#and the others and The End and The huge tall Ancients and

[egg-emperor]

who do you think the hottest titan is?

Wyvern 💜 big long flying scary draconic boy with tons of teeth!

also the way the cyloop attack makes Wyvern's wrists cuffed and chained down got me thinking 👀

love how Eggman looks to be piloting a beheaded Wyvern body replaced with the Egg Mobile with a head piece and wings similar to Supreme in the MC texture pack too lol

my man took pieces of them and made a new monster and included my favorite thing about the Wyvern, the wiggly body!

[dalishious]

Dragon Age: Origins is still great today, and you should give it a try

I want to preface this post with an important disclaimer: I am not about gatekeeping, and I think that ultimately, you should play or skip whatever Dragon Age games you want. If even after this post you feel like Dragon Age: Origins just isn’t for you, that’s fine! That doesn’t mean you can’t still enjoy the Dragon Age media you do want to consume, and it certainly doesn’t mean you’re any less valid a fan. But I personally adore Dragon Age: Origins to this day, and I would love to see more modern gamers give it a chance, despite it being from 2009.

It’s a great introduction to the world of Thedas

Dragon Age: Origins had the tall order of being the first in a potential franchise, yet it climbed those heights and beyond. It perfectly balances the need to explain the world setting and tell a story within that world at the same time, by organizing the plot into puzzle pieces. You, the protagonist, have to recruit different factions into your cause to save the kingdom of Ferelden, so each piece of the game has a different focus on those factions. It spoon-feeds the player information at an easy to understand and absorb pace.

Dragon Age: Origins also makes good use of codex entries for those of you who are big lore buffs and want even more information. Yet at the same time, it does not overly rely on the codex; all the most crucial parts of the lore that you need to know are included in your interactions with characters and plot.

The player gets to shape the story

The nature of those puzzle pieces also means that you have huge control over the story from start to finish, because the puzzle itself is shaped by you! The outcomes of each piece form the blueprint of the climax. The end of the game is reactive to the choices you make in the story throughout. (Mind you, a lot of those choices have been retconned in later games, but still, within the confines of Dragon Age: Origins itself, it’s still fun to see the outcomes of your decisions.)

The story itself is great

I would consider Dragon Age: Origins to have the most straightforward premise of all the Dragon Age games released thus far, with a strong identity linking the different main quests all together. You are a newly recruited Grey Warden, left to unite Ferelden against the big bad Blight after 99% of the Order within the nation is wiped out in a catastrophic battle. You may get caught up in dwarven politics, ancient curses, demonic possession, and plenty more along the way, but no matter where you find yourself, your motivation always falls back to that ultimate responsibility.

The characters are also great

Almost all the companions you’re able to collect along the way are very easy to love, or at least appreciate them for what they are.

Alistair is also a new grey warden. He is struggling with grief over the loss of his mentor, and the weight of having no control over his identity his whole life.

Morrigan is a witch who grew up isolated in the woods with no one but her abusive mother for company. Now she must learn to interact with others, and dependant on the player, perhaps even make a friend, lover… or enemy.

Leliana is a bard from Orlais, whose faith told her to assist the grey warden plight. But beneath the demure outward appearance, she has a much darker past she’s running away from.

Sten is a Qunari warrior who was taught that outside his culture, everything is backwards and nonsense, but he cannot return home until he has restored his soul by recovering his lost sword. Along the way, he may learn to appreciate or despise Ferelden.

Zevran was enslaved by the Antivan Crows as a child and made into an assassin. If the player can chip away at his nonchalant mask, they will find his past has left a lot more scars on him than he thought it safe to admit.

Wynne is a mage from the Circle who is struggling to deal with the nature of age, death, and life purpose.

Shale is a golem who was once under complete and total control by her former master, now learning what it’s like to be free, and wanting to uncover her forgotten past before losing that freedom.

Oghren is there too, unfortunately.

And the player character really feels like they are of your own creation. The choices you make, little and small, offer a lot to shape whatever kind of protagonist you want. Additionally, the benefit of starting the game with a different origin, and playing out that origin before getting recruited into the grey wardens, offers a lot of prompting to get into the roleplay!

The datedness can be easily upgraded with modding anyway

Do you find the combat clunky? There’s mods for that. Do you find the graphics too bland? There’s mods for that. Do you wish you could kiss Alistair as a man or Morrigan as a woman? There’s mods for that, too. Dragon Age: Origins is very easy to mod; most of them you just drop the files into your override folder and start playing. Otherwise, you use the DA Modder app for DAZIP files, which is also not that complicated.

A lot of people consider Skyrim to be dated without mods, too. I personally don’t think there’s anything wrong with appreciating the ability to mod a game, as a positive point.

If you want to play, make sure you use LAA though!

Large Address Aware is a must-have on PC for Dragon Age: Origins.

For GoG or EA App/Origin users: You can just run LAA like normal!

For Steam users: You need THIS first

[blueiscoool]

Rome’s 'Lost' Imperial Palace 'Domus Tiberiana' Reopens

Until recently a crumbling and off-limits ruin near the famous Colosseum, the Domus Tiberiana palace — built in the first century AD and beloved by Nero — hopes to once again take its place as one of the city’s top tourist attractions.

The ancient palace sits on Palatine Hill — the city’s oldest hill, overhanging Rome —from where imperial dynasties ruled for centuries. But over the years, the site fell into disrepair and in the 1970s, the Domus Tiberiana site was shut due to the structural instability of some of the ruins. The closure left behind what many Romans described as a “black hole” in the capital’s archaeological heart.

Now, after a six-year makeover, the palace has reopened its doors as a “diffuse museum,” with findings and frescoes scattered across the site to provide visitors with an insight into the palace’s ancient grandeur.

And it was grand. The Domus Tiberiana was Rome’s first imperial palace, built by the emperor Tiberius who combined and incorporated the pre-existing noble mansions built on the hill. Occupying over four hectares, the palace featured residences alongside large gardens, places of worship and rooms for the emperor’s Praetorian guard.

As the seat of Rome’s power and politics, Domus Tiberiana held a prime location, high above the Palatine and Roman Forums, offering its occupants a “balcony view of the city.” Over time, the Domus was embellished and enlarged by other emperors including Nero, who was crowned on its steps aged just 16, in 54 AD.

Alfonsina Russo, director of the Colosseum’s archaeological park (in which Domus Tiberiana falls) and lead archaeologist on the renovation, said that ancient antiquities, many exceptionally well-preserved, were unearthed during the project.

The artifacts — bright stuccos, frescoes, amphorae, potteries, looms, terracotta, and divinity statues related to the cults of Isis, Dionysius and Mithras — offer visitors a trip through time, said Russo.

“They make this place — formerly (inhabited) by aristocratic families, then Roman emperors — feel alive again,” she said. “There are seven exhibition rooms full of extraordinary finds, starting with those preceding the original construction of the palace when aristocrats lived in mansions before Tiberius subsumed them into the Domus.”

Among the newly-exposed and frescoes are some of the earliest paintings of lemons (considered an exotic fruit in Ancient Rome, as they hailed from the Far East) and a depiction of a gladiator, proving that the era’s gladiatoral games were appreciated by rich families, explained Russo.

The imperial palace remained in use until the 7th century, when it became the papal residence of John VII. In the mid-16th century, the aristocratic Farnese family — who were powerful local landowners — built the lavish Orti Farnesiani gardens on the site, adorning it with ornaments and sculptures of nymphs, satyrs and fauns.

“This monument speaks of history,” Russo added. “We have restored (Domus Tiberiana) to its past splendor, but more work lies ahead.”

Indeed, painstaking efforts have been made to blend old and new. A series of majestic, reddish-brown vaulted arches that greet visitors having been carefully reconstructed with the same materials as ancient Romans used in the past.

“What makes this revamped Domus unique is the architectural style,” said Russo. “We managed to use original materials to reinforce and strengthen the handmade 15-meter (50ft) tall front arches (which run alongside the palace’s) ancient paving.”

It has certainly caught the public’s attention. Since reopening at the end of September, Domus Tiberiana has attracted some 400,000 visitors, a “huge success,” said Russo, adding that she believes that this incarnation of the Domus Tiberiana offers visitors the most “evocative” visit in generations.

Archaeologist and scholar of ancient Rome Giorgio Franchetti saidN that, in the reopening of the Domus Tiberiana complex, Rome has “recovered a lost jewel.”

“The Palatine Hill has always been the stage of Rome’s power politics,” he said in an interview. “Tiberius likely chose this spot to build the palace as it was where his family residence stood. There aren’t many places like the Domus Tiberiana where you can really breathe the past.”

By Silvia Marchetti.

[lightparty-fullparty]

Can't possibly be me Zenosposting again - what is this a day ending in Y?

Anyway, I've been thinking about the murder boy again. This has mostly spawned from my replaying of the Stormblood patches and seeing Amnesiac Yotsuyu, which sparked a bit of a Nature vs Nuture debate between me and my friends.

Basically, my question for this post is "How much of Zenos' whole deal is Nature (aka He was just born like that) and how much of it is Nuture (aka the enviornment he grew up). Some of you might content to say Nature and leave it at that, which is a completely valid outlook to have. But for me there's just one... teeny... tiny... little detail that has sent me on a wild consipriacy theory of a ride that's resulted in this post. Emet-FUCKING-Selch.

Listen to me, listen okay? I cannot, CANNOT ignore the fact that this absoulete motherfucker (affectionate) is Zenos's cannonical Great Grandfather. Who was very much alive and kicking during his childhood. Emet-Selch or Solus zos Galvus whatever moniker you wanna give the man, is an Ascian. One of THE Ascians. Not only that, he's 'The Architect" the guy who's job it is to design and engineer the calamities meant to rejoin the Shards of the World back together again. What does he do to achieve this? He builds empires, he starts wars, manipulates people and situations to result in untold elemental chaos. Iirc correctly he's responsible for causing all eight calamities that have occured so far in FFXIV. (Eight got undone but I'm still counting it).

Now for this post I'm going to be focusing mainly on the Seventh, Eighth, and Fourth Umbral Calamities. (Which are the ones coincidentally we're told the most about in game). This Calamities all involved Empires. The Allagan and the Garlean, both of which Emet-Selch was responsible for creating. From the Allagans we have the creation of Dalamud, Cyrus Tower, and the Ultima Weapon. As well as an extensive history of biological research. Cloning, Gene Splicing, Mutation and so on. (A sundered mortal's attempts at creation magjicks perhaps?) The Garleans too, have a notible history of biological research, they draw a lot of their modern technology from Allagan design. No coincidence there given Emet-Selch's involvement. But we've seen them use genetic mutation, cyber augmentation, and cloning (Emet-Selch's shadow the hedgehog ass clone bodies because he refuses to look like anyone other than his unsundered self). The also so a lot of research into the Echo. Hydalyn's mark for her champions, and soul maipulation. (Ala Mihgo Dungeon and In From the Cold Duty both points of note for examples of the Soul being manipulated here - physically torn out of the body).

"Now Gengar " - I hear you ask - "What does this have to do with Nature vs Nuture or Zenos?" Well, I tell you, everything really. Hear me out. Emet-Selch designed the Garlean Empire to be the perfect chaos causing conquest force. They have no ability to use either, making them initially vulnerable as a people to the rest of the races. Building up a tasty, tasty resentment and need to feel superior. He sent them marching to 'reclaim their home' and then to 'unify the three contents under their superior peaceful, organised leadership'. The 'Savage Races' summon evil primals and weild evil distructive magjiks. He gave them a perfect cause and reason to hate everyone else. He gave them magitech to level the field and make them supieror at combat. Garlemald as a nation is the perfect war machine. Allagan 2.0 if you would. And Zenos is the perfect 'Champion' to lead that nation into battle. To spark that next Calamity. Look at the guy. Garleans might be on the taller side (depending on the character. Cid is a shorty), but Varis and Zenos are HUGE. Emet-Selch isn't nearly as tall as either of them despite being a blood relation. Which makes me think there was some of that Allagan/Garlean/Ancient playing with genetics and form at work. Make them bigger, more durable, stronger, more intelligent.

It's like Captian America. You want the perfect solider. And a perfect solider for Emet-Selch would also need to be cold, ruthless, manipulative.

There was a post I saw a while again about Mecha Pilots. And OP pondered on the idea of physcially having your brain and body contiditoned to love battle. To love destruction and killing and fighting.

Do you see where I am going with this?

You want someone bloodthirsty enough to cause a Calamity for you, you need them to feel nothing for their fellow man. (Insects all of them. Disappointing. Found Wanting.) You need them to find such overwhelming joy in battle that no other earthely pleasure can compare to it. (Brilliant. Blinding. Trandsenant Moment.)

No attatchments. No emotions, Just violence. I offer to you dear readers, that Emet-Selch carefully modified Zenos' litterally brain chemistry. Making him predisposed to a lack of empathy and his brain releasing those pesky joyous chemicals during battle. Inflicitng and feeling pain. I offer the theory that Zenos has literally been built for combat. If you cut him open, his bones and muscles and organs would be so alienly perfect. Denser, perfectly optimised. Exceedingly perfect. His brain remapped for pattern recognistion and quick skill building, Easy to train in the art of slaughter and tactics. Unable to forge the emotional connections that would only serve to hinder him. (To isolate him from family).

What evidence to I have? Outside of Emet-Selch's known history of building Empires? Easy. I already know he's done this kind of thing before.

Vauthry. The baby Emet-Selch mutated into half a Lightwarden. Able to command the Sin Eaters and ensured would be raised into a tyranically, childish, king. To keep the First from Uniting. To ensure the Eighth Umbral Calamity would continue along it's march to completion.

Why wouldn't Emet-Selch have done as much to Zenos too?

[gx-gameon]

Yugi raise Jaden Part 6

Start - previous - next

No sooner had Yugi stepped out of the pod had Dark Magician and Dark Magician Girl summoned themselves. The Dark Magician had a fond smile on his face as he looked upon Yugi, while the Dark Magician Girl did nothing to hide her excitement.

“Welcome Yugi Mouto to the Egyptian afterlife.” Came Dark Magician Girl melodic voice. “Our Pharaoh has waited for you, though I don’t believe he thought you’d arrive so soon.” Yugi’s blood turned to ice for a second. Was…was he dead? Was Mokuba wrong? Were he and Kaiba dead? Did he just abandon Jaden forever? “Peace my king. Your heart still beats, I am just saying that the Pharaoh will be pleased to see you.” Dark Magician Girl quickly tried to assure Yugi that he was still alive.

The Dark Magician sent his apprentice a disappointed look before flying down to Yugi and offing his hand to help Yugi down from the pod.

“Thank you.” Yugi thanked the spirit, who responded with a smile and a nod. “Though I have to ask why you appeared now.” Yugi questioned turning his head between the two spell-casters.

“The soul’s of our human reflections are nearby. Seeing as they are normally near the Pharaoh we thought we could lead you to them.” Dark Magician Girl explained.

Yugi realized she was probably speaking about Mahad and Mana, Atem’s friends from his time as Pharaoh. “That would be great!” Even if Atem wasn’t with them, they would probably know where Atem was. And wherever Atem was is where Kaiba would be.

The two spirit smiled at him before floating off in the direction of the palace. Yugi quickly followed after the two. They arrived into town, there were people milling about, but they stopped upon seeing Yugi. Pointing at the young man and his strange clothing and whispering. It had been a long time since a new spirit had joined them.

Yugi was starting to get uncomfortable with the stares when suddenly the Dark Magician disappeared from in front of him. “What-”

“It is alright my king.” Dark Magician Girl assured. “The Pharaoh and his guest must have started their daily duel. I’m sure Dark Magician was called to serve our Pharaoh.”

“Ah.” Yugi nodded along but speed up his pace. So Kaiba had gotten what he wanted, to duel Atem again. Judging by the fact that it was a daily duel and the fact Kaiba had yet to return home, Yugi had a sneaking suspicion that Joey was right. Kaiba hasn’t come home yet because he hadn’t won yet.

Yugi could feel anger rising in him. Anger at Kaiba for disturbing Atem’s peace. For not coming home and worrying Mokuba. For forcing Yugi away from his son! Yes it was Yugi’s choice to go, but no one else could have made the trip.

He followed Dark Magician Girl into the palace and followed her to the Pharaoh’s meeting chambers. The room was huge and ornate. With the pharaoh’s throne against the back wall, standing tall and proud. But Yugi’s eyes were drawn to the two opposite sides of the room.

On one side stood Seto Kaiba. Decked out in all of his tech, just as he was during there last duel, the blue lights from the duel disk shining around him perfectly mirroring the blue glow from his Blue eyes white dragon that hovered protectively above him. Even though Yugi was furious with the stubborn man, he could admit that this was Kaiba in his element. The man look near ethereal with the blue glow reflecting off his white coat.

But at the other end of the room stood someone Yugi hadn’t thought he would ever see again.

Atem.

If Kaiba looked ethereal then Atem could rival the divine. His white tunic was pristine. The royal purple cloak flowing behind him. He was decked in gold, from his legs to his wrist, to the multiple necklaces, to the crown upon his head. He looked every inch the regal pharaoh he was in life. Yugi could understand why the ancient Egyptians believed their Pharaoh’s to be gods, for he could see Atem as one.

Just as Yugi entered the room Atem summoned Slifer the Sky Dragon. The magnificent beast descending from the sky, if there was once a ceiling there there wasn’t one anymore, as Slifer’s thunder clouds filled the hall.

Atem ordered his final attack and Slifer destroyed Blue eyes white dragon. The duel ended. Atem was the winner.

“This isn’t over Pharaoh, I’ll beat you yet.” Kaiba called out full of rage and determination.

Yugi had been in awe at seeing his partner duel once again, until he heard Kaiba’s words. Then all of his fury returned to him.

“Kaiba! This ends now!” Yugi called out. All of his attention on the stubborn CEO in front of him. Kaiba’s whipped around to meet Yugi’s furious gaze with wide eyes as Yugi stormed his way towards him. Completely unaware of the Pharaoh staring at him in equal parts awed devotion and heart stoping fear.

—————————————————————————

Atem had had a long month.

It started when Seto Kaiba arrived in the palace. For a moment Atem’s heart had dropped. It hadn’t been long since he’d moved on, none of his friends from the present should be joining him yet.

He knew about Diva and the havoc that was occurring. After all he had been keeping an eye on Yugi and his friends, but that danger had passed. Atem had taken care of it personally. A feat of power that had blocked him from seeing into the world of the living for the past few months. He had been worried about his friends in the present but he never thought one of them would die.

Nor did he expect Seto Kaiba to choose to come to the Egyptian afterlife. There were several afterlife’s you could go to, the Egyptian one wasn’t as common a choice as it once was since their gods had fallen out of popularity with the living.

But Atem had hoped that at the very least Yugi would choose to come here when he passed on. He wanted his aibou to live a long and happy life, but he was selfish enough to hope Yugi would choose to spend eternity with him. In truth he hoped all their friends did, Joey, Téa, Tristian, Bakura, Serenity, Duke, Mai, the tomb keepers, and the Kaiba brothers. Though he had less hope for the final two with Kaiba’s stanch refusal of their past.

So it was quite surprising to see Seto Kaiba approaching his throne. Upsetting because how did Kaiba manage to die in the few months that Atem wasn’t watching over his friends? How was Mokuba holding up? How was Yugi and their friends taking the loss? Yet he was also a little pleased that Kaiba of all people chose to come to this afterlife.

That is until Kaiba opened his mouth. “Pharaoh I’ve come all the way here just to duel you and prove once and for all that I am the superior duelist.”

And who was Atem to deny a dead man his wish. They would have it out and then Atem could ask his friend what had happened to end his life so early.

But after the duel when Atem approached his friend to inquire after his death, Kaiba had looked him in the eyes and responded with “I didn’t die you fool. I build a dimensional transporter just so I could beat you.” He said it as though Atem’s idea was the crazy one.

Atem had been furious with him. You can’t force yourself into the afterlife. The two had argued with Atem trying to convince Kaiba to go home before he damaged his body or soul, while Kaiba refused to leave until he defeated the Pharaoh.

This stalemate had been going on for a month now. Kaiba demanding to duel and Atem ordering him to go home. Since Kaiba was stubborn and Atem did enjoy dueling him, Atem agreed to one duel a day, far less then what Kaiba wanted, but Atem worried over the strain dueling here might put of Kaiba body and soul.

Their duels were always an event. Many people would come to watch, excited to see if this was the day the man from the living finally accepted that their Pharaoh could not be beat.

Today’s duel played the same as all the others. Kaiba was giving Atem a run for his money, with Blue eyes white dragon on the field to protect him. But Atem had his Dark Magician and kuriboh on the field. With a quick multiply card on kuriboh he had the three sacrifices he needed to summon Slifer. The gods were still willing to join him in battle, he had the feeling they enjoyed a fun duel as much as he did.

He could hear the crowd gasp and murmur, but that was normal when he summoned one of the gods. He directed his attack at Blue eyes and wiped out the rest of Kaiba’s life points.

The crown cheered his victory, and Seto made his normal dramatic speech. “This isn’t over Pharaoh, I’ll beat you yet.” Atem knew that it was coming, but it still frustrated him that Kaiba was being so stubborn about this. He needed to go home. He was playing with powers they didn’t understand.

But all of Atem’s annoyance at Kaiba left him when he heard another voice raise above the crowd. A voice he hadn’t expected to hear again for many years. “Kaiba! This ends now!”

Atem couldn’t believe it. He turned his head to see Yugi. His aibou had grown since he left. Yugi stood tall, the soft lavender of his shirt and deep violet of his vest drawling attention to his amethyst eyes. For a moment Atem was filled with both elation and dread, because Yugi is here!

Yugi is here meaning he died young and never got to truly live his life, something Atem would rage against the gods for.

Yugi is here meaning he chose to come to this afterlife to be with Atem.

Yugi is here wearing the same duel disk and bracelet as Kaiba, except his had a gentle violet glow instead of Kaiba’s electric blue, surrounding his aibou with light just as he had always brought light to Atem’s darkness.

Yugi was wearing the same tech as Kaiba….

“Yugi what are you doing here?” Kaiba asked just as shocked as Atem to see the other duelist here. Yugi was storming his way towards Kaiba not looking at anyone else, and Atem could see the king in Yugi, the one that demanded respect, his aibou had truly grown into himself.

“Mokuba sent me to come get you. You’ve scared him Kaiba, he’s worried sick over you.” Yugi wasn’t yelling but his tone was firm, one not to be argued with.

Once again Atem’s world stopped. Yugi came after Kaiba. He’s not dead. Relief instantly filled him, he didn’t want Yugi’s life to be cut short. But he was also furious, not with Yugi, never with Yugi, but with Kaiba. The man was already risking his own body and soul to be here, and now because of his stubbornness Yugi was here risking his as well.

To Kaiba’s credit he did look throughly shammed over worrying Mokuba. “He knew I might take a while to return.” It was a weak defense. His brother was always his weak spot.

Yugi seemed to soften to. “Knowing that you’ll be gone and having you gone for a month are different. Go home Kaiba. Your life is waiting for you, you’ve got to go live it.”

Atem didn’t know when he had started moving towards them, that’s a lie he started walking as soon as he saw Yugi, but now he was right behind his aibou. “Yugi.”

The boy drew in a sharp breath before turning around to face Atem. The two stared at each other for a moment, taking each other in, before tears welled up in Yugi’s eyes and he launched himself forward to hug Atem. Atem caught him with ease, wrapping his arms around Yugi’s waist as Yugi wrapped his around his neck.

“I missed you, I missed you so much.” Yugi told him holding on to him tightly.

Atem tightened his own grip. “I’ve missed you to, more than you can imagine.”

Yugi let out a wet chuckle, “wanna bet?”

“This is very touching but I’m not leaving till I’ve won.” Kaiba interrupted them. Atem could kill him for real this time.

Yugi pulled away from, but didn’t fully let go of, Atem to turn his attention back to Kaiba. “Kaiba it’s over. You lost. It’s okay. But we have to go back.” Yugi turned to look at Atem again. “I miss Atem too,” he paused blinking away new tears and turning back to Kaiba “but we can’t stay here.” There was so much emotion in his voice. The longing to stay with Atem mixed with his desperation to return as soon as possible to Jaden.

Atem looked sadly at his aibou. This was hard for both of them. Saying goodbye the first time had felt impossible and now they had to do it again.

“No Yugi you don’t get it. I have-” Kaiba started in on his grand speech but Yugi had had enough.

“I understand perfectly.” Yugi snapped. “I understand that you want to win. I understand you’ve tried for a month. I understand that Mokuba is worried enough to ask me to come after you. And I understand that my son is waiting for me to come home.” Yugi practically spat the facts at Kaiba, furious with this man’s stubborn nature. Did he not understand that his friends and brother were worried about him and wanted him home?

Atem and Kaiba froze in their spots as soon as Yugi’s last sentence left his mouth. Yugi could feel Atem go ridged in his arms. Could see Kaiba gaping at him like a fish. What was their problem?

“Your son?” Atem spoke so quietly Yugi would have missed it if they weren’t standing so close. He turned to face his friend once more to see Atem’s shocked face. “You have a son?”

[emilykaldwen]

The Maiden and the Drowning Boy | Aegon x OC | Chapter Fourteen

Rating: Explicit

Ships: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong (Lyonel Strong's Daughter), Jacaerys Velaryon x Helaena Targaryen

Summary: As the kingdom teeters on the edge of chaos, Alicent Hightower swaps the pieces on the board: Aegon will marry Abrogail Strong, Larys’ younger sister and heir to Harrenhal. Caught in the web of intrigue and political machinations, the pair must figure out where their loyalties lie, and what they mean to one another.

Tropes: Childhood Sweethearts/Friends to Lovers, Generational Trauma and Cycles of Abuse, It's All About the Character Development, Unreliable Narrators, Multi-POV, Canon Divergent, Bisexual Aegon II Targaryen, Book/Show Mash Up, Fix-It Of Sorts, Stopping the Cycle of Abuse before it gets us all killed, Team Neutral, fairy tale vibes meets victorian medievalism meets grrm

no tag list. please follow @emkald-fic and turn on post notifications for updates or subscribe on AO3

Tumblr Masterpost

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen

AO3 Link

Author's Notes: Back from hiatus on April 26th! (Chapter 16 is just about polished and I finally made progress for chapter 17). I'm sending huge, huge thank you to my beloved beta and co-pilot, @vampire-exgirlfriend for all her love and support and kindness. There's been a lot of times that I've thought about stopping, about not continuing this story, about maybe just keeping it to myself. It's been her love and very aggressive 'that is DUMB' affection that has brought us close to the end of Arc I.

And a huge thank you to the people who have liked this story. I genuinely would love LOVE LOVE to hear your thoughts. In inbox is open, reblog and tag me, however you want to let me know that you're here <3

we are now entering the 'oh my god these too are so fucking into each other they want to fuck so bad it makes them look stupid' era

CHAPTER FOURTEEN - Love the World Like I Should

Grandfather Rodrik shows up with love and gifts, and there's some smooching on the dance floor at Aegon's nameday feast. Also some political anxiety.

King’s Landing was filled to bursting in the days approaching Aegon’s nameday celebrations. Never had Abby seen so many people crush themselves into the Red Keep. ‘More will be at Harrenhal for the wedding’, Helaena had said, their small group seeking solace away from the gaggle of the court for a while. Baela had come with them, overwhelmed with the crush of noise herself, even if she did not admit it. The Princesses Targaryen, Abby, Wylla, little Floris, and Baela’s two ladies had all sought the quietest part of the gardens to hide from the increasingly aggressive attentions.

Now, though, Abby could not hide from the crush of people.

The Reyne retinue arrived in the early afternoon, and while an ancient and powerful house as theirs deserved their pomp, the familial presentation was for Rodrik Reyne, uncle to the Queen Alicent Hightower, and grandfather to the future Princess Abrogail Strong.

Grandfather to the potential future queen, as the whispers and rumors flew around the Red Keep with the coming celebrations. Rumors that Abby wasn’t sure would come to pass, but could not deny that the king’s wishes still might change. That was a future she wasn’t sure what to think about.

His hair was more gray than auburn, thick and wavy as if he were a man of twenty instead of near seventy. Lord Rodrik was tall and broad, an imposing figure on his gray and white courser, its fine white mane braided into little knots along the elegant arch of its neck. To see him and the king that was only feet away from her had a curl of unease snaking through her belly. To look at the king was to see a man wasting away, a man at death’s door. To see Rodrik Reyne dismount with fluid ease was to see a man who, while past the prime of life, clearly had so much left in him.

“Your Grace.” Lord Rodrik mounted the steps, arm clapped to his shoulder in the Westerland sign of fealty as he bowed. “It is good to see you in fine spirits, my king.”

“No finer time than to celebrate such a joyous occasion, Lord Rodrik,” the king said with a smile. Rodrik clasped Uncle Otto’s arm in a firm grip, pleasantries exchanged and his smile broadened as he bowed lower before Queen Alicent.

“You are the light of the seven, aren’t you, my dearest,” he complimented her, genuine to the core. The queen’s cheeks pinkened at the praise and she readily embraced her uncle, fingers grasping his arms.

“We are so glad you are here to celebrate, uncle,” she said. “I am pleased to see you in such fine health and I’m so sorry Aunt Dalla could not come.”

“It is a long journey and she is not as quick as she used to be. She was quite happy to stay back with Daerion and enjoy the children. I am their favorite, after all. It’s only fair that I give everyone else the opportunity to receive some attention.” Alicent blinked as she registered the joke, a chuckle spilling from her as her uncle pressed a kiss to her hand.

Aegon stood between his mother and Abby, and she felt more than saw him straighten up as Lord Rodrik turned his cool blue eyes on him. Age had not shrunk the man, and Lord Rodrik stood as tall as Uncle Otto, and though there was a far less threatening air to him, it made him no less intimidating. Aegon’s chin tilted up to meet the man’s eye and he inclined his head.

“It is good to see you, Lord Rodrik,” Aegon greeted, his voice polite and steady, when not two hours before, he’d been with her in the alcove behind the tapestry of Jonquil Drake frantic with nerves at meeting her grandfather. It seemed like the kisses she’d given him, as well as the growing bruise that was barely visible above the collar of his deep green damask doublet had not eased his worries. “I hope your travels were easy and without issue.”

The last time they’d seen any of the Reynes had been near a decade ago, at her mother’s funeral. They had spent time with her and her father at Harrenhal before coming down to King’s Landing to spend time with the queen and her children, and that event was entirely different than now.

“Good tidings on your nameday, nephew,” he returned with all the formality as if he were addressing him by princely title. “Our travels were well, and it’ll be good to be off the road for some time.” An expression of mischief danced in the pale gray-blue eyes of Rodrik as he assessed the prince before him, eyes catching on the bruise on Aegon’s neck and then glancing at Abby and the arm she had laced through his own. He raised a brow. “It would appear that your betrothal has made a man of you yet, my prince. I might even say you’ve grown an inch or two since I last saw you.”

Heat flushed through Abby’s face and Aegon’s own, his sputter brief and confused as the Lord gave him an amused look, as if he might ruffle his hair had Aegon been a decade younger. Instead, he gave another incline of his head before coming before Abby.

“You are most certainly taller than I last saw you,” he said, cupping her face in his gloved hands, the scent of horse and spice clinging to him as he kissed her forehead. Her hand slipped from Aegon’s arm to clutch at her grandfather’s crimson sleeves beneath his brown leather jerkin, warmth spreading through her chest at the gentle affection.

“Not much taller than this, I’m afraid,” she said, a light, awkward laugh. Her grandfather reached up to tuck a stray curl behind her ear, where the rest of her hair hung in a long, simple braid down to the small of her back. He cupped her cheek, and she caught a shine in his eyes, a slow exhale as the familiar look of grief she knew well crossed his features, aging him in the moment. “I’m very glad to see you, grandfather.”

Rodrik Reyne nodded, pushing past the emotion before moving on to greet the rest of his nephews and niece, and she felt Aegon’s hand slide around her waist, fingers bunching slightly against the crimson and silver damask against her hip. She hid her hands in the belled sleeves, knotting them together and taking comfort from Aegon’s touch. Her chest ached painfully but she gave him a smile when he murmured her name.

“I am well,” she assured him, leaning into him momentarily before their party went inside, her grandfather speaking of the gifts he had brought for all of them.

Over the past days, it had been a bustle and flurry of becoming reacquainted with her grandfather, of suffering through her sister’s company. The apartments that she technically shared with her brother had served as the hub for the activity of their family. Houses Strong, Reyne, and Lannister moved in and out of the modestly decorated space. It had been overwhelming, but with the arrival of her grandfather, Cory’s acerbic tongue and judgmental looks had been averted, and Abby wondered if there was jealousy hidden beneath all that venom. She had fallen into her own acquaintance with the Queen, whom she had known when she’d served as one of Rhaenyra’s ladies when they were young.

Abby also had to organize the gifts brought from the Westerlands that would be sent back with Uncle Simon. Bolts of fine cloth of gold and silver from the expansive Reyne mines, a peregrine falcon, lovely cream and gray with black specks and bright black eyes she’d named Caelus. There’d been books too. A small chest carved with mountains and flowers contained five books, mostly from Myr, and some from Braavos, including what looked to be an interesting treatise from a Volantine woman who advocated for the importance of women’s contributions, and another on teaching woman to cultivate what she had determined as useful qualities, to achieve worthy acts in their lives.

‘A woman’s success,’ it read, ‘depends on the ability to manage and mediate by speaking and writing eloquently and effectively, for men so easily dismiss the thoughts of women, especially when their power is threatened by them.’

Perhaps she should look to promoting more copies of the sumptuously illustrated work. Perhaps she might even try her hand at replicating some of the images therein. There’s been a box of paints and new charcoal among the gifts, as well as a newly bound book for her to sketch in. Abby smiled at the idea, and had tucked it away for later.

“Mind the dress,” Wylla’s voice came from behind, already dressed for the feast and bossing about the red-clad maids of the holdfast who had been helping Abby as she worked to put together her household. Theraxis lay reclined along the end of the bed, his great yellow eyes watching the flurry of maids with such focus as if he too were supporting Wylla’s orders.

“Only a single lady?” Grandfather had balked, perceiving insult before she’d hurriedly cut in, explaining Wylla was more than enough, she did not want to be demanding, and hadn’t needed anyone else.

Wylla had snorted, eyes flashing in the familiar argument. “She’s meant to be looking for more ladies over the course of the festivities,” with all the same annoyance aimed at her as she had aimed at Aegon in the courtyard so long ago. “She needs six at least, but will she listen to me? Nay, she’s a wee stubborn thing and Lord Larys doesn’t seem to push it either.”

The gifts had not stopped there, and she was currently staring, wide eyed, at the most recent one.

The ornate wooden box before her was made of varnished rosewood, with inlays of silver decoration along the edges, and an equally delicate lock that her grandfather had carefully opened with a tiny silver key. The tiara that lay inside was fit for a queen. Ten citrine sunbursts wove together like flowers, the colors of them running from red to gold to orange and in the center of each, diamonds glittered. It sat in the center of the box, resting on a cloth of silver pillow and her mouth went dry.

“Th-this is too much. Grandfather…” Abby’s voice faltered and she lifted her gaze to meet his. Never had she felt so spoiled, so doted on. She felt guilt for it, the way it warred in confusing uncertainty. So long she had never asked for more, and it wasn’t as if Larys was a doting brother who snuck her sweets and trinkets the way Harwin had.

Her grandfather’s gaze was a mixture of annoyance, affection, and more that she did not understand. “It is most certainly not too much, dear child,” he said with a casual wave of his hand. Wylla slightly raised her eyebrows when he wasn’t looking and gently lifted the tiara from the box. “You are the blood of Castamere. You are my blood, my granddaughter,” he had said, cupping her cheek in a warm, rough hand and pressing a loving kiss to her brow. “The realm would do well to remember that you are a Reyne just as the queen is. It is not simply Hightower blood no matter how much my good brother likes to pretend.”

At least her grandfather was honest and she could not blame him for that. This was how the game was played. This was how power was brokered, even Abby understood the simple truth of it. Unlike most, Rodrik Reyne did not hide his motives, and the care that he expressed towards her since his arrival a few days ago had proven genuine. He did not ask her for favors, had inquired about her wellbeing and made sure she had what she was owed to her station.

Wylla’s nimble fingers had ensured the tiara was settled in her hair, twists of braids securing the citrine that matched her hair. The Riverlands style was one that she was glad not to give up and she would not have anyone thinking she was anything but the daughter of the rivers, and now a child of Castamere.

Her grandfather had escorted her down to the queen’s party. The king and her brother and uncle were already in the throne room and she could hear and feel the buzzing of growing anticipation as they approached the antechamber. Her hand rested in the crook of her grandfather’s elbow and her fingers spasmed with nerves. His hand found hers and she looked up at him, mouth parted as if to speak. He smiled at her instead.

“You look so much like your mother,” he said softly, his blue eyes misty and his smile warm. It took Abby aback. She had not seen the Lord Hand smile so openly and honestly. Larys barely smiled and when he did it made her wish to avoid it more often than not. The last man who smiled at her in such openness was her father. “She is here with us and she would be so proud of you.”

“Would she approve of this?” Abby asked softly. It was a silly question, the kind of question a motherless child who could barely remember her own mother asked. She could see the queen through the doorway at the end of the hall, hear Helaena’s laughter echoing along with Daeron’s.

Her grandfather paused and seemed to steel himself. The emotion was plain on his face. The grief was palpable and he did not meet her eyes as he composed himself. “Your mother was in the very fortunate position where I could let her choose who she wanted to marry. She could wait, and find a match that she got along well with. Lord Jason was a possibility, but even if your mother wanted to marry him, I couldn’t let her resign her future to a foppish imbecile like him, Lannister seat or not. She fell in love with your father and he did not demand heirs of her or money or prestige. He simply wanted someone to spend his days with and they found that in one another. That is what your mother wanted for you. A world where you were safe and loved.”

He cupped her cheek and Abby lifted her hand to hold his, feeling her own tears threaten. “The future has one certainty and there will be hard choices to make. Know that your family stands behind you, and that you may be a Riverlands girl, but there is a lion inside of you. They say in the north wolf packs survive together. You are part of a pride and are just as fierce. Dragons could not take the Westerlands and fire cannot burn the rivers.”

“He won’t burn me,” Abby said softly. “I trust him. I… care for him. I want him, not for a title, not for whatever the future may bring. I simply want him and he wants me and we just want to be happy. I think we can make each other happy, Grandfather.”

“Good,” he said and dropped his hand. “Then should the Stranger take me this night, it will be knowing you will be happy.” He gave her a watery laugh, amusement on his face. “And should he mistreat you, then I will haunt him to madness.”

When they entered the antechamber, Lord Rodrik pressed a kiss to her hand and went to join the rest of the gathering in the throne room. Helaena was in conversation with Daeron, and Aegon…

Aegon turned to look at her upon her entrance and his face went slack. She blushed, smoothing her hands over her gown, watching as the candlelight shimmered over the green and blue layers of the skirt, the fabric diaphanous, like currents of water around her legs. Her fingers found the golden dragons embroidered over her waist, intermingling with the glittering red weirwood leaves, worrying at the material. Her slippers were as gold as the dragons on her bodice, peaking out beneath her hem as she closed the distance between them. Aegon reached for her and she slid her hand into his and watched the smile spread slowly across his face.

‘I think we can make each other happy.’

Abby was not meant to be on Aegon’s arm as they entered the feast. He should have been escorting his mother as protocol dictated since King Viserys had entered the feast already. It was a heady feeling to know Aegon would not let her go, even as he was forced to drop her hand so she could tuck hers into the crook of his arm. A thrill that continued down her spine and coiled in her belly with the rest of the bursting butterflies dancing inside that gave her the strength to tilt her chin up as all her lessons instructed her to do. The perfect posture, the perfect gait all came rushing to her in a way that she finally understood why it mattered.

The pride that she felt wasn’t about being Queen Alicent’s pet project, or even that she had somehow snagged a prince for a betrothed. She was Lady Abrogail, heir to Harrenhal, the legacy of her mother’s fierceness and her father’s wisdom. As they walked behind the queen and Lord Otto, Abby squeezed her hand along Aegon’s bicep. She was the daughter of the Riverlands, and Aegon was lucky to have her, for there were many others that she could be with.

He looked at her with clear and bright eyes, the lilac full of mirth in a way she hadn’t seen from him in so long, and there were broad smile lines around his mouth, the flash of white teeth as he grinned at her. His hair was freshly washed, the silver curls gleaming gold in the sea of candleglow. His doublet was new as well - a fine, black silk brocade with a pattern woven in that evoked a shimmer of dragon scales. Golden clasps in the shape of dragon heads gleamed down the center. The seams were piped with red silk, and red silk trim embroidered with golden dragons wrapped around from the center and over his back. The same embroidered trim encircled his sleeves, which were slashed open along the back of his arms from bicep to the buttoned cuffs, the Targaryen red brocade of his shirt beneath poking through.

For the first time, he wore a crown upon his brow. It was a hammered circlet of gold that rested gently around his head, interspersed with seven circles stamped with dragons. Before the realm, he truly looked like the prince that he was.

A son who was celebrated by his parents.

She was lucky to have him. Let them see it. Let Queen Alicent see how brightly they made one another smile when they got to choose one another. Let them see she was not beholden to The High Tower, or to the Targaryens, or to anyone. Let them see that for all they may want to whisper about machinations and intrigue, she wanted him, and he wanted her.

Abby curtsied deeply before the king before they took their seats. Aegon was on his father’s left hand - the place of honor for the evening, and she was beside him. ‘How lucky we are’, came the thought again. She had not realized she had spoken the words aloud until Aegon’s grin widened into a beaming smile, his eyes crinkling with his own joy.

This was how the past weeks should have been. This is what the welcoming feast to Lord Tully and his party should have showcased: the two of them united, happy now, even as they set out to figure out what their marriage would be, what it would look like. There was enough time for that.

“You know, people like us don’t marry for love often,” Wylla had said, words that had stuck to her ribs.

The queen, her brother, and her uncle did not care for her and Aegon’s happiness, that much was startlingly clear to Abby. They had not come together in this betrothal by choice, but beneath the heart tree, they had made a promise. They had made their choice.

As her elder sister, Corynna, and her husband, Erwin Lannister sat beside her, Abby wished for the comfort of Wylla and Heleana at her side. The latter was at the other end of the table, and Abby’s gaze sought the friendly face of the young woman at the table below.

Wylla sat with Uncle Simon and Aunt Mya, looking striking in her black velvet gown. It was cut in the southern style, the neckline edged in white and silver cut across the line of her shoulders, her raven hair twisted into three rope braids woven with white ribbon and strung with pearls. She looked like a dream, Abby thought. A maiden of winter with all her pale skin and dark hair; striking in a way that many other women were not and Wylla wore it well. Harrion was beside her, his head inclined toward a lovely, red haired woman beside him. Wylla had said that his betrothed, Lady Alys Bracken, had only just arrived. She was so slight next to the northman’s bulk, her smile soft, eyes crinkling at the corners as she laughed at something he said.

Wylla caught her eye and sent her a warm, reassuring smile that Abby returned with a little wave, uncaring of decorum at the moment with how shaky her nerves were starting to get now that everyone was staring up at her. Her dear friend had not shied about her own discomfort in crowds, declaring her own relief that she was not the one who would be center of attention in her teasing, sharp yet fond way.

A harsh pinch against her left arm made Abby jump and she turned sharply to look at her sister, who was smiling serenely as if nothing was amiss. “Stop it, you’re behaving like a child,” she hissed behind a gritted smile. “I’ll not have you shame me.”

“If returning a kind gesture and a greeting to someone across the room is childish, then I cannot imagine you have many friends, Corynna, that do not cling to your skirts.” She smiled at her sister, whose saccharine falseness turned quickly to annoyance. “Do mind yourself, Cory. You are not my mother, nor my guardian.”

She caught the sidelong glance Aegon gave her and she felt his warm hand on hers, drawing it to his mouth to press a kiss against her knuckles. Abby felt the spray of heat along her throat, pressing her lips tightly together to keep from biting at her lip and being too obvious. He kept hold of her hand, thumb running lightly along her knuckles in familiar reassurance, and leaned in to speak softly against her ear.

“Lady Abrogail, if that’s the kind of behavior you plan on keeping up, as your husband, it shall be my duty to discipline you for such talk.”

Abby’s mouth went dry, her flush deepening and she glanced up at him, demure beneath her lashes. “Prince Aegon, you get ahead of yourself. I am the image of propriety.” He smirked and they both drew back. Abby reached for her goblet to calm the different sort of butterflies fluttering through her stomach now.

The echo of a staff cracking against the stone floor of the hall reverberated through the hall and all fell silent as the king rose, the queen beside him in what was meant to be a show of unity. But Abby knew that she was there to steady him so he did not have to rely on his cane. The black, red, and gold robe he wore nearly swallowed him whole, and she wondered how heavy it was for him.

Beside him, Alicent Hightower wore the colors of her house instead of a glow of green. She was as regal as Abby had ever seen, in a storm gray damask gown with white flame embroidery along her neck and shoulders. A cape of gray silk felt about her and the gray sleeves of her gown hugged her arms until they flared out at her forearms to bell around her wrists. Her auburn hair was twisted back on the sides of her head before coming to a single twisted braid down her back. Upon her head rested her crown of state. It was a gold circlet with seven points of golden flame rising from it and in the center flame was a blood red ruby that matched the gold and ruby earrings dangling beneath her hair.

“Be welcome,” the king said. His voice had rarely been a strong one, but he had found the strength behind it to let the words carry now. “It is good to see so many happy faces here, as we come together to celebrate my son, Prince Aegon’s nameday.” He turned his head to look down at Aegon with a nod and a gap toothed smile that, while fleeting, was genuine. The people clapped, thumps on tables shaking the cutlery, and Abby grinned at him. Aegon looked taken aback by the well tidings, the shouts of wishes for good health and good fortune. The hand that he had rested on her knee tightened and Aegon straightened in his seat, smiling back and giving a wave of thanks as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him.

The King continued, “The Queen and I also honor House Strong this night. Since my ancestor, Aegon the Conqueror, landed upon these shores, the Strongs have been a leal and loyal house. Ser Osmund Strong himself was the longest serving Hand, and through the decades, this family has proved themselves time and again, their fealty to the throne and their dedication to the realm. It is why upon the passing of the beloved Princess Rhaena, that my grandfather, King Jaehaerys, bestowed the great Harrenhal to House Strong. It is this dedication that before he passed, our late Lord Lyonel Strong, the Seven keep him, agreed to a proposal. We welcome you all to celebrate with House Targaryen and House Strong as I announce the betrothal of our son, Prince Aegon, to the Lady Abrogail Strong, and their investiture as the future Lord and Lady of Harrenhal, under the wise and clement eye of Grover Tully, Lord Paramount of the Riverlands.”

The whispers of the betrothal had already snaked their way through the keep over the past weeks. First the servants gossip, then the unofficial talks among the lords who had, by now, sent ravens back home to their holdings in the Riverlands. It was news that had passed naturally among the realm, and while Abby did not see any surprised faces, the cheers that roared up took her by surprise. The slamming fists on the tables, the clapping, the shouts of well wishes and even some crass remarks was not at all what she had expected. She felt her cheeks burn and the flush of it snake across all the exposed skin of her gown. She yearned for the coverings of her linen gowns so none could see how red she had turned at the attention.

Yet, Abby did nothing to hide how large her smile was, so wide it nearly hurt. She met Aegon’s eyes, his own grin crinkling the corners of his eyes, and she never, ever wanted to see him frown again if this was how bright his smile could be. He then looked at the crowd and she followed suit, waving at the smiling faces, blowing a kiss of thanks to all. She did not startle when Aegon lifted his hand from her knee to tuck beneath the fall of her curls and rest along the back of her neck in a possessive gesture that made her belly roil with heat. She looked at him from the corner of her eye and saw that his bright smile had set into something darker, more firm.

The feast began, servants coming out of the shadows. Trenchers of roast pork in red wine and plum sauce were placed before them, steaming with scents of ginger and cinnamon. Shrimp cooked in fennel and white wine steamed from large platters, boiled eggs cut and stuffed with fragrant cheese and herbs nestled among salads of other fresh herbs and greens. Abby gasped, admiring the hollowed out Stormland lemons with glistening pieces of Dornish blood oranges and lemon sticky with sugar dotted the table in pops of bright, delectable color.

Aegon was eagerly filling his plate with the roast pork he so adored, and she reached for one of the sour orange treats, popping a sticky piece of fruit into her mouth and hoping it calmed the knot of nerves that were growing insistently.

“They certainly spared no expense,” Corynna’s voice was soft at her side. Abby glanced over at her sister who was commenting on the wine being poured to her husband. Her sister was as beautiful as she was sharp, resplendent in the colors of House Lannister, a ruby red gown that set off her golden skin, and an overdress of golden silk. Her brunette curls were tamed and pulled back into a low bun at the base of her neck, encased in a jeweled net of gold and rubies, a heavy lion pendant hanging from her throat. She decided not to engage with her sister’s low commentary, for it was exactly what she wanted, and instead busied herself on the treat in front of her.

“Here.” Abby glanced at Aegon, who held his fork up with a piece of pork. She opened her mouth to decline, and he popped the piece in with that dangerous smirk flashing across his mouth before going back to his food. It was good, the spark of ginger cutting through the sweetness of the plum. It had also served to get her mind off the fact that they were eating at the head table, and she let her gaze drift, ignoring her sister’s tut of disapproval.

Abby caught Baela looking at them curiously. She was beautiful that evening in the colors of her mother’s house. The aquamarine gown was cut in the Pentoshi style like the previous one she wore to their family dinner, with a deep v cut into the bodice and the layers of fabric pinned like a chiton at her shoulders. On her head she wore a silver tiara shaped into the heads of seahorses with matching gemstones for their eyes. Abby gave the princess a small smile. “You look lovely tonight, Princess. I am truly glad to have you here and I look forward to us getting to know one another.”

Baela’s violet eyes narrowed somewhat at being addressed, and Abby felt Aegon shift beside her as he honed in on the conversation. “May your futures be bright and happy, Lady Abrogail. Cousin.”

“Thank you, cousin,” Aegon replied with his tight smile. “Perhaps it will be your nuptials we’ll be celebrating next.” The words were friendly, at least somewhat so. Abby suppressed a sigh, but knew it was at least a small win. Baela did not seem to mind sitting next to Daeron, for the pair of them had fallen into a discussion about their dragons and how Tessarion had fared in Oldtown. “I heard Mother wondering if her and Jace will wed next.”

Jacaerys.

Abby chanced another look at the incredibly awkward end of the table. There was the queen, then Lord Otto, then Larys, and then… Aemond, Helaena, and Jace. The three of them were utterly silent, like mimes in a play, and it was hard to tell what made it worse: the fact that Aemond and Jace had ended up wearing near matching doublets that evening, or the sapphire sun that was Helaena between them.

Aemond and Jace and Baela should have been separated, but Jace could not sit next to her, for the rumors that would cause and so poor Helaena was stuck as the wall to separate them.

She looked every inch the beautiful princess from a song. Her silver hair hung loose and free down her back with four braids keeping her hair from her face. The twists wound themselves into the silver tiara she wore, the sapphires winking out like stars from the woven metal strands that took the place of her usual braid. Her gown was diaphanous silk, her shoulders bared. The sleeves were a light blue and the sheer fabric hugged her arms. The gown went from a lovely sky blue to a deeper shade of twilight along the hem, and the silver embroidery evoked silver flames dancing across the gown. She wore the colors of Dreamfyre, dragonrider that she was, the princess of House Targaryen that did not need to evoke her house colors to state her place in the world.

The look on her face was blank and somewhat wide-eyed, focused on the shrimp in front of her. Abby’s heart ached, wanting to go to her and get her out of the situation she was in, but there was nothing for it. Helaena already grew anxious with crowds and she didn’t need the extra stress of being caught between two petulant looking boys.

Jace tilted his head towards her, saying something that drew a small smile from Helaena, and the knot of worry eased slightly.

The course was cleared away, the minstrels along the side gallery merrily playing songs from each of the realms present there today. Currently it was a Westerlands tune, fewer drums than the melodies of the Crownlands, and Abby caught Lord Tyland’s head bobbing to the music from his place at his twin brother’s side.

The next course was brought out and it was the largest pie Abby had ever seen, along with pottage of wild hare and cabbage, roasted lamb smelling of caraway and fennel and thyme. There was roasted chicken in orange glaze. Her gaze returned to the pie. It was as big as a wagon wheel, the pastry crust browned and caramelized and surrounded by many smaller pies like a crown. The crusts were slivered all around and gilt in gold along the top, and she could smell the saffron and cloves. They were stuffed to the bursting with more eggs and mixed meats and smelled delicious, but Abby’s stomach was knotted with nerves combined with the heady twist of arousal that pulsed every time Aegon’s knee bumped hers, or the way he’d tap his fingers upon her wrist to make sure she was alright.

Aegon inclined his head towards her, waving the servant away and pushing his plate between them. “You’re not eating. We’ll share.” He even pressed his goblet into her hand, taking hers and sipping from it in such an intimate gesture that Abby’s nerves were utterly forgotten about in that moment. She took a sip from his goblet, unsure of what to say. Aegon raised an eyebrow at her. “Eat,” he ordered and she knocked her slippered foot against his boot.

“You’re eating enough for the both of us, Prince. I couldn’t possibly keep up with you.” His appetite was a voracious one, and the plate he’d pushed between them had already started inching back towards him. She stabbed a piece of meat and gave him a look as she ate. He looked only somewhat abashed and popped a piece of crust in his mouth, licking juice from his fingers. She was reminded of the lakeside picnic, and the way his lips felt against her fingers while she fed him, the blushing heat as he fed her cakes in return and the kisses shared.

It must have shown on her face because a wicked gleam flashed across his eyes, gaze drifting to the low neckline of her gown and the gentle swell of her breasts. A voracious appetite indeed. He laughed when she busied herself with her goblet.

“Everyone is staring,” she whispered, unsure if she was chastising him or reminding him. Aegon’s gaze raked along the bare expanse of her shoulders, his hand twitching along his stolen goblet as if he was keeping himself from reaching for her again.

“Of course they are, hunītsos. Let them. Let them see how happy you look.” His gaze grew uncertain for a moment and she understood what words he held back.

“How happy you make me,” she offered softly. It was finally Aegon’s turn to blush, the expression uncharacteristically shy, and Abby could not help but lean over to brush a soft kiss against his cheek. Satisfaction was bright in her chest when his blush deepened before his own satisfaction crossed his features.

Let them witness. Let Edmund Vance and whatever moody River Lord conspired against them see that Aegon was hers, claimed by the rivers.

“Prince Aegon,” Erwin called halfway through the following course - mutton and stag and boar drenched in plum and wine sauces, brown sauces, and surrounded with dates and figs. The youngest Lannister brother was a gleaming gold lion, square faced with bright green eyes. He was not lanky as Lord Tyland nor as haughty as Lord Jason. He was a third son, bred for battle, and while he did not appear to cross swords with her sister, Abby wondered if that was a battle he had no desire to engage in. “I hear you’ll be participating in the melee on the morrow. Do you wield a morning star like Ser Criston, then? Or perhaps a battle ax?”

Corynna tutted, leaning back with exaggeration so her husband might speak. “It was only a matter of time before we talked swords.”

“The Prince is admirable with his sword skills, Erwin,” Abby piped up proudly before Aegon could speak, her turn to boast of him as he had done for her.

Aegon’s hand rested along the back of her chair as he leaned over with a grin on his face. “Some could say. It’ll either come down to skill or my lady’s favor, should she grant me. Mayhaps I’ll have the good fortune of meeting you in the ring?”

“Everyone knows the joust is where one proves themselves,” Baela cut in.

“Prince Daemon was quite impressive with his blade in the last tourney I saw him in, just as he was with a lance,” Erwin said with ease and a smile. “All the bouts require their own skills and strength.”

The conversation of the small tourney for tomorrow kept on, with Daeron joining in. Abby ignored her sister’s displeased muttering and her husband did as well. Perhaps that’s how the peace was kept in their household.

As the dessert course came out, those in attendance began to move about the room. No doubt they were eager to speak of the confirmation of what had been announced, judging by all the gazes that flitted in their direction. There were her favorite strawberry and cream cakes just out of reach, but she found that she had no appetite for the rich confection with the nervous energy building. Instead, she snagged a piece of marchpane dragon off Aegon’s piled plate of treats. He playfully snapped at her as if he was going to bite at her hand before handing her a marchpane crown without comment.

She leaned towards Aegon, brushing his ear and delighting in how he shivered at the contact. Her fingers tapped against his arm. “I’m going to speak to Wylla.”

He reached up to snatch at her wrist. “Stay,” he murmured, eyes searching her face. Don’t leave me alone next to him, she knew he was asking. Abby shook her head.

“We have to mingle, Aeg, We can’t sit up here all night.” He rolled his eyes and Abby tutted. “Go rescue Helaena.”

Aegon glanced down at the miserable end of the table and they spied Gwayne having come up, a hand braced on Aemond’s shoulder as he spoke to Larys and his father. “I’m surprised Aemond hasn’t stabbed him yet,” Aegon muttered and gave a nod. “Is this to be our duty now, my lady?”

Abby scrunched her face up in amusement and took his offered hand to rise from her chair. “Aye, it shall be, my lord. Save me a dance.” He pressed a kiss to her knuckles and they parted, Aegon going to join his uncle and siblings at the end of the table. She tilted her head, admiring him as he walked from her before heading towards Baela.

When Abby looked at Baela, she was reminded by the statue of Visenya that Aemond favored so in the gardens, or the tapestries that hung in the upper levels of the gallery: women who rode the skies with braids twisted into their long hair, the fierce and determined looks on their faces showing their command of the world. Targaryens were the closest one came to gods in Westeros. This fact Abby had grown with all her life. Everyone in Westeros did. She saw how the smallfolk clamored for the affections and attentions of the dragonriders during parades, the furrowed brows of the septons who disliked the competition to the Seven.

“Princess,” Abby gave the other a bright, welcoming smile. “Come with me, I have someone to properly introduce you to.” There was deference in her tone that Baela was owed, but Abby also clung to the reminder that she was to be a princess too. They would be equals in a few months, and the Queen wanted her to grow accustomed to this fact.

Baela, her lovely, violet eyes narrowed in her direction, seemed to have other ideas. Abby had asked Helaena the other evening what it was that Baela had said in Valyrian, and the princess had only said that she should not worry, for she did not believe Baela would speak so carelessly in the future. The other woman held her gaze, assessing in the way Abby was sure her dragon, Moondancer, would assess and Abby swallowed past the lump of nerves beneath the gaze. She realized after a moment that it was one of uncertainty. It had initially felt hostile - which considering whatever Valyrian she’d spoken upon arrival had been clearly hostile, it made sense - but it had also become clear that the princess was uncomfortable and therefore more judgemental, Abby thought, than she might normally be. At least, Abby hoped that was the case.

“You have people to introduce me to, Lady Abrogail?” The disdain was not obvious, and Abby wondered if this was what it meant to be unaccepted by the Valyrians. The family had kept to themselves since the landing. She had studied the Targaryen family tree in her studies and knew how rarely they married out of the houses. ‘The blood of the dragon must remain pure’, was stated when they’d learned about the Doctrine of Exceptionalism that allowed the practice of incest, and outlawed the multiple wives that The Conqueror and King Maegor had taken.

Would Aegon have wanted multiple wives? Would he have wanted someone more Valyrian to make him feel closer to his heritage? The curious thought flitted through her mind, and Abby felt a stab of jealousy at the idea of such a scenario, along with an uncertainty she couldn’t quite identify, but similar to the feeling of otherness that she found herself experiencing among the company of the other Riverlanders.

“I do. I hope, very much so, that your time here in the capital will be as comfortable as possible. I understand that it must be quite the change from Dragonstone, and the company of the rest of your siblings.” Baela said nothing at first, lips pressed in a thin line before looking down the table. Abby followed her gaze.

Jace and Helaena had a series of tarts and other confections in front of them, and Helaena was laughing brightly at the marchpane tentacles rising from a plum tart. Jace plucked one of them, slathered in cream to take a bite, offering the piece to Helaena who shook her head in amusement and reached for one of the candied lemons.

Aegon had pulled his brother away with a firm grip on his shoulder and the pair of them had headed towards the floor, goblets in hand with heads bowed towards each other. They were accompanied by some of the other young men at court; the Fossoway boys, Ser Leo Costayne, brother to Lord Owen, and their cousin, Lyonel Hightower, heir to the Oldtown seat.

Ser Leo was the eldest at over twenty, his almond eyes from his mother’s Lyseni heritage striking with the silver hair of Valyria that spread across the empire. He had already earned the title of The Sea Lion, the West taking pride in their own fierce seafarer as House Velaryon did with The Sea Snake, Lord Corlys. Little Floris had found him handsome, blushing when her avid gaze had been pointed out by Helaena. Abby had found herself readily agreeing.

At four and ten, Lyonel was as tall as Aemond with the promise to be taller, with the same cut cheekbones Abby could see was a Hightower feature, while Alicent, Aegon, and Helaena shared the soft roundness of their Reyne mother. His skin was swarthy from his Dondarrion mother, a contrast with his lighter brown hair. Her eyes drifted to the group of ladies, colors of the Reach and Westerlands in their clothes, and how they clearly were eyeing Prince Aemond, who was doing his best to pretend to be above it.

Far better for their attention than that of Cassandra Baratheon, who was stoically sitting by her heavy set father, face flushed with wine and quietly hissing at his eldest daughter. An unbidden pang of sympathy pulsed through Abby’s heart at how unhappy the other woman looked, momentarily overriding her displeasure.

Abby turned her gaze back to Baela, whose own eyes were sweeping the mass of people before them. She wondered if the rumor was true of a possible betrothal between Jacaerys and Baela, the future king and queen of the realm. Dragonriders both, in the Targaryen ways of old like Aegon and his wives, like King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne. She wondered if it had happened already and was simply unannounced, Rhaenyra waiting for the most opportune moment. Or perhaps the pair were simply siblings, mayhaps promises made out of stubborn pride. Would that explain Baela’s disdain for them? Did she see them as interlopers in a place that she considered her birthright by conquest and the Valyrian blood flowing through her?

Baela finally rose, fluid and graceful and confident in all the ways that Abby still found it difficult to be. The other woman stood a few inches taller - not a difficult feat by any means, but Abby was envious of the graceful turn of her neck. She was reminded of the descriptions of Visenya: comfortable in silks as she was in armor. What a sight the other would make upon dragonback with a war cry tearing from her. How confident Baela Targaryen was;in her sense of self, her place in the world, in all that made her Valyrian.

It struck Abby then how she did not feel like a child of the Riverlands no matter what she claimed. It felt as if she were spinning falsehoods into a cloak to shroud herself in, to distract from her own sense of confusion. As they approached the closer table where her Uncle Simon sat with the Brackens, listening to the conversation blend before her in the lilt and familiar cadence of the Riverlands, Abby found herself feeling like an outsider. It had not quite been like this at the welcoming feast those weeks ago, where they spoke the language of the capital. Her mother tongue had been one lost to her over the years since her father died, relegated to the dinner table and bedtime stories, of ephemeral memories of lullabies long sung. To hear Wylla’s own northern brogue share in the words of Old Tongue falling in a similar harmony, panic settled in Abby’s chest to find that she couldn’t quite keep up with the words exchanged.

The panic was frozen when Wylla turned her head, and all at the table gave move to rise and give their courtesies to Princess Baela. Out of the corner of her eye, Abby saw Baela shift a little, felt the whisper of silks brush against her. “This is Lady Wylla Karstark, from Karhold,” Abby introduced, her voice coming out higher than she intended as she forced past the lump in her throat. Wylla rose, nodding to her brother who was also getting up to speak with some of the other lords.

“Princess Baela, I hope you’re enjoying the festivities.”

Baela inclined her head but said nothing.

“She is my dearest friend and also far from home. Also quite the archer.” Abby reached for things that Baela might find intriguing and welcoming, hoping her instincts weren’t wrong.

Wylla shook her head slightly. “You are too kind, Lady,” she lightly teased with the use of the title.

Baela’s head cocked, the tinkling of the silver charms in her hair soft among the din of the room. “My, all that snow and ice. It’s a wonder you do not melt beneath the dragon’s heat,” Baela said and the challenge was clear in her voice.

Wylla smiled in her sharp way, ever the winter fox. “As a daughter of fire and sea, I would assume you to be well acquainted with contradictions. One must burn hot to survive the cold.”

Baela actually smiled at that and Abby took the chance. “Wylla is a far better archer than I, Princess. I hear you yourself are well acquainted with the bow.” Wylla’s storm gray eyes flitted to her and Abby did everything she could not to shift awkwardly beneath her friend’s gaze. Not in this dress, and not with the sunburst tiara that graced her head. Instead, she grinned back at her. The princess merely glanced back at her before shifting closer to Wylla.

“Do you hunt, Lady Wylla? I hear there’s to be a hunt later this week and I do so miss hawking…”

Abby released a soft breath, pressing a grateful squeeze to Wylla’s shoulder before moving on to her aunt and uncle. Her cousin, Gareth, had stayed behind at Harrenhal, and she had fuzzy memories of her Aunt Mya. The older woman was plump and warm, brushing a soft kiss with a greeting. The din of the throne room grew louder as the meal came to an end, servants dashing between the party goers, removing plates and replacing carafes of wine and small foods for guests to continue to indulge in. The music shifted to a more lively fair and the dance floor quickly filled with eager revelers.

Lythene Ryger of Willow Wood had drawn her into the shy gaggle of maidens who were standing expectantly along the edge of the dance floor, trading glances across the room at the lords and Abby had noticed the looks they’d thrown in Aemond’s direction. Lady Lythene was five and ten, soft featured with honey brown eyes, her strawberry blonde hair woven with strands of river pearls in the common half knot coil that was common in the Riverlands.

“If Lord Yorick were here, none of these men would have a chance to win tomorrow,” Melony Piper said, all dark hair and more freckles than one could count. “My sister says he was the most fearsome knight not so long ago.”

“Psh,” Lythene rolled her eyes. “Everyone knows Ser Gwayne is a force to be reckoned with. Besides, Lord Yorick never leaves Runestone and if he did, Lord Borros would throw a fit.” She looked smug with the knowledge imparted and whatever look on Abby’s face seemed to spur her on. She leaned in. “Lord Yorick is married to Lord Borros’ younger sister with a son of their own. Should Lady Elenda not have a son, it’s said his sister may push one of her son’s claims to Storm’s End.”

As one, their eyes swiveled in the direction of Cassandra Baratheon, perfectly coiffed, and everything the daughter of a Lord Paramount would be. Raven hair wild as storm clouds around her bare shoulders, her golden dress sparkling in the dancing torchlight with an opal the size of Abby’s fist nestled in the hollow of her throat. Abby’s hands twitched, smoothing over the cloud of blue and green silk organza, the golden dragons and weirwood leaves embroidered over her bodice.

A warm hand touched her wrist and Abby met the gentle, honey eyes of Lythene, who smiled up at her. “Tá cuma álainn ort, a bhean,” she said softly while the others tittered. It took Abby a moment to register the words, “you look beautiful, my lady”, and Abby smiled shyly.

“Go raibh maith agat,” she thanked her and Lythene bit her lip as if holding back a chuckle.

“Agat,” she pronounced softly, the inflection different. “A little closer to got, and less like goat.”

Her cheeks burned and she repeated it softly and Lythene took her hand, squeezing it. “I can’t imagine you get to practice with many people here in the South,” she laughed, a tinkling like bells that drew the attention of other men.

“I haven’t. I’m looking forward to getting to speak it more, but I can’t get that sort of practice teaching Aeg- Prince Aegon.”

“You mean he’s actually going to try learning our tongue?” came the aggressive disbelief of Lady Melony. “Targaryens aren’t ones to debase themselves so.”

Lythene opened her mouth but Abby cut in, a frown slashed across her face. “Aegon is a Targaryen and a Hightower, a family that traces their lineage and impact to before the First Men, some say.” She tilted her head, exhaling softly and shook her head. “The Targaryens may be above us due to the gifts of the dragon, but you can be assured that Prince Aegon will take his duties seriously.”

She was reminded of the words Edmund had sneered at her, of how none would trust a dragon coming into the Riverlands and it was foolish to think so. Lythene said nothing, watching her curiously while Melony Piper’s bright green eyes narrowed somewhat, thin mouth pursed. Abby’s grandmother had been a Piper, which made the two of them kin.

Seven and the Old Gods help her if Aegon did not live up to her promise, but Abby trusted that he would. That he would, at the very least, try.

Melony opened her mouth to speak again but murmurs danced through the crowd, attention towards the dance floor. Abby looked over her shoulder in surprise.

Jace led Helaena by the hand to the crowd of dancers as the next song started, fingers touching as they circled around one another. She was a glittering, blue dragon amidst the crowd, hair like mercury as it flowed around her. Helaena loved to dance and the joy was obvious on her soft features, Jace’s own smile a shy one, his broad frame more obvious as he circled around her. Not as tall as Aemond, but Jace would grow taller yet.

“Well,” Melony’s attention had changed. “That’s an interesting development.”

Abby’s eyes instinctively cut to the queen where she sat at the King’s right, a slight furrow to her brow, and the Lord Hand beside her, his attention also on the pair dancing. A fond smile cut across Otto Hightower’s face as Helaena laughed when Jace spun her, and Abby wasn’t at all sure what to make of it.

Helaena looked happy, though, and that was all that mattered.

Abby startled at the feeling of a warm hand stroking against her elbow and Aegon’s laughter was soft as he stroked his fingers down her arm in a way that had goosebumps flaring across her skin. His fingers twined with hers and the ladies around her bobbed curtsies, murmuring My Prince and Your Grace.

“You all look like you’re having so much fun here, but I must steal my betrothed away,” Aegon said, his voice light and amused, in his element as the center of attention and even more dangerous without drink to cloud his senses. Abby felt the heated flush creep along her throat when Aegon tugged her into him. “I promised you a dance, didn’t I, Lady Abrogail?”

Lythene looked amused, Melony uncertain and Abby turned under Aegon’s arm so that she was facing him. “You did, my Prince. Thank you for the conversation, Lady Lythene, Lady Melony,” she thanked as Aegon began tugging her away. “It was good to meet you.”

Everything else drifted away when Aegon pulled her into his arms. The contrast to the last time they’d danced together was palpable. There was no anger between them, no confusion, no fear. He twirled her as he drew her into the space as if he were showing her off, her skirt flaring around her, rippling greens and blues like the rivers of her home, the candlelight glimmering along the golden threaded dragons on her gown, and the citrine bursts along her tiara. When Aegon pulled her into him, she could feel the heat of his body barely pressed against her, the flush of it coursing through her with every hammering beat of her heart.

“I wish we were somewhere more quiet,” Abby murmured to him as they turned around one another, clapping their hands before reaching for each other again. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Aemond tugging Wylla on the floor, her friend caught between surprise and a pleased flush along her cheeks. Abby would have to tease her later, in return for how merciless Wylla had teased her.

“Do you?” Aegon asked, grinning at her, eyes full of heat. “We could, you know. It is my nameday.”

“We’ll be caught, and I’d rather your mother not find us,” she chuckled, spinning away from him to turn around Lord Tyland, who smiled down at her indulgently while Aegon politely moved around Lady Johanna Westerling, Tyland’s goodsister and dance partner. Her gaze kept pulling back to Aegon whenever they were separated in the dances, and when they came back together, there was an ache in her chest that she could not identify. Relief? Want? Longing?

Everything?

“Remind me to get you a map of the tunnels,” he murmured, leaning down to brush a kiss against her temple and she couldn’t help the bubbling of giggles that escaped her. Aegon looked incredibly pleased with himself, and as the next song started, he pulled her closer to him, hands possessive on her hips as he lifted her in the air and spun her around.

“Whatever do you mean?” she asked. Then it clicked. “What, so I can sneak to your room?”

Aegon winked at her. “Clever girl.”

“I try.”

As Abby turned, her eyes caught on the furious, dark gaze of Edmund Vance across the hall, accompanied by Lord Piper and some of the other River Lords. Abby blanched, the joy she had felt abating like water on a fire at the ugly look in his eyes. So distracted, she was, that she stumbled her steps of the complicated dance, nearly falling had Aegon not pulled her to him in time. She saw his gaze follow hers, his own smile morphing into a hard look.

“I’ve taken care of it.” Abby didn’t understand, trying to find the steps again without ruining the entire dance, cheeks flushed in embarrassment. Aegon’s hand brushed soothing along her arm, his other hand warm on her waist and giving her a reassuring squeeze. “Focus on me, eyes on me, hunītsos.” His voice was gentle and firm all at once, quiet and earnest and Abby focused on the sound of it, her gaze finding his, softened now. “Aemond saved me from making a scene, but I’ve handled it.” He tilted his head. “I don’t need to take his hands.”

Abby struggled to find words, a strange and unfamiliar thrill coursing through her that she could not examine too closely in the moment. “And what have you decided to take instead?”

As the dance came to a close, Aegon reached up to cup the softness of her cheek, tilting her head back with his thumb on her lower lip. He leaned in, mouth brushing against hers, and the vow he made was full of promise.

“His pride,” he murmured, and kissed her in front of the realm to seal it.

What was your favorite moment of the chapter? What's something you're looking forward to? Any fun theories!? I'd love to hear your thoughts on what you're enjoying about Maiden and any curiosities you might have! And if you're not sure what to say, just a kind reblog with a heart or something would be lovely <3

[Chapter Fifteen]

[room-surprise]

When does Dungeon Meshi take place?

This is an excerpt from Chapter 2 of my paper, "Real World Cultural and Linguistic Influences in Delicious in Dungeon." Dungeon Meshi takes place in the year 514, however we don’t know how that number relates to anything else in the Dungeon Meshi world, so it isn’t really useful for identifying what era Kui is trying to depict.

It can’t be that the Ancient Cataclysm happened 514 years ago (it was still referred to as ancient history by Thistle and Delgal a thousand years ago), and it can’t be when the current elf queen’s reign began (she’s only 372), so it’s either marking some other major event, like the beginning of the reign of a royal family or the end of a war, or they reset their calendar at regular intervals, such as every two-thousand years for record-keeping purposes.

In the real world, 514 CE would have been the early Medieval era, just after the collapse of the Western Roman Empire, which left Europe fractured into many small Germanic kingdoms competing with each other. It was also the beginning of the Asuka period in Japan, and the end of the Northern Wei Dynasty in China.

This has some similarities to the world we’re shown in Dungeon Meshi: the Western elves have abandoned most of their land in the Eastern hemisphere, leaving the local dwarven, gnomish and tall-man people (whose cultures are primarily Germanic) to fight amongst themselves for the land. A massive upheaval caused by a major imperial power collapsing.

However, based on character behavior, culture, clothing and technology, Dungeon Meshi appears to be set in a vaguely Renaissance (1450 CE-1650 CE) time period, with some elements from classical antiquity (800 BCE-500 CE), the Medieval era (476 CE-1300 CE), as well as some hyper-advanced steampunk/magic technology and modern day anachronisms. (Potential spoilers beyond the cut.)

The technological and artistic development of the different cultures is very different, with the long-lived races appearing to live a more modern lifestyle than the short-lived races. In the extra materials, Toshiro implies that Falin might find the Island of Wa “primitive” because they lack the social and technological advancements that come from contact with the long-lived races, and the Western elf Fleki calls the Eastern Continent a “primitive land” while complaining about the quality of life.

Based on this and additional evidence, we can reasonably conclude that the elven lands in the West are probably the most “modern”, followed by the lands in the Eastern hemisphere, with the Eastern Archipelago lagging the furthest behind.

Because of this difference between the races, it makes sense that we see a mix of different eras and styles of technology and clothing. For example, we see characters wearing Neolithic fur garments, Greco-Roman tunics, and Medieval garments as everyday clothes at the same time that other characters wear Renaissance and even 19th century-influenced garments.

Meanwhile, many things in the Dungeon Meshi world have also remained unusually stagnant for far longer than they did in the real world. Realistic oil painting seems to have remained unchanged for more than a thousand years, and Medieval-looking clothing that was worn a thousand years ago is still being worn in the “present” day, virtually unchanged.

There are also some things that are much more advanced than the Renaissance period, like steampunk elevators, and magical communication that works through birds/fairies/crystal balls/telephones and allows for instant contact across the globe… A huge advancement that should impact every element of life and society, thanks to the ability to easily exchange information.

In the real world, instant communication is the foundational element that makes things like precise time-keeping, time-zones, advanced banking, stock markets and news reporting possible… So one can assume that some of these things might possibly exist in some form in the Dungeon Meshi setting.

[shitposting4squares]

Pizza Tower/Evil dead crossover Peppino

He had to cut off his own hand to stop from turning into a pizza monster, and he’s mad as hell about it. Also I decided to give him a sleeve harness for his BIG HONKIN PIZZA CUTTER BUZZSAW cus it looked strange on the end of his more noodle looking arm. And this gives him more heft and motion. I’ll put what I’ve got so far about the au under a readmore.

So a chain restaurant opens in a historic landmark, the tower, where during renovation they accidentally unearth an ancient spooky power. Which gets harnessed by the human who would soon become PizzaHead.

Setting off a very monkey's paw be careful what you wish for situation, cus the guy basically wanted a “pizza empire”. He meant that in terms of creating a huge and wealthy corporation, but the tower magic took it literally. So now not only is it spawning armies of pizza monsters, but Pizzahead has the power to turn humans into more pizza monsters.

So he starts by inviting all the owners of the local businesses to the restaurant part of the tower for a little get together before the grand opening.Targeting them first to cut down the competition and ensure the maximum amount of customers would instead be visiting his restaurant. This being the moment that first gets everyone scared, as a 6+ foot tall man made out of cheese with a pizza for a face bursts into the restaurant. Acting like some kind of unhinged cartoon clown, and trying to get the people who haven't eaten the free pizza yet to try some. Though it seems like his presence speeds up the pizza monster transformations. As the ones who were infected start to turn, while Gustavo, Mr. stick, and Peppino escape into the tower.

So in this instance, the bosses are other humans who showed up to the party and got turned into pizza monsters as part of Pizzaheads army. Like pepperman used to be the owner of an arts and crafts store. Vigilante was a farmer who restaurants would sometimes buy meat and veggies from locally. Noise and Noisette were a young couple involved in journalism who were covering the opening of the new restaurant. And some of the other one-off monsters could be other local business owners.

Peppino never ate any of the pizza, but he did get a slice of it shoved into his hand by pizzahead when he showed up and terrified everyone by being an unhinged pizza monster, and it took him a moment before dropping it. So after a bit of adventuring, it turns out his hand is infected, and he's gotta cut it off to keep the pizza transformation from spreading. As his screaming and comically slamming his cheese and pepperoni hand on various walls does little more than stun the cheese hand in a cartoony sorta way (Like with stars spinning over it’s head).

After a building of panic as the cheese starts to spread over his wrist, he cuts it off in a grocery store-like location within the tower with a industrial strength pizza cutter, that is really more like a big buzzsaw, splattering himself with his own blood. Though the pizza monsters are threatening to break in, so he attaches the big buzzsaw to his stump arm, and goes on a blind rage chainsaw massacre style rampage. Eventually collapsing from blood loss and overexertion in the abandoned looking Bruno's pizza when it looks like he’s killed all the monsters nearby.

He wakes up with something trying to force his mouth open, and it's his severed cheese hand. He tries to kill it, but it tricks him into screaming and it's able to get into his mouth. He tries to puke it out, but instead he pukes out a whole grey shirt Peppino clone, which he screams at, it screams back, and it melts into inert goo. He vomits a few more times, with a similar outcome of spawning a short lived lumpy looking clone of himself, and he's able too look inside his mouth in a reflective surface, and his mouth and throat is full of goopy hands. No longer made of cheese, but more looking made out of melty rubber skin. So he quickly boils a pot of water and drinks the boiling water while screaming and swearing much like how it goes down in army of darkness, with the clones screaming as the boiling water hits them. A very brief moment for Peppino to catch his breath, hoping it's over, but then stuff starts growing under his skin, and he undergoes a rapid, but disturbing mitosis.

The two Peppinos pulling apart and falling to the ground. With Peppino having a moment of excitement as his hand has grown back

But he spots his doppelganger and scrambles to his feet, fake Peppino currently being a perfect mirror of him. Matching Peppino’s looks and movements exactly. Peppino takes a moment to process how weird this is, doing stuff like moving his arm and hand, with Fake Peppino mirroring the motion, before trying to back away slowly. But when he takes a step back, fake pep steps forward. And again. Before Peppino tries to book it, and fake pep lunges after him, causing him to scream, and fake pep screams back, revealing himself as a warped goo monster, and the chase is on. And that’s as far as I’ve got with the au so far. Can let me know if you have any ideas to expand on the au with.

[laurelindebear]

Finally saw the Mummy 25th anniverary release in the cinema yesterday and AAAAAAAAHHHHH IT'S SO GOOD ON THE BIG SCREEN. I know it's not all accurate (either to the various parts of ancient Egypt or 1920s Egypt/North Africa) but it's just gorgeous, from the opening shot of 'Thebes' to the golden desert panoramas to giant 15-foot-tall Ardeth on a huge screen aaaaaaaaaaah I'm dead.

I had cuddly baby Horus and his handmade tagelmust with me the whole time, I wore my Key of Hamunaptra earrings, I wore my Medjai necklace, I wore my Ardeth t-shirt. I've never been to the movies alone but I loved every second.

I can't remember if I've even been to the cinema since Covid and I think I missed it more than I realised. I'm not a huge film buff, and we've got a big tv (my partner is an avid tv viewer). But when it comes to some shots, the panoramas, the detail in the close-ups, the shots that are there for unabashed visual aesthetic - like maybe my favorite shot of all time, Wall-E reaching out to touch the swirl of ice/rocks as he clings to the Axiom - the cinema screen gives an immersiveness the tv can't match.

I'd seen it last week again as well, with a friend who'd never seen it, and between the two I noticed some things I hadn't before, or had forgotten. So this is gonna be long and rambly and full of questions and observations.

The brownface and imperialism is bad. Some of it I guess is period-accurate, and partly to indicate that certain characters aren't great people/are earning their grisly deaths (Chamberlain and the Americans). But a lot of it is inexcusable. Omid Djalili's performance is pretty over-the-top (and he is afaik Iranian and not Arab), a lot of 'Egyptian' characters clearly aren't (even beyond the main cast, all of Imhotep's priests look like White guys in gold paint to me. Some of the Medjai eg the one with the hook are also in brownface.)

A lot of local diggers and Medjai are killed in the Medjai raids and the plagues and it's not really acknowledged much. You'd think Ardeth would still have some hard feelings about Rick/Evy/Jon having killed people he's known all his life but maybe you have to develop a different view of violence and death when your whole life is centred on stopping the end of the world.

When the heroes are fleeing from the museum, they crash the car and run a short distance away. Rick, Ardeth and Jonathan escape via a manhole to get to Winston at the airfield. When they arrive at the airfield, they seem to be in the same car. How?

Why does Evy seem to be waking up on the slab? When we last saw her she was wide awake and chastising Beni. Feels like something was cut here.

The Medjai with the hook also has the following tattoos on his cheek: Gardiner's sign U6 or U7 (mr) and 2x H6 or (I think) M17 (y or j). What is ymr or mry? 'Beloved'? Is Anck's name in there too? What do they all mean? I must know! Would it be weird if I tried to write to the designers and artists from the film about it?

Some of the Medjai (or other workers) performing the Hom Dai have no tattoos on their arms. Most of the Medjai have tattoos which include one of the eye symbols (Eye or Horus or Eye of Ra) on their shoulders. Sidenote, I think Ardeth should have worn the old-timey Medjai outfit just once, for science. (Good thing we have the amazing @minilev to imagine it for us.)

The Hamunaptra cat is really totally out of the bag by the end of it. Not only is there treasure and archaeological finds (sadly not the Book of Amun-Ra, dammit Jonathan 😜) but Cairo had about 5 simultaneous (super)natural disasters. Ain't no covering that up. They're gonna need to recruit a lot more Medjai. (I volunteer! It will not go well for me though. I would be the worst Medjai of all time.)

Did Patricia Velasquez play the mummified version of Anck as well?

Who was Imhotep going to sacrifice the first time? One of his priests?

Was already thinking about this before I rewatched it but...the law is distinctly that no other man may touch Anck-su-namun. Has anyone written an AU where Anck and Nefertiri fall in love and escape Seti together? 👀 (I know he treats Nefertiri ok but Anck is clearly not a happy and willing participant in their relationship.) I would read that. (No, me, you already have half a dozen stories you'll never finish. Don't even think about it.)

Where are the camels at the end from? Didn't they all get ridden back after the first time they left Hamunaptra? And I thought there were more horses than camels, anyway.

Ardeth really was supposed to die, it was so clear. He was fist-fighting mummies and then had dynamite thrown at him. I'm not even slightly sad he survived (it's my favorite plot hole of all time!) but...how. Thank you Stephen Sommers for your vision. 🙌

Jonathan's face-journey for his 'Iiiiimhooooteeeeep' line is even more amazing on the big screen. I remember why my sister and I loved it so much. John Hannah and Jonathan are very underrated IMO.

Kevin J O'Connor also underrated. Beni is a weasel through and through...but Kevin plays him so, so well.

What does Beni say in ?Hungarian when Rick confronts him in the egyptologist's office? And how does he understand Imhotep - magic? I can buy he'd learn protective prayers in 10 different languages, but translating Middle Egyptian is another thing entirely.

Evy and Rick doing the 'I love you' 'I know' thing with just their eyes when Evy goes with Imhotep to try to save them. SO GOOD.

Has Brendan Fraser ever been hotter than when Rick first catches sight of Evy after her Bedouin makeover? (Which, coincidentally, has been living rent-free in my head ever since...it's almost an anti-niqab since the sheerness and beading on the veil arguably draw more attention to her and her eyes but...damn girl. 😍

Evy's delight at getting to Hamunaptra on her camel and finally getting to do field work is delightful, it's infectious, it's a pure joy to watch. As a female lead who could so easily have been an ineffectual trophy, she holds her own and carries the film as an equal protagonist to Rick in her own right. And I love her for it.

Evy and Jon are one of the better portrayals of siblings I can think of offhand. They have just the right mix of ride-or-die familial bond and squabbling.

Ardeth Bay's cheekbones cut more deadly than his sword tbqfh. (oops. but it's true.)

I should stop talking because this is so long. But if anyone wants to talk about anything Mummy-related, my inbox is very open!

[mymultiverse00]

Left Behind

This is my first ever Twilight story. I hope you like it!

There are no hiding spots for humans in Volterra Castle, especially when considering its residents. Oh, I can find a dark corner to huddle in for a little while or even go outside to bask in the blazing hot sunshine, but no matter where I go, someone will always find me. They follow my voice, or my scent, or the sound of my wheelchair on the ancient stone floors, and like magic, any hope I had for some blissful solitude is completely shattered. But today is different. Today there are visitors in the castle from far away covens, and suddenly, no one around me can spare me a second glance, not even my mate. That part hurts the most.

I met my mate only six months ago while working in town at the old Volterra library. At the time, I had no real home, no living family, and really, no hope. I was barely eking out a living, limited by both my mobility and my inability to speak the local language. I was depressed and crippled by low self-esteem and severe anxiety. I barely had the will to go on, but then I met Marcus, and everything changed.

Every day for three months the tall, somber man visited me at the library, and slowly the two of us developed a relationship that blossomed into love. He confessed his feelings and his secret one rainy night in my tiny apartment and offered me a future I couldn’t possibly turn down. He moved me into his home and introduced me to his family, and never once was my disability an issue for him. In fact, he went out of his way to make things easier for me. Every day he told me he loved me, and brick by brick, he helped me rebuild my self-confidence and push the depression away.

As soon as I agreed to move in, Marcus started renovating and redecorating his rooms, adding low-profile furniture and other accessible fixtures. He remodeled the bathroom completely, adding grab bars and a roll-in shower with a sturdy teakwood bench across the back wall. He brought in a new bed that had the ability to be raised and lowered at will, along with a mountain of pillows designed to take pressure off my back, hips, and knees, and never once complained about his own discomfort.

He also considered my other human needs, expanding doorways and lowering work surfaces, creating unobstructed pathways to the garden and conservatory, and even convincing Aro to hire a full-time chef to cook my meals. He made it very clear that he wanted to make the remainder of my human life as simple as possible and would stop at nothing to make me happy.

There was only one thing he couldn’t change, however, and I have a hard time holding it against him: the stairs. Volterra Castle is full of ancient stone staircases everywhere you look. Stairs going up to Athenadora and Sulpicia’s rooms; stairs going down to the kitchen and the activity room for the lower guard; stairs keeping me firmly planted on the first floor of the castle at all times.

Normally, stairs are not a huge issue. Marcus took great delight in lifting me up into his strong arms in order to ferry me anywhere I wanted to go. He would loop my arms securely around his neck and pick me up like a bride, sneaking kisses and snuggles all along the way. I would giggle girlishly at his roguish behavior, and he would smile, and maybe we would be late to our destination if we ever made it at all. Today, however, the stairs won.

——————

The morning had been a busy one, with everyone buzzing around the castle, preparing for the arrival of some very important guests. Marcus and his brothers were holding a summit of sorts, and covens from all over Europe would be arriving at noon for two days of festivities. There would be a grand reception this afternoon and evening, and after the meetings ended tomorrow, there would be a lavish ball. This was the first time I would be introduced to such a large group as Marcus’s mate, so I was extremely nervous, but my love had assured me that I would be welcomed by all.

Or at least I would have been, had I been in the throne room with the rest of the group. Somehow, in all the excitement of handshaking and backslapping during the arrival of our guests, everyone forgot about the half dozen steps required to enter the gathering hall, subsequently forgetting about me too.

After 45 minutes of rolling back and forth in front of the doors and occasionally speaking Marcus’s name out loud, hoping to catch his attention, I decided to give up. Obviously, he was too busy to miss my presence, as were Aro, Caius, my sisters, or my friends in the guard. My feelings were hurt, undoubtedly, but seeing no other option, I decided to return to my room and wait for someone to realize I was absent.

No one noticed.

Hours went by without a peep. No one came to look for me, and no one brought me dinner either. I couldn’t get to the kitchen myself because of the goddamned stairs, so there was nothing left for me to do but stay exactly where I was, hidden in the furthest corner of my room’s veranda, trying not to be hungry and trying not to sob out loud as I cried. My heart was aching as the heavy feeling of abandonment settled over me, and my old friend, self-loathing, started creeping in. The next several hours were filled with ugly thoughts and horrible sadness, and though I wanted to resist that darkness, it completely overwhelmed me once more.

——————

It was nearly midnight when I finally heard my mate’s frantic voice calling out for me from our shared bedroom.

“Y/N!” Marcus called, a hint of desperation in his tone. “Y/N? Where are you my love?”

“Out here, Marcus,” I replied listlessly, barely raising my voice as I knew he could hear me. I was mentally and physically drained from the emotional upheaval of the day and made no real effort to emerge from my safe little hiding spot. I could hear how upset I had made him, and I was unsure if I could face him just then.

“My darling!” He cried, finally spotting me and speeding quickly to my side. His eyes quickly scanned me for injury. “Where have you been, little one? I couldn’t find you.”

I looked down at my hands as I answered him, too afraid to look into his eyes. “I’ve been here, Marcus. All day.”

“But why, tresoro?” He took my hands in his. “Did you not want to meet our guests? Many of them came here just to see you.” I could tell he was disappointed in me and my heart broke just a little bit more.

“I-I-I… did want to…” I stammered, “But I couldn’t. There was no way for me to get into the throne room, Marcus. I was left behind,” I concluded quietly, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall.

“Left behind?” He questioned.

“Yes.” I paused. “How long, Marcus?” I asked dejectedly.

“How long for what, Y/N? I don’t understand.”

“How long did it take for you to realize I wasn’t there with you, Marcus? 2 hours? 4?”

He closed his eyes as it finally started to sink in. “Y/N, I’m…”

“Disappointed in me?” I whispered. “I understand. I’m sorry, Marcus. I have not been a very good mate to you today, and I have shamed you. I understand why you and the others did not look for me. I have not been an asset to the family.” Tears streamed freely down my face as I tried to apologize for my shortcomings.

“Y/N, no. Please don’t cry.” Marcus begged, crouching down to my level as he tried to comfort me. “It is I who should apologize. It is my duty to look out for you and to protect you. I have failed in that today; I should have remembered you needed help with the steps. There were so many people, and I got caught up….”

“I thought you didn’t want me anymore.” I interrupted with a sob. “No one came for me all day, and I thought I had done something wrong! Maybe I have become too much of a burden on you..”

“Never, amore!” He said with conviction, bending his head low to kiss my hands.

“But it’s true, Marcus! I know it is! Every day you are forced to do things you would never typically do, all because of me,” I said sadly. “You’re the King of Volterra, Marcus! And I have you spending your days babysitting me. You help me in and out of bed; you help me dress; hell, you’ve even had to help me in the shower a time or two! You’re forced to carry me around this castle all day long - and my wheelchair - because I can’t even get myself to the kitchen to feed myself. I’m asking you for too much, and I don’t want you to resent me for it.” My tears were hot and burned my cheeks as they continued to fall. “I’m sorry for disappointing you.”

“Oh, Y/N,” he soothed. “Come here, darling.” He scooped me out of my wheelchair and into his arms, hugging me tightly to his chest. “Y/N, my heart, I love you! More than anything in the world. You are my mate, and I do all of those things you mentioned before because I want to. I am honored that you allow me to help you throughout the day, and you could never be a burden to me. If anyone should be apologizing here, it should be me! I disappointed you today, and I am sincerely sorry for that. I never want you to feel left behind or unwanted again, and I will spend the rest of our eternity making up for my error today. I will also speak to our contractor about adding some wheelchair ramps where we can and an elevator as well. I should have done so long ago.” He wiped my tears away with the sleeve of his robe. “Can you forgive me, sweetheart? I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

I nodded slowly against his chest, taking in deep, ragged breaths in an attempt to calm my feelings. I love him so much that not forgiving him was never really an option for me. After a long time, I spoke to him again.

“Marcus?” I asked quietly. “Do you think things will be different… after you change me?”

He smiled at me, gently moving some stray hair out of my eyes before he spoke. He sighed softly, resting his forehead against my own. “I don’t know for sure, my precious one. We have seen vampire venom heal a number of injuries and ailments in the past, sometimes even snatching someone back from the brink of death, like dear Jane and Alec. Every change is different, darling. I want you to know, however, that no matter what the outcome of yours, Y/N, I will always love you and will work to keep you by my side forever.”

“The world’s first vampire in a wheelchair.” I scoffed. “Some claim to fame.”

“How about ‘Queen of Volterra, Mate of King Marcus’ for a claim to fame?” He suggested, gazing at me adoringly.

“That could work,” I giggled, moving to bring our lips together in a tender kiss. “I’m sorry I let my anxiety get the best of me, Marcus.”

“And I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me, my darling girl. Now, I know it’s late, but we need to get some food for you, and then I believe I can come up with some more… creative ways to apologize to you. Interested?”

“Always.”

The end

[booksofstars]

Hi! Wanted to stop by for a chat. I wonder if you have any thoughts/headcanons about the three DOTC brothers (Clear Sky, Gray Wing, Jagged Peak)?

so as a general rule, im not huge on dotc. BUT i have a rewrite! so heres some stuff about everyone in warriors rewound, heavy inspiration taken from @bonefall :

clear sky:

a cruel, vindictive cat too selfish to see beyond his own claws. he is the main antagonist, the driving force of the plot. it is his orders that stop bright stream from going after gray wing the wise, after an eagle catches him. this is the first death he is responsible for—that of his own brother.

he opposes shaded moss as the sun trail leader, and hates tall shadow even more. his continued mistreatment of the sun trail cats causes them all to split off. bright stream sticks with him, but not for long.

when clear sky casts out jagged sky—his own brother—and mauls bumble half to death, bright stream rounds them up to go to tall shadows camp. she leaves with a warning—his selfishness would be his downfall.

his daughter, thunder stream, learns of him through other sun trail cats. she decides to join his group, just to get to learn his skills.

when tall shadow banishes bumble, arguing that turtle tails death means she has no place in the group, bumble seeks help from a few former friends in clear skys group. clear sky discovers her and attempts to maul her again, but thunder stream hauls him away. they leave to found the rainstorm guild alongside jagged sky, lightning tail, acorn swoop, sparrow tail, and pebble tail.

this is ultimately what causes the first battle. tall shadow is upset to have lost warriors, and confronts clear sky. he escalates the situation. tall shadow looks to her ally, wind, for help, while clear sky kidnaps several river duchy cats as hostages. bright stream attempts to ease tensions, but fails.

though clear sky was defeated here, he continues to get more power hungry and cause more problems. he falls to a small group of assassins, star flower at their head. she takes all of his 7 remaining lives.

gray wing:

the wise storyteller of the ancients, beloved by all but his brother. he died at the claws of an eagle clear sky refused to save him from.

his death leaves a gap in the lives of many. a true haunting of the narrative.

he appears only twice to all of the clans. once at the end of the great battle, after bright stream calls it to a halt, there to impart advice or warnings to each leader through his stories. he tells long tales to all but clear sky. all he says to his brother is that his selfishness would be his downfall.

he helps thunder stream, his beloved niece, by guiding her to what would eventually be thunderclan territory.

his final appearance is at the end of the arc, in all nine lives ceremonies but clear skys.

he is remembered both as gray wing the wise, and as silverpelt.

jagged sky (jagged peak):

a scrappy young tom with a heart of gold. he idolized his older brothers, and left with clear sky to follow the sun trail because of that admiration.

his blind faith in his brother would stop him from seeing clear skys true colors, banishing him for his newly amputated leg. he lives alone for a while, before bright stream and a very injured bumble find him. they rush to tall shadows camp to heal the two, and find solace for the pregnant bright stream.

he and bumble become very close, and he is the one to play matchmaker for turtle tail and she. upon turtle tails death due to tom, he’s enraged. moreso when tall shadow banishes bumble. he screams at everyone, before rushing out of camp to find her, several cats hot on his heels.

he comes across thunder stream just after she protects bumble, and they flee and establish the rainstorm guild. jagged sky gets several good hits in on clear sky during the first battle, leaving scars that look like those an eagles talons would leave.

he eventually confronts bright stream for not standing up for bumble. he knows shes better than that! bright stream ends up trying to make it up to bumble. shes forgiven, but nothing is forgotten

he and bumble share the position of proto-deputy

he remains deputy when bumble becomes bumblestar after thunderstars passing.

[ectoplasmic-entity]

I think there’s potential chemistry between Dan and Fright Knight.

Remember this post?

We don’t know much about how they know each other or how they met. The most we get in TUE is Fright referring to Dan as “master”. In spite of the little info we get, I can reference to Fright giving his services to the most powerful ghost in the Ghost Zone. Previously it was Pariah Dark, but in the alternate timeline it’s Dan since Pariah at that point is still sealed in the Sarcophagus.

So that leaves how did they meet? And why does Fright Knight specifically only work with ghosts who have the most power?

They probably didn’t meet right away. Fright would’ve been sealed away in the crumbling ruins of Pariah’s Keep.

Considering just how powerful Dan is, chances are Fright probably sensed that power even from such a considerable distance. Even if not physically present, he still probably felt that immense power reverberating through the Zone.

Immense, overwhelming, hungry. It seeps deep into Fright, an addicting, acidic taste. He relished in it.

More under the cut because I spent far longer than I should have writing this _(-ω-`_)

As curious as he may be, he doesn’t know who or what this power is. Unless his sword is removed and he’s freed from his prison, all Fright can do is sit and bide his time. He does however, have a continuous feed of the power surges.

Dan probably didn’t consider Fright Knight at first. Maybe nearly forgot that the ghostly knight was sealed away. He doesn’t need another obstacle in his way. Oh, it’d be fun for sure, but Dan does tire quickly of the same enemies over and over again.

The frequency of his attacks has slowed down. Dan’s becoming aimless and restless. Both humans and ghosts fear him. He can’t possibly gain any more than that.

Dan is bored.

Admittedly, he occasionally wonders about having someone just…not fight him for a change. Or at least not try to destroy him on a daily basis, Dan didn’t want himself going slack.

The thought does eat at him. Who’d want someone like him? Not likely very many, Dan would bet.

He tried to ignore it but he couldn’t help feel a small pang of…loneliness. Dan had grown pretty used to it. It still didn’t erase the fact that he felt it.

It wasn’t like he needed someone. Just…someone to be there. 

Dan shook it off. He was going to drive himself insane going around in circles. He didn’t need anything, to be held back. Dan was very much capable on his own.

Since Dan was getting tired of the same faces showing up over and over again, even when he beat them and made sure they knew it. He goes out to seek out potential new opponents who could actually keep Dan on his toes.

There’s no one in specific. He wanders far and wide across the Ghost Zone. Ghosts of all kinds veer away from Dan, fearing retaliation if they came across him. Deeper and deeper in the never-ending depths. Ghostly doors and isles so lonely that they may as well be calling out.

Ancient, ruined rocky ruins of ghost lairs long past. Hardly interesting, but Dan does feel a pull. Something in his gut that says keep going. The haunting lull of an old isle he was aware of, though very few ghosts ever visited it. Not really a “call” per say, Dan just had that deep gut feeling that he’d find something waiting for him there.

Battle scarred and scorched rocks and ruins greet him. The remnants of a massive fortress sit atop a huge chunk of rock. Just barely large enough to hold it all up. An ominous sensation came over Dan as he approached it, he barely even blinks at it.

Dan gets excited, though he doesn’t understand why.

Past the blown apart gates and into the halls of Pariah’s Keep. It is undeniably empty, barely any amounts of ecto energy flowed through here. The creaks and groans of the old foundations spelled danger. Dan supposed he should be quick about it lest he gets interrupted by something inane.

The tall, foreboding walls loom over him as he approached the main room. Dan can feel the impressions of a time long past. An elaborate and ghostly throne room in disarray. Cracks, debris, craters and scorch marks told Dan all he needed to know.

Barely minding attention to the large sarcophagus that rested at the top of a winding stairway, an eerie purple aura lured Dan away. It was barely noticeable and a faint hum emitted from it. It seemed familiar, the way it reached out to him.

Far off to the side in the shadows. Innocuous and so close by yet out of sight, easily missed.

The purple aura unveiled itself in the form of an eerie Jack-o-Lantern. Its wide, demented expression stared right through Dan. A wariness came over him in the form of a tingle down his body, which Dan was admittedly impressed by.

Curiously, a large, sharp green sword is impaled through the fruit. Dan could barely stand looking at it. The blade seemed to sing out to him, whispered of secrets and fears untold. The metal rang dangerously in Dan’s ears.

Curious indeed as to why the blade was struck through the pumpkin.

What if Dan removed the sword?

After all the world had tried to throw at him, there couldn’t possibly be something any worse than that. Dan…wasn’t that young anymore, his very being was hardened and refined to a point it seemed inhuman.

Hands loosely held the hilt at first, then reflexively tighten. With very little effort, the sword is pulled free. A wave of ominous, overwhelming spectral energy surged out. Dan skidded back a bit, his boots dug into the ground. He retained balance and fought against the unnatural gust of wind.

As soon as it started up, it suddenly fettered out. Only a faint whoosh indicated it ever even happened. The sword felt heavy in his hands, his strength wavered ever so slightly. It seemed as though the blade didn’t want him holding it.

Too true when Dan sensed a presence behind him. He swiftly swung the sword and with a loud clang, he skidded back in the other direction. The sword vibrated in intensity in his hands.

Dan marvels at the sight before him.

True to the name, the dark and fiery visage of Fright Knight stood over Dan. If only because the sword was getting heavier the longer Dan held it. The two green voids that were Fright’s eyes glared down at him.

“The sword, give it to me.” Fright beckoned with a hand.

Dan shot a fanged grin at his newest, potential adversary.

“You want it so bad? Come and get it!”

They’d fight, play a game of cat and mouse. They barely noticed they were equal on the power scale. Hardly distracted by the commotion they stirred up around themselves, too focused on each other.

Even though Dan isn’t all that experienced with swords, he does notice that Fright Knight went out of his way to avoid touching the blade itself. Twisting, parrying, maneuvering. Yet so persistent on getting it back.

Dan gets an idea. He was known for many things, if it had to be just one, it was that he was mischievous. Not just mischievous, a specific, malignant brand of mischief.

I headcanon that ghosts have ecto energy ‘flares’, or a ghostly ‘aura’. It’s mostly passive, but flares out with strong emotions. To display dominance for example, to show that they’re strong and not to be messed with.

Dan most definitely uses this to his advantage. He is a domineering ghost, depending on the context.

He flares his powerful aura at one point, invisible and heavyset to anyone in the closest vicinity to it. Loose objects clattered around him, a breeze blew through Dan’s cape. His eyes became a deeper, glowing red.

Fright Knight felt it. He stalled, amazed at the burst of energy. Lively and addicting, perhaps inviting. He very clearly underestimated this ghost, he had not relished in such an energy surge since Pariah Dark’s brief reawakening long ago.

Unfortunately, Fright stalled long enough for his opponent to get the upper hand on him. Fright is momentarily startled by a blade that impaled itself into the wall, right next to his head. He craned his head to meet the deep, eerie red eyes of his adversary.

“You felt that, didn’t you?” Dan asked him with a smug grin.

Fright remained silent, deep in thought.

Now that the situation was quiet for the moment, Dan decided to study the ghostly knight. He was still undecided whether to continue treating him as a foe, or branch out to him as a potential ally. Though unrelated, Dan did see that Fright Knight was a similar physique to him. The knight’s mysterious features hidden within a helmet. Dan was intrigued, and he wanted to know more.

“Not bad at all,” Dan said, gesturing at Fright. “Looks like you were holding back though.”

He slowly pulled the sword away, the wall crumbled with age and damage. Scarred and never forgetful.

“What would happen if I were to drive the sword through you?” Dan’s grin upturns into a malicious smile. “Want to test it out?”

Rather than verbally respond, Fright gestures one hand.

The sword violently shook in Dan’s grip. It glowed faintly before it ripped itself out of his hand and back to its rightful place. At Fright Knight’s side.

Dan didn’t react. Instead, he was more interested than he was before. Oh, he was a bit irked that he lost the sword so easily. But it could be forgiven, if Fright gave him a good enough reason.

“We needn’t joust,” Fright stated neutrally, his eyes warily fixated on the Phantom before him. “You’re powerful.”

“Oh, liked that little display, huh?” Dan cocked his head playfully. He wondered if there could be more gained out of this. “You’d better believe it, I make sure those who get in my way never forget it.”

“I only serve those who have shown their power and might.” Fright continued, pretending he didn’t notice the playful advances. “I strike fear into those who dare stand in my way.”

Fright paused.

“You too were holding back.”

“…I suppose I was.” Dan rolled his eyes.

“I propose a…partnership,” Fright Knight said slowly. “You have someone watch your back, make certain that your seat of power is not threatened.”

Dan leaned in closer, listening intently. “Go on…”

“And I rejuvenate myself with the energy you expel.” Fright Knight finished, he stood stiffly. His hand twitched on the hilt of his sword.

“Sounds like you want more than just a ‘partnership’.” Dan approached Fright, amusement shone in his eyes.

“I did not say that,” Fright said stoically.

They were face to face.

“Mm…we’ll see about that.” Dan stepped away, his gaze never left. “Though I think this will be quite entertaining.”

He held a hand out, a branch of sorts.

Fright stared for several seconds before he too reached out. His and Dan’s hands firmly clasped around each other’s forearms. Sealing a pact, so to speak.

“Your name. I do not know what to call you,” Fright stated, his grip tightened.

Dan was quiet for a moment before he bared his fangs, his ghostly aura flared ever so gently. “Phantom.”

I’ll probably write a more coherent version of their meeting later. But, the big question at hand. Why does Fright Knight only work with powerful ghosts? My guess is because of what type of ghost he is.

You notice that he has very minimal features? His body seems to be a pure black, the most he wears is his armor, the rest uncovered. Probably because he doesn’t need to cover up fully. Another ghost I can think of that does something similar is Spectra.

What if Fright Knight is the same type of ghost as Spectra? A “parasitic” type of spirit that leeches off the emotions, energy, or a mix of both, from others. 

Spectra leeches off the depression and negative emotions of human children.

Fright Knight leeches off the fear he strikes into others, and perhaps the immense power of ghosts that are equal in strength, or far stronger than he is. To give him a boost when he needs it. Or would it be to maintain a solid form?

Fright and Dan’s “partnership” probably started off just like that, a business-like deal that benefits them both. Fright strikes fear wherever he goes, Dan made sure those who opposed them stayed down. That’s all it was really.

Dan didn’t find it very fun.

He was far too interested in knowing who and what Fright Knight was to just keep it business-like.

Fright was too stoic for Dan’s liking. While Dan had absolutely no qualms about entertaining both guys and ladies, it seemed like he had his work cut out for him. Fright was an interesting kind of guy, not too many like him around. Dan wanted Fright to stick around.

Dan knew there had to be more of Fright from under the hood. He’d bring it out, one way or another. Fortunately, wherever he went, Fright was usually close behind.

As for Fright Knight, he actually didn’t know what to think of Phantom at first. Powerful and volatile. Temperamental and yet eerily calm. It seemed as though as piece was missing. Whatever that was, it wasn’t Fright’s business. He was perfectly content as is. If only he could ignore Dan’s more playful persona. It wasn’t constant, but enough so that Fright did take notice.

Fright felt he should be annoyed by such behavior. For reasons indiscernible to him, he allowed it. In small doses. He supposed it was amusing, and so long as it didn’t interrupt their little deal.

It’s like a game of cat and mouse, though subtler. They both had thoughts about each other. Neither came forward, or said them out loud. It was more satisfying that way in trying to figure each other out.

What was more notable was that they respected each other’s power. They rarely depended on each other past watching the other’s back. It was oddly an inkling sense of trust, no matter how surface level and frail it was.

They’d have short conversations on occasion, when it was quiet. They didn’t say too much to each other, but they’d let bits and pieces of information slip out. Intentional or not was left up to interpretation.

Fright Knight, as Dan learned, was completely and utterly ruthless. Literally none could escape the terror that was the Soul Shredder. As for what happened to people and ghosts when the sword touched them, Dan could only imagine. A well-earned reputation as the feared ghost of Halloween.

And…Fright was strangely courtly. Of course, he would be, he’s the ghostly equivalent of a medieval knight. Cordial in a gruff manner. Fright was a warrior first and foremost.

It reminded Dan of himself a little, he was certain he had a chance. He just had to nudge it somehow. Fright clearly did notice how Dan would occasionally act playful, despite pretending not to. What if he pushed at Fright a little? Get him to react?

The reactions could be case by case. Dan was sure it would be worth it to see such a strong and stoic guy get his “feathers” ruffled. Dan could already imagine it; Fright Knight’s eyes were rather expressive.

Fright would most definitely be aware of Dan’s…affections? He refused to entertain the idea of flirting…courting with someone outside of his station. It wasn’t seemly for him. Admittedly, he was amused by it, but didn’t reciprocate them.

It did seem like Phantom was lonely. Fright understood that in a way. He was somewhat taken with Phantom’s advances, no matter how much or little attention he paid. Fright would remain at the forefront, no matter how much the thought of a powerful partner at his side niggled at the back of his mind.

He didn’t mind having Dan close by, that’s all there was to it. Surely…

[sailorspica]

do you have any thoughts on the Reiner is Helos parallel? I've seen others say it but I'd love to know your thoughts if you have any 😎❤️❤️

gonna be real i've never heard this before and i hate that Helos shit because i think the tyburs are the only real weakness of this whole story But i have astrological reasons for associating reiner with Helios and Apollo

re: Helos

hmmm... really central to my reading of AoT is subversion of what a hero looks like (the title of armin roast chapter, snk 82), challenging shounen conventions of strength and ability, so i can see how the gratuitous Helos lore drop coinciding with our exposure to reiner's dire mental state might connect the two: helos is a tall tale, the golden hero that the 104th looked up to and still adored by the warrior candidates doesn't feel strong at all. there's also reiner (and annie)'s mixed heritage maybe suggesting the tybur-marley coalition that ended the Great Titan War but iiiiiiii don't know. my hesitation with the tyburs and Helos is mostly because of the conspiracy dogwhistle of them as "the true rulers of marley" and in his stupid ass theater kid death revealing the Helos lie, Willy added more fuel to the fire that eldians are untrustworthy, which I don't want reiner anywhere near. if anything actual "new" helos is armin: taking credit for killing eren to spare mikasa further pain. and he's way more chill with lying, bless him

astrology

setting aside that a huge chunk of this cast is tropical Leo suns, the glyph used for the sun by ancient/classical babylonian and hellenistic astrologers is ☉, a shield with a boss (the nipple thing in the middle) somehow??? connected to apollo but afiak the only huge greco-roman shield is the aegis more associated with athena. anyway, i'm really into the military's description of reiner as marley's shield and zeke as marley's spear (snk 92), in part because it echos erwin's argument in the uprising arc that the survey corps is humanity's spear (snk 61), but mostly because it's depressing as fuck how reiner sees his own body as a blunt weapon even in human form

[jeremys-randomness]

Chapter One: Grace

In Another Life on Ao3

The alarm's shrill cry broke the early morning silence, yanking me from sleep. I groaned and slammed my hand down, silencing it with a finality that matched my determination. Blinking against the haze of sleep, I surveyed my half-unpacked room, a testament to recent upheaval and the daunting prospect of starting anew. Cardboard boxes leaned against the walls, waiting to be emptied, but my focus was elsewhere—on the job that awaited me in the bustling metropolis of New York.

I sighed as I swung my legs out of bed, the familiar pang of doubt gnawing at me. This city was just another stop in a long line of places I’d never fully called home. Every move promised a fresh start, but the reality often fell short. Despite my pessimistic thoughts, I forced myself to smile in the mirror, speaking words of encouragement I barely believed. "Today’s the day, Grace. You’ve got this."

My body protested the early rise, muscles stiff from restless sleep. I moved through my morning routine methodically, each action a small act of defiance against the uncertainty swirling in my mind. This job, at one of the most prestigious hero agencies, was supposed to be my big break. Yet, a part of me couldn’t shake the fear that it would end like all the others—another dream deferred.

After a meticulous ritual of preparation—ensuring every detail was in place, from my gear to my appearance—I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what lay ahead. The agency's main base was a mere five-minute walk from my new apartment, yet each step felt like a stride into a future fraught with both excitement and uncertainty.

Navigating the lobby, I fumbled momentarily before finding the scrap of paper that guided me to Ms. Amos' office on the second floor. Room 206 loomed ahead, its door a gateway to the next chapter of my life. With a hesitant knock, I was greeted by a tall, composed woman whose presence exuded authority.

"Are you the new hero, Grace?" Ms. Amos' voice held a blend of expectation and reassurance.

"Yes, ma'am," I replied, my nerves tinged with determination.

"Come in, please." The invitation was warm, dispelling some of my apprehension as I entered the office. The desk dominated the space, a large monitor flickering with information that hinted at the agency's global operations.

"Please, take a seat." I settled into the chair offered to me, meeting Ms. Amos' gaze with a mix of respect and readiness.

"From your background, it seems you're well-prepared for what we have in store," Ms. Amos began, her tone a measured appraisal.

"I've trained for this for five years," I affirmed, my voice steady despite the weight of anticipation.

"Excellent. We have an urgent assignment for you—a mission to safeguard an ancient temple housing a significant artifact. Thieves have shown interest, and your task is to ensure its protection. This mission will require your full dedication. Are you up for the challenge?"

My response was immediate and resolute. "I've been preparing for this opportunity my entire career."

"Good to hear. Your transport awaits in the parking garage. You'll be briefed further en route. Make us proud, Agent Willard."

"Thank you, ma'am." I rose, the gravity of my new role settling upon my shoulders as I exited the office, my mind racing with the enormity of what lay ahead. I knew I had to project confidence, even if a small voice inside still whispered doubts. With a final, determined breath, I headed towards the future I hoped would finally prove my worth.

"Thank you so much! I won’t disappoint," I said, leaving the room.

I quickly made my way to the elevator. No wonder they asked me to pack a big bag! This mission sounded like a huge deal. Entering the garage, I saw a sleek, black BMW.

“You the new unit, AM02?” the driver asked.

“Yes, that’s me.”

“Alright, then get in the car,” he said with slight irritation.

I immediately took a seat, assuming he wasn't one to have a conversation based on his greeting. I looked out of the window as we pulled out of the garage. Then I noticed, in the corner of my eye, the driver putting on a gas mask.

"Did they mention you can't know the route to this place?" was all I heard before gas started releasing from the roof of the car.

"I—what?" I managed to say before fading into unconsciousness.

I jolted awake a few hours later, arriving at what looked like a temple.

"Alright, kid, good luck."

"Thank you, sir!" I said as I got out of the car.

I stumbled inside, leaning against a wall and setting my bag down, almost falling over. This place was enormous, much bigger than my apartment! I couldn't believe I got my first mission here!

[rewordthis]

Watching Bucchigiri?! and waiting for the last episode to air can be conflicting.

Do I want it to end or do I hope for a second season for some more explanations (highly unlikely btw)? Do I let it go, because from the get go it was an incoherent attempt from the producers to connect dots randomly put on the paper? Or do I stay for the music, some cool characters (ok 2— but still) and the ‘what may be’? Genuinely asking here...

Arajin, as an antihero-type (more like pathetic) mc sure isn’t the first one I’ve seen, but good god he’s the stupidest!

He’s so blissfully blind and singleminded that to be honest, I see what Senya felt attracting him and possessed him. lmao Even he mentions that this is the way of life and a innate trait of those aspiring to become honkibito; to singlemindedly pursue their goal: to become honki.

Notice how it is shown, that the crypt in the temple opens the same time that Arajin rehearses his introduction for his female classmates in his new school. Peak confidence moment for him, if you ask me! 🤭

Following that logic, of genies being attracted to specific traits of their vessels, the bullet hit Arajin because Senya had chosen him. He actually says first thing when he sees him: “またはずれか” aka: “another miss?”, which means that he’s already tried to posses people many times before.

But, I want to point out some things that are showing through in the series, and this is going to be one long-ass and winding post, so buckle up I guess, if you dare to read further down below the cut!

◆ As for those of you that have a short fuse and still opened this, I’ll be kind and tell you that you can skip to the last paragraph (green colour) for what my expectations are for the final episode. Cheers~

◆ So here we go:

1. Honkibito: 本気人 or マジン (majin) as Senya says and Usagi-san has already very coherently explained here, are spirits that are free to posses whoever they feel more attracted to or consider strong enough for their goals and can equally, easily abandon anyone that doesn’t have it in him. It: is the overpowering desire/will (nozomi) that one holds in his heart. Also, in my boop-induced stupor, I commented on a post, that honki may have been a word play for stars, seeing how the theme is 1000+1 nights and Senya’s symbol is the sun while Ichiya’s is the moon, but love, I am not sure when my moments happen correctly… I was just thinking that 本(hon) can invoke a recall on 本能(honou) instinct -> 炎(hono) flames -> 星(hoshi) stars (because they burn) -> 欲しい(hoshi-i) desire (this is completely inaccurate though, in terms of how the actual pronunciations are and the kanjis… I’m sure the kanjis don’t stem from the same sources either) and I also, actually thought that 本鬼 or 本生 could be other ways to write it. Because 本鬼 could be read as honki: real/wood demon (Akutaro refers to Senya as oni (demon)): and in the Chinese astrology there’s the demon star (7killings and represents the warrior — though it represents the wrong way of using power) and I mostly based what I said about stars on the thought that, what if it means it falls under a wood master since wood grows tall to reach the sky and they fight to reach their higher/true selves? Because aspiring to reach your higher state is like aspiring to get a seat on the sky, appointed by Zeus(!) and that meant you had to die in battle as a true warrior for that to happen (also the spirit probably needs to be free and not “sealed”, too) — hence why they turned into genies instead. (Still new to Chinese astrology here though, and honestly very fucking confused… 😵‍💫 Sorry… ) But there is actually, arcane knowledge about how someone could become a Hero in ancient times which was happening during time intervals in correspondence with the zodiac cycle, however one had to be initiated through a ceremony; one such being The Eleusinian Mysteries. And 本生, can it be read as honki, too (huge stretch here. Help!)? Because that may apply to the spartan/straight-way of life the warriors live, but apparently there’s also a famous buddhist work that is titled Jataka Tales, which I had no clue until now, when I tried to search the kanjis... Ok. I think I exhausted my stupidity quota with this one, I should be studying a lot more consistently than just brain-dumping everything in a mixer and expect a smoothy later. Haha 😅

2. Senya and Ichiya were once humans. And by the time they were killed they were very much vulnerable and well, human and killable. Ichiya, especially was very much in anger at that time without managing to solve the issue he had with Senya…

3. They were sealed (Senya’s words) when they were killed after the wars had ended. (Poor guys did their mission and didn’t get to play after… 🥺) This actually leads me to believe that their souls ie: spirit (気) was bound by a spell to not the bullet (because how else was Arajin able to reshoot himself? the bullet never gets lost or the pistol refilled…), but rather the crystals on the pistols. Each one was killed by only one pistol with their corresponding colour on its crystals. By the way, it is said that crystals can be bearers of supernatural powers or cages of spirits, because of their close relation to the earth and therefore all the energies that run through her. If you have seen anything from Jujutsu Kaisen, these pistols are what is considered a “cursed object” practically.

4. The fact that nobody can see Senya or Ichiya (they can’t even see each other, please! 😫), unless they touch the bullet makes me think that their spirit gets projected into the material world through there but it’s otherwise only seen by their vessel because they are part of its aura. Also, I don’t think ichiya ever really possessed Akutaro because he probably didn’t shoot himself. I mean, we don’t see him having a bullet on him, ever. And if he did have, he would have been alarmed by Ichiya asking him to put the pistol in Matakara’s hands and shoot himself, no? Sir, I think Ichiya only rode him until he could find Matakara, but I’m not sure how. 🧐 Maybe the black spirit was how he possessed him. Or maybe not. Also, maybe because Ichiya wanted to leave but couldn’t until someone he wanted more would use the gun (and Akutaro wasn’t dying atm) he just stayed to search for someone strong. Ichiya has been out at least half a year before Senya found Arajin. Upon finding out about Senya he can feel the clock ticking. And he sure didn’t know about Senya’s state until Arajin punched Akutaro. He realised that this was his chance! He was also pressed, to force Matakara into using the gun because he’d never do it on his own…. And Ichiya really wants to fight Senya… And maybe genies are able to stay as long as either of them wants to merge… I mean, both Senya and Ichiya tried to leave mid-fight to let their vessels die during it or to force them make up their minds maybe, but somehow they were both still connected to them and stick around because they wanted for their vessels to make a resolution in their heart and use their power. Arajin didn’t want Senya but Senya wanted him, so he stayed until Arajin literally felt betrayed by him. I think Senya was able to leave the whole time, he just chose to stay. He was amazed that Arajin was even able to initiate a merge all by himself. He’s one special idiot, if you ask me. But after finding out what merging meant, there was no point in staying with someone that didn’t trust him anymore… 😕

5. Why did I mention aura earlier, though? How is it into play here? Because Matakara could see Ichiya’s darkness lurking in the temple ever since he was a little kid. And I’m steadfast on my belief that this darkness stems from Ichiya, because not only was it on his side in the panel picture but it also seemed to form a writing of his name when it settled…. But, back to the point. Why could Matakara see it? Could his brother see it, too? Well, I’m not sure about Mitsukuni, because he didn’t seem to notice it, but Matakara could definitely see it. It’s because he has a pure soul. There’s honestly nothing better — and worse at the same time — than someone having a 100% pure soul. They are kind, bright and a treasure (ironic — I know…) to those around them, but darling, they are hell broken loose when they get a change of heart and play for the other team. Matakara’s pure, kind side is a lot like Makoto’s from Free! but at the same time I get many Keisuke/Kurosuke vibes from him! (I mean, I still have beef with NitroChi for never releasing official birthdays for that vn! 😤 I always feared that Keisuke could be a Libra, but he’s far more likely to be an Aries at this point.) I also had flashbacks at how Marito called Matakara Arajin’s dog, of how Kurosuke was mad at Akira because he thought he treated him like a dog! 😭 As n said: “stagnant water gets dirty and can’t return to its original state again…’.  Dear god! This must be one of the most beautiful allegories I have seen in anime, if not in general. Water cleanses, is the source of life, but when it pools it gets dirty and dangerous… It’s how powerful a weapon true purity can turn out to be… (Stray thought, btw, but why do you think angels are portrayed as ferocious warrior beings but are still the most pure, huh?)

6. Also, Matakara’s birthday is a day that signifies constant change in the person’s life. It’s frustrating that these individuals are supposed to realise later in their life how the family they originated from hadn’t really helped them at all at evolving or how they need to make ‘amends’ of sorts with their mom especially, to feel comfortable to forge bonds. Yeah… I don’t think so, darling. They are considered saviours of some sort, which in turn puts pressure on them, but in a good way. What triggered me the most reading this, is that they are loners in their core and only consider like one or two people ‘theirs’. Anyone noticed how he only calls Mitsukuni, nii-chan or Arajin, Ara-chan and how fixated he is on ‘saving’ Ken-san for last? Anyone? I’m accepting offers! It’s because these are the two most important people in his life. They are his bonds. His only, truly, fully acknowledged bonds! Kenichiro, is only tangentially important to him, because he was the only one that was second to his brother. Nothing more. So, very sorry for those who got upset when he told Zabu that he doesn’t really know him, because he absolutely meant it. It’s the truest thing in the whole freaking series. There is this darkness that Ichiya latched onto, which honestly must be SO deep, that it makes me feel powerless knowing there are people out there who do feel like this… He knows full well, that no one of his “buddies” knows how deep this darkness runs — they can’t even begin to imagine there is darkness in him to begin with — he doesn’t really even know how deep, himself. He felt oppressed for keeping it under wraps all this time, because it first got out when his brother went to juvy, and that was just him lashing out, mind you. Now he has a magical being telling him that he needs to be this way— he needs to turn into a monster himself and embrace this darkness to become truly strong. He won’t get over it until he realises that nothing is his fault and everything changes because that’s just how life is supposed to be.

7. Here I want to speak about that shadow/darkness that follows Ichiya, that from the beginning I honestly though it to be his “human despairs” that he had tried to get rid off; but for someone to separate and reject parts of their soul can produce incredible frustrations and pain that can result in those energies manifesting in a separate entity of sorts but which is still fed by the broken counterpart, so it stuck close after his death. I genuinely believe this fraction of his soul is still on the loose because he didn’t want to acknowledge it and that he’s not whole even as a spirit. But it’s also possible as it was pointed out, that it is an entirely different entity that possesses him, I still, beg to differ though…

8. I have a huge fear that Mitsukuni was a Libra. Libras and Aries are opposing signs and energies. No matter how good a relationship they had or how much Matakara admired and loved his brother, he’s bound to feel frustration around him. Because Libras can be exhibited as extremely righteous, which to be fair is highly subjective; I’d probably categorise them into the self-righteous bunch. Imagine an Aries now having to live up to these standards. Fucking hell… Not to mention that feeling this way, can also make someone feeling like they are being ungrateful towards the Libra person who showers them with attention and tries to spoil them by doing as many favours to them— even favours they didn’t ask for… 😒 This is an incredibly tentative power balance that can tip over super fast super easily. 😬 In one word: HELL.

9. I also just remembered how there’s a huge difference in how Senya and Arajin are activating their merge to the way Ichiya and Matakara do. As I mentioned above, Arajin is the one reluctant to merge but ends up being the one asking Senya and even activating it on his own during the time he faces Akutaro; he is the one with the overpowering will in their merge. Matakara on the other hand is accepting Ichiya inside him and surrenders his body to him, completely relinquishing and entrusting his everything to him, making himself to be the one with the weaker will despite how he naturally is before Ichiya possessing him.

Just look at him here, how he takes Ichiya in him: eyes closed and stance wide open… 

Again, completely giving himself over to Ichiya and in a sense, self-sacrificing in order to find the strength he’s so desperately wishing for. Oh my gosh, he’s such a beautiful character… *I hate them producers* (´༎ຶོρ༎ຶོ`)

10. Now that I remembered this, his blood type is O. In Japan most politicians or company directors etc, are people with blood type O and so they are also considered “the leader”… just so you know. 😑

11. Also, also! I haven’t really understood the reason the genies ask for “what is your wish” in this anime in particular, because it’s not like their going to make it happen, but it probably is required in order to establish a connection to the soul and the desire of their chosen fighter. I mean, how can you connect and even “merge” with someone, unless you know what their heart truly yearns for?

12. One more thing. Along with Arajin being themed by chinese tradition, there are other elements throughout the series, like some of the character names and even at how they arrange time. For example, Matakara asks Ken-san to meet him at “the hour of the rooster”, which is about 17:00 - 19:00.

◆ Change of heart; change of… clothes: What is the significance of Matakara being designed to have a hoodie? It must be convenient for someone his size. Hm. 

I believe that being interested in fighting as a “sport” or a “self-defining” means (as is the case here) is extremely unlikely one would make such a choice in real life. How so? Because wearing chains, piercings, hoodies and generally having loose items on your person, could prove a weapon or a leverage in your opponent’s hands and be used against you during the fight (sort of when being a goalkeeper and shooting the ball to your own nets kinda thing…). So in a way that, unconsciously, makes those characters look far more assured on their strength. Besides Matakara, other known characters that habitually wear hoodies despite their involvement in close combat are Akira (TnC) and Yuuji (JJK), who are also considered exceptionally strong and they also know it. One other example in the series that stands out, is Marito. The chains and piercings he’s wearing are all a means to say he’s got nothing to expect from those facing him. There may be that there’s just enough respect among those fighting that they wouldn’t resort to such tactics, but then again, Matakara did throw dirt in his eyes when he became desperate, so this is just to say that Marito is insanely strong and also insanely assured about himself— if not just plainly insane. In other words, the design is such that evokes characters with confidence and awareness of the gap that separates them from their peers, something to which it can be ascribed the why and how Matakara tries to be fair during fights up until Ichiya enters him.

Now, I’m sure it’s quite noticeable how Matakara’s light blue hoodie and white undershirt has given its place to a dark navy blue one with a black undershirt. This is because “darkness” is the theme metaphor here. Ichiya said when he transferred to Matakara that Matakara has a deep darkness in him to which he could fit in more better. That was what Ichiya was drawn to— like how Senya was to Arajin. Also, I’m pretty confident that Ichiya had his eyes on Matakara ever since he was a child and could see the “monster”… I also think, that the way Senya thought this to be a sign when he found out about Arajin and Matakara training as kids to become honki, is an indication of the genies being drawn to souls with this desire. Matakara, to be sure, also never left the town and kept visiting the honki temple, which means Ichiya could probably “sense” that original darkness he was drawn, evolving. He rode Akutaro when he had the chance, to manage and get out to look for that darkness. I kind of think, that maybe this has to do with the fact that spirits cannot be seen or be able to see since they don’t have eyes. Spirits are energies that you can feel, however. In that same vain, Ichiya must have recognised Matakara’s darkness during the gang war and was finally able to see for himself how really strong the kid was. The fact that he was able to strategically draw him out while using Akutaro’s grudge against Kenichiro was a very pleasant moment of success for him, I’m sure… 

Matakara as Ichiya keeps urging him to do, has to “throw away his weak (kind) heart” to become truly strong. There is an underlying point to this as well… One where he is currently learning to be more proud of himself, therefore exposing the bullet on his chest. It’s not a dark secret. It’s something he’s embracing and honestly in Matakara’s case, I’m happy he does. The most important thing for me though, has to be the location of the bullet. It’s smack right in the middle of his chest. Close to his heart. And therefore very strongly and deeply rooted in the one place he is stronger (or weaker, depends on how you perceive this). Matakara’s pure heart has center and spotlight. Unfortunately, this very same heart is being broken time and again and that is his biggest frustration. This is why he was wearing an undershirt that was covering his chest before. Because his darkness is in his heart. It’s where he feels weaker, unsure of himself, where the genie can patch a hole in his host’s soul. Does he have an inferiority complex? Most probably. Does he blame that on others? No. Not even Arajin. All he wants, is to become stronger. Strong enough to beat the monster. It’s not even a monster in my opinion — it’s misplaced frustrations that got too strong and got a life of their own (note 7 above).

Also, darkness: apex predators are blending in and lurking in the shadows, hidden away until they spot their prey. Then they make their move, kill, and leave. Does that behaviour remind you someone? Yes, it does. It’s how Matakara has started facing his opponents. “Again”, as Zabu comments. He goes up and challenges them out of the blue, plants them into the ground and then just walks away… 🥺

The really hard part though, is how he had to beat Zabu, because he clearly didn’t want to as is shown in the scene before Zabu catching his leg to stop him, where he doesn’t look at him as he lies on the ground; he just knew he had to overcome his “softness” and actually beat to death someone that was a “companion” to him in order to not falter in his pursue of “himself”. This kid is fighting to find his place not just in the world around him, but in the world within him. He’s always looked into the world without being able to point where he fitted in and once Ichiya challenged this (“friends are for the weak”), he was forced to go against his instinct of fitting in and forging bonds and move into a state of standing for himself. When Ichiya said that “the thing you lack is anger”, so he could initiate a merging process and urging him to lose himself in his anger, wasn’t to say that Matakara just needed to be angry at everyone, but more likely that he had to acknowledge his frustration and be able to draw out a real desire in him to fight not just for the sake of fighting and being accepted but for him to finally stand up for himself, for what he wants— how he should not be feeling guilty for who he is, because let me tell you, he feels so fucking guilty for himself. For being weak. For being a burden. For being angry at himself for never being ENOUGH! He needs to be blinded to be efficient, so the fact that anger is what can trigger this blindness is needed for him to not think and hold back anymore. And the fact that he’s so kind means that he’s never held a grudge. He never felt entitled to get angry at someone. He always, always wanted for things to be peaceful. Super ironic if you know anything about Aries. He’s literally the odd one in the bunch. But pure Aries really don’t hold grudges; they boil and fight and forget about it on the spot. For his birthday especially, there’s a tendency to ignore rules and have issues with authority (looking at Ken-san 👀) but generally being the warrior type individuals, that are seen as the heroes of the group. Kid never had the chance to built self-esteem, though or a defence mechanism. And this acceptance of his darker parts is actually a very important foundation that he’s laying out for himself to learn that some times change is inevitable. Darkness is inevitable. Negative emotions and shitty situations are part of being alive and it’s absolutely valid to feel bad and frustrated and to want more… And that (accepting his darkness) it will make him stronger. “But he’ll be unable to live with himself afterwards”, you’ll say… Yes, he will be tortured afterwards for what he did. He will bitterly regret beating Zabu and anyone the way he did, but he will have proof that he’s not weak. He’s not a burden. He’s not less!

★ I also keep seeing people talking about how the series refer to idolisation and honestly, I don’t think that’s the case at all.

Idolising someone means that you have put them on a pedestal and consider them far out of your reach and eventually give up on trying to reach those individuals. And that it’s simply not what’s happening with Matakara. 

Now, if we’re talking about Mahoro, sure; she even refers to Marito as “god” and has an extremely unhealthy obsession with him to the point where he even has to treat her like a pest to push her away— even though I’m sure he loves his little sister; I mean, who’s brave enough and eats that horror of a bento if they don’t love their sibling who prepared it for them? Especially if they have the chance to throw it out without anyone seeing them??? 😨

★But with Matakara it’s a different story. His whole negativity and frustration doesn’t come from idolising Arajin. I mean he does look up to him but he’s not thinking of him being out of his reach. He just thinks that he’s the weak one of the two.

We see him actively (aggressively, more like it) trying to become stronger. We see him aspiring to reach Ara-chan. 

Trying to get close and live up to his brother’s legacy, who was even considered a living legend among these yankies (and now I want you to try and imagine having to grow up next to a literal demi-god (look point 8 above) among common mortals, I seriously want you to imagine the pain and frustration of never measuring up to them for a moment here… because you see them in their everyday; how they move and hurt and live and breathe into this world… and you still can’t be like them… imagine the inhibitions and doubt this plants into someone’s psyche…) and now that he’s dead, Matakara will never be able to reach him no matter how he tries, because bro has ascended without him, before he ever tried to fight him even as a joke. There is a recurrent theme through the series that you become stronger and acquire power by continually challenging and winning over gradually stronger opponents. You literally “build up” your strength and your way to the “top” as it is mentioned in the series from even as far back as episode one, whatever meaning that “top” may has.

He even, still, wants to be a honki person, who from what we know so far, is questionable anyone ever managed to actually achieve it. (We just don’t have the requirements to know how honki-ness is achieved! 🙄) And the only thing that is actually wrong with Matakara is that he’s miserably failing to objectively asses himself and perceive how he appears to the others, and that’s because he was never in an environment that gave him the opportunity or the tools to build a strong sense of self. His parents literally abandoned their children, with Matakara seemingly not even in the age to start attending grade school. His brother, who by the looks of it was about 9-10 (they have roughly a 5years difference— depending on whether Mitsukuni was the same age as Kenichiro (Arajin, you bitch, come and say to my face that a 21yo is an old man and I’ll rip you a new one! What are we 30-somethings supposed to be huh?! Grr! ( *｀ω´)) or if he became an early leader), was also a kid that had to look after him even as he had no means to provide for even himself since he was underage and couldn’t work. They both had to be taken in and live as a “burden” to the new owner of their family’s old bathhouse…

How the fuck does any of you saying that, can’t realise that this kid literally grew up to consider himself inadequate and unworthy and being fucking torn and tormented so deeply in his soul, that he actually believes he’s just NOT ENOUGH!!! is beyond me. And you dare fucking chalking it up to simple idolisation… (● ˃̶͈̀ロ˂̶͈́)੭ꠥ⁾⁾

How can someone have such a single-angle-view perception to get so blind? This is “Arajin blissful blindness” on your part and I’d like you to think twice before you come into my house talking shit like that. (Not that the producers gave a fuck either to think this through, apparently…) _(:3 」∠)_

※ We are a Matakara & Ichiya wildlife safehouse and we don’t serve tea to haters and surface-tension-level character supporters here, the doors are open for you to go away if you don’t like that. 🐾 * gently boops you out the door*

We also don’t want to hurt anybody, just to achieve enlightenment. 💖

˚✧₊ As for why Ichiya acted like a dick in the first place, I am inclined to suspect, that this was probably because he realised that this was the end for him… 

I mean, he was angry at Senya for holding back, and generally it is showcased that when real friends compete for the same goal they need to do that seriously so that the other gets the satisfaction that they lost to someone stronger than them at least and even more so that they won because of their own powers and not because they are viewed as either too respectable or weak enough to be let to win. 

In the same vain, Senya is indeed like Matakara, because he’s not just holding back from Ichiya for being friends. He’s shown so far, to have such a strong respect for Ichiya, that he at times seemed to be ambivalent about wether he’d be able to really win over him. He’s unknowingly downplaying himself in front of Ichiya which in turn is also a form of weakness to boot, too. 

He’s making Ichiya double the mad he actually is this way because a) Ichiya wants to know who’s the stronger between them for real and b) Senya is risking his becoming of a honki, since he’s essentially running away from fighting seriously. If you’re not able to face all your opponents equally, you are not able to become a true warrior/fighter/whatever and stand alone. The top has room only for one, and one must always be prepared for the loneliness he’ll have to face. You need to rise as someone that has no human weaknesses.

But Senya knowing how serious Ichiya is, is also probably afraid of how much Ichiya will push himself during the battle and that’s why he said “if we fight seriously, one of us could die” to which Ichiya actually said that he’s prepared for even that outcome. And what is Senya supposed to do, then? Do his — so far, one and only (gege when I catch you gege) — friend the favour and grand him his deathwish, without even understanding “why” himself or try and talk him out of it while finding out the problem and meeting him halfway?

Here I should probably add what I wrote in a reblogged post, where I state that I think what Ichiya is also concerned for, is that they need both Ichiya himself and Matakara to push harder in order to achieve perfection, but that can only happen when you overcome your humanity. Ichiya sees being human as a hindrance and therefore pushes for all three of them to abandon that aspect of themselves. Ironically, while doing so he falls in the same trap he initially tries to pull his friend out from and now his vessel, too. Being angry and frustrated is a sign of humanity, therefore a weakness.

Ichiya’s birthday, represents people born on this day, usually having an innate “darkness”, as Ichiya said in anime, too where they can feel the pain and sorrow of this world. In order for them to achieve their higher goal, which is to stop feeling so powerless to save this world from its sorrows (because Virgo is the perfectionist and the helper of sorts of the zodiac), they end up hating their own humanity and trying to overcome it (see note 7 above) even if that means that it is to their own detriment. They pursue this with great zeal even if they die, because death will eventually come for all and they know it. They understand that the time anyone has in life is finite and they internally mourn for this. They also feel pressed by this knowledge, because they want to achieve as much and as best as possible by that time.

I also love how Matakara is an Aries and Ichiya a Virgo, because those two signs are traditionally incompatible but they can work out and polish each-other if they happen to interact. 😊 As signs in aspect, Virgo and Aries are also considered to have a “karmic” relationship, exactly because of the hard lessons they will force on each-other. Surprisingly, or maybe not so much, the cool, collected Virgo will stick around and work with the usually hot blooded Aries to teach him patience and methodology, especially if they have already chosen the Aries. If the Virgo finally forms a bond, it's usually reluctant to leave later. Aries on the other hand can remove themselves the minute someone bores them, but since the Virgo is aggressively independent, they can be kept in a state of continual mini-wars that push the Virgo to open up bit by bit and thus bring the Aries before unexpected discoveries and truths they didn’t even imagine. From outside, they seem to both stick with each other out of sheer stubbornness but the truth is that they take important lessons that hone their less evolved traits of their characters and they are keen enough to recognise that. ie. The Virgo learns to be more honest in sharing their feelings (tenfold in Ichiya’s case btw— imagine how much better he’d be at communicating with Senya after being with this kid for a bit more time…) and Aries learns how to objectively asses and look at themselves. Of course, a fall out is always possible if their energies and other planet aspects are not in favourable positions but, I’d say in this case it’s safe to assume that a soul-that-lived-centuries-ago-turned-magical-being, was somehow fated to be compatible with the soul that needed its guidance the most. (Honestly, this has so much potential and pain and hope to unpack that the fact the series were so half-assed, literally pains me as an astrology enthusiast. Ah, the greatness we could witness had the producers been a fraction more serious and enthusiastic about this project… 🥺😔)

Ok. At this point, I’m sure I have forgotten a shitload of things I wanted to mention when I started and also have messed up somewhere and made mistakes, but mercury is retrograde and the last episode is this Saturday, so I’m writing this knowing that’ll probably be smacking myself and wanting to edit it in a month from now but for now— fuck it, we ball! 🫠😎

I also want to thank anyone who had the steel nerves to be able to read this far… You truly are a force to reckon if you managed to tolerate my incoherent ramblings until this point. I’d like to thank you from the bottom of my heart and hear your thoughts in return~ 🥰

▼For closing, I really want to say what I expect from the last episode before it airs! So here it goes…

I believe both Senya and Ichiya will fully merge with the kids for the fight. They will battle to the brink of death. I hope it’s bloody and satisfying to Ichiya because he won’t rest otherwise. But I think, like Senya said that he “has no intention of staying longer with Arajin after he found out the reason behind Ichiya’s change”, that they might actually not be able to fully return to their original forms and so, maybe the genies will eventually be integrated into Arajin’s and Matakara’s bodies and consciousness completely. Maybe they’ll even be forced to do that because, what if Matakara ends up being near death and the only way to survive is for Ichiya to fully give up into him? Hmmm??? (I’m looking forward to hitting this one! 😎 they could even resume their training to become real honki people; both the kids and the genies) The fact that merging is dangerous enough for someone to die in itself is very important to consider, but as hinted by Senya’s words there is a possibility to retain or even return a vessel’s soul— which has me thinking Sukuna of sorts... Now, if we were looking at a tragedy genre, Matakara would end up dead no doubt, btw. The other option seems to be that Ichiya finally gets defeated and so maybe his soul is able to rest with Senya actually managing to achieve becoming a true honki; I… wouldn’t particularly mind this outcome but I’m not sure how it’d be for the boys… especially Matakara. I honestly think it’d be a little cheesy. I also think Arajin will get a bit taller as a result of that merge and I think that the shadow we see in the ending theme, it’s going to be his new self after that fight. And hey~ Maybe he’ll even get the girl… no matter how shitty a personality she displayed so far… 🫤 We may even get a glimpse of what happens some 3 or 10 years down the road. Who knows?! 

Now guys, I hope you had a good read. <3 If you stumbled on something that confused you, feel free to ask about it. Or tell me I’m wrong. Works either way! :P

Asks are open for all if anonymous is your thing, too. 📥

Let’s see what the last episode has in store for the fandom this Saturday together, shall we? 🤗

🩵💙🌙💙🩵

[johaerys-writes]

15 questions for 15 friends

I was tagged by my dear @elveny, thank you so much!! 💙

ARE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE?: No! Well, yes, after a character in Greek mythology, but not after a parent or grandparent or anything like that.

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED?: Yesterday. I was reading the Iliad again for an anon ask and was going through the part where Achilles kills Hector and oooh that scene got hands 🥲 I cry a lot though, I'm a crier, and a lot of the time it's about patrochilles so it's par for the course really lol

DO YOU HAVE KIDS?: Nope.

WHAT SPORTS DO YOU PLAY/HAVE YOU PLAYED?: I'm fairly active generally but I don't play sports at all because I don't like them. I tried several sports while in school before accepting that I simply don't like team sports and I'm not good at them, but I had much more fun with solo sports. I swam for several years somewhat competitively, and I also did track for a while. 

DO YOU USE SARCASM?: I think so? But usually only with people I'm very comfortable with, because I can never know what would go down well or not with a person I don’t know. 

WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE?: That’s hard to answer because I feel like it depends on the situation. Most of the time, it's body language and their general vibe. Meeting new people can be nerve wracking so I try to "read" them and act accordingly, if that makes sense? I don't want to step on any toes or say the wrong thing so figuring out what the other person's mood or interests might be usually helps. But that often means I miss out on other things on first encounter, like... their eyes or smile or something?? Lol idk man, socialising while on the spectrum is hard 🥲

WHAT'S YOUR EYE COLOUR?: Brown.

SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS?: I think I'll pick scary movies because I do like horror and dark stuff and I don't care if the ending is happy or not as long the story is interesting. 

ANY TALENTS?: it took me so long to think of something for this and I honestly don't know? I'm assuming by 'talents' we mean something you're born with, not something you've worked hard at like some kind of craft, right? In that case, I think I have pretty good visual memory, especially when it comes to books and articles and such, or the written word in general. Oh and I'm weirdly good at orientation, I can usually find my way no matter where I am. Which isn't such a huge deal now in the era of google maps, but back when there was no gps it was a pretty useful skill to have haha. 

WHERE WERE YOU BORN?: Greece.

WHAT ARE YOUR HOBBIES?: Writing, reading, gaming, crocheting, drawing, going to museums! I'm constantly on the look out for new exhibitions and stuff, it's my favourite thing in the world to do. 

DO YOU HAVE ANY PETS?: A darling and dastardly cat, aka my extension when I'm at home. 

HOW TALL ARE YOU?: 1,68m

FAVOURITE SUBJECT IN SCHOOL?: Oh god I freaking hated school, absolutely hated it LOL I can't think of one thing I liked in it. I guess I only enjoyed the very last year of high school when I was preparing for the Panhellenic exams because like... it felt like there was finally some kind of purpose or reason to be there at all, even though there was a lot of pressure. I loved Ancient Greek, Latin, History and Philosophy. 

DREAM JOB?: I don't have one, I don’t dream of labour 🙃 I don't think there's any sort of job anyone could do in this capitalist hellscape we're all currently living in that would be enjoyable enough to make up for, well... living in a capitalist hellscape lol. If I could, I'd just go back to uni, probably. That was my happy place and I miss it. And I'd also write a bunch and read a bunch and take up all sorts of creative hobbies, and probably travel more. 

Tagging forth to a bit more than 15 friends lol sorry (and I know I'm forgetting ppl): @baejax-the-great @thiefylilelf @vimlos @mogwaei @gloriesunsung @aymayzing @cordelia---rose @knicknocknick @aristi-achaion @peachandfig @heypax @darlingpoppet @tevivinter @mary-aries @tragediegh @pikapeppa @figsandphiltatos always with love and without any pressure 💕