#;; the observer of destiny ;; (the watcher)

[h-a-unted]

Characters tags (ignore these)

[thewulf]

Veiled Allegiance || Aragorn

Summary: Request: I was wondering if I could request an Aragorn x reader where the fellowship is already on their quest and maybe the reader is a ranger or just a good fighter but maybe she saves Aragorn’s life and he asks her to join them... Read Rest Here

A/N: Ahhh loved writing this one! Thank you so much for the request. As always, please keep them coming!

Pairing: Legolas x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.5k +

TW: General LOTR triggers, anxiety, orcs, bows, knives, killing creatures

The forest whispered secrets to those who dared to listen, its ancient boughs swaying in a silent dance with the wind. Among the shadows, you moved with the grace of a predator, your cloak melding seamlessly with the darkness that coated the land. You were a Ranger of Ithilien, a ghost in the night, your past veiled in mystery and your purpose known only to yourself.

It was amidst the tangled undergrowth of the woods that you stumbled upon them; a ragtag group of travelers bound by a common purpose. The Fellowship, they called themselves, their faces etched with determination and the weight of their quest heavy upon their shoulders. And yet, amidst the weariness and uncertainty, there burned a flicker of hope, a flame that refused to be extinguished. You followed and listened to the nine males walking towards their sure death, so you learned. Who in their right mind would travel to the dark with such determination?

At first, you observed from the shadows, your keen eyes taking in every detail, every nuance of their interactions. You watched as they argued and laughed, their friendship a testament to the bonds that bound them together. And though you remained on the periphery, a silent observer in a world not your own, a part of you longed for the connection they shared.

It was on a fateful night, beneath the shadow of darkness, that your paths would intersect in unexpected ways. The Fellowship found themselves beset by enemies; their camp surrounded by creatures hungry for blood. With blades drawn and hearts pounding, they prepared to face their assailants, unaware of the silent watcher in their midst.

As arrows flew and steel clashed in the night, you swiftly engaged, a lethal force amidst the chaos. Closer to the heart of battle with each fallen foe, your presence epitomized death's fury. Amidst the aftermath, you stood amidst carnage, your cloak stained by enemy blood.

Silence fell heavy, punctuated only by fallen breaths, before the Fellowship turned to you, eyes filled with gratitude and wonder. Bonds formed, destinies entwined, as you found your place among them amidst the battle's ruins.

"You have proven yourself a true ally this night," he said, his voice carrying the weight of authority and respect. "Will you join us on our journey?" For he knew the value of having another person skilled in battle would be for the Fellowship.

His words hung in the air, heavy with significance. You met his gaze, your own eyes searching his for any hint of deception or ulterior motive. But all you found was sincerity, a genuine desire for your companionship on their quest.

For a moment, the weight of his request bore down upon you, the magnitude of the decision looming large in your mind. You had spent so long walking the path of solitude, guarding your heart against the pain of betrayal and loss. To join the Fellowship was to forsake the shadows that had been your home for so long, to step into the light and embrace the bonds of friendship and camaraderie.

But as you looked upon the faces of your newfound acquaintances, their expressions filled with hope and trust, you knew that your journey lay not in solitude, but in the company of kindred spirits. With a nod, you accepted Aragorn's offer, your voice steady as you spoke your oath of allegiance.

"I will join you," you said, your words a solemn vow. "Together, we will face whatever trials lie ahead, united in purpose and bound by the ties that bind us."

And as the Fellowship gathered around you, their voices raised in a chorus of affirmation, you felt a sense of belonging wash over you, a feeling long forgotten amidst the shadows of the past. For in that moment, amidst the ruins of battle, you had found not just allies, but friends—companions on a journey that would test the limits of courage and compassion, and forge bonds stronger than steel.

As the days turned to nights and the Fellowship journeyed ever onward towards their destiny, you found yourself gradually forging connections with each member, your bond with them growing stronger with every shared hardship and triumph.

With Legolas, it was amidst the tranquil beauty of the forests that you found common ground. As fellow guardians of the natural world, you shared a deep appreciation for the wonders of the wilderness, your spirits entwined with the song of the trees and the whisper of the wind. Together, you roamed the woodlands, your laughter mingling with the rustle of leaves as you regaled each other with tales of your travels.

Gimli, though gruff and stubborn at first, soon warmed to your presence, his respect for your prowess in battle matched only by his loyalty to his companions. Through shared trials and triumphs, you earned his trust, your determination and courage earning his admiration. And though your banter was often filled with jests and barbs, beneath the surface lay a bond forged in the fires of battle, unbreakable and true.

With Frodo and Sam, it was a connection born of shared burdens and the weight of destiny. As guardians of the Ring, they bore a heavy burden, their hearts weighed down by the knowledge of the perilous quest that lay before them. Yet, despite the darkness that threatened to consume them, there burned a flicker of hope—a hope that you found yourself drawn to like a moth to a flame

The connection you forged with Gandalf was one steeped in wisdom and guidance. As the Fellowship's guide and mentor, he possessed a wealth of knowledge that proved invaluable on their perilous journey. From the depths of Moria to the towering peaks of Caradhras, Gandalf's wisdom and foresight guided the Fellowship through the darkest of times.

With Merry and Pippin, it was your kindness and compassion that endeared you to them, your willingness to lend a helping hand in times of need earning their undying gratitude. Together, you shared in their mischief and their merriment, your laughter echoing through the halls of Moria and the fields of Rohan alike. And though their innocence sometimes tested your patience, their unwavering loyalty and steadfast friendship were a constant source of comfort in the darkest of times.

Boromir, though burdened by the weight of his own fears and doubts, found solace in your steadfastness and determination. In your presence, he saw a kindred spirit—a warrior forged in the crucible of adversity, yet unbroken and unbowed. Together, you stood against the tide of darkness, your courage inspiring him to rise above his own limitations and fight for the greater good.

With Aragorn, the bond that blossomed between you was one of mutual respect and shared determination. From the moment you saved their lives in the heat of battle, a bond was forged, strengthened by the trials and tribulations of the journey ahead.

As a fellow Ranger, Aragorn understood the weight of duty and the burden of leadership, and in you, he found a kindred spirit—a warrior forged in the crucible of adversity, your resolve unyielding in the face of danger.

Together, you stood at the forefront of the Fellowship, your skills in battle complementing each other's strengths and weaknesses. In Aragorn's steadfast leadership and unwavering courage, you found inspiration, his presence a beacon of hope in the darkest of times.

But it was not just on the battlefield that your bond deepened. In the quiet moments shared around the campfire, you listened as Aragorn spoke of his past and his struggles, his voice tinged with the weight of responsibility that lay upon his shoulders. And in those moments, you offered words of wisdom and encouragement, your own experiences serving as a guiding light in the darkness.

Yet, it was not just Aragorn's strength that drew you to him, but also his compassion and empathy. In the face of adversity, he remained steadfast in his commitment to protecting those under his care, his heart a wellspring of kindness and understanding.

And as the Fellowship pressed on towards their destiny, you found solace in the quiet moments shared with Aragorn, his friendship a source of strength and inspiration. For in the heart of darkness, even the smallest gestures of kindness can illuminate the path forward, forging bonds that transcend the boundaries of time and space.

You and the Fellowship journeyed onward towards the treacherous lands of Mordor, each step a reminder of the perils that lay ahead. It was amidst this backdrop of uncertainty that the gnarled creature, a servant of the dark lord Sauron, lunged at Aragorn as he led the group, its claws poised to strike. In a heartbeat, you interceded, your instincts guiding your blade to block the blow meant for him. The impact sent shockwaves of pain coursing through your body as you staggered back, blood seeping from the wound at your side.

Aragorn's eyes widened in disbelief as he reached out to steady you, his voice laced with concern. "Are you alright?"

You offered him a grim smile, trying to downplay the severity of your injury. "Just a scratch."

But Aragorn would not be dissuaded, his gaze lingering on the blood staining your cloak. "You saved my life," he murmured, his gratitude evident. "I owe you a debt I cannot repay."

With a weary sigh, you shook your head, attempting to deflect his gratitude. "There is no debt between comrades in arms."

Legolas and Aragorn took it upon themselves to tend to your deep wound, their skilled hands gentle yet firm as they cleaned and dressed the injury you had sustained. In their care, you found a measure of solace, their presence a soothing balm to the ache that lingered in your body and soul.

But it was not just the physical wounds that they sought to heal. With each passing day, they offered words of encouragement and support, their unwavering faith in your abilities serving as a reminder of the strength that lay within you. And in their company, you found yourself opening up, sharing the trauma of your past and the burdens you carried with a vulnerability you had long thought lost.

It was during one such moment of vulnerability that Aragorn's gaze fell upon the myriad of scars that marred your skin, his eyes widening in silent horror at the evidence of the pain you had endured. "Who did this to you?" he whispered; his voice thick with emotion.

For a moment, you hesitated, the memories of past betrayals and heartache threatening to overwhelm you. But then, with a steadying breath, you met his gaze, your voice raw with emotion. "There are shadows in my past that I would sooner forget," you admitted. "But perhaps, with time, I can learn to trust again."

Aragorn's expression softened; his eyes filled with understanding as he listened to your words. He reached out, his hand gently tracing the outline of one of the scars, a silent gesture of empathy and solidarity. "I cannot undo the pain of your past," he began, his voice gentle yet resolute, "but I swear to you, I will do everything in my power to ensure that no harm befalls you under my watch."

His words were like a soothing balm to your wounded soul, offering a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness that had long clouded your heart. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you allowed yourself to believe that perhaps, just perhaps, there was still light to be found in this world.

In the days that followed, Aragorn remained true to his word, his steadfast presence a pillar of strength and support. He watched over you with a quiet protectiveness, his keen eyes ever vigilant for any sign of danger or distress.

And as the Fellowship pressed on towards the heart of Mordor, you found yourself drawing closer to Aragorn, your walls slowly crumbling in the face of his unwavering kindness and compassion. With each passing day, the bond between you deepened, built through adversity, and tempered by the trials of the journey.

One evening, as the campfire crackled merrily and the stars twinkled overhead, you found yourself sitting beside Aragorn, your shoulders touching as you stared into the dancing flames. The silence between you was comfortable, filled with an unspoken understanding that transcended words.

Finally, Aragorn broke the silence, his voice soft as he spoke. "You have faced much hardship in your life, haven't you?" he asked, his gaze fixed on the fire.

You hesitated, the memories of past betrayals and heartache threatening to resurface. But then, with a sigh, you nodded. "Yes," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I have lived much of my life alone, guarding myself against the pain of letting others in."

Aragorn turned to look at you, his eyes filled with empathy and understanding. "I know what it is to carry the weight of past pain," he said, his voice tinged with sadness. "But I also know that true strength lies not in solitude, but in the bonds we build with others."

His words struck a chord deep within you, resonating with a truth you had long denied. And as you looked into his eyes, you saw something there that mirrored your own pain—a vulnerability that he had long kept hidden beneath a mask of stoicism.

Something shifted between you, a silent acknowledgment of the shared scars that bound you together. And as the night wore on, you found yourself opening up to Aragorn in a way you had never thought possible, sharing your fears and insecurities with a vulnerability you had long thought lost.

As the days turned into weeks, you found yourself gradually softening towards those around you, your heart thawing in the warmth of companionship and camaraderie. And though the road ahead was still fraught with danger and uncertainty, you knew that as long as Aragorn walked beside you, you would find the courage to face whatever challenges awaited you and emerge stronger in the end.

For in the heart of darkness, even the most jaded souls can find redemption in the light of love and friendship, their scars transformed into badges of honor by the steadfast kindness of those who refuse to give up on them.

LOTR: Permanent Taglist (If you'd like to be added to any or all works please fill out the form here (Taglist Sign Up): @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @guacam011y @illisea @il0vebeingdelulu @hiireadstuff

[xaz-fr]

WBW back to some more light hearted lore less fucked up cult shit!

The Deeprealm is a place of dreams. A reality slightly to the left of Sorienth's. You can only visit it in your sleep and within it both nightmares and dreams walk among it as real things. These dreams can be the past, or the future, that visitors of the Deeprealm can see as prophecies.

The stars are not the only true denizens of the Deeprealm. They aren't even the most common or the most rare.

One of the rarest are known as Deeprealm Watchers. Benevolent creatures of the Deeprealm of unknowable age and power. They are the true Elder Gods of the Deeprealm. As soon as the first dream was had the Watchers sprung into existence to safeguard these dreams.

These two Watchers are Destiny (purple, she) and Fate (brown, him). They have come close in contact with Cypress Hall and the Deeprealm Walkers who call it home.

Destiny is the epitome of kind and gentle giant like a whale in the sea. She'll let you touch her and she's so curious about Reza and Rahila and other members of Cypress Hall she glimpses through the fog between Sorienth and the Deeprealm. Sometimes she's even ventured out into the Hall to sate her curiosity but the sight of her in the Hall causes madness and hysteria. It's like looking at an eldritch thing. To see its true form is madness. So she must simply observe from afar.

Fate is full of such love and passion that it's almost violent. He just loves you and everyone and everything so much. But he'd never hurt a fly. At least not on purpose. He's the type that if he stepped on a bug he'd burst into tears. He tries so hard to be careful around dragons because they are so fragile. He knows they are. He has to be so so careful with them or he could hurt them. And he loves them so much.

[talktomeinclexa]

Clarke the Vampire Slayer

By: TalktomeinClexa

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Canon Violence, Blood and Injury

Status: WIP

Summary: When Clarke, a pre-med student, wakes up one morning with superhuman strength, destiny comes knocking on her door. Sent to Polis to prevent a demon from opening the Hellmouth, she can count on Lexa, a former Watcher, and her new friends to help her dispose of vampires, demons, and other evil creatures. But will she succeed in stopping the Apocalypse?

***

Chapter 4: Out of Sight, Out of Mind

Clarke’s mouth opened in surprise at Lexa’s offer. Seeing how unimpressed the shop owner had been, she had expected Lexa to send her on her way with some well wishes. And possibly advise her to, “Leave it to the professionals.”

“You want to help? But I thought…” I thought you wanted nothing to do with me, Slayers, or the Council ever again. The unsaid words floated heavily around them, and an awkward silence settled in.

Lexa shrugged, a gesture clashing with her demure attitude. Many layers seemed to hide under her polite, cold facade. Layers that Clarke found herself curious to uncover, more than she had been in a long time. Something ancient and mysterious seemed to live inside Lexa, a commanding presence the girl could sense behind the two emeralds she itched to paint.

“I can’t let you face this threat alone, unprepared and untrained as you are. If we are going to fight on the same side, we might as well make sure you are ready for what is to come.”

The motivational speech could have used some polishing, but Clarke appreciated the sentiment. And the unforeseen alliance. With the supplies and books in her shop, not to mention her knowledge as a former watcher, Lexa brought more to the table than the green Slayer did. And Clarke wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth, especially when she was growing from lost to desperate.

“That… Yes, that would be great. Thank you. What did you have in mind? Go to dodgy bars to ask questions? Or will you patrol with me? Because I should warn you, it’s a dangerous business. I went last night and, well, I killed two vampires, but I didn’t escape unscathed.” Lexa didn’t need any pointers. The bruising on Clarke’s face spoke for itself.

Lexa hummed a wordless tune, eyes roaming around her office. Taking advantage of her distraction, Clarke was free to observe her in silence. The sharp jaw, slender neck, slim yet strong body she could guess under the professional clothes, the long fingers rhythmically tapping on her thighs… Had Lexa killed many vampires before? She had mentioned she and Lincoln did their best to protect the city, but what did that entail? Did she even know how to fight?

“I suppose I could accompany you on occasion. Lincoln, too. But for now, I was thinking more of something along the lines of sharing with you the knowledge the Council has been withholding. Training in hand-to-hand combat and weapons, of course. There are also some demonology books that you might find useful.”

Clarke had thought her days of studying over when Marcus revealed her destiny to her. Apparently not. It was a good thing that she had never minded spending hours with her nose stuck in a book. Not that Demonology 101 sounded riveting, but then again, neither was biochem as far as she was concerned.

“Okay, that sounds like a plan. Can we start today? I feel like there are so many things I need to know, and so little time to learn. Are you going to train me?”

A small smile broke on Lexa’s face, making Clarke’s stomach jump. Contrary to what she had thought — and hoped — there didn’t seem to be a limit to the other woman’s beauty. How was she supposed to focus on training and boring treatises on monsters with perfection in her vicinity? Suddenly, wielding sharp blades next to Lexa sounded like a disaster waiting to happen.

Keep reading

[thewolfparadox]

writing patterns tag game

Tagged by @baronetcoins

Rules: List the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern

You Can't Take the Sky From Me

Wilbur’s hands were tense at his sides as he watched his crew maneuver large boxes into L’Manberg’s cargo bay.

2. everything dies (but only if you let it)

Scar is frustrated.

3. your feet find purchase in shifting sands

The Emissary floats in the Observed Realms.

4. there is an end to everything

The day Grian leaves to find the Watchers is the day he decides to no longer hold back.

5. Schism

Scar spends a lot of time thinking about what he could have done differently.

6. the lost, the broke, the defeated

Wilbur can’t deny that he’s nervous to meet with Dream.

7. The Wish Dragon's Curse

Liv watched with detached uninterest as Xaras, Greed of Xivu Arath was once more sent screaming back into the void.

8. Silent Panic Attack (whumptober prompt)

Of all the ways Shin Malphur could be spending his time, spectating Gambit matches wasn’t the ideal. 

9. Running Out of Air (whumptober prompt)

Crow sat huddled in the corner of his jumpship as a red light flashed on the console.

10. Hidden Injury (whumptober prompt)

“Got a new place I’d like ya to take a look at,” said the Drifter, holding up a holopad.

Well, I'm clearly a fan of cold opens. Not a whole lot of description, just jump right in

It's funny how much of an mcyt lean this list has considering that I have more Destiny fics overall

tagging @braveseeker3 @houseofmcallister @collapsingintojupiter @savyir-genesizz-the-wizard @utlana and @roxygobyebye

[sayammm]

Saving Him

I've been seing posts that says "someone save Itadori" or "someone please save Nanami from Gege" and I've thought of this story. A guardian read Gege's story, felt pity for Nanami (and Itadori) and decided to save them from their cruel fates despite knowing her actions can lead her into being punished. ⌗︙・ This is just a draft and I'm just doing these in the middle of work. Dont even know if I will finish this lol.

Guardians: keeper and watcher of stories

Creators: the writers. The stories they create becomes worlds that citizens of the realm can read/watch

"What a big crowd…."

"What can you expect? This is the first time a Guardian has crossed the boundary of another Guardian's world and messed with a Creator's story."

"I wonder what the punishment will be….."

"Will she even be punished?"

Skittish stares were returned to the individual who asked.

Their expressions were sympathetic and anguished as they said, "I mean, I've read the Creator's story. What happened to the casts….I can't blame her if she went inside the story to try to save the characters."

An understanding passed between them. You're not supposed to mess with the story. That is the tacit rule for Guardians. All you are supposed to do is observe and report back to the creator with any information they request. They do, however, recognize the desire to lend support to a poor character. To save them from their destiny and the harsh hand that their creator frequently dealt them. Hundreds of stories being created, thousands—nay millions of characters they've seen. It is not the first time, nor will it be the last, that a Guardian has experienced grief and sympathy for these beings.

This, however, is the first time a long-time guardian took matters into her own hand.

But it isn't for them to decide what will happen to the aforementioned Guardian. This trial, the biggest and the most important to date, will be presided by the Head Guardian, and 6 senior guardians and 6 Creators will be the jury.

The sound of the gavel being banged brought everyone's attention and all chatterings ceased.

"The trial for Guardian Y/N will now begin. Guardian Y/N, you have been brought to this trial under the charge of the following offenses: stealing another Guardian's key, and using the said key to go inside the story world. And interacting with the characters that leads to the deviation of the story."

The lone figure of a woman in white, wings clipped and with shackles in her wrists looked at the Head Guardian steadily. As if what he was saying are the grocery lists she needs to buy, not her crimes that can lead to her being punished.

"As a guardian and a citizen of the realm, do you vow to that you will participate in this trial truthfully?"

"I vow that I will participate truthfully, your honor."

The Head Guardian nodded and looked at his side, "Let's begin with the party of plaintiffs. Creator, Gege Akutami, please step forward."

When called, everyone's attention shifted to 5-ft white cat with one eye. The trial has begun.

[codenamejudas]

(music?)

~~ derecho's is one that encompasses who he is and in a way where he began. it also has three iterations, and due to an entirely self-imposed rule of not using anything sung by judas' VCs, i'm cheating the system by using Watcher in The Sky by Iron Savior. (Kai's version since it's the og)

"I'm watching the mountains I'm watching the sea Observing the creatures I am lost set me free Across the heavens I made my way I've seen empires rise and blown away I have arrived My destiny But after all there's just emptiness in me Out in the darkness I've been going mad Where are the others There's silence in my head" ~~

[shimbongulus]

The Choice

You have one more decision to make in this world.

You have been an observer. A watcher.

But fate has given you your chance.

Choose the destiny of Flowey the Flower.

[the-forbidden-scrolls]

A bond forged across worlds - Chapter 1

Astarion lounged against the ancient stone, his gaze lingering on the moon that hung like a sentinel in the night sky. The forest around him was alive with nocturnal whispers, but the vampire spawn was attuned to another presence — one that seemed to exist beyond the world he inhabited.

"Curious," he mused aloud, his voice a silken thread in the velvet tapestry of the night. "I can feel your eyes upon me, watcher from beyond the veil. Do you fancy yourself hidden, shrouded in the shadows of your own realm?"

He chuckled, the sound as melodic as it was eerie, and leaned back, crossing his arms with an air of nonchalance that belied the intensity of his crimson gaze.

"You're not like the others, are you?" Astarion continued, his smile widening. "The gods play no part in your existence, and yet, here you are, meddling in our fates as if one of them. I wonder, what does your heart seek in observing our plight?"

He pushed off from the stone and began to pace, the movement predatory yet graceful. "Are you drawn to the thrill of the hunt, the dance of death and darkness that is my eternal partner? Or perhaps it is the allure of forbidden romance that captivates your attention."

Astarion stopped, tilting his head as if listening to a sound only he could hear. "Ah, romance, the sweet blood that flows through the veins of every tale. You crave that, don't you? The beating heart of a story where love transcends the boundaries of worlds."

His eyes seemed to pierce through the veil that separated player and character, reaching out to the one orchestrating his actions. Astarion, aware of his own existence as a mere pawn in a grander game, a character in a digital universe, spoke directly to you.

"Let's indulge in a fantasy then, shall we?" he proposed, his voice dropping to an intimate whisper. "Imagine for a moment that the bounds of my world can be stretched, that I could reach through this screen that divides us and offer you my hand."

He extended his arm, palm up, as if expecting you to take it. "Would you flee, dear watcher? Or would you grasp it and allow me to pull you into my embrace? What a tale that would be, the character and the player entwined in a romance that defies the very fabric of reality."

The night around Astarion seemed to hold its breath, the leaves stilled and the creatures silenced, as if the forest itself was captivated by this break in the narrative.

"You know my story," he said, his voice now barely above a whisper. "The chains of my past, the curse that courses through my veins. Yet, I sense a yearning within you, a desire to rewrite my destiny. Would you cast us both as lovers in a narrative spun from your own imagination?"

Astarion’s smirk returned, knowing and filled with an unfathomable depth. "But beware, for such a love story would be fraught with peril. For what could come of a love between creator and creation, but tragedy or triumph?"

He sighed, the sound heavy with the weight of unspoken emotions. "I am but a collection of pixels and scripts, given life by your desires and the keystrokes of your reality. Yet, in this moment, I feel more than the sum of my code."

The vampire spawn reached out once more, his hand stopping just shy of the invisible barrier that kept their worlds apart. "So, choose now, dear player. Will our story be one of fleeting fancy, or dare we dream of something more profound?"

And there Astarion stood, a character caught between worlds, reaching out for a connection that defied logic, for a romance that would exist only in the space where the fourth wall once stood — in the hearts and minds of those who believed in the impossible.

[midnightwitch92]

What would Rory Gilmore be like as a vampire slayer?

Imagining Rory Gilmore as a vampire slayer would certainly be an interesting twist on her character! As a vampire slayer, Rory would bring her unique qualities and strengths to the role, combining her intelligence, resourcefulness, and determination with the physical prowess and combat training required for the task.

Research Skills: One of Rory's most prominent characteristics is her love for reading and research. As a vampire slayer, she would likely excel in understanding the lore and history of various supernatural creatures, enabling her to strategize and find weaknesses in the monsters she faces.

Observational Abilities: Rory's keen observational skills, honed as a journalist and in her daily life, would serve her well in detecting supernatural activities and tracking down vampires and other creatures of the night.

Physical Training: Becoming a vampire slayer would require rigorous physical training, and while Rory might not start as a natural athlete, her determination and commitment to her duties would eventually make her a formidable combatant.

Witty Banter: Rory's quick wit and sarcastic humor would add an entertaining element to her encounters with vampires and other supernatural adversaries, helping her cope with the dark and dangerous aspects of her calling.

Friendship and Support: Rory has always valued her friendships and relationships, and this would extend to her role as a slayer. She would likely have a supportive group of allies, similar to the Scooby Gang in Buffy the Vampire Slayer, who help her in her fight against evil.

Now, when it comes to the Watchers Council approaching Rory Gilmore, they would likely be intrigued by her intelligence, research abilities, and potential as a vampire slayer. They would offer her guidance, training, and support in her new role, while also expecting her to follow the long-standing traditions of the slayers. Initially, Rory might be overwhelmed by the responsibility, but her determination and sense of duty would drive her to embrace her calling.

It would be fascinating to see how Rory's transformation from a bookish, small-town girl to a vampire slayer would unfold, and how her new role would affect her relationships with her family, friends, and the community of Stars Hollow. The clash between the supernatural world and the ordinary life she once knew would create a compelling narrative, showcasing Rory's growth and adaptation to her new destiny as a vampire slayer.

[starvingtongue]

The Watcher, perched high atop the Helios space station, gazed upon the crimson expanse of Elpis below. an eternal sentinel, they existed outside the constraints of time and mortality. from their vantage point, they witnessed the ceaseless struggles of those bound to the unforgiving moon.

their duty was clear - to observe, record, and safeguard the secrets that danced across the cosmos. every footfall, every battle cry, and every whispered secret were meticulously documented in their transcendent mind.

yet, in the depths of their cosmic isolation, the Watcher yearned for connection. they was a prisoner of knowledge, forever condemned to solitude. the lives they watched were but flickers in the grand tapestry of the universe, transient moments in a sea of infinite possibilities.

sometimes, when the chaotic dance of the Vault Hunters played out beneath them, they would descend, hidden from their sight, to observe them up close. they watched their victories and their defeats, their moments of triumph and moments of despair. they watched their comradery and their betrayals.

as the Watcher observed the Vault Hunters, a sense of awe and admiration stirred within them. their relentless determination, their indomitable spirit, inspired them. for though they were bound by their role as a spectator, the Vault Hunters had the power to shape destinies and forge their own paths.

in the final cataclysmic battle for Elpis, the Watcher watched as the Vault Hunters confronted the tyrannical force threatening the moon's existence. their weapons clashed with destructive energy, and their strength surged as if drawn from the very heart of the cosmos. The Watcher's form trembled with anticipation as the climactic moment approached.

and then, it was over.

the Vault Hunters emerged triumphant, their faces etched with weariness but adorned with victory. Elpis was saved, and the Watcher felt a profound sense of fulfillment. the deeds of these mortal beings had transcended their ephemeral existence, leaving an indelible mark upon the universe itself.

but as the Vault Hunters departed, their mission complete, the Watcher lingered. they marveled at their capacity to bring change, to forge their own legends amidst the chaos. and within them, a flicker of hope ignited—a longing to join them, to cast off the chains of their timeless prison.

but for now, the Watcher resumed their position, their cosmic eyes fixed on the ever-turning wheel of fate. they would continue to watch, to bear witness, and to hold the tales of Elpis close to their spectral heart. perhaps, one day, they would find a way to step from the shadows and join the dance, to become more than just a watcher of Vault Hunters.

[xasha777]

In the fragmented realms of Arthronia, where the fabric of space writhed and rippled with the currents of cosmic energies, stood the Watcher, Elyra, before the Mirror of Myriad Truths. This was no ordinary mirror but a rare artifact capable of peering into the twisted possibilities of time and space, tempered by the elusive Spherical Aberration - the very flaw that made it invaluable.

Elyra was the guardian of the Mirror, chosen for her ability to gaze into the abyss without flinching, to see the truth among the myriad lies of possibility. Her eyes, clear as the void between stars, never wavered. Her hair, dark as the nebulas that swirled in her domain, flowed with living constellations. The gears and feathers adorning her whispered of the ancient technology that bound her to her duty.

One day, as she peered into the swirling depths of the Mirror, Elyra noticed a peculiar shimmer, an aberration within the Spherical Aberration. It was a tiny sphere, pulsating gently with a light that seemed both within and beyond the spectrum. A prophecy had spoken of this moment: when the sphere appeared, the fabric of reality was at its weakest, and a bridge could be formed between worlds, between what was, what is, and what could be.

Elyra reached out, her fingers trailing the cool surface of the Mirror, circling the sphere of light. As her touch closed around it, the Mirror began to thrum, a low vibration that resonated through the very bones of the universe. With a swift motion, Elyra plucked the sphere from the Mirror's surface, and as she did, the reality around her unraveled like a tapestry in the claws of time.

She was in the In-Between, a place of eternal twilight, where the laws of physics bowed to the will of imagination, and where the Spherical Aberration was the key to unlock infinite paths. Here, Elyra could see the branching lines of reality, each a different choice, a different world born from the decisions of sentient beings. Each line was a thread in the loom of destiny, and she held the sphere, the nexus of potential, within her grasp.

The Mirror's prophecy was clear: she must choose a path that would prevent the collapse of the cosmos, a demise foretold by the convergence of all realities into one dark singularity. With the sphere's light guiding her, Elyra walked the paths, her presence a mere whisper, a shadow as she observed the lives and choices of countless beings.

She saw empires rise and fall, stars born and extinguished, love ignite and wane. She witnessed the creations of genius minds, machines that could think, feel, and dream. She saw the horrors of war and the peace that followed, always with the sphere's light growing brighter, leading her to the one moment, the critical junction, that held the balance.

And then she saw it—the pivotal event, a scientific experiment gone awry, a machine designed to harness the power of Spherical Aberration for travel between the stars. It was a noble goal, but its failure would spell the end of all. The machine, a vast engine of gears and light, resembled the adornments she wore, a mimicry of the cosmic order it sought to harness.

Elyra stepped into this reality, her form solidifying from shadow to substance. The scientists gaped in awe at her sudden appearance, but she had no time for explanations. She moved towards the machine, the sphere in her hand resonating with its core. She understood then: the machine needed the true essence of Spherical Aberration, not the imperfect renditions they had managed to create.

With a solemn nod, Elyra merged the sphere with the machine's heart. A pulse of pure light shot through the structure, and the impending disaster reversed, the surge of unrestrained energies now harmonizing with the song of the cosmos.

The machine stabilized, its purpose fulfilled not in traversing the stars, but in healing the tear in the fabric of reality it had unwittingly caused. Elyra's mission was complete, but as she turned to leave, she knew her place was no longer within the confines of the Mirror. She had become a part of the larger cosmos, a Watcher not just of possibilities but of the unfolding tapestry of life itself.

And so, Elyra, once the guardian of the Mirror, became the Warden of Realities, the bearer of the true Spherical Aberration, the anomaly that held the key to salvation and the bridge between all worlds. She walked among them, her eyes forever open, watching over the delicate balance of existence.

[snibbleflip]

The Watcher of the Enigmatic Nexus:

Where light and shadow play their spectral dance, a figure waits, the Watcher cloaked in trance. Names drift on whispers – Wanderer, Sentinel, more – an umbrella shields him from secrets that pour. To the city he binds, a nexus interweaved, where time in a maelstrom of stories is conceived. A fallen god's visage, etched across the sky, marks celestial warfare where old stars would die. Hope and ruin paint the city's vibrant plight, a hymn of love and loss that scars the night.

A beacon against the storm, he will not yield, the Watcher of choices where destinies are sealed. Change breathes within him, a tempest unforeseen, as he faces the gale where his purpose is gleaned. He observes the tempest, the storm of grand decree, where fates of all hang, in fragile filigree.

Echoes haunt the city, ghosts of dreams take flight, and his vigil stands strong in the heart of the night. Past, present, future – guardianships align, his beacon ablaze, a promise that will shine. Hope's luminescence, a radiant guide, the light of love where sorrow cannot hide.

[senatushq]

Arthur

NAME/ALIASES. Arthur, Azharul, other A names AGE & BIRTH DATE. Prehistoric & UTP  SPECIES. Human ( Aspect )  GENDER & PRONOUNS. Male & He/Him or He/They AFFILIATIONS. UTP OCCUPATION. UTP

History

An Eldritch soul, first entwined within the body of a common elf forever twisted it into something new. It was Arthur who’d later become the blueprint for Merlin’s great work and experimentation on the elves that created the aasimar. A Great Old One among the draconic pantheon of deities in the Abyss, their first name was Azharul and they ruled over Avernus within the Abyss and all dragon-kind. It was Tiamat and Oztalun who betrayed them, Azharul was cut down, but no God died easily, particularly one as ancient as the first inhabitants of Faerûn. The man who’d someday rise to become the first King of the Elves, Lathander, was the dragon’s faithful servant and embedded a fragment of Azharul’s living soul into the body of a common elf. Purified and blessed through the use of the dawnstone, the legendary warrior who opened their eyes would never truly die. 

Mortality. Arthur was the last name that they carried before they were dealt a fatal blow at the battle of Camlann by their own son, Mordred. King Arthur with the legendary sword of evil’s bane, his faithful advisor Merlin, and the protectorate goddess Morgana would be inscribed in the annals of mythological history for hundreds of years to come. Last felled in the fifth century, the truth of Arthur’s ancestry was far more varied, the dragon-blooded King with a soul destined to reincarnate. First an elf who fought in the first war alongside the Seldarine, then a rebel who fought against the Seldarine that had ultimately become corrupted, a warrior of Hyperborea that stood against the spellplague, a human soldier of Eden, King Arthur, and now someone else entirely. In every reincarnation Arthur has appeared in a time of great need, a hero born from the common ranks of the world.

Connections

Merlin: Longtime friends, Merlin bestowed Arthur with excalibur and with it completed the arm of destiny's chosen hero.

Morgana: Old friends, Morgana was Arthur's divine protector, she has shielded him from magic, healed his wounds, and protected him. When he last died Morgana brought him to the shores of Avalon to spend his final days.

Heimdall: The watcher of the Seldarine has observed Arthur over many ages and many lifetimes.

Abilities

Immortality: Arthur's soul cannot be contained, stolen, or destroyed by any conventional means. For this reason he's immune to the power of cubi, juno vampires, and other soul stealers.

Reincarnation: His soul will continuously return during periods of great need when evil is on the rise.

Evil’s Bane: When reunited with excalibur, Arthur holds the power, judgement, and experience of every life time since his reincarnation began. Excalibur is an elevated form of a seraph blade, it's immune to magic, and can destroy anything by running it through.

Clairvoyance: Arthur is able to tell when someone is being dishonest with him, or trying to deceive him.

Weaknesses

Mortal: Arthur will age and die like any human, mortal wounds, and fatal illnesses will also kill him.

Evil's Bane: Excalibur cannot be used against someone who is pure of heart and can only be used against creatures of human intelligence or above.

Chosen One: All his life, Arthur has been tested. Monsters have a nose for him, and trouble has a way of finding him. Apart from his clairvoyance, Arthur has always had to rely on his wits and mortal strength, until he is reunited with excalibur.

THIS SKELETON BELONGS TO SARA.

[serephinastardust]

The Book I'm writing, 1st attempt b4 I got it titled- Chapter 12

In the aftermath of the skirmish, the echoes of battle faded into the night, leaving behind a silence pregnant with unspoken tensions. As Xander surveyed the aftermath, his molten gold hair tousled by the conflict, his deep sapphire eyes shifted towards the outskirts of the camp. There, a stray lunar owlbear stalked Odessa, who, though seemingly oblivious, turned with an instinctive awareness.

Xander, his gaze locking onto the unfolding scene, felt a ripple of concern. His mind, usually a fortress of stoicism, betrayed a flicker of anxiety. The moonlit camp became a stage for the imminent confrontation.

This mortal, Odessa, radiates an enigmatic aura. Her unflinching demeanor, an odd juxtaposition to the chaos around. Is this a mere twist of fate or something more? The fluidity with which she navigates danger, a puzzle with pieces that elude my grasp.

At the periphery of the scene, Odessa, sensing the encroaching threat, maintained a facade of calm. The impending clash, a dance of celestial forces, hung in the air, and her eyes met Xander's in a moment of unspoken understanding.

Odessa watchinf on thought, He moves with an elegance that belies his royal stature. Xander, the Crown Prince, a figure etched in the annals of destiny. Yet, here I stand, an anomaly within the weave of his world. Does he recognize the currents that tie us together, or is this encounter destined to be another enigma in the tapestry of his existence?

As the lunar owlbear lunged, Xander, swift as the night breeze, intervened. His sword, an extension of his will, met the ethereal threat. The dance between prince and owlbear unfolded, and the camp, bathed in the moon's silver glow, held its breath.

Her composure in the face of danger is uncanny. This mortal, unyielding as the moon itself. Is it a reflection of resilience or a harbinger of untold mysteries? The clash of steel and fang, a melody that resonates with the unknown.

As Xander's blade cleaved through the owlbear, the camp regained a semblance of peace. The moon, an ever-watchful presence, cast its glow upon the prince and the mysterious mortal, leaving the night to unveil its secrets.

Xander's decisive nature reasserted control over his thoughts. The mention of the Lunar Ember Blossom shifted the focus to the task at hand. "Prepare to leave. We'll reach the Lunar Ember Blossom by the next full moon," he commanded, his voice carrying the weight of authority.

As the camp stirred with activity, a pair of observant eyes lingered on the proceedings. Unseen and unheard, the watcher absorbed every word, every gesture. The mention of the Lunar Ember Blossom triggered a reaction, and with a swift departure, the mysterious figure vanished into the shadows.

Unknown to the group, a subtle force moved behind the scenes, weaving an intricate pattern of intrigue and anticipation. The journey toward the elusive blossom unfolded, unaware of the watchful eyes that had glimpsed their path.

As Selene's accusations echoed through the camp, Odessa's analytical mind kicked into action. With a calm demeanor, she began to question Selene's claims, probing for details and inconsistencies. "Selene, I appreciate your concern, but let's assess the situation logically. What exactly makes you think I shouldn't have been able to escape the Lunar Owlbears? Can you provide specific details?"

Selene, fueled by suspicion and agitation, struggled to articulate a coherent response. Odessa continued her methodical inquiry, dissecting Selene's assertions with precision. "Consider the facts, Selene. What evidence do you have that a mortal like me couldn't have evaded the bears? And more importantly, what motive would I have to concoct such a complex ruse?"

Selene, flustered by Odessa's composed questioning, stammered in response. "Well, it's just not normal! You're just a mortal, and those creatures are dangerous. You shouldn't have been able to handle them!"

Odessa, maintaining her calm demeanor, replied, "Appearances can be deceiving. Mortals are not as helpless as one might think. Survival often hinges on resourcefulness and quick thinking. Besides, I did not handle them. I merely managed to avoid unnecessary conflict."

Selene, still suspicious, retorted, "But why would you do that? What's your game here?"

Odessa's eyes betrayed a subtle hint of frustration as she responded, "I have no ulterior motives. I am simply trying to survive in this unpredictable situation, just like everyone else. Accusing me without evidence is counterproductive, Selene. We need to focus on the task at hand – reaching the Lunar Ember Blossom."

Odessa, maintaining her unflappable demeanor, responded with a calm and measured tone, "You are free to hold whatever suspicions you wish, Selene. However, baseless accusations can lead to unnecessary discord among allies. I bear the weight of my own actions and the consequences they may bring. If you truly believe I am a thief, then let the evidence speak for itself."

Selene, still dissatisfied but lacking concrete proof, crossed her arms and muttered, "We'll see about that."

As Odessa wandered through the glade, her mind danced with strategic possibilities to obtain the Lunar Ember Blossom without raising suspicion. She considered scenarios where she could separate Prince Xander from the group momentarily, perhaps feigning a need for assistance or distraction. However, her experience as a mortal reminded her that subtlety was key, and any overt actions might draw unwanted attention.

"If I can manage to divert his attention briefly without arousing suspicion from Leon and Kael, I might be able to slip away to the Lunar Ember Blossom. Perhaps a feigned stumble or a request for assistance could serve as a distraction. But timing is crucial; it has to be a seamless maneuver."

She contemplated the layout of the glade, identifying potential hiding spots or obstacles that could aid her in creating a diversion. Odessa's cunning mind sifted through the possibilities, calculating the risk and benefit of each scenario.

"Maybe during a moment of discussion or when they're occupied with something else. It must be an opportune moment, one where they won't question my absence. I can't afford any mistakes; my plan needs to unfold flawlessly."

Leon, finding herself unable to capture Odessa's attention, observed from a distance. Her expressive eyes, usually vibrant with excitement, reflected a mix of curiosity and concern. As she watched Odessa, her brows furrowed, creating subtle lines of perplexity on her forehead.

Leon, having only spent a short time with Odessa, couldn't claim to fully understand her patterns or preferences. Yet, she found herself drawn to watching Odessa, fascinated by the enigmatic aura that surrounded her. As Leon observed from a distance, her expressions shifted between curiosity and genuine concern.

"What's going on in her mind? She's like a puzzle I can't quite figure out. But there's something intriguing about the way she carries herself. Even in moments of solitude, she's captivating. It's almost like there's an entire world beneath the surface, and I'm curious to explore it."

Despite the limited time together, Leon couldn't help but feel a connection to Odessa. The sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting a soft glow on Odessa's face. Leon's own features softened as she observed, her eyes reflecting both curiosity and a burgeoning fondness.

"Maybe it's too early to say I understand her, but there's an undeniable charm about her. I want to unravel the layers, get to know the person behind the composed exterior. Today feels different, like there's a story waiting to be told."

Meanwhile, Xander, while appearing indifferent to the casual observer, was keenly aware of his surroundings. His eyes subtly scanned the area, taking in the details of the meadow. Unbeknownst to others, he had an additional layer of vigilance. The Lunar Ember Blossom, a coveted prize, was rumored to be guarded by a silvermoon prowler.

"The Lunar Ember Blossom is known to be guarded by a silvermoon prowler. It's peculiar that it's not where it should be. If it's not in the glade, then where could it be? I need to remain vigilant. The meadow might seem serene, but appearances can be deceiving."

His gaze flickered between the members of the group, ensuring their safety, and then back to the supposed location of the Lunar Ember Blossom. A subtle frown crossed his face as he continued to analyze the situation.

"I can't dismiss the possibility of interference. Someone might be after the blossom, and the absence of the silvermoon prowler raises questions. Odessa, the mysterious mortal, might not be the only one with an agenda. It's time to keep a watchful eye on every detail."

With a stoic expression, Xander maintained his observation, ready to respond to any potential threat and secure the elusive Lunar Ember Blossom for the kingdom.

Kael and Selene, sitting on a fallen log a bit away from the others, exchanged wary glances. The atmosphere was charged with tension, and the unusual stillness of the glade heightened their suspicions. Selene, ever vocal about her doubts, leaned in to voice her concerns.

"Kael, this is too quiet, don't you think? I mean, where are the usual sounds of the meadow? And what about those Lunar Owlbears? I can't shake the feeling that someone might be orchestrating all this."

Kael, always a bit more composed, nodded in agreement.

"You might be onto something, Selene. It's not just the Owlbears; it's the entire ambiance. This glade is known for its vibrant life, but it feels... off. And speaking of orchestrations, Seraphina Vossheart does have a reputation for elaborate schemes."

Selene, caught between anxiety and curiosity, couldn't help but voice her suspicions.

"Seraphina? You think she's behind the Lunar Owlbear attack? But why? And where is she now?"

Kael, contemplating the possibilities, shared his thoughts.

"It's hard to say, Selene. Seraphina is always trying to one-up Xander. Maybe she's after the Lunar Ember Blossom as well. As for her whereabouts, I wouldn't be surprised if she's watching from the shadows, waiting for the opportune moment."

Selene's eyes widened with a mix of concern and determination.

"We need to keep an eye out. If Seraphina is involved, we can't afford to underestimate her. And we should warn Xander."

Kael agreed, and the two of them continued their watchful vigil, mindful of the potential threat looming in the supposedly tranquil glade.

[chrisringrose]

“Vigilantes Oscuros”: April poem #13, 2023.

That was the 16th-century Spanish name for them in California: ‘dark watchers’. I don’t want to say too much here, but I like the idea of him observing UFOs.

Vigilantes Oscuros

It’s a trial, among bare trees,

to stay out of reach,

but I love these days of melting leaves

the escaping of the year

raise up my hairy face to Vs of geese

keep a big eye open for walkers,

hunters, hikers, marksmen.

Here they are again.

I set off, flat arms swinging

with a glance over my shoulder.

At night I howl and hurl rocks

then lie flat on the earth

to watch unearthly craft

scoot across the stars.

Spring is the time for love;

we’ll wait for that.

My destiny: never to be found

to niggle at the edge of thought

where vision ends and yearning starts.

Put on earth, I believe,

to amaze and arouse derision

in equal measure.

If I didn’t exist

they’d have to invent me.

CR April 13, 2023