was not meant to be a "part 1" kind of post but it got too long lol)

the opening text: immediately tells us this is star wars™ (a long time ago font), but in a different time, and, critically, NOT wartime. both of these pieces of information are told to us simultaneously explicitly in the text and by the lack of crawl and opening fanfare.

the music is creeping and somber, setting the different tone right away.

first component of mystery setup: "a lone assassin risks discovery to seek revenge" - revenge for what?

the pan from starry sky to the action goes right to the ground, putting us directly behind this assassin's back - this is a smaller-scale personal story, not concerned with galaxy-altering space battles. the first shot of the town on Ueda also informs us of some of the aesthetic influences on the show.

(it's also insanely pretty)

the very next shot we get a first look at our assumed protagonist. her face is half-hidden, and she is wearing several mismatched protective pieces. we get another idea of possible costume design influences (ninjas, samurai, but also medieval european chainmail), and can assume she has collected her armor from different sources. she is also wearing a purple cape that doesn't look very useful as a disguise and seems like a hindrance in a fight - maybe it's a sentimental object. (after watching the flashback episodes we can connect this garment to Mae's lost home.)

the assassin approaches the settlement and asks a funny-looking alien guy for the location of a jedi. this first spoken line 1. is very star wars; 2. intrigues us - is she looking to fight jedi? seek their help? something else? and 3. tells us something about the galaxy at this time by its phrasing - this tiny place out on the frontier seems to have "its" jedi. perhaps the jedi order of this time period, or at least a portion of its members, is more spread out than we are used to in the films. we also learn that this assassin, while trained in secrecy, is not particularly interested in hiding at this point.

(the shot of Mae approaching the town's gate is also gorgeous)

the assassin enters a noodle shop full of interesting creatures and droids - reminiscent of the cantina scene in A New Hope, but the tone is very different, music mysterious and unsettling.

(that set if fantastic too - it's huge, well lit, plenty of interesting details. that spinning noodle wheel?? what a fun prop they didn't have to include)

we get a first glimpse of our jedi - very Obi-Wan-like, sitting in her robes in the corner, conversing with locals. maybe she's well-liked here and is having lunch with her pals, or maybe people come to her for help. we recognize her as a jedi right away from her costuming.

turns out the assassin knows this specific jedi, but "Indara" does not know her. Indara is immediately characterized as calm, polite, respectful; the assassin seems inexperienced and rehearsed in the way she speaks, and is thrown off-balance by the laughter and Indara's refusal to accept her challenge. the assassin has a strong reaction to Indara's assertion that jedi do not attack the unarmed, denying her and immediately starting a brawl with the other patrons.

the assassin is strong, agile, with quick reaction time and practiced martial arts moves. Indara observes her calmly at first, and then simply dodges her acrobatic attacks with minimal effort. the fight escalates - the assassin takes out a blade, while Indara finally at least removes her hood for more freedom of movement. we see open Force-use for the first time, to stop an attack; we also see Indara's realization that the assassin is a fellow Force-user.

(the physical acting and sound effects sell this really well, too)

on a rewatch we also notice the differences from Indara's look 16 years earlier, and perhaps wonder what her new marking signifies, or even whether there's a connection to Vernestra's similar markings.

(also her white costume is so cool while remaining simple)

once a patron's life is in direct danger, Indara's focus immediately shifts (from passively observing the situation and figuring out whether her intervention is needed) to jumping into action and calling for backup/sharing information with the wider order. all of those things relate to her experiences on Brendok as well, though she is not aware of the direct connection to those events yet.

(the choreography is seriously so awesome. music matching their movements, too. dramatic afternoon lighting. fuck yeah.)

the assassin is clearly no match for the jedi master but Indara continues to simply deflect or try to subdue her and figure out who she is.

Indara recognizes her attacker (and we see her realization Mae survived the fall on Brendok).

the assassin uses the Force in combat for the first time, going on the offensive, and showing herself to be strong enough to slam a jedi master into a wall. with Indara's earlier questioning, we wonder who trained her. (Mae will go on to use the exact same surprise Force-shove on Osha in episode 5, too.)

the revelation and the assassin's renewed attack makes Indara finally take out her lightsaber, giving us an iconic look combined with the first occurrence of a heroic, starwarsy theme in the soundtrack. she is a hero, she is in control, and she is going to end this fight, right now.

(we also can tell she doesn't want to hurt Mae, and see Mae backing away with both fear and resolve. they are both so clearly thinking about their previous encounter and its fallout. you can see acknowledgement, guilt, and acceptance in Indara's every expression for the rest of the scene.)

(seriously, Carrie-Anne Moss conveyed so much in so little time!)

(Mae also, likely unknowingly, uses several sneaky tactics the Stranger will utilize in his confrontation on Khofar.)

(Mae also looks so fucking awesome taking out those knives with the Force, oh my god)

the assassin convinces Indara to power down her lightsaber by leveraging jedi non-violence philosophy (we learn that in her mind, the jedi are hypocrites or liars on this point, but want to be seen or see themselves that way - her Master reinforces just that line of thinking at the end of this episode).

Indara dies not by being overpowered but via trickery and her enemy exploiting her selflessness (and quite possibly accepts her death out of guilt).

(her white shirt, different from other jedi clothes in the show, also provides very nice contrast with her blood)

the assassin has a strong emotional reaction to Indara's death - there is surprise, relief, sadness, cold satisfaction at justice being served, but no glee. (she might be thinking that Indara doesn't deserve her fate but needs to die for justice to be done - her interactions with her were much more positive than with the others, and she didn't witness Indara doing anything wrong afterwards.) mournful music plays, the sun is getting low - this is not a story about the heroes, and Indara's death is not celebrated.

the assassin has no problem killing, but will not execute a child's parent in front of them. (she also freely leaves witnesses behind, differentiating her from the Stranger. she is not quite as ruthless, doesn't care at all about the long-term secrecy and survival of the Sith, and might not care about her own life/freedom beyond enacting her revenge.)

the title is revealed, with sinister, dramatic music. who is the "acolyte"? is it this still nameless assassin? acolyte of who?

anyway, what an opening!! suspenseful, beautiful, the action is fantastic and escalates on multiple levels (of danger, emotion, energy, location). there are seeds of several mysteries already sown, it leaves us curious to know more, characterizes older Indara well enough for the rest of the show, and has so much to be recontextualized after watching the rest of the season. the amount of detail put into the set and characters, never to be seen again, is neat :)

[wheretheharekissesthefox]

✍️ A Baldur's Gate 3 Fan Fic Author's Recommendations

WRITING

My first fic:

Baby, the stars shine bright

My latest fic:

Bon appétit - Holiday Special: Snow Cone

My favourite fic(s):

Bon appétit & Lavender & Starflower

My experimental/unusual fic(s):

Cock: Lost and Found & Sweet Little Treats

A fic that has a special place in my heart:

All I want for winter solstice is to see you smile

READING

2 of my favourite fics:

Lovable Losers Series by @patheticfangirl & Late Dawns and Early Sunsets by @badmarilynart

A comfort fic:

Rise and Fall by @hylianworrier

A fic that changed my brain chemestry:

Hot Mess by @patheticfangirl

A fic that doesn't leave my mind:

Driven by @nivasichakano

A fic that has a special place in my heart:

Seen by @ayvaines

Rare by @nyxueaurelia

A fic that surprised me:

As Soft and Light as Snow by sherstrader

A fic that gave me the Feels™:

A Harvest of Souls by @ashamedbliss

3 ongoing/unfinished fics that have me in a chokehold:

Afterlife by cweepa, @dummptruck & Furthest From Myself by completelyrotten & Sun, Sea, and Sanguine Arts by @ashamedbliss

(There are obviously more fics I love and follow, but I can't list them all. - I mean I could, but then we'd still be here next week XD)

Tagging: @ashamedbliss @patheticfangirl @nivasichakano

[victoriasugdens]

about me

logan ★ 20s ★ queer ★ nonbinary ★ he/they ★ brown latine

louie sun. darling moon. kenfolk rising.

the zouie your parents warned you about.

multifandom.

occasional gifmaker.

tired college student.

serial url changer.

the purple mutual™

fandom thoughts and opinions

because i know this can be a deal breaker when following

emmerdale: love robert. pro seb (though understanding of those who aren’t). pro liv (rip 💔). anti chas and paddy. not very fond of the dingles (except charity, eve and aaron of course).

one direction/louis: louis and zayn are my favorites. former la/rrie, just chilling now. i believe louis is queer and closeted. i don’t like harry but i don’t post or talk about him. i also don’t talk about baby/gate. i don’t keep up with their families and i’m of the opinion that they should be left alone. lthq critical. matt vines and simon jones neutral. fuck sim/on co/well.

yellowjackets: i love mari, misty, nat, lottie, travis and akilah. i don’t like shauna or jeff. critical of the ways characters of color are treated in comparison to white characters.

star trek: kirk is my favorite character. spirk with a side of mcspirk. i have a love/hate relationship with the aos movies. i love saavik and the mentor/student relationship between her and spock. currently making my way through all the other star trek shows.

favorites

music: louis tomlinson. rachel chinouriri. kendrick lamar. the warning. alemeda. jensen mcrae. blackswan. katseye. zayn malik. one direction. jade thirlwall. darumas. debii dawson. the last dinner party. samia. olivia rodrigo. the aces. honey revenge. soyoon. towa bird. pacifica. manumi. leigh anne pinnock. normani. fifty fifty. english teacher. chappell roan. the academic. idkhow. selena quintanilla. cat burns. lauren jauregui. beabadoobee. snarls. pale waves. meet me @ the altar. natalia lafourcade. the snuts. ryan ross. arctic monkeys. nova twins. hozier. blur. gorillaz.

characters: kieu my vu. laura franco. sam carpenter. mari ibarra. aylin keuaahree. clementine (twdg). robert sugden. victoria sugden. riri williams. anaïs davis. maya etienne. ava pereira. pat jindapat. ray pakorn. sana bakkoush. kali prasad. nancy wheeler. mike wheeler. lucas sinclair. jonathan byers. robin buckley. mj sevilla. bill potts. tabitha foster. wendy christensen. lottie matthews. natalie scatorccio. misty quigley. akilah. donna noble. martha jones. nancy gillian. james kirk. spock. leonard mccoy. nyota uhura. hikaru sulu. pavel chekov. montgomery scott. saavik. t’pring. michael burnham. richie tozier. simon haynes. calliope burns. elena alvarez. deena johnson. drea torres. tony stark. roman sanders.

ships: spirk. kieutou. ayluna. anobbie. robron. t’pura. violetine. yousana. ronance. kalancy. prinxiety. moceit. intrulogical. inkpa. calliette. ellister. reddie. stozier. samdeena. dreleanor. lottienat. mistynat. mistylot. lottielee. lottiemari. akilahmari. travkilah. sydlena. patpran. zimon.

people: view benyapa. freen sarocha. june wanwimol. mim rattanawadee. adria arjona. laura harrier. esther oruche. jude bellingham. manon bannerman. lara rajagopalan. sophia laforteza. fatou samba. sriya lenka. rachel zegler. savannah smith. bill hader. lupita nyong’o. chanelle moon.

misc: women. astronomy. education. astrology. platypuses. beluga whales. cats. purple. football (soccer). plushies. indie/pop/punk/alternative rock. rap and hiphop. vampires. thai gls. wlw media.

[silverheartlugia2000]

can someone help me brainstorm the next bit?

Danny was tired. More than tired, exhausted. Danny was the kind of tired that was so deep it looped right back around to constantly giddy. He sat in his chair at the Justice League meeting with a smile on his face and a vacant stare. The others were kinda giving him weird or concerned looks while he sang Twinkle Stars in his head cause the window kept distracting him. 

He should be paying attention to Hal who was talking, but his inner thoughts kept asking him if he could ask to go to Oa with the Green Lantern sometime cause, while he has been up around Earth’s space plenty of times now he’s rarely gone on trips off planet with anyone. Just because he’s wandered off during the trips once or twice they don't like bringing him unless they can rope him in the Fenton Fishing Line(™) that Jazz converted into what was basically a baby leash. He was almost 17! An adult! He didnt need no leash!!

Well except for when that happened…But he was better at it!! He couldn’t help it.. It just seemed to happen when he used up his powers a lot with no time to sleep or snack. Especially when he was still a new death, and it hardly ever happened anymore now that he was more experienced in managing his output! No one needed to know what his true core ghost form really looked like.. It just reflected how young he was as a ghost compared to everyone else he knew is all.

Heck Youngblood was almost 100 years dead. And while YB was still physically younger, he was still considered older than Danny! Apparently being a child ghost wasn’t quite the same as being the ghost OF a child. Eventually his core form should even out to reflect his death age in time..

Speaking of which he was hungry too, maybe when he gets home he could ask Mom for some of those Ecto cookies she hid away. She’s been putting them in the new ghost proof safe so Danny can't eat them all before dinner. They weren't nearly as good as Grampa’s but she has gotten better at not turning the food into ghosts, the hot dogs attack anything that even begins to twitch so that helps.

Wait, when was the last time he’d been home? There’d been an invasion going on the last week and the League was still scrambling with all the little things that happened because of that, looting, Lex trying to kill Superman while he’s tired, Joker’s jealousy popping up in a new attention grabbing scheme, more looting from low risk villains cause no one was around to stop them. Then the Big Three plus Flash getting pulled into another dimension temporarily. 

Lucky Danny was able to track them down and get them back home, though he missed the Watchtower by a longshot and landed somewhere in Kansas.. Future Master of Space and he still had trouble getting his Gate open to begin with sometimes. Though since it was so late when they came back they got to meet Superman's parents and spend the night. They were very nice, the mac n cheese they had for dinner that night was really good..

Maybe he should go home today, he didn't feel the giddy kind of tired anymore. He felt the bad kind of tired that happened just before that happened, he needed to go home to his family, his Mom would be happy to give him all the hugs he needed and Dad would sneak him snacks and Jazz and Sam and Tuck would let him nap and play all he wants until he feels ok enough to be his human age again. Maybe he could even go bug Dan for a bit.

He hasn't taken his meds lately either now that he thinks about it.. His travel box emptied a few days ago and he hasn't had time to get more, that's one good thing about being in the JL though, their own medical care and they actually had meds that work on weird metabolisms like his. Getting his anxiety and insomnia back under control had been a godsend after the two years he went without cause the accident made them not work anymore.

Just as this plan was finalized in his head the red lights and noise that mean bad things happening flashed and Danny loudly keens, curling into himself. Everyone is rushing off except for Superman and Batman who look at him worriedly. Tears prick his eyes and hands cover his ears, Superman obviously recognizes sensory overload with how strong the man's own are and Batman has so many Robins around Danny very much doubts he can miss an over tired teen nearing his limit.

But they have a job to do so with a deep breath Danny pulls himself together and takes off towards whatever is happening before the Justice Dads can call him out on it.

-

The fight itself shouldn't have been that hard especially since there were only a couple of them sent, the problem was that it was against one of the rarer rogues, and a magic one at that. Gentleman Ghost, he thinks? Which is why Danny got pulled along, cause of the power set. The guy might call himself a ghost but he didn't listen to Danny. Danny was the King! Danny was used to ghosts not listening, but most of the time that was his circle of frenemies who had known him since he was a new death, they claimed special rights as the ones who practically taught him ghost culture. They were more like extended aunts, uncles and siblings at this point. Except Spectra. Fuck Spectra..

This guy was more interested in his own shit and pissed at the fact that Batman outsmarted him on something again, what he didn’t know. The older ghost didn't even give him a second look, sure Danny didn't like flaunting his title and he wasn't able to fully use the Crown’s power for a few more centuries yet when he’d grown into it ghost wise but he was tired and getting pissed off. Mr Victorian is playing keep away and Danny is the only one that can keep up with him while Batman has to dodge things like walls and cars and the occasional blast of magic.

Things went to shit when he got hit. The magic hurt, he was used to being hurt seeing as fighting was practically socializing for a ghost, but there was just enough of the underlying feeling of electricity that made him tumble that last inch over the edge. 

He screamed.

It wasn’t a long one. Not nearly enough to get the full power in, a yelp of surprise more than a wail. But it was enough to blast the ghost unconscious and throw a few cars down the street, he was able to cut it off before he did more damage but it still felt bad that it happened. 

He felt bad that Batman had to arrest the ghost on his own, borrowing his thermos and catching the geezer so they could dump him on Constantine later, while Danny sat on the ground where he crashed, curled into himself and trying not to cry too loud. 

He felt more than saw, Batman coming back over to him and petting his hair softly, he was talking into the coms to someone but Danny didn’t care right now he just wanted to sleep. Danny flails for the hand that starts to retreat from its comfort. It comes back immediately and holds his and Danny is too tired to hold on anymore so he doesn't.

-

To say Batman is scared when Phantom gets hit is one thing. He’d seen the halfa take worse, it was the noise more than anything that scared him. He’d seen what Phantom’s Wail could do. And whatever had caused him to unleash it had to be bad. But he was glad the kid had enough awareness to cut it off immediately, his lessons on fine control with Canary were paying off. The fact that Phantom had shown clear signs of an incoming meltdown just half an hour before would have been enough to bench the kid from coming out at all if it wasn't for Constantine offering this mission instead. While the rest of the big hitters were busy with some kaiju-like monster that popped up on the other side of the world

Constantine had probably sensed Phantom’s exhaustion if the sudden diversion meant anything, cranky as the mage was to the rest of them, he had a soft spot for the kid, him and Marvel both. The two were as strong as any of the League, but they were still kids with way too much weight on their shoulders.

It almost didn’t work, Phantom kept insisting he was fine and could help, when John saddled up next to Batman and said something about an old artifact of magic power going up in a museum today, one that could be tempting for a particular rouge to steal if the talk he heard was anything to go by. Yes Batman had faced him alone before just fine but since the kid had a similar powerset, Phantom would be a big help on getting things done faster.

And that had been the turning point there. He has talked to Phantom’s sister before. She had told him at length when Danny first joined, his little tells and how to handle them. She and (Jason?Dick?) had been dating for a while at that point and Phantom had recently been recruited. It wasn’t unusual for Batman to feel threatened, between corporate sharks and kidnappers as Bruce to the endless supervillains as Batman. But it was rare that he felt the threats against him were justified, she wanted to protect her brother, and he’d be a hypocrite if he tried to argue that.

Phantom had a dual Obsession of Protection and Space, but Protection can be interpreted and sub divided in many ways, ghosts were possessive in general to what they saw as theirs and that's where the confusion was. Danny would Protect with all his might if there was danger yes, but specifically he preferred being Helpful more than anything. Even if it was only upgrading their equipment and defenses or even just flitting around fetching them things. It satisfied him either way.

Batman took a second to assess Phantom, swiping the thermos from his belt to contain the Gentleman Ghost. Really he should ask for one for himself, intangible villains were pains in the ass to contain..

He walks back to Phantom and runs fingers through his hair, fully set in Batdad mode, but unsure if the kid would tolerate anymore until he’s calmed back down.

“Oracle?”

“Here B.”

“Can you contact Nightingale? I’m bringing Phantom back to the tower, unable to tell if he’s physically hurt. But he’s clearly having a breakdown.”

“Like mind control, or RR up way past his no-sleep threshold?”

“I’m leaning towards the latter.” Batman does not sigh, cause that wouldn’t be a Batman thing to do. He does however move his hands away to secure the thermos and hit the remote control on the Batmobile, only for Phantom to whine and latch onto his wrist.

Batman quickly goes back to soothing the teen. Getting into a position to hoist him up when he was blinded by a bright light.

When Batman blinked the sparks out of his vision Phantom was no longer sprawled on the ground, instead Batman held a handful of black coils with a tuft of white.

-

(jazz when she gets to the tower) “Why did you let him go out if you knew he wasn’t ok?!”

“It was either let Constantine insist on chasing a literal phantom thief under my supervision, or let him fight a giant sea monster close to Korea.”

“....Ok fair..”

[pikapeppa]

20 Questions for Writers

Thanks x1000 to @vorchagirl for tagging me! I haven’t done one of these in a thousand years, and I feel like I’ve gone through a bit of a personal writing journey in the past year, so let’s see how this goes LOL.

Tagging forward to @sweetorangepoptart @contrivedchaos @johaeryslavellan @crackinglamb @galadrieljones @mwasaw @alyssalenko and honestly, anyone else who sees this and wants to participate. I’ve been so out of the loop with the Tumblr writer community that I can’t think of anyone else off the top of my noggin, but please guys, if you see this and want to join in, please do and tag me so I can read your answers! 🥰

1). How many works do you have on AO3?

107!

2). What’s your total AO3 word count?

6 553 384. Woah. When did that happen?? LOL

3). What are your top five fics by kudos?

Becoming Whole (Aloy x Kotallo), 1940 kudos

Until We Meet Again (Geralt x Reader), 1799 kudos

Stormbirds and Stalkers (Aloy x Nil), 1455 kudos

Put Your Spear Beside Mine (Aloy x Ikrie), 921 kudos

A Tantrum and a Know-It-All Grin (Fenris x femHawke), 901 kudos

4). What fandoms do you write for?

Currently, I’m only writing for One Piece. But I’ve written for Mass Effect: Andromeda (my OG fandom!), Horizon, Dragon Age, the Witcher (game not the show), Baldur’s Gate 3, and a handful of others including Samurai Champloo, Cyberpunk: Edgerunners, Far Cry 5 (for a beloved friend!), and Westworld. 

5). Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

As @vorchagirl said, absolutely! At the very least, it feels polite to thank those who actually took the time to leave a comment, especially if the comment was a really thoughtful/touching/insightful/funny one. Comments have also been a treasured way that I’ve found friends and community. The majority of my friends are people that I met through the comments, then transitioned into chatting on other platforms, many of whom I’ve had the great pleasure of meeting and hanging out with IRL. 

6). What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Fall Into The Tide (Sten x Mahariel), for sure. I wasn’t exactly sure how that fic would end when I started writing it, but I basically cried the whole time I wrote the last 2 chapters, and I still cry whenever I reread it. I loooove when people tell me in the comments how much it made them cry LMAO. 

7). What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Most of my fics have happy endings, I think! But the first one that came to mind is Inadvisable, my triple-romance modern AU where Solas, Abelas and Felassan all get happily-ever-afters and engagements with their Lavellans. Every fic of my Geralt x Reader series also has a very happy ending 🥰

8). Do you get hate on fics?

I have! Not often, but it has happened. I respond to it by deleting the rude comments and block-muting the commenter on AO3. I engaged one single time when I was in a particularly pissy mood and regretted it; the commenter was a J.K. Rowling-loving incel so I really shouldn’t have responded LOL and I learned my lesson quickly. 

I feel like every writer will get hate eventually if they write enough and for long enough — by which I mean that receiving hate has nothing to do with you as the writer, and it’s all about that person having Issues™ lol. 

9). Do you write smut?

Huehuehue. [waves at my AO3] BEHOLD: MY FILTH. 😂 I started writing specifically because I felt that we deserved a proper sex scene between Reyes Vidal and Ryder in Mass Effect: Andromeda, so one could argue that smut was the driving force that got me here. 🤣

10). Do you write crossovers?

Nope! No particular reason, really. I just haven’t really thought of a crossover I’d want to write. 

11). Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yes — a few years ago, some asshole was stealing fics off of AO3 and turning them into ebooks and selling them on Amazon, and Stormbirds & Stalkers was one of them. A friend of mine found it and told me, and a bunch of other friends left one-star reviews stating that the stories (and others posted by the same idiot) were stolen, and they quickly got taken down. 

12). Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! A very beloved friend of mine has translated Window Bird (Aloy x Avad) into Russian, and I gave permission to another reader for Becoming Whole (Aloy x Kotallo) to be translated into Russian as well (AN INSANE UNDERTAKING, IMO, given that BW is >700k words, but hey, go for it LOL). Window Bird and the portion of Becoming Whole that has been translated are here! 

13). Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

Nope! I have collaborated with artists though, notably @schoute and @elbenherzart: they’ve made the beautiful art while I’ve written the actual fic, with their input re: their OCs, and some VERY APPRECIATED help from Schoute for planning fight scenes, which I hate writing! 🤣

14). What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Oh my god no don’t ask me this LOL. Solavellan has always been a favourite of mine, both to write and to read, because of how complex and multifaceted Solas is, and how complex that can make the relationship. FemHawke is a VERY close second, particularly the rivalmance with mage!Hawke.

I would also be remiss if I failed to mention my first-ever OG videogame ship: Shakarian. I haven’t written more than a quick oneshot for Garrus and Shepard since my canon Shepard dies (I’m a control ending girl), but I looooove this ship so much and I have never been able to romance anyone else but Garrus. 🤣

15). What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Oh dear. So I’ll split this answer into two.

The WIP I would dearly like to finish is Making The Bird Sing, which is Samson/Roman Hawke, who belongs to @schoute. I don’t talk about this ship much, but I think about it SO OFTEN and I love their dysfunctional complicated dynamic sooooo much. The main reason I haven’t continued it is that the next chapter would be the Chantry explosion debacle, and I just don’t have it in me right now to write a battle scene. But I really, REALLY want to finish this fic because I have visions for what would happen between them during the Inquisition days. I still have hope that I’ll find the juice to finish this fic someday. 

The WIP that I do not think I will end up finishing, unfortunately, is The Sweetness of Second Chances (Felassan/Tamaris Lavellan/Solas). I started writing it when I was still in the post-Veilguard high, but the comedown hit too hard and came with too much disappointment, so I don’t think I’ll find the heart to work on this fic anymore, sadly. 

16). What are your writing strengths?

Smut! Dialogue too, I think, especially incorporating dialogue into smut to make the smut scenes personal. And feels? People often remark on how much they love the feels in my fics!

17). What are your writing weaknesses?

🤷‍♀️ HAHAHA. I'm not even trying to be cocky; I just I don’t write with the goal of being like “hm how can I improve as a writer”. I’m just here to have a good time. I’m sure there are professional editors who could tell me what areas I could stand to improve on, but honestly, I don't give a shit LOL. All I care about with my writing these days is making myself happy. 

18). Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic?

Dialogue, as in entire conversations? No. I feel that it breaks immersion too much. IN ALL FAIRNESS, I have used other-language phrases in fics before, particularly Elven dirty-talk in the Dragon Age world. But it’s either part of the plot that the person hearing the Elven doesn’t understand, OR it’s not crucial to the plot, and the reader can wait until the translation notes at the end to understand exactly what was said. 

Little phrases here and there, on the other hand, such as pet names or curses that are easily understandable with context? Absolutely yes. 

19). First fandom you wrote for?

Mass Effect: Andromeda! I mentioned this earlier, but REYES AND RYDER DESERVED TO FUCK. 

ALTHOUGH. I used to draw and write cartoon strips about myself and people I knew in high school with made-up high-school drama plots and romances. Would we count that as self-insert real-person fic? 🤣

20). Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

Nnnnnnnnnooooooooooooooooo. HAHAHA. There are so many ways to answer this question LOL.

I had the most fun writing Inadvisable and Where The Winds Of Fortune Take Me because I was collaborating with my BFFs for those (@schoute and @elbenherzart, as mentioned above). It was just such an indescribable gift to have friends on board who were just as excited about those projects as I was. There really is nothing quite like the joy of having friends as a grown-ass adult who can get as immersed and invested as you in the act of creating for an imaginary world.   

I also have a special category of fics that I would call gift fics to myself: fics that I wrote to be tailor-made for my tastes and are exactly what I wanted to read, and I didn’t give a shit if anyone else ever read them. Just Hold On, We're Going Home (Samurai Champloo, Jin/Fuu/Mugen) is the number one of my favourite self-gift fics and I reread it a couple of times a year, but other self-gift fics include Stealth Trials (Aloy/Stealth Trials Keeper in HZD), Everything (Teia/Viago, Dragon Age), and my Zoro/Reader series (One Piece). And, currently, most belovedly, I am hoarding all the Sanji/OC fic I’ve written and have not shared it with anyone yet except for my nakama @schoute and @perhapsrampancy. I have been relishing in rereading my own Sanji chapters in private like a little gremlin. 😂

Thanks to anyone who read all the way to the end here! Have a spiritual cupcake while I head off to the kitchen to make them 😂🧁🤲

-- love from your friendly neighourhood Pika xoxo

[neros-w]

fontaine's real problem

!!! spoilers for all of 3.X and the quests within !!!

this was our first real look at fontaine:

yes, i've made several posts about my disappointment with hoyoverse's way of handling lore by putting them in promotional content, but as our time in fontaine progressed, what this first real look at fontaine presented gave us three (3) problems to work with

extrajudicial actions in fontaine's policing ("the just little melusine will never act without authorization and accuse an innocent ... well, not usually that is")

fontaine's inherent xenophobia ("if anyone suspiscious appears, such as an unknown outlander, she'll be sure to watch their every move"); and,

fleuve cendre

now, these are all problems separate from The Prophecy™, of which states that all fontainians are sinners and that their sin cannot be absolved and will lead to the flooding of fontaine.

that and fleuve cendre are my main points for this critique.

part one: the flood

that first real look is part of the reason why everyone's initial theories about fontaine were abt revolution and classism. fresh off the heels of arcane's first season and honkai star rail's belobog, it's hard not to draw conclusions about where everyone got their assumptions.

and that was fontaine's real problem.

there was, supposedly, a flood that was going to be inevitable and the only people mobilizing were the house of the hearth (seen as an third-party/foreign organization because it's an orphanage usually headed by a fatui harbinger that fostered children all over teyvat to become child soldiers/sleeper agents. see: shuumatsuban operations world quest).

(note: you can argue that the spina is also getting involved but they're not explicitly helping out about The Prophecy. they mostly just settle people's legal problems when the court refuses to cooperate by getting people in touch with anyone working pro-bono or straight up connecting them to the mob. check navia's "Something to Share: The Dependable Spina di Rosula")

beyond the hearth, two other people are planning things for The Prophecy: (1) wriothesley, who built an ark. underwater. because sure ofc he is, they're right next to the sluice gate. and (2) furina, who was consulting the experts (the research institute) because even though she was unaffected by the floods (she lives in the penthouse of the palais mermonia. check: sedene, "Tell me about Lady Furina"), she knew it was going to happen anyway.

note that despite these efforts, the priority was not on the people at risk of being affected by sudden flood. you know, like people living by coastlines or, say, underground.

part two: the hovels

indeed, the first people affected by the floods were the ones in charge of the sluice gate, meropide, where neuvillette personally had to step in to put a raincheck on the prophecy

the next? poisson, an entire population of people living in a hole in the ground.

and nothing is left to say about the people living in the literal sewers of the court, our first look at fontaine, fleuve cendre.

hovels like fleuve cendre and poisson are evidence of fontaine's edifice complex, overt classism, and general reception towards ex-convicts. most residents within fleuve cendre and poisson are either fresh out of exile (meropide) or have experienced several generations worth of poverty bc they had family that had been fresh out of exile (check: fleuve cendre ferryman, viewpoint: where dark tides echo).

fleuve cendre, historically, has had major clashes against the court. once fontaine started getting industrialized, the impoverished were shoved down underground. there were bans on power tools (most of the people put down there were in construction) to prevent incidents like the siege of poisson. the children of anyone arrested were sent to the now defunct narzissenkreusz institute.

part three: "the legal gray areas," fan reception, and conclusion

now, what's interesting to me (and i do mean this negatively), is that most people's kneejerk reaction to any critique towards furina and neuvillette (and the rest of the court, for that matter) regarding poisson, fleuve cendre, and the ex-exiles of meropide is that none of the playable characters in positions of considerable power had no say on what happens to any of these areas.

which is a funny thing to claim when numerous fontaine playable characters are in seats of considerable authority, have generational wealth, and often do not live within those areas. some of them even have the means to create better living areas for those impoverished people. one of them had a fucking ark made. underwater. in prison.

i think it's safe to conclude that if an area is impoverished within any nation, so much so that there are children living in the sewers, that there are children born and raised in prison that have never seen the sun, and that there are people living in a hole in the ground when an active flood is imminent, that there's probably a big problem in the government called corruption and neglect.

look, i loved fontaine's archon quest as much as the next guy, but i can't say i loved it, warts and all. if i see a city in the sewers, i'm willing to gamble that it's going to end up a loaded chekhov's gun.

and yes, i'm aware that it's okay to let infrastructural problems like poverty be in a plot that's about something fantastical. but you cannot be mad at me when i say that how fleuve cendre, poisson, and meropide's existences and presence within fontaine's narrative was handled was a disappointment.

the poverty was a problem, and we all chose to gloss over it.

[the-most-humble-blog]

🔥 I RUN HOT A Blacksite Literature™ Poem

---

I run hot. I always run hot. Blame my male biology.

That’s what I do. I am the passion-heart that burst past your fence, broke loose through the iron gate, and turned feral in the soft corners of your land.

I run hot like the sex of a dying star— supernova mid-thrust, screaming into the black with such intensity, it fries sensors in observatories on Earth.

Nay.

I am solar flame incarnate. Extinction in human skin. I burn prehistoric monsters to dust just to make way for the birth canal of the future.

Get the f*ck out the way. Because I run hot.

Hot like your mother’s stove on high, right before she bolted mid-coitus to stop the kitchen from setting the whole house ablaze.

Hot like the evolutionary testosterone of the Homo sapien demigod who turned cave moans into war cries and spilled seed until the earth bore 10 billion.

Hot like obsession. Like focus. Like that prehistoric grunt that meant, mine.

I run hot like every pulse that ever drummed through a warm-blooded man— the kind that made your girl’s pupils dilate, eyes roll, scream split the ceiling, and her mother knock on the door mid-exorcism.

Don’t blame me. Don’t fear me. Don’t try to tame me.

Just know: If I’m in the room— something’s about to melt.

Reblog if you’ve ever felt heat crawl up your spine from just a voice

Like if your body ever reacted before your brain caught up

Follow @the-most-humble-blog for scrolltrap poetry, cadence combustion, and heat that can’t be simulated

[celebreadd]

🪬 CELEBREADD™ SCROLL

THE CARTER CONSTELLATION

Beyoncé, Jay-Z, Blue Ivy, Rumi, and Sir

🔮 An Energetic Grid Reading by Monte Jovan Patterson

The Carter family is not a brand. They’re a living constellation—five points of sacred geometry spiraling around protection, purpose, and prophecy.

🌌 GRID OVERVIEW:

This isn’t privacy.

It’s containment magic.

This isn’t absence.

It’s frequency shielding.

Each member holds a position in the celestial code of a soul-based lineage being rewritten in real-time.

⸻

👑 BEYONCÉ

The Veiled Throne.

High Priestess of curated presence.

She anchors the center of the grid with extreme intentionality.

Silence is her spell. Strategy is her scripture.

She is the keeper of what the public will never see—and never deserves to.

🔐 Aura: Gold crystalline overlay

⸻

🦁 JAY-Z

The Karma Smith.

Alchemist of legacy wounds.

Once loud, now silent. Once dominant, now devoted.

He reforges the masculine template through presence, not performance.

🧱 Aura: Indigo-brushed Earth tones

🔴 Rooted | 🟡 Quietly empowered | Inner child in recalibration

⸻

🌹 BLUE IVY

The Inner Oracle.

She sees. She absorbs. She steadies the vibration of her siblings through public grace.

She was chosen to be visible so the others could remain unseen.

She is the watcher who is already writing her own scrolls.

🌸 Aura: Platinum lavender with phoenix-pink sparks

💚 Heart strong | 👁️ Third Eye pulsing in discretion

⸻

🌿 RUMI

The Frequency Keeper.

Rumi emits a field that alters attention, electricity, and energetic bandwidth.

She is not hidden.

She is preserved.

A soft storm who cannot be filtered through public gaze.

🧿 Aura: Soft opal blue, static veil overlay

👁️ Hidden third eye, tuned only to high frequencies

⸻

🌀 SIR

The Lock on Time.

Sir is the temporal anchor. He decides when something unfolds.

He is the quiet gravitational pull on the family’s karmic orbit.

Doesn’t speak much in photos—because his presence already speaks in waves.

⚙️ Aura: Bronze & indigo spiral

🔴 Root + Earth Star grounded | operates between time planes

⸻

💔 BLESSINGS & BURDENS

• This family was not built for fame. It was summoned to hold frequency.

• Their heartbreak? Never being fully known.

• Their blessing? Never needing to be.

⸻

🔱 TINA KNOWLES

The Matriarchal Grid Weaver.

Every boundary Beyoncé holds, Tina stitched first.

She didn’t just raise a daughter—she shaped a throne veil.

⸻

🪞 KANYE WEST

The Disruption Prophet.

A former satellite in the grid.

Now a warning symbol.

What happens when the veil rips too wide, too fast, with no one guarding the gate.

⸻

📡 FINAL TRANSMISSION:

“We are not raising stars.

We are raising sanctuaries.”

“Our children are not your curiosity.

They are your invitation to remember your own divinity.”

—

✍🏽 Channeled & Sealed by

Monte Jovan Patterson

Energetic Intuitive Medium of ALLEY3™

📜 Creator of CELEBREADD™

[wraetingsonthewall]

WIP Intro: The One That Has Yet To Be Named™

This is more than just a memory It's the quiet place where everything that's warm and real inside of me still lives Break your crown and throw it tumbling to the earth Burn the gates of heaven down, if it's real - crywolf ft. emalyn, tenebrescence

GENRE: fantasy, romance

POV: first person, present tense

SETTING: the Kingdom of Caylan in Tarryne, a fantasy world leeched of all its magic as a result of a prophecy from hundreds of years ago

STATUS: girl (gn) I wish I knew

TROPES/THEMES: magic, prophecies, betrayal, lovers to enemies, strangers to not-quite lovers to enemies (?) to reluctant allies to lovers (we getting messy up in here), after the happy ever after, rebellion, communication via dreams, dark forests

SUMMARY:

It's been four years since the rebellion was defeated, its leader killed and the location of the catalyst that had the power to bring magic back to Tarryne and thus tear the world apart remained safely hidden. Vivian Ashdown fought her war and married the prince - now king - whom she had helped save the world. It should be the end of her story. She had gotten her happy ever after... Or had she? Because among the Governance's demands for her to birth an heir to the throne and her general struggle to truly find her place in this new world of royals and politics, she begins to have strange dreams. Dreams of a person who had betrayed her as bitterly as no one ever had before: Caden Faramond. The man she watched die four years ago. And in her dreams, he claims that there's a terrible truth she has yet to uncover and a something coming that could turn her world back upside down. She knows she shouldn't trust the image of the rebellion's leader her mind conjures up at night, but an incident one especially chaotic afternoon makes her pause - and question. Could everything she ever believed to be true really be a lie? And when her relationship turns more and more strained, when she slips up one day and reveals something that could make her husband hunt her down for the rest of her life, Vivian decides she's had enough. She's going to get back out there and find out whatever terrible something Caden could possibly be talking about.

EXCERPT:

“Tashyr, huh?” he asks, looking up at the glittering expanse of the night sky above us. Quiet chatter and music carries through the air from the solstice festivities in the market square a few streets behind us and the lights from all the lanterns dulls the shine of the stars a bit. “Like the star?”

I nod, but don't look up at the sky. Instead I get distracted by the view of his profile, the elegant slope of his nose perfectly visible from this angle. He wears his hair pulled back in a loose ponytail tonight, allowing me to trace his sharp cheekbones with my eyes and watch as his mouth pulls up in a slight smile. 

“Asra,” he whispers and drags his gaze back down from the sky, tilting his head to look at me. The gray in his eyes is subdued tonight, slightly less stormy and chaotic than usual, but I'm not sure if that's because of the atmosphere or because of the white light of the moon softening his features.

My jaw falls slightly open when I hear the word. Asra. He uses the word for “light” derived from the tale of Nox, the goddess of the night and the sky who climbed down from her throne in the heavens to give humanity the gift of light in form of the moon and the stars so that they might find their way even in the deepest of nights.

“A fitting name, I suppose,” he muses. “The brightest star in the sky, lighting a weary traveler's way through the dark. Just like you, my dear Miss Browne.”

For once, I don't react to his flirty tone. I just keep staring at him, slightly perplexed.

“You know Tiryllan.”

He laughs. “And evidently, so do you.”

There's a glint in his eyes as he stands from his place on the stone wall that fences in the little garden behind the church, jumps back down to the ground with a soft thud and holds out a hand to help me off the wall as well.

“Come,” he says. “There's a celebration to get back to.”

I pry my eyes open against the blinding light of the sun streaming through the small space between my deep red curtains. I must have not closed them all the way yesterday evening.

The memory has me staring at the ceiling and furrowing my brows. Looking back, it should have been the biggest clue that nothing about Caden was quite as it seemed. Asra. The way he derived the nickname from my middle name, the one I barely ever tell anyone about... Tiryllan is a dead language, as far as most people are concerned. It is a language deeply entwined with the tales of old and the magic people wielded all those years ago and as such, it died along with the last drop of magic remaining in Tarryne. The only people who still speak it today are the rebels. Well, the rebels and my father with his love for old tomes. I should have known something was wrong at Caden's easy use of the old word.

[bg3screenshotdump]

Don't know if you have done it on your blog but can you introduce us to your Tavs? Like a Character Profil Template. :)

This has been in my inbox for ages, and if i wait until I have everything perfectly set up like i wanted before answering i believe i'll never answer :'D

so perfection and fear of being cringe and seen be damned i'm doing it it now !

so far the only things i have for my tavs on this blog is their respectives tags you can find in the sidebar of my blog :')

so i'll just list them here and i'll make them more detailed pages later, when i have time and feel confident enough to share more of the backstories i imagined :')

( warning, piss poor writing in coming i suck at writing in my native language and it's even worse in english )

Delsys - My 1rst Full release Tav, half wood elf orphan, beastmaster ranger who ended up serving as a guardian of the druidic order that found and raised her. she's a big introvert and has piss poor social skills, litteraly her only friends are her owl companion, Verbena and Trilli ( even if she feels disconected from her two very extroverted and playful friends ) she's been following the orders and lead of the druids for most of her life so she's really not confident in her new role as the leader of the bg3 party, ( she's not confident about a lot of things actually, tbh the only thing she's not insecure about is her archery skills ) and unfortunately for everyone she tends to hide those insecurities behind a tough and apathetic mask

Trilli Bumbleroot - archfey warlock/bard forest gnome - lover of music, dancing, nature and village festivals, she's just a little gal who loves traveling, i'm still not entierly sure of who i want her archfey patron to be, but she took a contract when she left her village in order to have enough power to protect herself on the road. During her travels she eventually came across Delsys ( who wasn't born yet ) and Verbena's druidic order and she's been bestie with Verbena ever since and unfortunately for the other druids when the both of them put their mind together tomfoolery ensues

Verbena Ferngrass - Wood elf druid - high bimbo of the same druidic order that raised Delsys ( and she kind of sees her as a little sister ) she's a big extrovert, a big flirt, she values her personal freedom and fun above all else, she thinks with her vag and is always pulling Delsys into all kind of situations™ She considers Trilli to be her best friend ( and they kiss sometimes )

Vetra - Githyanki war cleric of Vlaakith - soft and curious soul who's been battered and hardened by her training as both a warrior and a priestess, now that she's in faerun she starting to feel a bit more free to be explore and connect back to the parts of her personality she had to hide behind her now no-nonsense tough persona

Kastyn Firebeard - warrior/maybe paladin ( haven't decided yet) - mercenary coming from a blacksmith family, don't have much of a backstory for her yet :') just that she was disatisfied about her life in the mercenary group she was a part of, mostly because she had no control over the missions they took, and those missions sometimes went agaisnt her moral code

Healstra Ssiwin - lolth drow Sorceress - Bit on the fence about her story and personality :'x i'm not sure why exactly she chose to go to the surface,i initially made the Astromancer robes mod for her, so i had in mind that she wanted to see and study the stars but idk, i'll think i'll need to document myself on drow a bit more to get better ideas :'D

Cyn Clarilieu - my EA tav, basic noble human turned paladin ( is now tall and buff thanks to the full release Bodytype 3 ❤️) good aligned, annoyingly too self-righteous at times

Shani Cotton - Halfling rogue - Street urchin turned criminal in Baldur's gate lower city, magpie brainded if-it-shiny-i-want-it ,quite loose morals so she doesn't care if she has to kill or maim to obtain what she wants

Oriann Aleviir - my co-op tav, half drow - cringefail 8 dex blew-her-own-face-off-with-fire-spell wild magic sorcerer, terrified for her life 24/7 and will make every bad choices out of fear and gullibleness ( highly manipulable, will probably end up a squid as a result )