#Owyn Speaks

[ofsaera]

╰     ┈     [  milly alcock , 22 , cis female , she/her ]  in the time of dragons , SAERA TARGARYEN is entering the game of thrones . said to be audacious + determined , we can only hope that is the case as regrettably they are also well known to be distrustful + impulsive . when asked about them , people are always reminded of burning pages of old books, the sparks of fire seconds before it begins to burn, the urge to voice an opinion when it's not needed, unopened letters, clenched fists . though they are the LADY OF CASTAMERE , their true loyalties lie with house targaryen and rumour has it that if given the choice they would support their family above all else . those of us in the shadows wish them luck and can only hope they will survive what is to come .   ──  zahra , 23 , gmt+3 , she/her .

basics

full name: saera targaryen gender: cis female pronouns: she/her age: 22 sexual orientation: bisexual (with slight preference for femmes)

background

mother: helaena targaryen father: owyn reed siblings: gael targaryen other: king lucerys targaryen (uncle), queen visenya targaryen (aunt), prince daemon targaryen (cousin), prince aegon targaryen (cousin), princess vasila targaryen (cousin), prince rhaegar targaryen (cousin), princess aerea targaryen (cousin), lord daeron targaryen (cousin), lady meera targaryen (cousin)

physique

face claim: milly alcock eye color: violet hair color: silver height: 5′2 dominant hand: right

about

saera targaryen doesn’t know what love feels or looks like. she’s read stories with the septa as any other child; but could any of it be real? was marriage not love? all love stories ended up in marriage. exchanging vows in front of the gods. yet for as long as she could remember, marriage to saera meant and mother and father screaming their lungs out at each other; brother covering your ears so you could not hear it. they’re getting physical now; brother stands between them. saera speaks to owyn and helaena each in private; if they love her, they will get along. but they don’t. they don’t even bother to listen.

at the age of eleven, she just stops speaking. no one notices at first but gael, and eventually helaena. this goes on for years and although her mother tries maester after maester, saera just refuses to speak. that is until she’s fifteen; she sneaks out the castle with a friend, no one recognizes them in the crowd. they drink ale for the first time in a small inn; saera speaks for the first time in years. she feels safe with that friend. they’re her first love; but once again, she can’t believe in love, she shouldn’t, and they’re young and stupid and things simply don’t work out.

having spent so much time listening instead of speaking, saera likes to think she’s a good observer. she notices what other people don’t, the slight change in their facial expressions, how effortlessly the lies slip out.

sneaking out of the castle becomes somewhat of a habit. she knows her ways around, she learns how to go around unnoticed and quietly. on the rare occassions they visit king’s landing, saera had made sure to wander around the town at moon rise. she misses it. king’s landing feels so much more magical than castamere. this place has to be cursed, saera thinks.

she’s obsessed with history, especially anything involving dragons. collects daggers, though how well she can use them is another matter.

easy to befriend, but can’t deal with love or feelings that threaten to go too deep.

last proper family dinner ended up with owyn losing his shit, posing a huge threat to helaena and gael killing him - as always, the protector of the family. to everybody else, it was a guard who attacked owyn and was later executed for his crimes. saera has pretty much repressed this whole scene as she doesn’t want to acknowledge how it affected her.

doesn’t want to admit it, but she cares about people. a lot. but above all, she has to stay loyal to helaena and gael. at the end of the day, they’re all she has and she’d die for them.

[driftward]

Title: Karasawa Saga - Party Characters: Karasawa Atraxae, Raubahn Aldynn Rating: Teen Summary: Karasawa goes to a party Notes: None

Karasawa saw Momodi look up and wave at her very enthusiastically as she entered the Quicksand. She pointed a single finger at herself and mouthed ‘me’ at Momodi as she approached, and Momodi covered a giggle with her hand as she helped herself to one of the chairs in front of her desk.

“Hey Momodi, what’s shaking?” asked Karasawa.

“Someone’s been asking after you,” said Momodi with a mischievous looking grin.

“Was it that Thancred kid? He had to come clean up after me, and let me tell you, after that? I will let him have -whatever- he likes,” said Karasawa, even as she swept her gaze over the bottles of liquor on the back.

“Oh, whatever he likes? I shall like to hear of that later,” said Momodi. “But no. General Raubahn said you performed quite the favor for the Sultansworn.”

“Really, my man Owyne just found himself in a bad spot,” muttered Karasawa. “I know what that’s like. Decided to help him out. That’s all.”

“That’s all, said the woman who helped recover a priceless artifact and may well have saved the city from a terrible fate,” said Momodi, the edges of her eyes crinkling in amusement.

Karasawa glanced at Momodi, and laughed. “Bunch of jumped-up, what’d-he-call-‘em, brigands? Please. They wouldn’t have gotten much farther if I hadn’t been there. I just made them get less far a touch faster. Hey, is that purple one any good?”

Momodi turned to look to see what Karasawa was glancing at, and turned to retrieve the bottle, uncorking it. “It’s just juice. Anyroad, however you wish to sell yourself, the General is grateful. You’ve been invited to a banquet.”

“A banquet with a general? With all the best of Ul’dah present, I’m sure? Lots of talking and dancing and being fancy? Pass. How many tokens for the juice?” said Karasawa.

“On the house, it’s just juice. You may want to rethink that banquet, though, it is really quite the honor…” said Momodi, pouring the juice into a glass.

“Oh, quite the honor, you say? Double hard pass,” said Karasawa, and then she muttered, “trust me nobody wants me at fancy do’s.”

“…well, it is the Sultana’s ball, and let’s just say the Lady Lilira would be very disappointed if you weren’t there on her behalf,” said Momodi coyly.

“What do you think I should wear?” said Karasawa immediately, and Momodi laughed.

-*-

Karasawa milled around, spoke with few, and as the night went on found herself mostly trying to figure out how to drain the city’s coffers through the act of eating all of their food when Raubahn approached her. She quickly snarfed down a cupcake as she turned to face him.

“General,” she said. Well, that’s what she meant to say. What came out was more of a “Mremrah” as she tried to speak around the cupcake.

He laughed. “I’m told you are the adventurer that the Sultana has taken a shining to,” he said.

Karasawa shook her head, and washed down the cupcake with some more of that purple juice that had been fetched at her request. She had found she rather liked the stuff. As she did so, she found herself suddenly distracted, with Raubahn standing so close to her. She stared a bit, and set the juice aside, and slowly held a hand out towards him.

He looked at her quizzically.

“Sorry, uh, they’re just… that’s mesmerizing. I think your muscles have muscles. Mind if I, uh - you know, maybe, ah, never mind,” said Karasawa.

Raubahn looked at her for a long moment, and she felt embarrassed, but then he laughed, a big, hearty, jovial sound that filled the room and filled her with the joy of it, and he grinned at her as he curled up an arm and flexed a bicep, slapping it a few times.

“I did used to be a gladiator, lass, and you’ve at least the manners to ask first. Go ahead if you like.”

She wrapped her arms around his bicep, her eyes wide with glee. “By the gods, it’s like sculpted marble. And of course I ask first. I don’t touch people without permission. I mean, unless I’m gonna wallop them. Or if we’ve been good friends for a while and I know it’s okay. Or maybe if they’re asleep and I’m gonna nap on them.

“…actually okay I touch people a lot, but THIS time, I wasn’t gonna do it without asking.”

Raubahn smiled at her. “So, how are you finding the party so far?” he asked.

Karasawa let go of his arm and rolled her eyes. “Awful. Not a single person here is real. I’m not real because I’m trying to be nice and polite and not ruin my friend’s party. The Sultana’s not real because I’ve met her when she’s being real and that tiny polite smile she hides behind while trying to avoid any real conversation, that ain’t real. I think you may be the most real person here, actually.”

Raubahn nodded, his grin fading to a more gentle smile. “I think I see what she sees in you. You’re straightforward with your words. She’s told me about the conversations she and you have had, about the troubles of our fair city. And you’ve the right of it, lass, when you complained to her about how we handle our affairs. We’re up here, eating the rich larder of the land, and just outside the city gate, the people are starving. And you’re right. Behind her guise of stately serenity, she is aghast at the plight of her subjects.”

“…and helpless to do anything about it, aye,” said Karasawa quietly. “I am well used to the uselessness of fighting indomitable systems that have existed long before you were born.”

“You see the truth of the matter then. Aye, there will be no hope for the masses unless and until we can restore power to the crown. I hope that in the days to come, we can rely upon stalwart heroes such as yourself to - what is that? That… light?”

“What is what?” asked Karasawa, and then she frowned as she looked down at herself. She appeared to be glowing. She tried to reach out for her capabilities once more, but once more they evaded her. Well. There was nothing for it. She instead searched her pockets, until she found the source of the glow, and pulled out the locus crystal she had gotten earlier. “…huh.”

As she pulled it out, she began to feel a sensation that she was beginning to find all too familiar, and one she misliked. Pressure buildup, as flux filled her up clear to her eyeballs, resonance keening.

She could hear Raubahn’s voice in the distance. “It is so bright - by the Twelve! Have you been having visions? Visions, of the crystal? I think you may be like as they were… let me explain…”

He began to tell her, of adventurers, lost in some place called Cartenau, and she held on as long as she could, trying desperately to find some way to bleed off the flux before it could overwhelm her. She was certain what he was saying mattered, and she could imagine the voice of her old friend telling her that she had to pay attention to the details.

The story Raubahn was familiar. It was like one of the ones Momodi had told. About the Warriors of Light.

That must have been important. She hoped she remembered it.

“…yours is no ordinary tale. If I am right, the fate of the realm may yet hang upon your deeds. Only heroes and martyrs are fit to bear such a burden. Let us pray you are the former,” Raubahn finished, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Karasawa nodded, stiffly.

“Hey, so, I gotta take this,” she said, just on the very edge of feeling like her head was going to explode. “I’m about to go real stiff and stare off into the distance for a while, okay?”

“Lass?” said Raubahn, but already reality was receding, and memories that were not hers were rushing in.

Raubahn’s memories. Memories of a battle over a battered plane. Memories of him and several others she did not recognize. A battle lost, as fire streaked from the sky and devoured the earth. Orders to retreat, the voices of the lost.

And memory of a man in a mask. A long lost kin, who seemed to revel in the destruction.

Oh, she was going to kick his ass five ways to Darksday if she could help it.

-*-

When she came back, she was not in the banquet hall.

It seemed someone had taken the time and effort to move her, carefully, to a bed in the inn. She looked herself over. She was still dressed, and she still had all her devices on her. She frowned, pushed herself out of bed, and made her way out to the main area.

It wasn’t long before she had caught up with Momodi at the front desk. Apparently, whatever else had happened, that last memory resonance had gone on long enough to alarm several guests at the banquet. Raubahn had made her excuses for her, and had managed to very carefully steer her down to the Quicksand, where Momodi had seen to it she was put to bed to be kept watch over.

Apparently she could walk while in that state so long as someone was willing to hold onto her. Good to know, she supposed.

“…anyroad,” said Momodi, finishing the embarrassing tale of Karasawa’s walk of shame, “the General asked that you stop by and speak with him when you’re back on your feet and feeling up to it. He’s usually over at the Hall of Flames - that’s just widdershins from here, if you follow the pathway out front.”

Not more than a bell later, Karasawa found herself led by someone calling themself one of the General’s Lieutenants to outside a large office door with an ornate symbol on its outside. A jewel and and a flame, balanced on either side of a scale. Popular enough motif in these parts, she thought. The Lieutenant knocked on the door, and walked inside.

“The adventurer, Karasawa Atraxae, at your request, sir,” the woman said, bowing and gesturing at Karasawa to enter. Karasawa shot her a look and raised an eyebrow as she walked past her, waving to Raubahn.

“Hey there boss,” she said. “Momodi says you wanted to talk to me before I went off and found more trouble?”

“I’ve been waiting for you, Karasawa. I trust you are fully recovered?” asked Raubahn.

Karasawa shrugged. “Sure, until the next gods forsaken time the resonance starts keening and my teek goes all out of whack,” said Karasawa.

“…I do not understand much of what you say, but if you are well for now, that is well enough. There is much work to be done—work that I would have you do,” said Raubahn.

Karasawa nodded, crossing her arms and leaning against a wall. “Sure. Whatcha got?” she said.

“I have prepared some letters for my counterparts in the Eorzean alliance. Five years ago, lass, we looked on, powerless, across the battlefield of Cartenau. Our armies locked in mortal combat with the Garleans. And then routed by that thrice-damned primal they thought to summon.”

Primal. That was a weird word, and it didn’t translate quite right. Created belief? Faith concept? Several ideas of what it could be flashed across Karasawa’s mind, none of them as solid as she would like.

Raubahn continued without pause even as she puzzled that conundrum.

“Not a day goes by that I do not think of my fallen comrades… and of the Warriors of Light, of whom no trace remains. The tragedies of the Calamity are not so easily forgotten, nor should they be. Remembering what we lost reminds of us what we had. To that end, I mean to mark the fifth anniversary of the Battle of Carteneau with a memorial service honoring the fallen. It is my hope that my counterparts in the Alliance will agree to do the same. And I would have you bear my words to them as my personal envoy. You’ll be granted an airship pass for the purpose, lass. I intended to anyroad, but there were, shall we say, others who fair insisted. Airship travel’s not what it used to be, what with the ever-present threat from the Garlean empire, but I feel you deserve it and more - and it shall serve you well in the days ahead. What say you?”

Karasawa blinked at him a few times, and then she laughed.

“Oy, me, an envoy! Like, a diplomatic envoy?

“You have got to be kidding.”

[hotheadrednecksimmer]

Vault Tec Legacy

Alexia: Congrats on your pregnancy! I can't believe there's going to be another little dweller running around here.

Saylor: I know, Ben and I are thrilled! Although, both Ben and Mabel think I should take an easier birth approach than I did with Owyn. It's not my fault that Ben passed out and no one else in the Vault at the time had any medical training.

Alexia: *laughs* I still can't believe he passed out. If I had to put money on Jameson or Ben passing out during labor, my money would have been on Jameson.

Saylor: Speaking of Jameson, how are things going with you two?

Alexia: Things are really , really good. I think we're finally at a place of unconditional, mature love. We definitely don't fight like we used to when we were newly weds.

Saylor: Oh, that's great! I hate to tell you this then....

Alexia: Tell me what?

Saylor: I saw him flirting with Mabel in the dining hall. I was thinking of ways to tell you without absolutely hurting your feelings, but I think I should just rip off the band-aid.

Alexia: *laughs*

Saylor: Is this you having a mental break and plotting his murder???

Alexia: We had a long conversation about our marriage, our feelings, and where we genuinely are at. We've decided to open our marriage. We have rules in place so that neither one of us gets hurt. We've built this marriage up on trust and that's not going to change.

Saylor: I feel so silly. I didn't know! That's an exciting change in your relationship. So, Mabel and Jameson?

Alexia: I guess so, Jameson and I talked about his feelings for her but I haven't had the time to talk with him about it again. I guess it's going well.

Saylor: I would say so if they are flirting over the dinner table.

Alexia: I want him to explore his feelings with her, but how do we navigate telling our children? I know Clem is too young to understand, but I'm sure Val has picked up on things if you have. She's a very observant child. I thought after the bombs fell and we moved down here in the vault, life would get simpler emotion-wise, but how do you tell your child that daddy loves mommy, but also another women? And what about Branson?

Saylor: I think you're overthinking things when you don't even know that Jameson and Mabel have gotten that far. You need to talk to Jameson and maybe even Mabel about how to approach this topic with the kids together.

Alexia: Yeah you're right. I need to talk to Jameson I guess and Mabel.

Saylor: Yeah a conversation needs to happen. Anyways, Mabel was able to see the gender of our baby!

Conversation still happening in the background.

Mabel is seeing Jameson??? How could she move on so fast? Were we nothing?

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ First | Previous | Next

[laurasimonsdaughter]

A platonic True Love’s Kiss

While it shows up in more modern retellings all the time (Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, depending on your definition The Frog Prince and the Little Mermaid) breaking a curse with “true love’s kiss” is actually pretty rare in folktales.

The only lover who kisses a curse away I can think of right now is actually a woman, the girl from Grimm’s The True Bride (or True Sweetheart), but another genuine True Love’s Kiss is a brother saving his sister, in the English-Scottish ballad Kemp Owyne or the tale of The Laidly Worm of Spindleston Heugh:

A widowed king with two children remarries a jealous witch, who transforms the princess - either unnamed or Margaret - into a beastly dragon while the prince - either Kemp Owyne, Kempion, or Child Owyne - is away.

The news reaches her brother and he hastens to find her, coming upon a fiery beast. In some versions he is afraid of her, in others he nearly attacks her. But she speaks to him and he knows her, kissing her three times to break the spell and turn her back into herself.

Of course I’m delighted with the idea of sibling love being the love that breaks a kiss, but I also like the wiggle room there is in this tale for how the prince acts. The overall tone seems to be very brave and chivalrous, but:

In one version of the ballad he mouths off a lot about how she’s totally going to destroy the boat he and his buddy are in because she is so monstrous.

In one of them the dragon-princess promises her brother magic gifts, but also threatens that they will straight up kill him if he strikes her and he should get over here and kiss her already.

In two of the versions I know the evil queen ends up punished by being transformed into a beast or toad. In the latter it’s the prince himself who does this while in the first it could be read as the princess doing it.

Which implies that this whole family knows how to use magic and that these siblings probably turn each other into dragons or wolves on the reg when they’re bored. Giving me leave to turn the noble bravery of the prince into:

“Maggie get your scaly face over here, so I can kiss you better and kick that woman’s ass. No one gets to curse my sister but me.”

[miekkamaisteri]

Oh I get now why they changed Alanna's other Warder's name to Maksim, with the speak of Owyn in that episode him being called Owein would have been way too similar

[sheriff-caitlyn]

3rd Flora, Y9SyF. 

All papers are carefully checked at the borders. From visitors and traders to those of Piltover’s citizenry who travel further afield or who are even expatriated. All irregularities, from expired documents to forgeries to anything suspect, are noted immediately and wired to the Central Commissary in Piltover City. Everything will cross the sheriff’s desk eventually, but on times when there is an urgent discrepancy, the city clerks will contact her immediately.

Caitlyn puts her foot down, judiciously increasing her speed as her automobile leaves the city limits, the gleaming clusters of outer suburbia fading in her rearview mirror and the sky opening up overhead. Since the Long Bloody Spring, there had been no disturbances of note for the season; for five years straight, Spring had been quiet, broken only by the increased demands on the sheriff’s social calendar. It had seemed, for once, that peace had settled into Piltover’s borders, breaking even the standard traditions and expectations of the rowdier months following the Thaw. Even Urf Day had been sweeter, kinder, to all and sundry.

And yet, for all the quiet, here she is, speeding her way to the western border. Someone had come to the Ironspikes border pass not with papers, but with a bronze citizenship seal, one that had not been used for decades. The bearer of this seal had also asked for Caitlyn by name, a request which carried all the greater weight when the name of the seal’s bearer had been spoken, and signed, and passed through the wires.

Even at speed, the journey to the border takes hours. Caitlyn shuts the door and shades her eyes against the late afternoon light, and sees the man sitting on the grass outside the border office. On the Piltovian side - of course, they couldn’t deny the right of a citizen of Piltover to enter their home territory - but Caitlyn wonders whether this decision had been made lightly. There were consequences for every action, even those made with the best of intentions.

She approaches, her boots striking a military beat against the stone path. The man appears to be meditating, or at least sits still and silent, looking at the distant gleaming spires of Piltover City. It is not until Caitlyn drew closer that the man exhales - a raspy, burbling sound - and unfurls himself, not so much ‘standing’ as much as ‘getting to his feet’. It is a fluid, unhuman movement, like the bones in the man’s legs were closer to cartilage, or that gravity no longer had any claim on him. Or both, perhaps.

“Cysednnin ap Owyn.” Caitlyn inclines her head slightly. “Welcome home.”

“Just Kassadin will suffice,” he said. “It is the name others remember me by.” He sounded tired. Perhaps it is not a tone many would pick up on, over the distortion of a mask, but Caitlyn had a keen ear. “I thank you for this welcome, Sheriff Huxley. I am pleased to see our home still standing strong still.” He pauses, then draws his masked gaze from the city to look at her. His voice becomes even more difficult to decipher as he slips into his native tongue. “[May we speak in your vehicle? I do not feel comfortable airing my words.]”

“[Of course.]” She gestures, then returns the way she had come. Only her heels make a sound on the pathway; Kassadin drifts, rather than walks. She wants to ask, but she does not. Neither of them speak. She opens the passenger door for him, and waits until he is settled. She closes the door, rounds the vehicle, then takes her seat on the driver’s side.

The door closes. There is not silence, because the pieces of Kassadin’s suit shift and hiss, gently, and the sound of air and fluids moving through pipes and tanks and his own organs provide an uncomfortably-organic white noise. Caitlyn taps her finger against her thumb in order to maintain clarity of mind, to not lose herself to assessing and analysing each gurgle and whisper. 

“[Something must trouble you greatly, for you to return to Piltover after all this time,]” she says, maintaining the Westie for his sake. There was no better way to ensure privacy than to speak a language less than 20,000 people in all the world speak fluently.

Kassadin exhales a sigh, the breath growling through the tubes that connect his mask to his chest. “[I have had dreams,]” he murmurs. His gloved hands worry at each other in his lap. “[They are never clear, nor would I wish them to be.]”

The Void took more than it gave, a lesson found out too late. A brief touch of it is more than most could stand. Kassadin’s own condition was testament to that; he was lucky to be alive, if ‘alive’ was the right word for it.

He continues, “[But in the glimpses I am given, I see something stirring. Something rising.]” The words, and the language, gave Kassadin’s words an evocative quality that Middletongue could not have replicated, even in the hands of the most capable poet. “[I have not felt such a stirring since the fall of the Institute, when all those vile things were released back to the pull of their progenitor.]”

Caitlyn looks out through the windshield of her automobile, watching as the sunlight changes. The sun was slipping below the western lip of the mountains. Shadows were falling, though night was still hours away. “[You are telling me to prepare Piltover’s defences, then.]”

“[Yes. Perhaps. I am not sure.]”

“[It is better to be safe than sorry,]” she says, though the aphorism feels dreadfully, woefully, inadequate. “[But why seek me out?]”

“[You are a true defender of Piltover,]” he says, gravely. “[You understand, too, what it is we are in danger of.]” He sighs, and hangs his head. “[I wish I could grant a better warning. All I have is... is a feeling. Something stirs, Sheriff Huxley. Something rises.]”

The Void has unleashed creatures of insatiable hungers before. Consumption in all forms, reaching into the material for what it should never possess. Caitlyn breathes in deep through her nose and out again, her mind picking over the scenarios she has for the defence of Piltover. None have ever been enough; all involve mass-scale evacuations. What kind of hunger threatens the world this time? Will the Void finally puncture Runeterra’s atmosphere like a soap bubble?

She pulls herself out of considerations of the worst-case scenarios, and turns to glance at him. “[I will do what I can to prepare us. Though you of all people would know that such defence could be inadequate.]”

“[Take heart,]” he turns to look at her, his helm catching what is left of the dying light. “[I have more to tell you. My daughter lives.]”

Caitlyn blinks, then, a hundred questions followed by a thousand more. “[Your daughter? The gods dead or buried, Kassadin, that is...]”

He makes a rough, ragged sound. It is short, almost like a burble of pain, but Caitlyn identifies it as a chuckle. Nervous and shaky and unused for decades, but a chuckle regardless. “[Good news, yes. Though I...]” He sighs again, sinking back into the seat. “[I have only known this from afar. I do not know what to do.]”

“[You find her and you speak to her,]” she says, decisively. “[You let her know of your search and your vigil.]”

“[I do not know if she remembers me,]” his fatigue settles into his tone again. “[And if she does, I do not think she would forgive me. I have failed her before, as a father...]” 

“[She has been alone for decades in that place-that-is-not,]” Caitlyn arches an eyebrow, slightly. “[Do not leave her thinking her solitude continues. Gods, Kassadin, your daughter...]” She raises both hands to the steering wheel, and taps out the silent notes of an old rite. “[Find her.]”

“[But...]”

“[You are her father, Kassadin. Do not let the Void keep that from you any longer. And,]” Caitlyn adds, dryly. “[I want to meet the girl. Factor that into your considerations.]”

Kassadin gives another tired, strangled chuckle, before inclining his head slightly. “[If you so wish, I shall... I shall attempt.]” He looks back out the windshield, to distant gleaming Piltover. “[She might like to see the home of her ancestors. Though I cannot imagine she will stay.]”

“[Like father, like daughter,]” Caitlyn murmurs, and hums soft amusement. “[Thank you for sharing such news with me.]”

“[I do not have many I can celebrate with,]” Kassadin shifts in his seat, ready to rise, his gloved hand on the door. “[And I know fewer still who understand the gravity of the situation.]”

Caitlyn inhales and exhales again through her nose, slowly. “[Have you a hexphone, good sir? I would like an immediate way to stay in touch with you, should there be any further developments, or dreams.]”

“[No, but... I shall reach you, regardless.]” He inclines his head. “[Farewell for now, Sheriff Huxley.]”

“Ffarwel am y tro.” She watches him let himself out, and the strange drifting motion of his passage back towards the border. Then she turns her head and looks out across the crater, the forests and roads and bridges and homes, and the little lights of the star-rods that gleam against the coming dark.

[gold-and-rubies]

Sins of the Eastern Brotherhood

So most of us can understand that the western chapters of the Brotherhood are not good, but some people struggle to see just how bad the eastern chapter is. Some issues are shared with the other chapters, and I will be talking about both Lyons and Maxson, but mostly Maxson since he is the one currently in charge. This is a long post, so I put it under the read more thing.

Mutants, ghouls, and synths

I personally believe their attitudes towards these groups are the biggest issue. While their attitude towards mutants is reasonable since there are far, far less friendly mutants on the East Coast, their belief that all mutants, regardless of how they actually act, is problematic. As can also be seen with their attitude towards synths, they do not judge them on their actions, but rather on their being. This is an immoral thing to do. 

Now, let’s look at their treatment of ghouls. Under both Owyn and Sarah Lyons, members of the Brotherhood were permitted to kill non-feral ghouls for fun, and did so often. Maxson creates a rule that prohibits this from happening, but anti-ghoul sentiment is still alive and well as can be seen by their comments towards Hancock. Members are not permitted to have any kind of relationship with a ghoul, and ghouls are not permitted to become members. While they are no longer going around murdering them, I wouldn’t be surprised if some still do, they are still incredibly prejudiced towards them.

Members are instructed to kill synths, and as seen with Danse, there are absolutely no exceptions. The only person who seems even remotely okay with him is Haylen, the rest are metaphorically spitting on his grave after the events of Blind Betrayal. They treat them as though they are created by the devil himself, and like they are less than human, even though they had no say in their creation. Most gen-3 synths they will come into contact with are completely and totally innocent, and the ones that aren’t will likely be a danger for reasons unrelated to the Institute. The Brotherhood has no qualms about having innocent blood on their hands if it is synth blood.

The treatment of these three groups are not caused by the Lyons or by Maxson. Yes, they make things worse, but these beliefs are deep rooted in the mass majority of the members.

Other humans

They don’t treat their fellow humans nicely either. While it makes total sense for them to priortize other members over the wastelanders, that isn’t what they are doing. Members are often incredibly rude towards wastelanders, and treat them as though they are less than. Although it isn’t exactly allowed, Teagan and other soldiers are okay with bullying settlers into giving up crops that could decide whether or not they survive. This just further proves the issue isn’t with the leadership. They act as though anyone not with them is just some weak peasant who can’t defend themselves, but still has the potential to end the world if they get their hands on the right tech.

Speaking of Maxson, they have a cult like worship of him. No one seems to take issue that he was made Elder at 16, or that a 20 year old is leading them. They put him on a pedestal like he is some folkloric hero, and very few are shown questing his command. He put children on a warship, one that would be a high priority target for those who wish to take them down, and only Danse seems to have an issue with it.

This is an issue that all chapters of the Brotherhood have. They act as though they were chosen by God Himself to keep dangerous pieces of technology and science out of humanity’s reach without ever stopping to consider that someone in their own ranks could use these things to their own nefarious ends. They build Liberty Prime without stopping to think that that is the very thing they strive to stop from happening. 

Maxson doesn’t allow members to leave. Members are not allowed to fully leave unless it’s through death, or they did something to be exiled, which could result in the Brotherhood killing them if they cross paths again. This can have a disastrous effect on the mind, and poor mental health does affect the body. It’s toxic.

I’m sure there are things I missed, and if I remember them I will add them.

[theshatteredrose]

Code Yellow Conspiracy - Etrian Odyssey Nexus Oneshot

Title: Code Yellow Conspiracy

Summary: What exactly is Code Yellow? Oracle was going to find out.

Pairings: None

Warnings: The mentioning of spiked and drugged drinks, but it is most certainly not a positive thing

AN: I thought to myself “I really should start a book of oneshots for Nexus because I have a lot to write about” and then I thought to myself “Yes, I’ll do that now because what’s one more open project to panic over?”. So, here we are. Boys being cute with other boys is very therapeutic for me. So, enjoy :’D

Ao3 | Wattpad | Inkitt | FF.Net

~*~*~*~*~

“Would someone mind taking this…fine gentleman to the hospital, please? It’s a Code Yellow.”

Oracle paid little attention to the request. Drunkard and stupid, that person, whoever they were, were of little consequence to him. Though, he had to admit that he was curious as to what a Code Yellow was. Hospital jargon, of course, but there had been a few such cases in recent days.

“You sure he’s ok? He was just talking before he just keeled over on me.”

Hearing Drayce’s voice was what pulled Oracle’s attention from the book he had been deciphering. He glanced over to where the redheaded dragoon stood with Lynus. The violet-eyed medic appeared to be reassuring Drayce, placing his hand comfortingly on his arm and speaking with him quietly. His expression remained placid, even as two guardsmen began to haphazardly pick up an unknown bar patron that was slumped face first upon the table next to the two.

“Don’t worry, the hospital visit is just a precaution. I’m sure it’s nothing more than excessive alcohol consumption.” Professional and courteous. And yet, there was something else hidden in the tone of Lynus’ voice.

“That’s the third time someone collapsed on me, though,” Drayce continued with his concern with a frown. “What-?”

“Don’t go blaming yourself,” Lynus immediately interrupted, softly yet firmly. “It may be that they can’t handle their alcohol. I’ll speak with Cass about perhaps lowering the alcohol content.”

Drayce didn’t look wholly convinced, but he nodded his head in acceptance regardless. “Ok. You’re probably right.”

Lynus gave his arm another reassuring squeeze before he turned away and moved toward the hapless stranger. Likely wishing to inspect him one last time before he was taken to hospital. Drayce watched the scene for a moment before he sighed, shook his head in annoyance and moved away.

Oracle idly closed the book he was reading as Drayce sat down at the table with him, his expression contorted into a look of confusion and frustration. “Another Code Yellow with me nearby. I’m starting to think I’m curse or something,” he complained.

Oracle allowed his gaze to flicker back toward the seemingly unconscious stranger as they were literally carried out of the bar by two guards in full armour. One holding him by the armpits, the other by the ankles. Not a comfortable position and if the stranger was truly in an emergency state, he was certain that one of the many medics would have intervened.

Lynus especially, with his innate skills to detect a person’s status clear across the room. Yet, he didn’t. Most curiously, he was the one that had made the request.

“I don’t even know what Code Yellow means,” Drayce lamented, prompting Oracle to turn his gaze toward him once more. “No one would tell me. It’s just hospital jargon, they tell me. I just can’t help but think it’s something more to it.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know either,” Oracle confessed.

Drayce folded his arms atop of the table and rested his chin upon his forearms, an annoyed little pout on his lips. “I’ve asked Lynus, Fiorello, Simon, Darrell, and even Owyn, but they all tell me it’s just jargon for someone who has drank too much or has an adverse reaction to alcohol. But I’ve seen others who are clearly intoxicated and blind-out drunk, and they’re never referred to as Code Yellow. It’s got to be something else.”

A small smile of amusement spread across Oracle’s lips. Trust a treasure hunter to pick up the small details. “Must be a conspiracy.”

Drayce huffed out a breath that pushed aside a strand of his red hair. “Nah. I’m sure it’s not done in malice. But it is bugging the hell out of me.”

“I imagine it would.” Treasure hunters were a notorious for their nosiness, after all. “Well, perhaps I should ask around.”

Drayce looked up at him in surprise as Oracle placed his hands atop of the table and pushed himself to his feet. He soon smiled, however, a rather cheeky and knowing grin. “Ah, you’re insatiably curious, too?”

Oracle picked up his book and slipped it into pocket of his jacket. “Indeed. With all the secrecy, it must be quite an interesting tale somewhere involved.”

“Be sure to tell me what you learnt, ok?”

“Of course.”

With that, Oracle turned away from the table and cast his gaze around the Stickleback Mk2. Lynus was nowhere in sight, perhaps having decided to follow the stranger to the hospital to ensure their treatment. But perhaps he wasn’t the best person to ask about the secret meaning behind the mysterious Code Yellow. He was far too nice, too careful with his words. Anything and everything that could potentially frighten or concern someone would be said with perfectly chosen sentences and words.

Oracle didn’t have time for that. He wanted the blatant truth. Something that Isiah was quite comfortable with himself. Alas, he wasn’t within sight either. But another medic was. Darrell. He was rather blunt himself at times. He’d do.

“Ah, Darrell, a moment of your time?” Oracle requested as he walked over to where the redhead medic stood at the bar, scribbling something down on a small notebook.

Darrell raised his head only slightly, peering over his thin-framed glasses at him. “Need something?”

“Code Yellow. What is it?” Blunt answers require blunt questions.

Darrell rested against the bar casually as he inspected him with his eyes for a moment. “I’d tell you the truth, but there’s a few innocents I don’t want to worry,” he unexpectedly replied.

Oh? Quite curious.

“Shall we go for a walk then?”

Darrell quickly shoved his notebook into the breast pocket of his medical jacket and nodded. “Sure, why not? Doesn’t hurt to have more eagle eyes, as it were.”

Hm? He was hoping to recruit Oracle for something? Even more curious.

Without another word the two unlikely companions headed out of the bar and toward a quiet and rather secluded park area located several blocks away from the bar. It was a small place, a rather futile attempt at placing some greenery amongst the sturdy buildings and steel reinforcements.

“Is this efficient?” Oracle asked as they reached a quiet picnic area that was devoid of any souls.

Darrell glanced around almost suspiciously before he plopped himself down upon the wooden park bench and lounged casually. “Code Yellow, huh? Why do you want to know?”

“Curiosity,” Oracle answered honestly as he sat down next to him.

“It’s short for yellow-bellied,” he explained unexpectedly and bluntly, just as Oracle had hoped. “It’s for those who use easily accessible status potions and tonics meant for monster battles and use them against their fellow explorers.”

It took Oracle a moment to fully register what he had said, what he insinuated before he bristled. “They’re spiking and poisoning drinks?”

Darrell nodded. “Yep. For experimentation and for…well, I’m sure you know what the other, main reason is.”

Indeed. Oracle felt the immense desire to burn something. Or rather, someone. Someone who had been issued with a Code Yellow only recently.

“Code Green are for victims of those who would qualify as Code Yellows,” Darrell explained further.

“Are code words necessary?”

Darrell nodded as he stretched his legs out in front of him. “We’ve often wonder that, but we know that revealing the truth would only cause others to panic, worry, and become jumpy. The last thing this place needs is a bunch of jumpy explorers eying each other with suspicion. And it may cause those with ill intentions to change their methods. This way, we have them unguarded and at our disposal. Degenerates will always find a way to be degenerate.”

Unfortunately, that was true.

“What happens to them at the hospital?”

An almost sadistic grin slipped across Darrell’s lips as his eyes gazed vacantly into space. “Stuff.”

Oracle frowned. “I want details.”

“Best for you to witness yourself. Only if you promise not to tell anyone else what I told you.”

Ah. Poor Drayce. Looked like he wasn’t going to learn the truth today, either.

“Very well. I imagine this stuff is rightly painful,” Oracle commented. “Though, I’m surprised that Lynus willingly travelled to the hospital along with the Code Yellow victim.”

Darrell shook himself from his thousand-yard stare. “Lynus is usually the one who makes the call. And he has a hundred percent accuracy rate.”

Lynus’ empathetic abilities were likely very useful in that regard. Anyone who dared to poison or drug another person’s drink did so with pure malice in mind. He’d likely sensed their attentions long before anything was initiated. “Oh? Do tell.”

Darrell grinned as if recalling a memory. “Given the opportunity, he would purposely swap the contaminated drinks with the perp and then idly stand by until they experience full effects of their own drugs.”

Oracle honestly hadn’t expected that. “I must admit, I find that surprising.”

“Nah, not really,” Darrell said nonchalantly. “Lynus is equally protective, just not as up-front about it, like Axel. Or violent like Tobyn. Everyone of the Guardians is protective. He’s just more passive about it. Giving them a taste of their own medicine, as it were.”

“Well well, seems Precious Medic is more intriguing than it first appears.” Sarcasm was heavy in Oracle’s voice, but in truth he was quite fascinating by the reveal.

“That’s why he’s always prowling the place whenever he visits,” Darrell explained before he hefted himself to his feet and turned to stare down at Oracle. “Now, keep this to yourself, remember? And I’ll allow you access to certain Code Yellow cases.”

Certain cases? Did that mean…?

“Jaxen is a usual target, isn’t he?”

“And Kardos, believe it or not.”

Oracle bristled violently. “You have yourself a deal.”

Darrell made a sound that was a half snort, half laugh. “Well, I better get back. With Lynus away, I need to keep an eye on the place.”

“Indeed. I best get back, too,” Oracle said as he pushed himself to his feet. His protective hackles were still raised, but he consoled himself with the fact that he had never heard the words Code Green used to describe the treatment for anyone of his extended guild, let alone his own.

But god help anyone who dared to put his guildmates in such a state.

The trek back to the bar was a quiet one and as soon as they reached the interior of the bar, Darrell went on the prowl, focusing in on areas of explorers he did not know or recognise. And Oracle himself scanned the area with an air of suspicion. His gaze soon focused in on Drayce, however, as he spoke with Cass behind the bar. Likely questioning him about what Code Yellow was as the brawny man himself had issued the statement often.

Oracle walked over to him and took him by the elbow, abruptly pulling him away from the bar so that they could speak in somewhat privacy. “I’ve spoken to Darrell,” he said simply as the dragoon have gifted him a look of pure confusion.

Drayce perked up. “Did he tell you?”

“Indeed he did, but I’m not telling you.”

“What? Why?” Drayce practically whined, frustration evident.

Oracle planted a hand on the dragoon’s shoulder and looked sternly into his eyes, startling him greatly. “It’s for your benefit. The secrecy behind the code isn’t malicious, but those who obtain such a code is.”

A crinkle appeared in Drayce’s brow. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s not something you need to worry about. Just don’t go accepting drinks from strangers, ok?”

Drayce had absolutely no idea what was going on, or even how to respond. “Ah, ok?”

Oracle nodded his head and folded his arms into the sleeves of his purple robes. “Now, you must excuse me; there’s something I wish to witness at the hospital. This should be both educational and amusing.”

And quite entertaining.

[dyedmaxiian]

JAMIE ON THE FALLOUT 4 MAIN FACTIONS:

THE MINUTEMEN

THE INSTITUTE

THE BROTHERHOOD OF STEEL

THE RAILROAD

THE MINUTEMEN

Initially when Jamie arrived in the Commonwealth he didn’t really think much of the Minutemen considering their numbers were extremely scarce to the point where they couldn’t have possibly made a high impact seeing as they were small and didn’t have much power. Seeing as initially Jamie was running with the Brotherhood still he didn’t really tend to cross paths with them much, the only really notable interaction he had was with Preston Garvey, who he had a sort of respect for due to his drive to keep the Minutemen going. However as Elder Maxson arrives in the Commonwealth and the truth about Danse is revealed, Jamie’s tune changes significantly, and Jamie over time begins to look at the Minutemen as really the ONLY people who truly seemed to care about the Commonwealth and its well-being. After Maxson formally removes Danse from the Brotherhood’s ranks, Jamie lives in the listening post with Danse for few months before he and Danse approach Preston Garvey & the Minutemen General about joining the ranks of the Minutemen. 

After the fact, Jamie’s time in the Minutemen comes from a place of sheer devotion. Though not a particularly strong leader, Jamie does have deep respect for their cause, generally bonding the MOST ( if at all ) with the Sole Survivor during his time as part of the Minutemen. Jamie fully devotes himself to the betterment of the Commonwealth through the Minutemen and eventually is named Lieutenant of the Minutemen and placed in charge of his own specialized operations unit called ‘The Lancers’. All in all, Jamie fully devotes himself to the cause of the Minutemen, aiding in any way possible and even taking part in a number of protective sieges by the Minutemen to keep the peace in the Commonwealth. 

Jamie is also rather instrumental in the establishment of trade routes and the securing of settlements in Far Harbor & Nuka World, helping to try and ensure that both locations are secured and taken care of. After the General decides to siege Nuka World and remove the three Raider Gangs, Jamie and the Lancers along with the General, Colonel Garvey, and their allies lead the charge into Nuka World to face off with the Raider Gangs. At the end of the day when all is said and done, Jamie tends to ERR on the side of preferring to HELP the Minutemen be more of a force in the Commonwealth, protecting its citizens BUT making sure that the other factions don’t get TOO cocky with their existence. Sitting on a SORT of council with the General, Preston, and other officials affiliated with the Minutemen after he & Danse defect, Jamie tends to stand as the voice of gusto. Often pushing for the Minutemen to declare the full fledged removal of Brotherhood occupation in the Commonwealth. 

THE BROTHERHOOD OF STEEL

The Truest disappointment in every sense of the word. Jamie, having served under the Brotherhood’s banner for an entire decade of his life following the wake up he experienced from Vault 112 with the aid of the Lone Wanderer, and then the subsequent recruitment into the Brotherhood’s ranks serving under Sarah Lyons, Jamie was proud to say he was part of the Brotherhood of Steel. They had their faults but he was proud that he was finally getting the CHOICE to be part of something greater than himself. He served happily with them for ten years, and in that time the joy and pride deteriorated as Owyn Lyons passed, and eventually Sarah Lyons was mysteriously lost during a crucial mission, leaving only young Arthur Maxson to take her place.

That’s when things turned inextricably dark. Maxson’s IRON FIST over the Capital Wastes left Jamie feeling progressively more and more sour about his time as a Brotherhood of Steel knight. Though he can somewhat respect Maxson’s gusto, he finds himself near CONSTANTLY at odds with Maxson’s line of thinking, consistently finding himself thinking mid-operation ‘Elder Lyons would be ashamed of us’. As the Brotherhood & the Outcast fighting continued to rage and Maxson’s grip on the Capital Wastes tightened, a new team was dispatched to the Commonwealth in order to get a lay of the land due to increasing rumors regarding SYNTHETIC humans being found all across the wasteland striking fear into the hearts of the Commonwealth Citizens. 

Jamie willingly volunteers for the operation being top of his CLASS and serving under Paladin Danse. And with distance from the Brotherhood he felt his mind begin to waver and change. His loyalty, however remained, and with time spent in the Commonwealth under Danse’s command Jamie began to feel a semblance of renewed belief in the Brotherhood. Danse spoke so highly of their cause and it only served to inspire. Jamie feeling himself more and more willing to confide in his commanding officer and TEAM as they did their best to survive the wasteland. 

Eventually when the team came across the Sole Survivor, a fellow vault dweller, Jamie kept a safe distance but maintained a politeness, trying to MAINTAIN the anonymity of his own origins so as to ensure no one was the wiser, having grown close enough with Danse to have divulged the information but ENSURING the two of them keep it between themselves. It isn’t until the TRUTH about Danse comes out that Jamie’s tune changes completely. With the way Maxson speaks about Danse being a traitor SIMPLY for being a synth, Jamie sneaks off the Prydwen in the dead of night and tracks Danse down to the listening post, confronting him about not standing up for himself to Maxson. They argue but Jamie resolves that if Danse is to be exiled, HE TOO will enter exile as he refuses to be part of an organization that will turn so vehemently on their people.

Maxson’s entire demeanor during the ordeal leaves Jamie empty, raw, and most importantly VENGEFUL. With his newfound hatred for the Brotherhood for their treatment of Danse he’s sent into a tailspin. He’s without purpose once again after ten years of service, knowing only that his loyalty belongs to Danse and that he can’t go back to the Brotherhood knowing how they treated him. Since that point Jamie has been marked as a traitor and after he joins the ranks of the Minutemen he happily engages in operations that involve disrupting Brotherhood operations.

THE RAILROAD

This is a case of ‘THE ROAD TO HELL IS PAVED WITH GOOD INTENTIONS’ in Jamie’s mind. They mean well, and it counts for something, but the truth is, what distinguishes them from the Minutemen, or rather what MAKES them less appealing to Jamie is the fact that they don’t seem to care about the people CAUGHT IN THE CROSSFIRE of their fights, and the fighting between the Institute & the B.O.S. as well. As such they ONLY seem to help Synths, which for Jamie doesn’t really hold as much as the every man goodness that the Minutemen seem to have regarding their desire to do good and REBUILD society. So Jamie doesn’t exactly DISLIKE them, but he does think Desdemona’s view on the Commonwealth as a whole is fundamentally flawed.

He respects their goal, but ultimately feels it’s TOO singular. However, despite personal disagreement with their beliefs & operations, he wouldn’t be opposed to helping them as in his mind AT LEAST they’re actually helping innocents, where the Brotherhood does not. Despite the fact that Jamie believes Synths should be given a chance to create a life of their own without the scrutiny of the Institute, he struggles to agree with the idea that the Railroad should ONLY help the Synths. With that being said, Jamie does occasionally ASSIST them if he comes across their agents, or is assigned to due so at the behest of the General. 

In Jamie’s IDEAL Commonwealth set up, the Railroad & the Minutemen would work as a unit instead of being completely separated as he believes both parties stand to gain a GREAT DEAL from the alliance, especially given who both of them are respectively contending against. Seeing as Jamie would trust the Railroad to be able to handle SUBTERFUGE operations, he thinks their assistance to the Minutemen could be substantial, and in return the Railroad would benefit from having a LARGER MORE FIRE-POWER EQUIPPED group to watch their backs and over them various outposts in which to conduct their operations on a MORE SAFE level.

Ultimately, Jamie’s primary problem with the Railroad stems from Desdemona directly. He respects her prowess as a leader, and even her devotion to the cause they’ve laid forth for themselves but he cannot excuse her negligence of innocent people who need help. There’s a point where Desdemona EVEN says the people of the Commonwealth DON’T deserve the help of the Railroad because they’re not being prosecuted the way Synths are, which, to Jamie is a bitter view of a populace that is being crushed under the weight of a WAR waged around them.

While Jamie was in the Brotherhood, there were a number of operations he engaged in trying to figure out where the Railroad agents were conducting operations, and on the OFF CHANCE he ever encountered a Railroad agent he OFTEN if not ALWAYS let them go unscathed as he had no intentions of bringing an agent in ESPECIALLY considering the fact that he knew EXACTLY what kind of leader Maxson was, and he had NO desire to hold more on his conscience because of the horrible things Maxson believes in.

THE INSTITUTE

PERHAPS the most difficult pill to swallow for Jamie about the Institute is that they are a SHINING example of how humanity STILL hasn’t learned its lesson about playing god. The existence of Synths alone proves that, and to Jamie the very idea that scientists IN GOOD CONSCIENCE can hide their technology away from people who could truly benefit from it, disgusts him. Jamie’s heavy handed criticism of the Institute isn’t because he believes they’re ‘the boogeymen of the Commonwealth’ but because of the fact that they are EVERYTHING wrong with Science when given into the hands of people who would IGNORE the moral element that comes with Science & Scientific advancement. Make no mistake, Jamie doesn’t think the Institute is ENTIRELY bad, the things they’ve accomplished ARE amazing for sure, but Jamie also thinks they’re SELFISH.

Again, referencing Jurassic Park, the idea of the Institute basically GOING so far in their technological advancement, they get CAUGHT in it almost and get swallowed up in the grandeur of it but they don’t stop to think if they SHOULD or not. To him, once again, there is no greater example for him than in the form of the Synths. To Jamie, the synths are the EXACT reason the Institute is an example of the fact that they HAVEN’T learned their lesson.

Jamie watched his FATHER play god, he watched his father’s FRIENDS & COWORKERS all play god, and watched as it all came CRUMBLING down around them and resulted in a MASS NUCLEAR war that nearly made mankind extinct. He is disgusted by the fact that not only are the scientists of the Institute, PERHAPS some of the most brilliant humans still alive today, wasting their efforts on technology that may NEVER see the light of day, but they are ALSO defying NATURE and creating passable LIFE in the form of the synths. While Jamie doesn’t hold Synths in contempt for being a creation that has taken on a MIND & LIFE of their own, he does hold the Institute scientists in contempt for NOT stopping to think if THAT was something they SHOULD have done in the first place.

He believes that the Institute COULD be good OR COULD have been good depending on the choices of the Sole Survivor, but what they failed at was the fact that they were SELFISH, and not unlike the Railroad, believed that the innocent people of the Commonwealth DIDN’T deserve a second chance at REBUILDING a stable society. And to Jamie, that’s UNFORGIVABLE. As mentioned in my post about Jamie’s relationship with Science as a whole. He sees the great value of Science, but what he DOES NOT see is the reasoning or JUSTIFICATION behind hiding all the good that could be DONE behind a thin veil of SELFISHNESS.

[lunias-takes-on-homestuck]

My Classpects Through the Years

I started getting into Homestuck in late 2012, about a year after [S] Cascade dropped, and like most of y’all I got pretty interested in the system of Classes and Aspects.

...Okay, I got obsessed with it. Who wouldn’t? A highly-flexible system of essentially taking an aspect of reality and interpreting it through the lens of a key verb or idea, creating unique and self-determined power sets limited only by your own imagination? That’s wild. And when I say I got into it, I mean I really got into it. I dove deep into Homestuck’s lore, reading up on popular and somewhat fringe theories about what each Aspect related to, how the Classes utilized them, what the potential Active/Passive pairings were, and how certain Aspects seemed to oppose each other. I even went so far as to contribute to a theory regarding the future of Tavros Nitram, which... didn’t exactly pan out as expected... but it was a ton of fun! And of course, while I was certainly interested in what this all meant for our cast of characters, I was also interested in how it could be interpreted and/or applied to real people.

People are, of course, far more complicated than a simple personality test could possibly explain, but I still got a lot of entertainment out of trying to pin down the classpects of characters or people I knew irl. Which naturally included me. Looking back on it, I think it’s very interesting to see the progression in ideas that led up to my more recent musings, so I figured it would be cool to dive into that and share my past and current classpects here!

Credits:

All images are pulled from the Homestuck Classpect Chart Updated posted by JosiahR94 on DeviantArt.

Artists: Zynchilada (compiled, partially drawn) and Owyn (updated at original resolution). Both blogs listed on the artwork have since been deactivated.

2012-2013 - Knight of Breath

This one is the byproduct of some test manipulation on my part - the fan test I was using was based on MBTI and Jungian archetypes, and honestly I’ve never found them to remain accurate for longer than a couple months at a time. I’ve wound my way around four different MBTI results over the years so I’m not inclined to use them as the basis for much, especially since the original test included fan-created classes and aspects that I really didn’t understand or jive with. But even once I narrowed it down to strictly canonical classes and aspects, I still wound up going with the 3rd-most accurate one. At the time I saw the Knight as the Active Exploiter class, the type to jump into action and wield their aspect as a weapon. I really related the idea of a detached loner who was fiercely protective of their friends, and John had shown off very, very recently (for me, anyway) just how powerful wind could be. The powers were sick, the outfit was neat, and it was absolutely wrong in nearly every way. Nearly. But we’ll get to that.

2013-2015 - Seer of Doom

You’re probably a little familiar with this one if you’ve been keeping up with Homestuck theorists lately, as there are two prolific content creators I know of who identify as Seers of Doom. For some time, I did too! The change was largely brought about because I thought my initial Knight of Breath result hadn’t been accurate enough, and also because I wanted to try my hand at classpecting myself without the aid of tests. At the time I was really feeling the Doom aspect and I saw myself as a guide (or maybe a teacher?) so it felt like it fit. There was just one sliiiight problem - I was entirely focused on how the Doom aspect related to the problems I was having in my life, rather than how I viewed the world around me and interacted with it. I still felt like I was sort of onto something with Doom, but it took some major life events to give me the nudge I needed to see things a little more clearly...

2015-2020 - Sylph of Life

For me, 2015 felt like the year I was finally coming out of my funk and figuring my shit out. It’s the year I started taking college courses (well, a college course), getting into meetups, making new friends, and reinventing myself. At some point I decided that the issue with my initial Doom analysis was that I was overly focused on the challenges I had instead of how I actually dealt with them, and my new aggressively-optimistic outlook would simply not mesh with Doom. Not one bit. I also felt that my class didn’t quite fit, and Sylph was sitting right there with their magick-y healing and creation powerset -- the ultimate support, and the type of person who makes their own way through life by simply refusing to accept they could be stopped or put down by anything. By the time the Extended Zodiac Quiz came out in 2017 and confirmed I was Lifebound, I had already proven to be on top of my game in college in a creative field. I joined our LGBT+ club and started somewhat aggressively railing against overly-restrictive labels and social constructs in Contemporary English to the point that I was exceeding the page limit on our essay assignments on a regular basis and still felt I wasn’t saying everything I wanted to say. Sylph of Life just clicked for me in a way the Knight of Breath and Seer of Doom never had, so I figured I’d nailed it.

Then, earlier this year, I found out I was actually a girl.

2020-Present - Knight of Life... or maybe Heart???

Imagine for a minute that you’re at a theater watching some movie through the perspective of the protagonist. You think you’ve got the plot all figured out, you’re guessing every story beat, and then in the last 5 minutes the big twist reveals the protagonist has unwittingly been an unreliable narrator for the last two hours. Literally everything you thought you understood has been flipped on its head, and it’s still good but it’s all very confusing. You leave the theater wondering what you just watched, and as you turn on your car you suddenly realize there were subtle hints foreshadowing the twist for over half the film. With every passing second the pieces start coming together, and you just know that watching it again would leave you going “How the hell did I miss that?!”

That’s about the best way I can explain what I’ve been experiencing for the past four-ish months. All the puzzle pieces I had put together were thrown totally out of whack and I’m finding every day that there are aspects of myself and my personality that I never knew where there. Discovering myself is hard work, but it’s a wonderful feeling, and it’s no wonder that on the heels of this I’m seriously vibing with the aspect relating to Personal Identity. That said, I still find myself parsing labels and identity through the lens of Life - words which are too restrictive to properly convey who I am, and an experience that can’t be explained or constrained by the stereotypical narrative people tend to have about people who are bisexual, polyamorous, transgender, and at once more complicated than those words can really describe. When I take the Extended Zodiac Quiz I find that I’m still Lifebound, but changing even a single question by a single step leaves me Heartbound instead, and I think that dichotomy really mirrors where I feel I’m at as a person.

Class-wise, I feel drawn to both Sylph and Knight to a degree, but in the years since I first chose the Knight of Breath classpect I have come to understand the class as a Passive Server - one who gives for the benefit of others - and that speaks to me. The wonderful Mythological Class Quiz by @homestuckexamination has only confirmed my suspicions about that. I have yet to decide between Knight of Life and Knight of Heart, but they’re both very interesting classpects imo, and either way I’m sure I’ll be spending far too much of my free time developing powers and things for them :P

Takeaway

Whew, that’s a lot of words! But what exactly does it all mean? Well... if you ask me, Classpecting is sort of a process. I’m sure that, years down the line, I’ll probably say I had it all wrong and I’m actually some other combination of class and aspect, and I’ll reminisce about the days when I was so obviously misreading myself. But that’s kind of the fun of it, isn’t it? It’s just another form of personality quiz, albeit one where you get sick powers and a nifty set of pajamas at the end. And for all the good that introspection can do to help you understand yourself a little better, you better believe I’m going to be spending the next hour or two debating whether passing out heals and buffs while tanking everything would be more cool than body-surfing and turning enemies into clones à la Agent Smith in The Matrix: Reloaded.

[gatheringofguardians]

Introduction

Hello again, everyone. It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Ah, excuse me, its Lynus speaking. I hope everyone is doing well.

Whew, we’ve finally reached the island of Lemuria. It’s far more beautiful than I had imagined. It’s also…a little daunting, I must admit. So many unknown dangers. And so, so many ways for others to get hurt. I’m thankful that Derek is overseeing the hospital here in Maginia. Though, I wonder what kinds of materials I’ll be able to work with…

Oh, sorry, got lost in thought there.

Moving on. We have so many more people under our guild name now, I honestly don’t know where to start in introducing everyone! We have members now from Etria, Armoroad, Tharsis, and Iorys.

Um, let’s see…maybe I can list the names of those who have agreed to join us? There’s a lot of us now.

Well, from Etria we have Remedy with his brother, Quinn, his nephews Nathan and Benji, Quinn’s partner (not official husband) Jemella, Remedy’s best friend (and not-so secret crush) Zircon, Simon from the Midgard Library along with Lindis (who’s apparently there to keep an eye on Simon), Zadkiel, and last but not least Austin. Oh, Avith and Zalaph had also boarded from Etria.

From Lagaard, we have, of course, the entirety of the Guardian guild; me, Axel, Azure, Jhon, Tobyn, Macerio, Lirit, Rahas, Magnus, Shen, Chi-hung, Hamza, Cedric, Mahogany, Zeryn, Topaz, Shiki, Gerald, Simmons, Ghali, Benedict, Farley, Ryker, Darrell, Avith, Zalaph, Sardonyx, Rubell, Gage. Hrothgar, Wulfgar, and Wulfgar Jr, Cass, Dr Derek Stiles, and finally our winged friends Canaan and Skylark.

From Armoroad, we have members of the Aurora guild; Oracle, Kardos, Jiri, Suah, Sigil, Ziba, Garreth, Caiden, Jaxen, Owyn, Bahari, Shiro, Zydan, Kyan, Joren, Devonta, Shobek, Jaeger, Razak, Holt, Seyfried, Kujura. Cress, and Agata who snuck on board without anyone seeing him. For some reason Oracle wants to strangle him every time he sees him...Oh! Flavio, Fafnir, and Bertrand also joined us!

From Tharsis, we have members of the Phaedron Guild; Roxbury, Zesiro, Achyuta, Nitish, Varuna, Bryce, Blayden, Falkner, Telem, Mahalah, Isiah, Kalan, Fletcher, Miach, Biast, Zoran, Durriken, Xander, Jeroden, Ayjay, Clester, Baldur, Logre, Ciaran, Kirjonen, Highland Count (which was honestly a surprise), and last but not least, Wiglaf and her lovely girlfriend, Yasmina. Quite a few imperial soldiers joined as well.

Finally, from Iorys, we have members of the Angelward Guild; Drayce, Zohar, Blayke, Caelem, Faelen, Keita, Fiorello, Ashton, Shashi, Kamali, Runihura, Palash, Tokala, Salim, Drayce’s brother Rhain, Kyrell, Koyla, Mabuz, Chandra, Liam, Andre, Sarkis, Loukas, Drayce’s grandfather Roux, and young prince Ramus. 

Whew, I think that’s everyone!

As you can see, I have a lot more people under my care now. A lot of them possess...vulnerable auras...

...

B-but I have help from my fellow medics to help me if anything should arise. Though Lemuria is completely unknown to us, I’m actually looking forward to what we may discover.

Oh, one more thing before I go; if you ever require any assistance, do not hesitate to reach out to me, or anyone listed above, for help. We’ll be more than happy to offer you any aid you require.

Take care, everyone.

[eltonjohndenver]

i’m bored so heres a tag thing

1/2 tagged by @bronweathanharthad

Rules: answer these questions then tag 20 blogs you’d like to know better

Nickname: amloth

Zodiac: cancer

Height: tol

Time: 5:58 pm (but it feels like 2 am)

Favorite band/artist: artist is howard shore and band is queen (lmao idk wtf either)

Song stuck in my head: its late/ santa claus is coming to town

Last movie I saw: Love actually, it was boring

Last thing I googled: directions to a vegan restaurant djkhshg

Other blogs: Eowyn/miranda otto thirst blog @gay-owyn , Queen/borhap blog @how-many-more-galileos-do-u-want , lucy boynton thirst blog @lucyboyntonmylove, vernon masters shitposting @sugardaddyvernon (with @angelatwell) , hayley atwell thirst blog @hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhayley-atwell (with @angelatwell)

Do I get asks: 99.9% from lulu

Why did I chose this username: i speak the truth

Following: 89?

Average amount of sleep: 8-10 hours ish

Lucky number: 13 

What am I wearing: my pyjamas jkdfahsdkf

Dream job: orchestra conductor/ chair violinist (but im too lazy to be actually good), film location scout

Dream trip: atm i really want to go to germany so i can speak german and not freak everyone out

Favorite food: mashed potatoes, soup

Play any instruments: violin for 7 years and piano for 5

Eye color: grey but it changes if i wear a certain color or cry

Hair color: dark blonde

Describe yourself as aesthetic things: pine trees, bread, sleep

Languages you speak: English, ASL and enough german to get by

Most iconic song: concerning hobbits,,,,,or all star sdjkfhad

Random fact: i have bad circulation so my hands and feet are like a dead persons

i tag @angelatwell, @rogerinatrash and anyone who wants to just say i tagged you

[sonseulsoleil]

so i had the fun idea of giving you lily everett and james porter and that makes me smile so those two and also chris pine, betty white, john mulaney, and adam scott

Song: Hopeless Wanderer by Mumford and Sons 

So when your hope’s on fireBut you know your desireDon’t hold a glass over the flameDon’t let your heart grow coldI will call you by nameI will share your road

Title: The Mage 

Synopsis: Long ago, in a land of magic, there was a small, but prosperous kingdom ruled over by two benevolent kings, King Arden (Pine) and King Tristan (Mulaney). The Kings have always put the needs of their subjects above all else, and are beloved by the people. King Arden made a name for himself as a powerful military force, when he was younger, but now he’s beginning to age. King Tristan was always more of a scholar than a warrior. This is reflected in their people who are, overall a deeply peaceful people. 

However, not everyone is so lucky. All around the kingdom, there are dark, enchanted woods, where monsters lurk. Everyone knows not go past the kingdom walls, for it is unsafe for humans. Only elves and orcs live outside the kingdom borders. One night, in the southern village, a stranger appears, claiming to be from outside the wall. He is bleeding and hungry, so they an innkeeper lets him stay the night. This proves to be a mistake, however, as come morning, the man reveals himself to be a extremely powerful sorcerer named Weylin (Scott). Weylin claims to be a descendant of Merlin, a wizard of yore thought to be little more than a myth. Weylin also claims that he is the rightful heir to the throne. When the villagers declare their loyalty to the Kings, Weylin summons fire and destroys their village. 

Weylin travels to the Kings’ palace, where he proves to be too powerful for even their most experienced and powerful mages. He seizes the throne, and imprisons the kings in their own dungeon, and then sets about systematically slaughtering the mages, as well as anyone who speaks out against him. Only Owyn (Porter), a young apprentice mage manages to save himself by disguising himself as a servant boy. Unfortunately, since Owyn is only a an apprentice, and not a full mage, he is nowhere near powerful enough to take on Weylin alone. But he has heard speak of a being of olde, called The Enchantress (White), who lives in the Far North. If Owyn can find her, she may be able to save the kingdom from Weylin’s reign of terror. 

Owyn makes his escape, but he doesn’t get far past the kingdom border before realizing that he hasn’t left the capital city before. He has no idea where to go for there, and only has a few protection spells under his belt. Just as he realizes that he can’t make the journey alone, he meets Brienne (Everett), an elven warrior on the run for multiple counts of thievery. She notices him in the corner of a tavern, frowning at a map, and offers her services as guide, if he’ll pay for her meals. He agrees, desperate for some help, even if she is a criminal, and they set off on a perilous journey through the dark forest, dodging not only monsters, but the elven authorities. 

(I’m gonna go ahead and tag seanpersaud and marykatewiles)

[i-am-elder-maxson]

Loved

I can still recall a private conversation I had with the late Elder Owyn Lyons before his passing. He did not shy away from speaking his truths and this is a trait I still find very honorable to his memory. At the time, he was insistent on reminding me of the importance of the individual person, seeing humanity for the humans and not as an abstraction. Being a child, I was attentive because it was ingrained to me to be so but my mind was not entirely with him at the time of this meeting. There is still regret that I did not pay closer attention to what he was trying to tell me. 

[toxic-lucky]

There.

He stood in a circle made of dull coloured mushrooms that outlined the divide between the grass of the forest, and the brighter, healthier grass inside. In the circle, the grass seemed, if it was not already, burgeoning, flourishing, especially when in contrast the frosty yellow-green grass that made up the trampled forest floor. He was there in the circle everyday, or at least whenever you passed by. Every night, for around a couple of weeks, you would walk through the forest and find him sitting there in that ring of fungi. He always seemed lost in thought, eyes staring at something not quite there. Without daring to approach him, you hid in the forest flora. Occasionally checking to see if he was still there every time you would pass him. In your village, those like him were well warned against. Tricksters, trouble makers, Sìthichean, Fa-

His eyes met yours. Your gut convulsed in apprehension and uncertainty. A smirk splayed across his face as if he knew exactly what you felt, standing up and walked to the edge of the ring. “Are you going to stand and stare all day? Come on, hiding behind a tree doesn’t suit a lass of your status.”

The silence you gave him caused him to frown, as you stayed rooted in place. “I know you’re there hummingbird,” his tone was sing-song, obviously seeing this as some kind of joke with his eyes narrowing as he placed his hands on his hips and leaned forwards towards where you hid. “It’s rude to ignore someone when they’re speaking to you.”

Your body started up again similar to a cold engine, though instead of stepping forward as one might have been compelled to do, you turn tail and ran. Bare feet thumping against the chilly forest grass, heart set on getting back into the warm home and never coming back outside into the forest ever again. You knew it was a bad idea to check on the mystery stranger, but did you ever listen to your common sense? No.

Then the moon rose again, and you found yourself sneaking out once more and walking back to where he sat under her guidance. Pixie ring, that’s what the circles of mushrooms were called. Asking mother about it is how you learnt, giving you a weird look and a warning. ‘You better stay out of those, they are made by the witch and her spells. Do you want to be trapped?’ though it didn’t deter you as hoped, instead a flimsy excuse of ‘I read something like that in a story book my tutor brought. I’m sorry for the worry caused.’ and you were back to disregarding common sense.

“I thought little ladies were taught better than to peep.” He smiled as he easily found me staring back at him, in hiding once again, “tut, tut, little hummingbird. So troublesome.”

“I-” face flushed out of embarrassment, “you- you have no right to speak to me like that!”

“Oh? And who do I speak to? Would you give me your name? I’d love to have it.” There it was, the sly smirk again, as if he knew what tricks were being played.

“I shall have you know, I am-” you immediately clasp both your hands over your mouth before you could even think about uttering another word. Lady Aphria, the stupid little girl that gave her name to what seemed like a fae. He didn’t need to know your name. Names held power after all, the ability to become, control, and order the other around on a whim by simple knowing a word. “I... am no one. No one at all. My name, It is of little importance, you should not bother with such things. I should not be speaking-”

“Yet you don’t seem to hold your tongue?” The smug grin was clear on the red-haired male’s face, voicing his mockery, “so, ‘no one’, why come back?”

You stare at him, silently. He huffed and crossed his arms, “you do know the trouble a Hummingbird like yourself can get into when found, so why come back? Better yet, if you’re going to stick around giving me the silent treatment you might as well sit down. I can speak of many things for many hours.”

“Are you a storyteller, fae?” The question came out of your mouth in such an innocent tone, it seemed as if he was surprised, or at least confused.

“So you know? Smart Hummingbird, very smart. No, I am not one of these ‘storytellers’ you speak of. I merely enjoy sharing my experiences-”

“That’s the same thing.”

“So be it, I do not stoop to such, uh, mortal titles.” He waved his hand as if to disperse the idea from the area around him.

With the silence hanging in the air, you sat down on the grass using your black jacket as a blanket to sit on. You had time before sunrise parted the inky sky, before you had to run home, and nothing better to do with the time spent awake. Any fear you felt previously seemed to have dissipated for the moment, giving way to your curiosity.

“So you wish to listen?” At the prompting of the question, you nod. The fae sat down in front of you with a soft sigh, remaining in the ring like always. He soon filled the silence with wonderful stories of a world where time moves slowly and was filled with joy. Where people never aged, nor felt discomfort. Painting worlds filled with colours and life through words and hand actions. You found yourself quickly engrossed in the tales. Despite his claims of not being a storyteller he certainly knew how to spin an entertaining tale. Perhaps it wasn’t tale at all, but truth. Your brain didn’t get much thinking done on that though, becoming fuzzy with the new information attempting to be understood as the tale continued you closed your eyes- just for a moment- in hopes that it would help.

Then you woke up at home, tucked into the warm and cozy blankets that covered your bed. It was your house, though you didn’t remember falling asleep or walking home at all. There was a small thought in the back of your head, questioning if what happened last night was truly real and not part of some elaborate dream your mind made up. No, on the chair in the corner of your room was your jacket, and to the touch was still damp and smelled like the forest. There were also leaves in your unruly bed head along with a small purple scabiosa tucked behind your ear. It all stood out against your black hair, and brought a small smile to your face. Sneaking into the washroom was easy, brushing the tangled leaves that decorated your long hair and messy braids were another thing. Slipping the flower in a nightgown pocket, a jarring knocking on the door invaded the silence and brought you back to reality.

“Give me a moment!” You made sure your voice was loud enough to be heard through the wooden door, the only response was a loud groan of irritation from your older brother, Owyn. Older by three years, he acted like he owned the place- and he did to some extent as the oldest and only son. A baron wishing to be a knight, what kind of dreams did he hold? Always training, always studying, always having to be at the top of everything. You knew it was just for him to get a chance at being a knight, though the feeling of inferiority still wormed into you now and again.

Stepping out, braids tightened and done proper this time, though still in the nightgown you give Owyn a strange look, “up a little early, are we?”

“Up a little late more so,” He pointed at you accusingly, “you’re always awake before me, yet not today. Why is that?”

“Is it so wrong for a lady to wish for more beauty sleep?”

“Beauty sleep? Then you should need more, have you broken the mirror taking so long?”

That reminded you of something the fae said a while ago. ‘The moon is not meant for those who thrive in the sun, you should rest under her protection instead of being foolish.’ or, more accurately, it was probably meant something more like ‘go to bed, you have to be awake in the day. Stop being a moron.’

You let out a small gasp of fake offense, causing him to grin and push you out of the way, closing the bathroom door behind him. “You cannot outrun such a scorn, ‘tis disgrace!” pounding the door once for good measure before retreating back into your room to get changed. You could hear mother from downstairs, yelling something. Probably for the both of you to be quiet, or to come down for breakfast and behave.

Glancing at your desk, you notice the work that used to be a small pile had condensed into a much larger pile, taking up more than half of the working space. Normally you would work on it at night, but lately you were busy. Reprimand after reprimand, it never worked to focus you. It was boring, and painful sometimes to go through such daily motions. Sometimes there would be bruises on your wrists from the tutor’s irritation.

A week passed and the flower stayed with you through the days. Every single time the moon rose, you found yourself yearning to escape into the forest and your body forces you to follow such a silly desire, almost against your will. You would sit in silence listening to the stories of the otherworld, land of promise, Tír Tairngire. You would either walk back home after cutting him off after a sentence, or find yourself waking up in your bed, wondering if your mind went to far once again. Just for a moment.

That night, wearing the withering scabiosa tied around your pinkie finger, you found yourself taking steps back to the forest. With no attempt to resist, you easily found your way back to the pixie ring along the now compressed and winding trail. By extent you also found the fae who remained in the circle.

“Ah, Hummingbird!” He actually seemed a little startled when you simply sat down outside of the ring instead of hiding and waiting for him to call you out. Though, maybe it was because of something he said last night? You couldn’t recall. “Feeling more bold today than usual it appears. Why do you come back?” That question, ‘why did you come back?’ seemed to be a favourite of his, every time you came back that was your greeting. You never bothered to respond, giving a shrug and a noise that didn’t carry any weight before you sat down and he continued with his stories of home. Not this time though.

“I have an unanswered question actually.” You announce, sitting down and crossing your legs looking at the taller fae.

“Oh? And what is it? Should I be concerned Hummingbird?” The fae, as usual, seemed nonchalant and relaxed. Raising an eyebrow as he eyed you like one would read a book, looking to see if he could figure it out before it was spoken.

“It has been a while, and I think calling you ‘the fae’ is not the nicest-” “no duh.-” “ and I was wondering, if you would give me the honour of knowing one of your names, what should I be calling you?” The red-haired fae seemed shocked, his expression hardening as he squinted at the ground.

“You wish to call me a name?” He asked, “but why? Wouldn’t giving me a nickname be so much more easy?”

“We are friends, are we not?” The question was met with silence from him, your gut clenched thinking you had said something wrong. “ I wish for the name to be comfortable to you. You can call me Aphi in return if it makes things better.”

The pregnant pause lasted longer than you wished, unable to read his thoughts you were left to sit in silence for a little longer. His face was unreadable, emotionless despite the fact he was obviously feeling something. “I’m sorry that was out of line.” You apologized as it seemed he wasn’t going to speak anytime soon. He was still silent, looking at the ground. His eyes had the same look that you observed prior to talking to him. Looking at something far away, that could never be possessed. “I shall take my leave, I apologize for being a bother tonight.”

With that now what was left hanging in the air, you stand up and brush off your dress. Glancing once more at the sitting fae before turning around and walking back to your home while the night was still young.

“Beagan…” You didn’t turn around at the quiet voice of the fae, but did halt.

“You can call me that. Beagan.” A little louder this time, no doubt the fae- er Beagan was the one speaking. Glancing behind you, he still stared at the ground in front of him but with a tiny smile on his face now.

“Goodnight Beagan.” You smile at the boy who looked embarrassed, walking back and breaching the pixie circle for the first time. It felt warm. Messing up Beagan’s red hair, you smile down at him, “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

The shocked look on his face was priceless, as you turn to walk away you couldn’t help but smile.

You finally had something to call him by.

[kaydenmoshantu-xiv]

Greek God Aesthetics/Behaviors - Kayden Moshantu

Aphrodite: laughter-loving, sweet smiles, dressed in silk and satin, flower in their hair, thrives on attention, sees the world as a runway, unapologetically sexual, the sea washing their ankles, in love with love, stirrer of passion, cunning concealed by painted lips, secret daggers, doves, revolution in their kiss, delighting in the waves, flirtatious winks, strolling along the beach, staring wistfully from a balcony, this is how to be a heartbreaker, your girlfriend thinks they’re attractive, wants to be adored, gets turned on by danger  

Apollo: glitz and glamour, art galleries, turning the volume up, being made of gold, neatly-organized music sheets, notebooks filled with poetry, bathing in the sunlight, the powerful urge to create, collecting vinyl records, beautiful cover of Wonderwall, playing multiple instruments, tasting like sunshine, healing touch, speaking in prophecies, smile mingled with wrath, shunning lies, sporting shades, hanging out at music festivals with their friends, sleeps naked, arrow to the heart, paint brushes, probably has a Tinder account

Ares: armed for battle, wants to raise a dog with their significant other, soft spot for children, gives piggyback rides, scarred body, blood on their hands and face, willing to fight the world for the ones they love, fights against injustice, warm hugs, well-worn combat boots, boxing gloves, bandages wrapped around bruised knuckles, fist raised in protest, ignites revolutions, fear is a prison, more sensitive than what their tough shell may have you think, exhausted, damaged goods, force to be reckoned with, red roses, curses under their breath

Artemis: keen senses of a hunter, freckles like constellations on their skin, piercing eyes, disheveled braid, moonlight peeking through the shadows, the calm of the forest at night, lying on the grass and staring at the stars, mother doe and her fawn, protecting their kin, the moon shimmering on a still lake, quiver full of arrows resting against the bark of a tree, running with wolves, bonding while circled around a campfire, not being much of a people person, arrow hitting its target, popping egos, patience on 3%, touches heaven and returns howling

Athena: discerning gaze, unreadable face, the patience of a life-long teacher, quiet museums, owl perched on their finger, armor that intimidates, eye for architecture, plays the sims for the sole purpose of building houses, studied the blade while everyone else was busy getting laid, big fan of logic, loves brain teasers, go-getter, balls of wool displayed on shelves, ancient buildings, sweaters in neutrals and cool colors, hair done up, can kill you with their brain, heads to the library often to research, sharpened pencils, abs that can cut steel, stoic statues, pottery classes  

Demeter: soil-covered hands, smile that can bloom flowers, skin loved by the sun, being the mom friend, can lift you and all of your friends, flowers kept in the pockets of overalls, takes pride in their beautiful garden, speaks to their plants, leaves rustling in the wind, stalks of wheat, picking fruit, greenhouses, heart as strong as a mountain, values simplicity, daisies dotted across a collarbone, curls crowned with flowers, folded pile of sweaters in warm hues, pulling out fresh-baked bread out of the oven and the smell wafting through the air

Dionysus: drunk shitposter, on their sixth glass of wine before you’ve even finished your second, seductive smirks, untamed curls, rich fabrics on dark skin, sleek-furred panthers, theater masks, stage productions, receiving a standing ovation, rose caught between their teeth, being the baby of the bunch, wild parties that last from sundown to sunup, creeping vines, inspiring loyalty, grand opera houses, masquerade balls, rolls of film, shattered chandeliers with broken glass scattered across the wine-spilled floor, pouring champagne into flutes, lives for the applause

Hephaestus: the calloused hands of someone who knows labor, sweaty brow, flame burning in their eyes, inventive mind, broad shoulders, steampunk goggles, nuts and bolts stored away in little boxes, ashes, striking a match, blueprints for future projects, fixing up a busted up car and giving it cool upgrades, wrestles with bitterness, work boots have seen better years, wrinkled plaid shirts, iron melted by blazing fire, huge jackets, crafting masterpieces, greased-stained overalls, fascination with robotics, pain is fuel, stack of weaponry, even their muscles have muscles

Hera: resting bitch face, dressed to the nines, cows grazing on a pasture, cool rain, loving and hating fiercely, hand clutching a string of pearls, large chandelier with glittering crystals, plays the sims for the sole purpose of killing off their sims, romance to realism, pictures of the sky while flying on a plane, files that under fuck it, downs glasses of wine as they relax with a scented bubble bath and netflix, like their selfie or you’re grounded, knows 57 convenient ways to murder a man, dark eyes that penetrate your soul, marble and gold

Hermes: devil-may-care smile, ink-stained hands, always up-to-date on the latest technology, will steal your french fries, does it for the vine, shitposter, puts googly eyes on everything, meme hoarder, long drives on the highway, ma and pop diners, spontaneous road trips, folded maps, fingers dancing across the keyboard of a laptop, shooting hoops on the basketball court, chatting up strangers as you all journey to your own destinations, goes jogging in the morning, mixes red bull with coffee, menace on april fool’s, hoodies and sneakers    

Poseidon: storm with skin, colorful coral reefs, waves crashing against the shore, the sea casting its spell, stroking the soft fur of a cat, their heart pounding as their horse’s gentle trot speeds into a gallop, tousled locks, clothes smeared with paint, owns several sketchbooks yet always yearns to own more, leather jackets, fondness for diy projects, handwriting that flows across the page, nimble fingers playing the strings of a violin, velvety singing voice that haunts your dreams, mood as ever-changing as the sea, the roar of a motorcycle, compass with a spinning arrow

Zeus: thunder in their heart, running on coffee, flash of lightning, natural charisma, eloquence, badass in a nice suit, aficionado of history, force of nature, lenny face, pretends that they don’t have feelings but they do, nightmare-filled nights, proud arm around their lover’s waist, high-rise buildings, planes soaring through a cloudless sky, technician on the piano, maintains order, strong handshake, juggling multiple events on their busy schedule with apparent ease, most likely to be voted class president out of their peers, expensive watch, like a boss

Tagged By: @cahli-tia Tagging: @ffxiv-kohli-fashonti @ffxiv-deryk-weaver @ffxiv-nhagora-moshantu @ffxiv-joseph-burke @ffxiv-jsanto-tia @ffxiv-gigishan-chachavachi @ffxiv-sukegei-of-the-steppes @ffxiv-sultansworn-owyne @ffxiv-michi-tia @ffxiv-isarmoix-branchais @ffxiv-duplicarius @ffxiv-duvicauroix-ormesang