#and then it feels like a necessary pilgrimage in just make

[victoryai]

SOLAR RETURN ASCENDANTS × CONJUNCT NATAL PLANETS.

So lately I've been doing solar return observations and I noticed that it is indeed significant when the Sr ascendant conjuncts a natal planet.

So here we go::.

{CONJUNCT = ×}

🎃SR ASC × NATAL SUN: When your Sr ascendant is conjunct your natal sun(which obviously is still your Sr sun) then we can say that it's going to be a year of refining and reminding yourself of your identity 🆔 . A year to step forward and shine in the light of your sun sign. Doing what makes you feel alive. Cleansing your whole being. We're looking at a year that is centered around fun, academia, your kids, your fortune 🔮. Sun is the biggest and brightest luminary and if well placed in your natal chart, this promises to be a year with an impact. Expect glow up, expect to be in spotlight, expect to get more noticed than usual.

🎃SR ASC × NATAL MOON: This cosmic placement heightens your sensitivity and feelings, which can leave you with a bag of mood swings at times (however depends on the type of moon sign though) which can leave you from sweet🥺 .... happy 😊..... dull😔.... blank😑..... upset 😭..... to angry 😡. Just a rollercoaster of emotions. Expect to pay more attention to what goes on at home or with family members. To be more softer and easily influenced 🤔, to retreat more often than normal. Sounds like the right time for cleansing 🌬️..

🎃SR ASC × NATAL MERCURY: It's normal to find yourself more communicative this year. The influence of mercury might have you taking a lot of trips here and there, starting a blog, even going on a diet, writing a book, learning how to drive, buying a car!, Using your phone more often or rather buying a new one, having to deal with your siblings, cousins neighbors etc. You might even decide to move to a new neighborhood. This year you just take up new habits and decide to focus on every detail that crosses your path.

🎃SR ASC × NATAL VENUS: Gosh, I'm blushing badly ☺️😄. Alright, this is a type of glow up placement because you look good. This year everything seems so right because you look good, your self esteem is top, your surrounded by love and that guy/lady got her 👀 on you 🤭. This shows that you're likely meeting a lot of people, keeping a lot contact, getting richer, dating that person, living your dream life. This also points to a lot of self love at the moment 😆.

🎃SR ASC × NATAL MARS; For some of us,this is quite an explosive year, for others it's an irritating year 😂. 30% of how you'll receive this energy is based on your sun sign . For example : Cancer mars could have trouble with family members and Leo with kids . You tend to get more angry or irritated or you might decide to channel that energy into sports or hitting the gym. You find yourself being more active and aware with a hint of restlessness attached and also saying no when necessary 😡.

🎃SR ASC × NATAL JUPITER: This is a year of abundance!! and good fortune. Going on long journeys and learning from life itself. You will be full of God's blessings. This is giving expansion vibes, physically and all. You might decide to reconnect with your faith on a deeper level maybe going on pilgrimages, expanding your mind in regards to foreign beliefs, getting lucky in foreign lands and most importantly, being protected.

🎃SR ASC × NATAL SATURN: If you're not being saddled with countless responsibilities, you're stressing a hell lot😭. No two ways about it!. This is seriously giving duty calls!📞 . This might mean that you work extra than it's healthy for your body. Things going haywire, outta control, having people depend on you , losing lots of weight, quit notice!!! just bad stuff 😭. Working harder and preparing for your future. However,this year will be the foundation on which later years stand on . It sounds harsh but I'm genuinely sharing my experience with this placement.

@victoryai @llrightsreservedvictoryai.

[bonefall]

Yo, need some help with the BB au's warrior code (working on the wiki). Cus 1-4 are confirmed from the history post, but what order are the rest of them in??

Oh this is actually something I've been meaning to get to. I swung over to the wiki page and I see you're working with a bundle of unconnected posts, and the REALLY old first draft-- it's waaay overdue that I make an update that also contains an official addressing of some of the biggest changes that have happened since then.

I'm gonna try to fix that for you now. Here's a rough draft of BB!Warrior Code 2.0, including snappier names and new thoughts for the associated stories.

I'm also trying to make each commandment more... sociological. In contrast to canon's code, I want these to be more open to interpretation, but also gesture at deeper social values that Clan cats have.

After all, it's the Warrior Code. I've always felt like it should have a similar vibe to chivalry or bushido, y'know? Not just a list of laws, but a "guide" to living as an honorable warrior.

(and, like chivalry and bushido, it's much less "inherently" noble than it seems, easily twisted into something destructive and only protecting other people in your caste.)

The plan here is that I'm going to post this in a rough state so you can get it on the Wiki, AND everyone can toss up input on this. When I feel satisfied, I'm gonna hit up Trout to make official Clanmew translations, and then I'm going to work with one/some of the artists in my spreadsheet to make this its own post.

So, the next time you see this will likely be a lot cleaner and have revisions.

IN SHORT:

Law of the Border "A Clan is the exclusive ruler of its domain; a Star is the exclusive ruler of its Clan. Borders are set to mark this land. To trespass is to offend the stars."

Law of Honor "An honorable warrior does not need to kill to win their battles, except when the foe is dishonorable or it is necessary for self-defense."

Law of the Deputy "The Star is to choose a responsible Deputy to rule alongside them who shall carry the starlight after their death. A Clan must never go past moonhigh without a Deputy appointed."

Law of Loyalty "Defend your Clan, even with your life. No love for an outsider shall outweigh your loyalty to your Clan."

Law of Priority / Prey Priority Privilege "An honorable warrior would starve before letting those they protect go hungry."

Law of Grace "StarClan is to be thanked for what it provides. To waste their blessings or blaspheme their light is treason against the Stars."

Law of Seasons "A kitten must see two seasons before it can become an apprentice. An apprentice must train for two seasons before it can become a warrior. A warrior should handle all four seasons alone before becoming a mentor."

Law of the Challenge / Right to Challenge "All warriors who bare a blessed name from StarClan are entitled to defend their honor. The right to challenge, or to accept a challenge in turn, shall not be infringed upon without reason."

Law of the Wild "A warrior rejects the soft life of a kittypet."

Law of the Cleric's Vow "A cleric who takes a mate or has kittens has violated their sacred vow, and must have their privilege of being StarClan's herald revoked."

Law of the Gathering / Full Moon Truce "Under the light of the full moon, all Clans shall send representatives to the Gathering to hear the news of the leaders. There will be a truce that lasts from sundown to sunrise, and attendance is a privilege."

Law of the First Tasks "Before an apprentice can receive their holy name by the power vested in their Star, first they must complete three sacred tasks; a warrior's assessment, a complete vigil, and a pilgrimage."

Law of the Leader's Right / Dalestar's Law / The Leader's Rights "By the power of the Star they carry, the word of a leader shall be recognized as the warrior code."

Law of the Three Kittens / Darkstar's Law / The Queen's Rights "No action, inaction, or accusation may ever allow a kit to be put in danger, no matter what Clan their parents were from. All queens shall have the right to not reveal the origin of their litter, even under suspicion of codebreaking."

Law of the Lake "Every Clan has the right to fight for its honor and independence, but the Clans of the lake shall never allow another to suffer or collapse. In dire times, all the cats of the lake understand their ancestral command; unite or die."

Law of Love / Bristlefrost's Law "If a cat wishes to walk alongside the warrior of another Clan, their beloved may ask their Star to issue a challenge to prove their new loyalty. If this challenge is overcome, their love shall be known as StarClan's will."

Law of Kickum Buttocks / Leader-B-Gone "girl help im still figuring out how I'm going to rewrite the new law about kicking out leaders. It is too long and too hyperspecific. There's absolutely no way for it to get legitimately used in canon, let alone be a relevant plot point."

If a previous post contradicts this one, assume this one overrules it. You can feel free to ask about it though! There's probably a reason I changed it, and I'll hear you out if you think an older version was stronger.

The Borbior Bode. I mean the BB!Warrior Code.

(Under the cut)

COMMANDMENT 1: Law of the Border "A Clan is the exclusive ruler of its domain; a Star is the exclusive ruler of its Clan. Borders are set to mark this land. To trespass is to offend the stars."

The legend goes that after the carnage of the First Battle, StarClan granted a fragment of a star to the leaders of the five Clans. This piece of a star is what legitimizes their right to the land they rule, so the leader is technically the owner of the Clan's domain and has authority over it.

In practice, this means that Clan leaders have the right to claim and control everything that is "part of their land," their domain. This usually refers to prey, but also includes herbs, goods, and even warriors with a holy, StarClan-ordained name that swear fealty to them.

Most often, this is the law that is cited to justify territory expansions, by changing borders. It also tends to come up in "economic" circumstances. When Onestar launched an embargo against ShadowClan during the Yellowcough Epidemic preventing mullein from being brought to them, he cited this law, because that herb only grows in WindClan moorland.

The intent behind this commandment is VERY different from its modern use. There were originally just two "commandments," this one and the Law of Honor, and it was essentially serving the purpose that later laws (namely 6, 8, 10 and 13) would more explicitly outline. Its purpose wasn't to put absolute power over territory into the paws of a leader, but to command the Clans to respect each other's autonomy.

In fact, the wording is weird to reflect that.

In Clanmew, the verb here for "trespass" is meant in the sense of "to disrespect," and which "stars" are being offended is unclear. It was originally meant religiously-- the angry ancestors who halted the First Battle would be offended if the Clans treated each other poorly. Over time, "the stars" came to be interpreted as offending the leader of the Clan, as in "issuing a challenge to them."

But its modern interpretation is all that matters, now. And it's widely accepted to mean "Leader owns everything in its Clan's borders, fight them if you don't like that."

COMMANDMENT 2: Law of Honor "An honorable warrior does not need to kill to win their battles, except when the foe is dishonorable or it is necessary for self-defense."

I'm considering rewording this one in a small but significant way because I have plans to play with the "dishonorable foe" clause. The ideologies of Fire Alone and Thistle Law clash over the philosophical idea of the Code's protection applying to outsiders at all, so I realized that I don't need to have "unless they are outside of the code" written into any specific commandment.

So, instead, this version would mention dishonorability. To invoke this commandment to kill is always an accusation, and to accept that it was used against your loved one means admitting they were "dishonorable." To be outside of the code, to be unable to contribute, or to be HalfClan could mean you're inherently dishonorable... if someone like Tigerstar wants an excuse to hurt you.

Unsure, though. I do like the wording of the canon commandment, "unless they are outside of the warrior code or it is necessary for self-defense." I do like the way that it says, right away, that they don't see outsider cats as being protected by this law. I like how weaselly it is.

COMMANDMENT 3: Law of the Deputy "The Star is to choose a responsible Deputy to rule alongside them who shall carry the starlight after their death. A Clan must never go past moonhigh without a Deputy appointed."

Developed as a result of the events of Riverstar's Heir. When King Riverstar passed away with the inheritance of the River Kingdom unclear, his oldest living biological son stepped forward to claim his "birthright." The son decided to throw a celebration before going to claim his lives, not knowing that there was a saboteur prepared to slip poison into his prey.

The cat who would have been considered Riverstar's "deputy" by modern standards, Flowers Come First, desperately tried to keep the Kingdom together as other cats tried to carve out claims to the leaderless land. After dozens were killed and injured in a civil conflict (sometimes called The Second Battle), the ShadowClan Cleric, Redscar, was called in as a mediator to determine the rightful leader.

But, before he determined that Flowerstar would lead next, it was ensured that all of the Clans would come together to accept this as a new law. To prevent this kind of succession crisis from ever occurring again.

(BB!ASC LOOMS IN THE DISTANCE)

This commandment was technically the first "addition" to the law, but at the time, it was considered the "birth" of the Warrior Code. Before this, it was more of a pair of principles from StarClan.

As a note; in the Clanmew, "Responsible" Deputy implies a warrior who has trained an apprentice or has raised children. I'm unsure if linguistic drift now means that HAS to be an apprentice or not, but there are probably historic cases where a Mi with a ton of grown kittens took power.

COMMANDMENT 4: Law of Loyalty "Defend your Clan, even with your life. No love for an outsider shall outweigh your loyalty to your Clan."

This law was famously introduced after Ryewhisker gave his life to defend his mate, Cloudberry, in a battle between their Clans. It's usually considered the first proper "addition" to the Warrior Code, but a real debate about if 3 or 4 is the first "amendment" would probably be considered a sort of pedantic argument by most.

(side funfact; In Clanmew there's a term for that. It's called a "Shineless Fight," or a "matte match." Basically a silly battle that doesn't invite attention from StarClan.)

Its ratification came even in spite of Cloudberry's heated opposition to it. The ancient practice of Kitten Stealing was born from this commandment, justified by ancient actions taken by Skystar during the Dawn Era. Cloudberry watched her kittens grow, inheriting a world far worse than the one she'd loved Ryewhisker in.

When she was reunited with her mate in death, they refused to be part of a StarClan cruel enough to support and approve of a law written to condemn their love. Without a moment's hesitation, the lovers fled into the Place of No Stars together, vowing that they would not rest in peace until the evil commandment was overturned.

They do even more than just that, too.

When cross-Clan mates need protection from discovery, the lovers will hide them from watchful eyes under the cover of yew branches. If the stars burn brightly to document the sins of forbidden friends, Cloudberry will cool them with rain while Ryewhisker bends the grass to guide them to safety. They are demons acting as guardian angels, for those who God has abandoned.

...Also, author's note, I've done rewording to this law. I'm trying to make sure all types of love (platonic, romantic, familial, plus the clan culture concepts for these) are equally important narratively. It's both something I care about as an artist, and also something I think makes the story better.

DIVERSITY WIN! Your queerplatonic cross-clan relationship is equally treasonous!

On that note, I also cut the "reassurance" from the law entirely. The canon law says "you may have friendships, but be careful because you might meet them in battle," to imply it's fine to just be friendly, but I feel like it fits BB better to just not explicitly spell that out. I generally think it's a better idea to stress how individuals interpret the law.

COMMANDMENT 5: Law of Priority "An honorable warrior would starve before letting those they protect go hungry."

In Clanmew, the wording will be closer to this; "The true warrior Wants before those they protect would Need," which means that the warrior's desires go unfulfilled if their "charges" have unmet needs. It applies very broadly to almost anything-- food, medicine, rest, tools, etc. It's not just about hunger, but it's been translated in a way to communicate its spirit to an English-speaking audience.

This does typically mean that kittens, elders, and the Cleric eat first, but it's also one of the laws that particularly noble warriors would repeat to themselves as a mantra. It stresses self-sacrifice in service of the weak. On the flip side, a more authoritarian cat can easily twist this code to accuse someone else of being dishonorable, if they're "taking" too much.

Full disclosure, this one's still pretty big WIP material. I haven't made a lot of progress on the origin story of this one, or what its sociological impacts were.

In fact, laws 5, 6, and 7 are WIP territory. They might get shuffled in order or reworded in the future, though their "spirit" is going to stay the same.

What I DO know about the Law of Priority's backstory is that it's probably not going to be born from a battle on Sunningrocks. Most of the canon equivalent law from COTC is actually going to get repurposed into BB!Darkstar's Commandment, and Commandment 11 by proxy. It's more likely I'll take a bunch of the spare ancient warriors and come up with some original big disaster that spurred it on.

COMMANDMENT 6: Law of Grace "StarClan is to be thanked for what it provides. To waste their blessings or blaspheme their light is treason against the Stars."

Also known as Dovestar's Law. Possibly one of the most prone to being interpreted in different lights between leaders. It's not a law explicitly requiring belief, but it does command religious performance from all Clan cats.

...which, functionally, does mean that cats like Cloudtail and Mothwing have always been pressured into taking part in rituals they don't want to be part of.

For example, when prey is killed, Cloudtail gets offended looks when he doesn't send a prayer to StarClan. If it wasn't for Ferncloud and Elderberry being so close to him, he might have been denied getting Ashpaw as an apprentice due to a refusal to swear a religious oath. Worse, if Bluestar hadn't been leader at the time, not pressing his nose to the Moonstone might have prevented him from becoming a warrior at all.

(as a personal note, as an atheist, ive always found the way that canon dances around acknowledging the destructive aspects of organized religion EXTREMELY frustrating. Especially in COTC, where it's mentioned that Dovestar wanted to codify a religious commandment but failed, and Leafpool smugly chuckles at the leader for being so surprised. It felt like such a "writer's mouthpiece" moment. girl it's a cult in the woods. you wrote scourge as an evil atheist. your cats have catholic guilt, just own it)

The second most important legal use of this law is to punish contact with the spirits of demons-- residents of the Place of No Stars. There are several forbidden techniques for utilizing the power of these spirits, namely "Channeling," the direct summoning of a spirit (as opposed to "Invoking," which is when StarClan as an entity is used as an "operator" to get in touch with an angel in its ranks).

Casually this is referred to as "witchcraft" or "forbidden magic."

But, in addition to being a religious law, it is also a law against overhunting and waste. Especially of "blessed" animals, such as bats and songbirds, which are considered downright sinful to kill. If you knowingly destroy beautiful things without a good reason, "wasting" a blessing, it's not JUST a sin, but a crime.

It's possibly one of the most relevant laws in the day-to-day lives of warriors. ShadowClan cats in particular take this VERY literally, believing that they should also try to salvage a use from ALL things they kill. Including badgers.

COMMANDMENT 7: Law of Seasons "A kitten must see two seasons before it can become an apprentice. An apprentice must train for two seasons before it can become a warrior. A warrior should handle all four seasons alone before becoming a mentor."

This commandment was worded and introduced by Daisytail, rallying all the parents of the Clans, to protect young cats from two battle hungry leaders who were foisting fights and responsibilities on those who physically could not be ready.

This story won't change much from its COTC equivalent, besides maybe adding an extra detail that young apprentices were being given to young warriors, less than two years old. A very young warrior might had never handled the season they're now training an apprentice in, leading to things like;

Being unable to identify thin ice

Not knowing how cold temperatures change how scent works

Unfamiliarity with hunting in snowy conditions

Lack of education on wintertime animal behavior

Ultimately though, the point of this law is simply to codify "minimums" of the age brackets. Most cats train longer than that, and they are strictly grouped socially.

In fact, because of the fact these cats age so rapidly during their first year and then "slow down" afterwards, "rank" is a LOT more important socially than chronological age.

As an example, Reedwhisker has a nightmarish, two-year-long apprenticeship due to mentor abuse. He was considered an apprentice in age that entire time. Having an extended mentorship is literally like being forced to stay a teenager. This is as hellish as it sounds.

Overall though, for BB, this commandment is going to be a lot more relevant for the mentor/apprentice aspects instead of "early apprentice" infractions. Even the most evil, short-sighted leader can realize that getting kids killed before they turn into adult soldiers is self-defeating.

One of the more notorious changes of BB is the fact Brokenstar isn't going to be using child soldiers. What he DOES do is approve of Runningnose's plan to murder a blind kitten so that they can frame Shroompelt for it, exiling her as Yellowfang and FINALLY getting her out of the way so they can commit a massacre against WindClan.

(still evil just a different kind of evil <3)

I've been really wishy-washy on what happened with Badgerfang specifically, because I didn't want to eliminate the tragic story beat of a young life being wasted. But I've finally decided what I'm going to do. Badgerfang was just a fresh apprentice, nothing special, nothing "illegal," just like all of the other adolescents who took part in that battle.

I don't think he should have to be legally too young for it to be absolutely horrific that a kid was killed during the invasion of someone else's home. He was the equivalent of a 13-year-old and he was gored by someone who was confused and terrified in the middle of the night, bleeding to death in his uncle's paws.

For Flintfang, in that moment, it has nothing to do with recommitting himself to the "warrior code," but realizing that the only way this madness stops is if someone puts an end to it.

COMMANDMENT 8: Law of the Challenge "All warriors who bare a blessed name from StarClan are entitled to defend their honor. The right to challenge, or to accept a challenge in turn, shall not be infringed upon without reason."

Attempting to stop a war from breaking out between ThunderClan and WindClan, the ancient leader Morningstar prevented his warriors from fighting back against Rabbitstar's border transgressions. Furious and offended that they could not prove themselves in battle, his cats came to resent him. After skirmish and sickness lead to the "honorless" death of several cats including his deputy, the Cleric, Pearnose, lead a revolt against him.

Morningstar was branded a coward by StarClan, deemed unworthy of joining their ranks and sent to the Place of No Stars to wallow in his misery. Afterwards, Pearstar gained her nine lives, beloved by ThunderClan and blessed by StarClan, and her decree was made into code.

This law is being invoked when a warrior mentions their "right to challenge." As a quirk of the wording, it's also widely accepted that an official challenge involves saying your opponent's full name, to get the attention of StarClan.

"without reason" is another one of those little clauses that gives a leader wiggle room when they need it. Legitimate "reason" to cancel a challenge includes the full moon truce, promise to allow the battle at a more appropriate date, or the fight being shineless or dishonorable to begin with. Still, leaders are rarely eager to get compared to Morningstar, so there's a lot of social pressure to not infringe the right.

The Clans culturally value the idea that "might makes right," and this commandment is both a result of, and a contributor to it. A LOT of small-scale quibbles over aspects of the Warrior Code end up being resolved by an invocation of the Right to Challenge, because trying to argue with a warrior that they're wrong about how they interpreted the code is easily interpreted as an attack on their honor.

COMMANDMENT 9: Law of the Wild "A warrior rejects the soft life of a kittypet."

During the destruction of SkyClan's historic territory in the White Hart Woods, Flystar witnessed many of his warriors turning to humans and the town to live double lives. In response, he started very strictly enforcing the warrior code, believing that if his Clan lived more piously, this would stop the destruction.

it did not work. Old Man Flystar died and left Cloudstar as a young leader, desperately keeping SkyClan together in its exile. Even death did not stop him from honoring his vow.

...But the Forest Four did not care. The amendment that Flystar suggested for the warrior code was born from his need to discourage his warriors from leaving, but it was approved because of shared cultural hatred for human beings. The destruction of SkyClan's territory just made an existing problem much, much worse.

During the Crusade Era, this law was invoked to justify violent invasions into Chelford. During other eras, it makes cats hesitate to take food from humans, or even interact with kittypets at all.

It's also a very weird translation; in Clanmew, this is the "Law of the Unbunched Scruff." It could also be translated as "Law of the Uncollared Neck" or "Law of a Free Nape." It's referring to the back of the neck being unburdened by a collar, but it's also REALLY common for little kits to learn about this law and immediately start using it to protest their Mi carrying them back to the nest for bedtime.

This was also the last law to be introduced before SkyClan's exile! Modern SkyClan has complicated feelings on if this one should be respected as part of their "version" of the code.

ALSO;

I've so far kept it as short and simple as canon, but I'm thinking of making it longer to match the others. I can't find the right words for it, though-- something about "A warrior rejects the soft life of a kittypet, and resists the deceitful temptation of humans" or "and remains vigilant for the tricks of man"

I want to capture the vibe of Flystar trying to convince his warriors that humans are liars, and any gifts they give you will actually make you weak. Part of me is trying to avoid wording the commandment in a way that could result in people thinking Firepaw himself is a "trick of man," but maybe I should just lean into it instead.

COMMANDMENT 10: Law of the Cleric's Vow "A cleric who takes a mate or has kittens has violated their sacred vow, and must have their privilege of being StarClan's herald revoked."

Moth Flight did not create the vow to be ratified as code. It was a desperate, painful oath she made her four kittens make before they were taken away from her to become the first Clerics of the other Clans.

She made them promise her that they would not have children of their own who would be ripped away from them. It was a mother's plea, to spare them from the pain she was experiencing, to encourage them to value medicine over connections to a Clan that stole them, and to punish the Clans for treating their bloodline like something that would produce prophets like livestock.

Their gifts would die with them, and all future Clerics would be trained, not born. The Cleric's Vow was a non-binding tradition for generations, until the exile of SkyClan.

Larkstripe, Cleric of WindClan, rallied the other Clerics into going on strike until the leaders reversed their terrible decision. Swiftstar stubbornly refused to give into this demand, even when sickness landed him on his deathbed. She remained firm, informing him that he was free to gamble with his life if he wanted to face StarClan's judgement.

His successor, Dalestar, sought a way to brutally crush the strike. So he hit Larkstripe at her one weakness-- her son, Ripplekit.

With the ringleader's reputation destroyed and her son ripped away from her and sent to ShadowClan, the other Clerics quickly folded. Dalestar got his way, and was celebrated for it.

This commandment doesn't have too many unique interpretations, though there are occasionally interesting cases where Clerics have kittens before taking their vow. While it's a "gray zone," kittens who are the child of a parent-turned-Cleric are sometimes considered cursed or unlucky.

(contrast to SkyClan where it is actually considered a plus for a Cleric to have kittens.)

COMMANDMENT 11: Law of the Full Moon "Under the light of the full moon, all Clans shall send representatives to the Gathering to hear the news of the leaders. There will be a truce that lasts from sundown to sunrise, and attendance is a privilege."

Taken from Larkstripe and raised at the belly of Birdflight, mate of the exiled Cloudstar, Ripplekit grew into Ripplemoon and became Ripplestar of ShadowClan. Spurred into action by a blight that was spreading up the now-dead fifth tree of Fourtrees, he declared war on the other Clans. "If you will not make room to fetch SkyClan home, then I will carve it out."

Before this time, the Gathering was simply a tradition, not code, but Ripplestar's deadly total war tactics recognized it as an excellent target. Attempting to bring a swift end to his bloody campaign, he planned an attack that would surely have many innocent casualties.

However, he was betrayed by his adopted brother; Gorseclaw. The other Clans were prepared for his attack, bringing nothing but warriors to the Gathering. In fury at Ripplestar's audacity, having lost the SkyClan ancestors who would have supported these actions, StarClan struck the base of the blighted tree with lightning. The falling trunk crushed Ripplestar against the Highrock and snapped the oak in two distinct places; at the base, and in the middle.

The Z-shaped cracks would be seen again many years later, as Brokenstar's tail. The guardian spirit of SkyClan, incarnated in the flesh through a birth from a Cleric, furious and manifest.

But, before that time, there was an immediate "Clan Pride Tide" that washed over the culture of those who won. The Law of the Full Moon was the first of three additional Commandments born from Dalestar and his peers during this time.

There are three significant "rules" to Gatherings that were established by this law;

The leader may arbitrarily exclude any cat they don't want to bring. Before this commandment, you could just go. Now, the most freedom you have is your ability to linger longer for the Aftergathering.

It is mandatory to completely listen to the "opening speeches" of Gatherings before you're allowed to mingle. Even if grandma mistystar is going off on a tangent again

The truce is now enforceable. It was previously just a taboo-- scuffles would break out now and then, and there was the occasional playfighting match. Now, you can't even get heated at another cat without people getting uncomfortable.

COMMANDMENT 12: Law of the First Tasks "Before an apprentice can receive their holy name by the power vested in their Star, first they must complete three sacred tasks; a warrior's assessment, a complete vigil, and a pilgrimage."

The second law to come from the post-Ripplestar tide was more codification of traditions, to "instill a sense of pride and honor into young warriors," but these were also a sneaky way to weed out dissidents.

Apprentices would typically do these tasks naturally as part of their rite of passage, but now, if ANY of the cats involved in this process did not like you or your mentor, they could hurt you by delaying them. A leader could choose not to bring you with them to the Moonstone. They could force you to re-do the vigil for making a noise. A vindictive mentor could keep flunking your assessment for stupid reasons because she hates you.

Bad mentors "poorly preparing" an apprentice they have a duty to guide into adulthood is good grounds for punishment. It's a massive dishonor to have an apprentice taken from you. Of course, this all depends on the Clan "taking the side" of the tormentor.

So, this is rarely used for political reasons in more recent eras, because of that potential collateral reputation hit. Making an apprentice's right of passage difficult for no reason tends to make you unpopular with that apprentice's friends, family, mentor, and peers-- but it served its purpose, back then.

Nowadays it's just celebrated as a part of Clan traditions. The First Tasks are much older than the Commandment, but most cats don't think so hard about history that they notice it's strange they got codified during this era.

(Plus, this commandment is popular. Apprentices and their families feel cheated if these first tasks are glossed over.)

COMMANDMENT 13: Law of the Leader's Right "By the power of the Star they carry, the word of a leader shall be recognized as the warrior code."

The big, bad one. Also called Dalestar's Commandment.

With this decree, the Clan leaders announced an exile of all the cats who had been revealed to support Ripplestar. ShadowClan's next leader, Marshstar, was made to deal with an immediate refugee crisis on top of overseeing the injuries of all the cats who fought at that Gathering.

It's the sort of law that would be considered a massive mistake within a few generations, but by that time, it was too entrenched to remove. The leaders had seized power over anything that could legally challenge them-- the Code, their Clerics, and their warriors in turn.

Only the rule of the Impostor would cause this part of the code to be altered, but not before the Clans nearly collapsed under his tyranny.

Future generations would look back at the fallout of Ripplestar's rebellion, and the following tide of Clan pride, and generally reach a consensus; this was the birth of the ideas which would become known as Thistle Law. Maybe it wasn't their origin, and contributing thoughts had existed for a long time beforehand, but this was the watershed moment for what would develop into modern Clan politics.

COMMANDMENT 14: Law of the Three Kittens "No action, inaction, or accusation may ever allow a kit to be put in danger, no matter what Clan their parents were from. All queens shall have the right to not reveal the origin of their litter, even under suspicion of codebreaking."

Famously referred to as Darkstar's Commandment, and cited as the Queen's Rights. Put a decisive end to the barbaric practice of Kitten Stealing. Drafted, fought for, and codified in honor of Mapleshade's three children who drowned in the swollen river.

StarClan was so furious at the sheer amount of senseless death in one season that they blasted Darkstar with lightning to drag her into StarClan to witness the Trials of those who had died. They made her watch as Ravenwing, Frecklewish, Appledusk, AND Mapleshade were all damned to the Dark Forest, and bellowed that her and Oakstar would fix it or suffer the same fate.

She listened and proposed this law. Oakstar did not, and fought against its implementation. He tried to make up for this by beginning the Crusades, but this wasn't enough to "atone" for his disobedience.

Darkstar ruled that the birth of innocent kits shall could never be used as evidence of guilt, because of the fact it would inevitably put those same kittens in danger.

It was StarClan's privilege alone to judge if the behavior that lead to the conception of those kittens was codebreaking or not. Flawed mortals, such as Mapleshade who lied to keep her kittens safe and only endangered them through panic, and Oakstar who exiled children into the rain because of personal offense leading to bias, could not be trusted to be objective about this.

That said-- the Queen's Rights are a very complicated and particular topic. They exist to protect the kitten's birth from being used as evidence; they do NOT protect the family from any consequence of their actions. There are lots of ways for the Queen's Rights to be voided.

If the kids find out their parentage and reveal it, it's void. If a cat who recently gave birth shows the kits are theirs, it's void. If you let it slip that you acquired the kitten from your sister who wants you to raise it as a Clan cat, it's void.

And, no, you can't even safely talk to your Cleric. They are within their full rights to reveal it, too. There is no Cat HIPAA. Whoever you trust with this information had BETTER BE someone you trust with your life, because they might be!

Cats who lean towards Fire Alone think that the Queen's Rights don't go far enough. Cats who lean towards Thistle Law are obsessed with the contradictions.

COMMANDMENT 15: Law of the Lake "Every Clan has the right to defend its independence and to fight for its honor, but the Clans of the lake shall never allow another to suffer or collapse. In dire times, all the cats of the lake understand their ancestral command; unite or die."

First proposed in response to the disastrous lack of response that allowed the rise of the Kin, a deadly Yellowcough outbreak, and the eventual collapse of ShadowClan, this commandment was approved without contest when SkyClan found its way to the Lake.

It's both a promise to SkyClan that what happened to them will never happen again, AND a somber acknowledgement that what happened to ShadowClan was avoidable if they'd only intervened sooner. Heartstar takes this commandment VERY seriously.

Too seriously, many add. Perhaps more out of ambition than compassion. But she doesn't care-- they weren't the ones suffocating in their own lungs watching their family die, as Onestar sat on a hill of medicine across the lake, glowering. Perhaps they should take it more seriously.

COMMANDMENT 16: Law of the Lovers / Bristlefrost's Law "If a cat wishes to walk alongside the warrior of another Clan, their beloved may ask their Star to issue a challenge to prove their new loyalty. If this challenge is overcome, their love shall be known as StarClan's will."

AKA Bristlefrost's Law, created in her honor after sacrificing her Afterlife to barrel Ashfur out of the sky, burning up in orbit.

In life, Bristlefrost was innocently meeting with Rootspring. Two warriors with a small crush, breaking the code discreetly during a time of increasing tension. When Bramblestar's impostor caught them, he decided to make an example of the couple. Brought Bristlefrost to the Gathering, and demanded that SkyClan strongly punish Rootspring to comply with the code.

Waspstar of SkyClan, successor of Leafstar after her poisoning at Juniperclaw's tricks, refused. So the impostor lifted his claw, and sliced Bristlefrost's neck. Her body plunged from the tree, dead in an instant.

With her ghost, Rootspring joined the resistance to depose him immediately. After her sacrifice, he demanded reforms for the code and a new commandment in her honor. It was not as sweeping of a change as he wanted it to be, but with the Law of the Lovers, there was finally a mechanism to bring another cat into your own Clan.

It could have saved her, he argues. He could have taken her out of that dangerous Clan, gotten her away from the Impostor, convinced her to run.

(...the truth is, Bristlefrost would never have run from ThunderClan. Not until the bitter end. She wouldn't just die twice for her family, but even more than nine if she had the chance. but this was the leverage that Rootspring was able to use.)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I keep going back and forth on the "love" wording of this one. On one hand, I like the idea a lot that Clan cats will have to perform friendship or love even if it isn't there to "legally" change Clans as a story device. I enjoy the idea of exploring that, and how it would be particularly messed up in an asylum scenario.

On the other hand... I'm not really using "love" in the romantic sense here, and "sponsor" is both closer to what I'm intending, AND the Clanmew version. By "beloved" I mean it equally in the sense of both an aunt and their "beloved" niece, and a lover and their traditional "beloved." But I'm not sure if that's coming across.

Is there a better word for "Sponsor" but like, in a warm and affectionate sense? Legal Buddy? Guy Who Will Vouch For Me? Sweet Cheese? Not to mention there just not being platonic words equal to "lover." The amatonormativity of the English language has harmed me once again

Law of Kickem Buttocks / Leader-B-Gone "girl help im still figuring out how I'm going to rewrite the new law about kicking out leaders. It is too long and too hyperspecific. There's absolutely no way for it to get legitimately used in canon, let alone be a relevant plot point."

I know FOR SURE that the first time this law is going to be used in BB, it is against Bramblestar in ASC. He's declining, manipulating Nightheart to use in a petty squabble against Squirrelflight, and suffered two massive blows to his reputation in both Squirrelflight's Horror and BB!TBC.

But the canon law is so specific that it's useless. Like, it may as well not even exist.

A non-deputy needs to call the vote

BOTH medcats have to agree

AANNDD you need a 75% supermajority in the Clan.

FINALLY, the other leaders, of Clans that are completely irrelevant, are asked if it's ok and ALL of them have to agree.

only THEN can all of the medcats of ALL the Clans go to StarClan, and ask if the lives can be taken away.

If the sky is cloudy then screw you. you have to wait even longer. Even if your Clanmates are getting murdered or tortured or whatever.

This frustrates me because, this is a MASSIVE change to the Warrior Code, something the audience has been desperate for. Drama in this series has practically dried up, and barely anything happens for books and books.

To make such a long-awaited addition be something this useless feels like an insult. Like they just begrudgingly did the bare minimum so they could ignore it. Even the "drama" of Reedclaw trying to oust Leafstar in CC was pointless, because if the writers were just less boring with their characters, she could have called for that vote all on her own.

"Ah but the code--" characters are capable of arguing that laws are ineffective and drastic measures need to be taken. Other characters can agree with them. it's that simple. Law is a social construct, not a wizard's magic barrier

Like. It could be that easy. Reedclaw doesn't want to physically harm Leafstar so she calls for a vote of no confidence. Cats quibble about if it's "legal" or not, Hawkwing proposes that it be 75% supermajority because then it would be extremely clear this is the will of SkyClan, etc. This would also be more interesting because then it's not established, it's new ground.

BUT. For BB I do want it to be law. Just a law that actually gets used.

So right now I'm leaning towards something like;

"If a leader is no longer able to rule with honor by their Clan's three-quarter decree, the Star shall undergo a ritual to return their blessings. This ritual must be both invoked by a cleric and a warrior, and then carried out by them if successful."

I still feel like three-quarters is a tall order, but I think I can work with it. At the very least, I can remove the requirement for ALL the Clerics to be in agreement.

I'm particularly fond of the idea of the idea that the two accusers have to carry out the WHOLE thing. The Cleric performs the parts of the ritual that would "wash" the lives away from the Leader, and the Warrior performs the parts of the ritual that would allow the Deputy to take them early. Overall, I think it would be generally better if the "difficulty" of enacting this commandment came from the fact the Cleric and the Warrior have to be EXTREMELY dedicated to it.

Like, instead of dealing with a lot of waiting and asking, if you want them gone, you have to do something very tedious with no reward.

As for what that ritual looks like, I want to reference BB!Rowanstar's sacrifice. The leader will probably have to bathe or be rinsed by the water of the Moonpool, and the deputy gets dunked in that.

bramblegirl bathwater

[queenofwands89]

Do you do fanfic requests? If so I was hoping for maybe an angsty enemies to lovers with Tyler Owens, like they are rivals and just got off on a bad start that spiraled into them hating each other but slowly seeing there's more there but being in denial until maybe like Reader gets injured in a chase or helping someone and Tyler realized how he truly feels? Idk lol. Just need some good angst and hurt comfort.

Stormfront Showdown (Part 1)

Tyler Owens x fem!Stormchaser!reader

Summary: Y/N and Tyler have been longstanding rivals, their past filled with unresolved conflicts and clashing opinions on storm chasing. With vastly different approaches to tracking and studying storms, their heated debates have become legendary. Now, with the upcoming storm chasing convention on the horizon, tensions are set to skyrocket. You know Tyler will be there, and the question is: will this be another explosive encounter, or will the storm finally bring them together in unexpected ways?

Word count: 2262

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, rivals to lovers, verbal sparring, competition, dumb blonde joke, teasing, a little angsty idk.

Notes: Thank you so much for your request! I apologize for the delay; I recently started school and things have been hectic. I took a bit of creative liberty with your request and turned it into a short series. I hope you don't mind! If anyone wants me to make a taglist, just let me know. I hope you enjoy it—bye! 💜

The storm chaser convention is your annual pilgrimage as a weather enthusiast or professional. The ballroom of the Kansas City Grand Hotel buzzes with anticipation. As you stand at the entrance, your eyes sweep the room with a mixture of curiosity and wariness. You don't particularly enjoy these crowded events, preferring the solitude and precision of your solo chases, but your presence here is a necessary evil—an opportunity to share your findings and emphasize the importance of safety and scientific rigor.

You smooth the front of your blazer, double-checking your notes for the panel discussion. It’s then that you spot him: Tyler Owens. The Tornado Wrangler himself stands surrounded by a throng of fans and admirers, his laughter loud and infectious. His rugged appearance, complete with cowboy boots and a well-worn hat, seems to dominate the room. Boone is there too, camera in hand, capturing every moment for Tyler's YouTube channel. Lily, Dexter, and Dani mingle nearby, each in their element.

You inhale deeply, trying to steady your nerves. The name Tyler Owens epitomizes everything you abhor in storm chasing—recklessness, unchecked bravado, and an insatiable thirst for sensationalism. To you, he is the living antithesis of diligent scientific inquiry and responsible journalism.

Your last encounter with Tyler was nothing short of disastrous. What began as a simple disagreement escalated into a full-blown public feud, broadcasted for the world to see via social media and various news outlets. You had penned a scathing article, meticulously criticizing his methods as dangerous and irresponsible. Your words were sharp, intended to signal a wake-up call not just to him but to the entire community of storm chasers.

Tyler, never one to retreat from controversy, responded with an incendiary video. Filled with passionate retorts and dismissive gestures, his rebuttal ignited a firestorm of reactions, polarizing the storm-chasing community and capturing the attention of a captivated audience.

The bitter memory of this exchange still lingers in your mind, a festering wound that has yet to heal. Now, as you anticipate another face-to-face meeting with him, you feel the weight of that unresolved animosity. You brace yourself for the confrontation that seems as inevitable as the approaching storm you both intend to chase.

The panel is called to order, and the moderator introduces the speakers with a flourish. You take your seat, your heart pounding in your chest. Tyler settles into the chair next to you, flashing a charming smile that belies the tension crackling between you.

"Welcome, everyone," the moderator begins. "Today, we have a diverse panel of storm chasers who will share their unique perspectives on this thrilling and dangerous field. Let's start with you, Y/N. Can you tell us about your approach to storm chasing?"

You take a moment to collect your thoughts before speaking. "I believe storm chasing is an essential tool for advancing our understanding of severe weather phenomena. My approach focuses on meticulous planning, data collection, and public safety. The goal is to minimize risk while maximizing scientific value."

Tyler leans forward, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he addresses the room. "You know, while I truly appreciate Y/N's unwavering commitment to safety," he begins, his voice smooth and confident, "we sometimes overlook the bigger picture. Storm chasing isn't just about data and caution—it's about raising awareness and capturing the awe-inspiring power of nature."

He pauses for effect, letting his words sink in before flashing a charismatic smile at the crowd. "My team and I, we're not just scientists; we're storytellers. We bring these magnificent storms to the world, showing people a side of nature they rarely see."

His smile widens, eyes sparkling with excitement. "We have a saying in our crew: 'If you feel it, chase it.' Because in those moments of raw, untamed nature, we find our stories, our inspiration."

The room erupts in appreciative murmurs and nods of agreement, some even breaking into applause. Tyler's infectious enthusiasm and charm work their magic, swaying the audience to his perspective, if only for the moment.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. "Raising awareness is important, Tyler, but not at the expense of safety. Your methods put not just you and your team at risk but also the communities you travel through."

"And your methods," Tyler shoots back, "might yield scientifically valuable data, but they often lack the human element. People need to see the raw, unfiltered power of these storms to understand what we're dealing with."

The panel has been raging on for twenty minutes, each of you firing verbal volleys that keep the audience captivated. The tension is palpable, and it’s clear that you and Tyler aren’t on good terms.

Tyler leans forward, a cocky grin spreading across his face. He’s baiting you, and he knows exactly which buttons to push. "You know, ever since that article you wrote, questioning my methods, I've been wondering. Maybe you're just not a fan of a little excitement? Gotta admit, though, it did spark quite the public feud."

The hint of satisfaction in his voice is unmistakable—he’s reveling in the attention, the controversy, and most of all, the fact that he’s gotten under your skin.

You snap back, your tone fiery and unapologetic. "And with good reason. Your methods are reckless, Tyler. Capturing nature is one thing, but ensuring the safety of our team and the community is paramount. Data collection can be done without playing Russian roulette with our lives."

Tyler smirks, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Ah, but without taking risks, we miss out on the most stunning phenomena. The beauty of a storm isn't just in its data points—it's in the visceral experience."

Your eyes narrow, voice sharp and unyielding. "Visceral experiences are meaningless if they end in tragedy. We need to strike a balance—pushing limits, yes, but with calculated caution. Not reckless abandonment just to feed your adrenaline addiction."

Leaning in slightly, his voice drops to a teasing whisper, "Careful. If you play it too safe, you might end up in a cozy weather office instead of out there chasing the real action."

You raise an eyebrow, your smile icy. "Better a cozy office than a hospital bed, Tyler. Besides, in the office, I can keep an eye on your antics, making sure you don’t turn yourself into a cautionary tale."

Tyler chuckles, clearly unfazed. "Touché. But admit it, you'd miss our epic sparring sessions out in the field."

You smirk back, your tone dripping with sarcasm, "Maybe. But I'd miss watching you lose a battle of wits with a breeze. It's like a real-life dumb blonde joke, but without the punchline."

Boone, with his characteristic enthusiasm, interjects, "You both have valid points! The thrill and the data—can't we find a middle ground here that marries both perspectives?"

Tyler grins at Boone's comment, "Maybe, Boone. But finding that middle ground is easier said than done."

The moderator, sensing the escalating tension and the need to maintain decorum, finally calls for a break. Their calm yet authoritative voice cuts through the cacophony of arguments, bringing a temporary ceasefire.

"Let's take a ten-minute break to gather our thoughts," the moderator says, brokering no argument. "This will give everyone a chance to cool off and reflect."

The announcement is met with a collective exhale from the audience. You can feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins as you step away from the podium, your mind racing with the flurry of ideas and rebuttals. Tyler shoots you a confident smirk, clearly reveling in the public sparring.

As the room buzzes with low conversations and people stretch their legs, you glance towards Boone, Lily, Dexter, and Dani. Boone gives you a thumbs-up, his eyes sparkling with excitement for the next round. Lily offers a supportive nod, while Dexter's contemplative gaze meets yours, as if silently urging you to remain steadfast. Dani approaches you quietly, her concern evident.

"Take a moment to breathe," she advises softly. "You’re doing great, but don’t let him get under your skin."

You nod, appreciating the support as you resolve to keep your composure for the next part of the debate. Tyler may have won the crowd for now, but the debate is far from over.

You step away from the panel, finding solace in a quiet corner of the room. You sip your water, your mind racing with a mix of frustration and determination. A voice interrupts your thoughts.

"Y/N," Tyler says, his tone unusually soft. "Can we talk?"

You turn to face him, your eyes narrowing. "There's not much to say, Tyler. We clearly have different philosophies that will never align."

He sighs, running a hand through his blonde hair. "Look, I know we've had our differences, but we're both here for a reason. We're passionate about what we do. Maybe... just maybe, there's a middle ground we haven't considered."

Before you can respond, a group of Tyler's ardent fans—mostly attractive young women whose adoration for him is barely concealed—swarm in, interrupting your conversation. Their laughter and excited voices fill the air as they clamor for his attention, each holding out their phones for selfies.

"Tyler, can we get a picture with you?"

"You're amazing, Tyler, can you sign this?"

Their voices form a cacophony of admiration and eagerness. Tyler gives you a fleeting look, a glimmer of regret in his eyes. As he turns to handle the eager fans, you seize the moment. You walk away quickly, your strides purposeful and filled with resolve.

By the time Tyler manages to take a few pictures and sign a couple of autographs, he looks up to continue the conversation, but you're already gone. He scans the room, his expression shifting from hope to dejection as he realizes you're nowhere to be seen.

His shoulders slump slightly, and a look of displeasure shadows his face. The admiring fans around him continue their cheerful chatter, but his thoughts are elsewhere. He looks in the direction you went, frustration evident as he contemplates the vanished opportunity to bridge the chasm between you.

.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

The second day of the storm chaser convention dawns with a swirl of excitement and anticipation. Yesterday had been a whirlwind, with Tyler and you continuing your intense, verbal sparring match during your panel. As soon as it ended, you purposely avoided Tyler for the rest of the day, determined to keep your distance and focus on the upcoming events.

Today, however, is different. You feel a surge of excitement as you head towards the sign-up area for the competition on advanced research—a competition you have won every year. You stride confidently through the bustling convention hall, ready to claim your victory once more.

Approaching the registration table, you're taken aback to see Tyler there, pen in hand, scribbling his name onto the sign-up sheet. Your eyebrows knit together in a mixture of surprise and annoyance as you walk up to him.

"What are you doing here, Tyler?" you ask, folding your arms across your chest. "This competition has strict rules that you couldn't follow even if they were spelled out in neon lights."

Tyler smirks and meets your gaze. "Decided to sign up this year. Thought I'd give you some real competition."

You lock eyes, each ready for a verbal duel. The air between you crackles with tension.

"If you think you can handle it, by all means, try," you retort, your voice tinged with sarcasm. "Just know that this isn't your usual chaotic escapade. This requires precision and knowledge—qualities that, frankly, I don't think you possess."

Tyler chuckles softly. "We'll see about that. Underestimating me might be your biggest mistake."

Before you can continue your exchange, the host of the panel steps up to a microphone, capturing the attention of everyone in the room. The host, a renowned meteorologist named Dr. Sandra Jacobs, greets the crowd with a warm smile and a practiced ease.

"Good morning, everyone! I'm Dr. Sandra Jacobs, and it's my pleasure to welcome you to this year's storm chaser convention!" Dr. Jacobs begins, her voice carrying effortlessly through the room. "As many of you know, this convention is a celebration of the fascinating and often dangerous world of storm chasing. It's a place for experts and enthusiasts alike to share their passion and knowledge."

A murmur of agreement ripples through the crowd as Dr. Jacobs continues.

"One of the highlights of our convention is the competition on advanced research. It's a chance for storm chasers to showcase their findings, methodologies, and innovations in storm tracking and prediction."

Your eyes shift back to Tyler momentarily, a competitive fire igniting within you.

"This year, however, we’ve decided to change things up," Dr. Jacobs announces, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "There will be no rules and no limits! The stakes are higher than ever, with $100,000 in research funding and a special feature on Discovery Plus for the winner!"

A collective gasp and murmurs of surprise and excitement ripple through the crowd. Your eyes widen slightly, processing the unexpected twist. Tyler glances at you, a satisfied grin spreading across his face.

"No rules, huh?" he teases, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "Looks like your little rule-book speech just got thrown out the window."

With that, he turns and walks away, leaving you standing there, both frustrated and fueled by the sudden turn of events. You watch him go, your mind already strategizing how to adapt to the new, unpredictable landscape of the competition. The game had just changed, and you are more determined than ever to come out on top.

[ronqueesha]

I have today off and I feel like posting some my favorite Warhammer 40k lore facts for my mutuals who are new to the franchise. Maybe they'll help with your own headcanons and writing.

You've probably seen that the majority of humanity in 40k live in gigantic, overpopulated, and pollution-clogged hive cities across countless worlds. If you're a Cyberpunk 2077 fan, you already know what life is like inside a hive city. Night City itself is only a tiny fraction of the size of a 40k hive city, but the living conditions for the majority of people are largely the same. The average person in the 40k universe lives in a dense urban environment with regular day jobs, local entertainment, pubs and sporting events, families, etc. The pollution and environmental conditions can be awful, but most people just live with it because they have no choice.

Holy Terra is completely unrecognizable as the Earth we know of today. It's one giant hive city like Coruscant in Star Wars. The air is dreadfully hot at all times, day and night, and difficult to breathe. A single missed shipment of offworld food and water can starve millions of people to death. Families can spend entire generations on religious pilgrimages to set foot on Terran soil and see the Imperial Palace. Centuries can pass between someone getting the necessary money together to fund a trip to Holy Terra and her descendants actually landing on the planet itself. From orbit, Holy Terra is a sickly brown color, choked in clouds with spires and space elevators connecting to countless orbital structures.

Space travel is not a common thing for the average Imperial citizen. A lot of people don't even know that alien species are real at all, they only know what is spoken in religious texts and whatever history lessons are taught at local schools. If an average Imperium resident can name a xenos species, it is most likely the orks.

There are memes and edgy writings online that say the Imperium is this brutal right wing ultra conservative government that demands humans only have sex for procreation and all forms of personal expression are banned. This is not the truth! While the Imperium is ABSOLUTELY the most brutal, fascist and evil government in human history, it actually doesn't give a shit about people's sexuality/gender identity/etc. As long as a person is human and they serve the God Emperor, that is all the Imperium cares about. There are plenty of humans in the galaxy with families who keep the countless numbers of humanity growing. And some adeptus mechanicus forge worlds clone people by the millions to keep their factories running. (games workshop themselves had a make a statement about this a few years ago)

20,000 years before the 40k setting, humanity was one of the dominant species of the galaxy. They had extremely advanced technology, to the point that anything you could imagine could be done, was actually done. From advanced genetic engineering to weapons powerful enough to destroy entire solar systems. It's all but confirmed that the navigator gene is artificial and was developed during the dark age of technology. During this time, the Eldar society was in collapse, so humanity rose to fill the void. But just as humans were in absolute dominance over the galaxy, Slaanesh was born and began the long slide into darkness we know today.

To this day, seeking out certain relics from this period is one of the adeptus mechanicus' primary directives.

[serpentface]

i really like how this setting has a very well defined history to it, the past, the way it has been described so far, genuinely feels like another place and still one that would logically lead to the present, so i wanted to ask, have you thought at all about this in the other direction? what will the setting look like in 10, 50, a 100 years? just where is this world going exactly?

10 years absolutely. 50 years not so much. 100 years barely. Far future not at all. Here's a summary of the localized 10-15 year outcome (posting the (incomplete, already outdated) map again because it is extremely necessary for the paragraphs to come)

(Titenegal is the star just to the west of Godsmouth, the Mouth is the stretch of sea between Bur and the Wardi empire, the Viper trails off a little off-map to the east, the seas west of the Viper form the Inner Seaway)

I have a pretty solid idea of the next 10-15 years for Imperial Wardin. The former king (technically emperor but the word for 'king' is used for this title) Stavis Amanti honorably and nobly and TOTALLY willingly replaces the destined white calf in sacrifice, and the Odomache takes his dynasty's place as the emperor. As God Itself incarnated, the state is now functionally a theocracy with a god-emperor. The Imperial Wardi faith has always been the greatest unifying factor in an otherwise fragmented imperial entity, and this change results in a greater centralization of power than what's seen in Whitecalf (in which it is essentially composed of allied city-states conditionally loyal to a king, it's integrity is very tenuous in general and actively falling apart in the famine). The city-state of Lobera and Godsmouth both disavow the Amanti dynasty during the famine and the former wholly secedes and declares itself an independent state near the end of the story (the latter re-avows its loyalty to the new god-emperor). Lobera pulls some nearby imperial tributary territories under its protection and and the territorial size of Imperial Wardin is diminished (basically the entire northeast is lost).

The drought DOES end in the same year as the pilgrimage (yayyyy it worked) but actual recovery from a 6.75 year drought and famine, especially in the context of a shift in political power, takes time. The famine cannot be considered to have fully ended for another 4-5 years (conditions just gradually improve until normalization) and this time is spent in with focus being inward and on recovery and reunification. The city-state of Erub in particular fully collapsed by the end of the famine (the Yellowtail river ran Completely dry and tens of thousands of people in that region alone died from starvation and disease) and is never reformed in this 15 year period, though some refugees (and opportunists grabbing lands from dead or fled farmers) start to trickle back in as the land recovers.

The shift in power from a dynastic imperial monarchy to an imperial oligarchy is actually wildly popular among much of the public (the notion existed long before it actually happened, the public opinion on the imperial family is EXTREMELY low during the famine and the pilgrimage is largely a desperate attempt to save face). The social perception that God Itself incarnated and made head of state is what ended the drought and famine is massively beneficial to the new power structure. Imperial Wardin emerges from famine recovery at the most united and centralized in power it's ever been.

A full scale war between Imperial Wardin and Lobera+Allies finally occurs about 6 years out, and lasts a little over a year before Lobera is utterly crushed and re-absorbed. Control over tributary states is reaffirmed, and efforts start to be made to make Imperial Wardi territory fully contiguous (in the map, only the red sections are Fully controlled territories)

Meanwhile Titenegal is more aggressively courted into full alliance with Godsmouth, and the majority of elected officials vote for a merger, which in practice absorbs it into the Wardi empire (while retaining elected officials for local affairs, though these must defer to the emperor). This basically splits the united Burri nations in half (both in public opinion and in a literal territorial capacity) and is extremely contentious. Imperial Wardin is clearly in the process of pulling the old switcheroo and conquering Bur, through diplomacy for the time being.

And with the full cross-Mouth unification having occurred, attention is turned back north to Finnerich (which has been fully independent of its tributary status for over a decade now, and has been a major pain in the ass for both Wardi and Burri interests). A much stronger, much more unified, and much more militarized Imperial Wardin starts preparing for another round of invasions, while the self-declared king of Finnerich has been courting historical enemies into allegiance against it. At this point the Wardi Empire is entering a strong expansionist era and trying to conquer the entire Viper Seaway and Mouth, with hopes of finally digging that canal at the end of the Viper (a seaway that peters out about 40 miles from the ocean, many have tried to dig a canal and all have failed) to completely monopolize the eastern tradeways. It has a long way to go to actually get there though.

All this stuff is the political backdrop for Blightseed (the story).

In the LONG and broader term, the only really imminent world-altering scenario would be the greater spread of firearms. At the moment the most complex and powerful firearm being produced is types of flintlocks/matchlocks most comparable to the arquebus (also there's some smaller pistols with similar mechanisms) (I'm also going back and forth on whether I should downgrade the gun tech), but the majority of firearms that exist are more basal fire lances and handcannons (and the VAST majority of peoples have no firearms at all). In the 'contemporary' these matchlocks are only just starting to spread through very powerful states in the Inner Seas tradeway and are generally rare and elite weapons, which are slowly being disseminated through capture and illegal trade and reverse engineered by other people. The spread of relatively efficient and powerful handguns would have profound implications for warfare and the power structures involved in trade networks and will probably be a major contributing force to mass societal changes in the next 100-300 years.

I also haven't provided a good sense of scale via not posting world maps but most of the imperial entities described are relatively tiny on a global scale. There has never been anything in the setting on the scale of the Roman empire or the Mongolian empire at their peaks. Imperial Wardin's total mass of occupied territories (not including claimed but unoccupied land, blue on the map) is a little under the size of the full extent of the Aztec empire (and they have some similarities in being largely composed of a tributary states). It's a world that has heavy interconnection via trade along coasts and seaways, but its societies are mostly (relatively) small in scale. This is a long way of saying I think the mass spread of firearms could result in something closer to that scale of territorial landgrabbing forming.

[eatmangoesnekkid]

The male body has to make pilgrimages to sit at the feet of men, the masters and gurus. The only thing that the female has to do is to keep communication open to nature and come home to her body. --India Ame'ye, Author

This is absolutely no shade to men or male bodies. Men and male bodies are valuable, beautiful, and necessary. However, it's a reminder that what we've been taught to believe is real and true around spirituality ( and pretty much everything else) was born from the male mind and never meant for us in the first place. Please consider no longer prioritizing the advice or perspectives of men. You can consider it if you like, but do not center it until you filter what's being said or exemplified through the channels of your own female body. Even with yoga, the female body works best with more flowy practices as oppose to sharp rigidity. Come home to your body and trust your heart and soul.

Since the beginning of time, most gynecologists have been men. Men have been writing women's stories for centuries. We became less and less embodied and trapped and stagnated in our root and sacral chakras, looking for daddy doctor to save us, which did one of three things: 1. caused us to attract lovers who only want to fuck but don't want to love on or care for us 2. made us sexually confused, sexually performative, or incompetent/stuck in our heads, dissociated from our bodies and libidos, and see our bodies as tools/containers for male pleasure. 3. made it difficult for to us to relax comfortable in our grown bodies and just be without stimulants and entertainment.

Now we love the root and sacral chakras. No chakra heirarchy is allowed in this work. Just know though that when your energy is not moving, it's impossible for you to feel good in your body. That is one of the biggest issues I find. Many women just do not feel good in their bodies. When you don't feel good, you constantly reach out into the external world for its distractions, subjected to its bullshit and lies because you haven't learned to cultivate your own energy. You must begin to midwife yourself through the chronic over-stimulation and boredom and begin to script your life consciously. Such a profound version of love. Self-love.

This work is not a quick-fix. It is journey that won't happen overnight at first until suddenly, one day, there is a quantum leap, then another one. It calls for us to be more available to SIMPLE activities like "belly breathing" or "breast stroking with emotion" to begin the masterful process of raising our energy up and beyond the root and sacral, allowing it infuse into our heart. This is one of many ways we open up our hearts, Loved Ones. You no longer need to blame men or women or any relationship style for what is going on within you because you can just go inside and penetrate your breasts, eyes, etc. with more loving energy that projects out to create a higher frequency and quality of magnetism. This is what I will teach you when it's time.

It may sound too good to be true, but when women (and other womb holders) start prioritizing our health and happiness through simple acts like "feet work," it changes the world, men included. That's because the male body is primally-wired to be influenced and impacted by the happiness of the female. If women are happy, generally men (children, animals, and the natural world) get on board and become happier. Start listening to your female body more and developing a more inward focus in these times so that you can cultivate your energy and orbit this magic to recalibrate the world. The microcosmic orbit.

Care for your nervous system and cultivate greater inner peace so that you can create a more peaceful impact upon the world. What are you letting go off? What's is your heart's deepest desire when you truly get quieter and really listen? What does it look and feel like to create a life of your highest wellbeing?

One Loveliness,India

[ishgard]

I WILL SHARE YOUR ROAD - pt 2

Even as she moves away their hands linger against one another in quiet confirmation. They are both here in this moment, assured that it is real, that they continue to live and move forward. Their quiet sentiments are not an echo but a reflection of one another's.

"I just wanted to make sure you knew how glad I am, to know you're here." The words take on a new and different meaning these days, but she tells him: "I'll be praying for your safe travels." Her smile shifts from sheepish to sharp with amusement. "And if not always safe," she laughs knowingly, "at least fun. And with good food!"

He gives a small hum, equal measures agreement and thoughtful.

"If I discover anything noteworthy, I could always send you a letter via the moogles." The lilt of his voice suggests he's considering it in tandem with other considerations though, his words trailing off as if inviting a "but" or an "and". Yet when he says nothing, she can only pick up on the lingering silence with a laugh and a nod.

"That'd be nice." The words feel somehow ineffective and dull on her tongue, but she steels herself up and shrugs. She's said what she meant to say, there's no reason to keep him any longer. "All right, I'll let you go for real this time."

Still, he says nothing, nor does he move.

Eloquent as she may often be, for a moment she stumbles over a series of sounds that do not quite convey any message apart from her confusion and surprise.

So many conflicting replies bounce through her head. From enthusiastic acceptance, to bewilderment, and a worry that she'd be intruding. If this was meant to be a pilgrimage-of-sorts in remembrance of the Twelve, wouldn't her presence be...?

Oh, she didn't know, but surely it'd be somehow out of place, even if she wouldn't mind making such a trip herself. But then there was the fact he was finally free now. Free from duty or obligation - and she worried, too, that he might have seen her as part of those things.

So when she finally manages to respond, it's a lackluster, lip-bitten murmur: "Would that be okay?" Then she shakes her head and tries to clarify at least some of the meaning in her head. "Is that really what you'd want?" He's said it plenty that he's unaccustomed to company. Yet he's also said that he'd like to connect with people more.

He is silent for a moment, fixing her with that steady gaze and soft wisp of a smile that makes her wonder briefly if her words were even necessary. It's almost unsettling, how comfortable it feels to be known.

"I can think of no other I'd enjoy the company of half so much." He tells her, and while she can feel the depth of his sentiment, she's not sure he quite realizes the magnitude of such a compliment. She's still half-reeling when he continues.

"But what about you? You are finally free of your many duties and obligations, are you not? Free to go wherever you wish, do as you desire. Not to mention... I may make a somewhat poor traveling companion."

At this she can't help but laugh, lighter and freer now. "I very much doubt that." She manages to say, quelling the laughter but unable to tame the beaming smile on her face. Hmm, what was it he said before? 'Those who hesitate are lost.'

So, what did she want? The answer was already there, in the hand offered to her. Without another heartbeat of hesitation, she took it.

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Collected - a Magnus Archives fic

Jon floated for a thousand years as the pupil of the Eye - by choice, a place he ran, after Martin's death undid him.

Now, he finds himself pulled from that hell and into a new, weird world - one in which many versions of the people he knew are trying to make a new life.

And who is behind this, apparently? Jurgen Leitner.

Jon barely feels like a person again, and trusts nothing but Martin. This is, perhaps, wise.

Spoilers for the whole show. This is post-MAG 200.

Part two of the Magnus Monsterverse AU.

AO3

--------

I stared at myself in the small mirror, but no matter how hard I looked, I still felt unfamiliar.

I looked like someone related to me, perhaps—someone who had made a lot of pilgrimages, or lived entirely on vegetables, or inspired some ridiculous motion picture about a holy man or tapasvi.

I thought this insult of a film might star Kevin Costner or Dustin Hoffman, aping whatever culture seemed most “exotic” at the box office. Then I remembered that these actors had been dead for nearly a thousand years, had only been popular in my childhood, and likely existed nowhere now beyond my memory.

Our memory. The Eye was, after all, here.

They were all here. Multidimensional, evidently, though Martin didn’t really want to explain.

The man in the mirror looked mournfully back at me. His beard was nearly trimmed, more white than black. His hair…

It had always been thick, but I’d never let it grow beyond a student-appropriate scruff, and certainly kept it short when in the workplace. Well, centuries floating as the Pupil of the Eye had taken care of that.

It was long and very thick. More than a little wavy, heavily streaked with white. It made me look like an entirely different person.

Why had Sasha not cut it? The aesthetic, she’d said.

I had no idea what that meant until I did, knowledge dropped into me, and now I felt very silly. I wasn’t some… young and stylish thing, but whatever.

I was an entirely different person. Sasha told me my body was far from human now. It looked human—if I concentrated, keeping my many eyes closed—but it was not. Evidently, it swung back and forth between being hundreds of eyeballs in a man-shaped sack, or some kind of light beams which defied all attempts to study it. Fiber optics came to mind—knowledge transmitted via light.

Honestly, both descriptions were horrifying. Or they should have been. I… found them more baffling than anything else. For heaven’s sake, how was I producing saliva? How did my tongue articulate? How was I capable of erection?

Careful, Sims. That way danger lies.

The Eye wanted to tell me—to show me what it had done—but if I let it commune that clearly with me again, I might have trouble coming back to myself.

It’d had enough time monopolizing Playground Jon. My turn was overdue.

I fisted my hair (which felt neither like eyeballs, nor light). Martin liked it. So. I would not cut it off. Brushed and kept it would be.

“You okay in there?” Sasha called from the other room.

“Not at all, I’m afraid,” I called back, and walked out to join her.

She smiled. Sasha James looked largely like she had, but somewhere around the time I died at Ny-Ålesund in her world, she’d fallen in with the Flesh.

She was half a foot taller than she’d been when I knew her.

She’d somehow gone on to end the world for the Flesh, too, and had not elaborated how. I could know, but that felt like violation, so I kept that door shut.

There were many doors to keep shut, these days.

“Feeling up for it?” she said.

I knew what she was asking: was I ready to meet my benefactor?

I was not. I still felt as though I were pretending to be a person. It had taken me two weeks just to be able to keep all my extra eyes closed. “Must I do this?” I drawled. “Is it really necessary?”

“Yep.”

“What if I faked an illness?”

“Mm,” she said, and tapped her chin with one sharp, purple fingernail. “That’d be quite the feat, considering you’re immune to pretty much everything now.”

She would know.

I sighed. “I could pretend to madness. Earn a few more days.”

“Martin’s willing to go with you,” she said.

I may not have a heart anymore, but something in my chest still ached. Such an offer cost him.

After he killed my counterpart, the Lonely had him for fifteen years. By the time Tim and Manuela opened a shocking door of fire and crackling sound above his wine-dark sea, Martin had drifted so long in cold, crushing silence that he couldn’t remember how to talk.

He struggled, now, to accept a world with people. Struggled not to loathe everyone and everything. Except me. And I don’t know how I held a sweet place in his heart after what I did.

If he was willing to do this, then I would go through with it. “All right.”

“Come on. You look fine.”

I looked down. Green button-down; jeans. Ankle boots. None of it I picked out, but as I still looked human outwardly, going naked was neither comfortable for anyone, nor practical for me. “Should I look scary instead? Go all eyes,” I said, glancing up at her.

She wore the extra inches she’d given herself quite well. “Don’t think it matters. Jurgen’s seen it all.”

“I doubt that.” My tone was dry.

“Well, he did say you’re the first you he’s met.”

I’d been warned there were multiple versions of us out there. “How the hell does that even work, anyway? Are there multiple versions of… all of us here?”

“Some of us.”

“How is it determined who is brought here?”

“I’m not part of that process,” she said. “You’ll have to ask him.”

The Eye offered to tell me. No. I may be unable to avoid things like the colloquial definition of the aesthetic being dropped into my head, but I could refuse the bigger ones.

I’d had no choice in that before, neither when I was still human, nor during the apocalypse, I wasn’t yet certain if this were a new skill I possessed, or something to do with the place I now found myself in.

With my benefactor.

Jurgen Leitner. I was still struggling with this.

My Leitner (a dubious epithet) had been brutally murdered by a lead pipe. I had never met this one. “How many of the others has he met?”

“That’s a lovely question to ask him!” She beamed.

I sighed. “You’re being awful about all of this, you know.”

“It’s not my job to answer questions. It is my job to prod you into being a better version of yourself,” she said. “Actually, I think it kind of always was?”

“Ha-ha,” I allowed, and we walked out the door to Martin’s smiling face, and the moment I saw him, all my stresses ceased to matter.

#

It was something of a grim apartment block—a gray courtyard-rectangle, framed by two building-rectangles, which were comprised of even smaller flat-rectangles that formed our homes. Each flat was precisely two and a half rooms: a bedroom, a sort of general space for whatever else, and a closet-sized bathroom.

I had a trunk at the foot of my bed with gifted clothes.

There was no kitchen. I didn’t need to eat. Neither, evidently, did anyone else in the place.

We could eat. There was a communal kitchen in the bottom floor of the west building—a conscious choice, so Sasha told me, because it encouraged us to spend at least a little bit of time together.

A week ago, after I left the hospital, I grew curious enough to wander down there and  found Jane Prentiss sitting by the refrigerator, staring into a teacup filled with cockroaches.

I fled, and had yet to return.

“You look so good,” said Martin, kissing my cheek.

I leaned in. I would never forget the hollowness of his death—the loss, the tearing, hopeless horror. I would never take his affection, his love, for granted. “You always do.”

“And when I don’t, nobody will ever know,” Martin grinned. He was fully visible today, so he knew how good he looked; a light jumper, comfortable jeans, boots like mine. His curly hair was frost-kissed, the red and white both glinting in the sun.

Laugh lines around his eyes, above his freckles. Eyes that some days were less green, gone almost colorless; but on those days, he also didn’t bother to be fully visible.

Except to me.

“I’m never going to get used to this,” I said, running my fingers through his curls. “Alive. You. Here. I…” Damned throat tightness. (And how did that even work, anyway? What, were the eyeballs constricting? Pupils exhibiting tension dysphonia?)

“Me, neither—and you’re welcome to butter me up more, but we’re still going to meet some people today,” said Martin, because his choice to be social included forcing it upon me.

“Do I have to?” I said. “You know, it could make me late for Leitner. Better skip this bit.”

He put his hands on my shoulders and leaned in and kissed me.

Mm. Alright. Anything he asked would do.

“Don’t be a coward,” he said.

“I am a coward,” I said. “Apparently, that’s half my appeal.”

He held me close, and his impossible heartbeat echoed my own. Right here, right now, I felt like a person. I remembered how. I knew what it was like, and I melted in his arms.

“Come on,” he murmured against my head. “Nobody’s going to hurt you—and we’re… we’re sort of family, now. All of us. We all share kind of a big thing, you know?”

“We all ended the world,” I whisper.

“Yes.”

I swallowed. (Did I have an eyeball instead of an Adam’s Apple? Precisely what was constricting?) “I don’t know how to feel about that.”

He shrugged. “Who would? Come on, or we actually will be late for Leitner.” With his hand in mine, he led me into the communal dining hall.

#

I’d hardly gotten a good look at it the first time. It was your basic cafeteria: tables and chairs, a sort of kitchen area behind a wide, white counter. Checkered floor tiles. Awful lighting.

This time, Mike Crew was in there, along with Oliver Banks, seated at a little square table with tea.

Both of them stared at me.

I stared back.

The Eye tried to give me their stories.

I resisted. “We all just live here?” I blurted.

“Smooth,” said Martin, waving at them. “Hi.”

Mike looked Martin up and down as though he were made of chocolate.

Martin ignored it.

So that happened.

“Wow,” said Oliver, smiling at me. “That’s a good look for you.”

“What?” I managed like an idiot.

Mike sipped his tea. The cup sparked, as if it were secretly made of electrostatic particles. “Huh,” he said. “I killed you in my timeline.”

This was going splendidly. “When I came to see you?” I guessed.

“Yeah,” said Mike. “Cop followed you. Didn’t appreciate it too much, so.” He made a swooping motion with his hand. “Off you both went.”

“Daisy, too?” I said.

“Was that her name?”

“Yes.” I couldn’t sound less stiff.

He didn’t care. “Cool.”

“I didn’t kill you,” Oliver said, and looked sad. “I just didn’t manage to wake you.”

“The coma?” I guessed.

“You chose to stay human.”

Dear lord. “What happened after that?”

Oliver sighed. “The Archivist’s death somehow… empowered me? I don’t honestly know. There was a lot of manipulation from others, and… it was really a mess. I didn’t actually mean to end anything.”

Oh, gods. “I’m so sorry. I know what that’s like. To be used.”

“I meant to do it,” said Mike, chipper and friendly. “We all fell forever in the sky. It was honestly lovely until there wasn’t anyone else left to tumble.”

My swallow was audible. (And just how did my eye-filled throat replicate the sound of a pharynx gulping?)

“What’s on offer?” said Martin, as though none of this were awkward.

Mike looked at his tea. “Green, I think?”

“Silver needle,” said Oliver.

“Not bad,” said Martin. “I don’t see any baked goods. Jack’s not been by today?”

“No, and don’t ask about him,” said Mike. “They’re on the outs again.”

Martin sighed. “I’m not the type of person to say this, normally, but if they’d just fuck already…”

Both the other men laughed.

I didn’t. I stared at him.

“Agnes,” he said.

“Jack Barnabas?”

“Yeah.”

“How is he—he wasn’t an avatar of anything! How did—”

“He’s just here, for some re-”

“Did he end the world, too?” I blurted. “What did he do, boil the world in coffee?”

Mike laughed. “Nikola said you were funny.”

Right, no one mentioned that. “Nikola. She’s here. Like Jane Prentiss.”

“Not like Jane. Imprisoned,” said Martin. “She's not loose.”

“Why the hell is Jane loose?”

“Because she behaves. She doesn’t attack anyone, and she’s got a job handling rubbish dumps.”

I stared at him. “She hated me.”

“She hated the Archives. I have no idea if she’ll hate you now,” said Martin. “There are no Archives here.”

The Archives were the Eye. I am pretty much all eyes. I rubbed my face.

“Cheer up,” said Mike. “Sit down. Have a cuppa. You’ll feel better.”

Come to think of it, Mike wasn’t such a hero, either. “So we all ended the world, by choice or otherwise, and now we’re playing… Game On?”

Mike laughed. It was such a friendly laugh from a sociopath. “Game On? That’s a blast from the past. You watched that show?”

“My grandmother approved of it, for some reason,” I muttered, looking down.

“Martin, you were right,” said Mike chummily. “He’s adorable.”

“Told you,” said Martin.

I was made of eyes, had been removed from my floating, emotionless hell for all of a month, and this was the conversation? “I… I’m not.”

“Would you look at that expression?” said Mike brightly. “Like someone walked over his grave.”

Suddenly, I felt watched.

This… this was a test?

I knew it was.

From whom? Why? Leitner, maybe. I didn’t dare reach for more information, reach into the Eye when I don’t yet know if I could do that and return. But this—whether any of them knew it—was a test. I was just coming out of my cocoon, and here was a man who’d hurt me, lightly flirting with my lover.

A man who sounded nice, but was not. A man who behaved amicably, yet had not cared when his parents died due to his mistake with the Corruption.

He wasn’t being aggressive, but still pressing buttons as if to trigger a response.

Who the hell was watching this? What, was I going to be “imprisoned” like Nikola if I did this wrong?

That was a leap, logically. All I knew was this was a test—possibly without the consent of anyone here—and I did not know why yet. I would not live in paranoia again.

(Let me show you whispered the One who’d had me for damn near a thousand years, and I shuddered.)

“Jon?” said Martin.

“It’s a lot,” I said, going for the truth. I somehow doubt floating in facts for a millennia made me any better of a liar. “I don’t… are we even on different sides, anymore?”

“Sides?” said Mike. “Sure. I’m on the ‘let’s don’t die’ side. You?”

Oliver looked sad. “Sorry, Jon. It is a lot. But you have time to figure it out.”

And suddenly, I wanted a test of my own—to see how they’d react to questions. “But why is this happening? What is the point of it all? What, are we all just being… collected, or something?”

“Damned if I know,” said Mike, and toasted me with his tea. “But I, for one, am grateful to be here. Wasn’t fun, toward the end. I was all that was left.”

I got it, suddenly. “Your god fed on you.”

A crack appeared in his cheer. “My god fed on me. I… I’m still Vast. But I can’t forget that. I can’t just let it go.” He looked down.

Oliver put his arm around Mike’s shoulders. “We’ve all got a lot to process, still.”

The Eye dropped a meme into my head. Vulnerability? In MY sociopath? It’s more likely than you think!

Stop that, I thought at It.

“Text me if Jack brings anything by, okay?” said Martin. “Come on, Jon. Time to meet our benefactor.”

Oliver perked up. “Oh! Good. You’ll like him.”

Mike shrugged. “He’s not awful.” He kept his eyes down; Oliver’s arm stayed around his shoulder.

I didn’t know how to read that after the look Mike had given Martin. Blast it all, what was this drama? This was worse than secondary.

I let Martin lead me away.

The gray rectangles opened onto a lovely street I had not yet seen. It was quiet; a park bloomed across the way, bright with bird-speak and pretty flowers. A few red post-boxes and yellow fire hydrants fit the spring weather and the early bloom.

London, but not one I knew.

There were no cars. I couldn’t hear any, at least. More buildings like ours stretched down the street on this side; there were no shops.

We stopped at the curb and waited.

I couldn’t wait, though, any longer. “Jane Prentiss. Nikola Orsinov. Explain.”

“I’d really rather let Leitner do it,” said Martin.

“But—”

“I hate… all of this. I don’t want to think about so many people. It hurts, Jon.”

I dropped that like a hot potato. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.” He took a deep breath and, instead of a potato, dropped a bomb: “It was thoughts of you that fueled me, you know.”

“Wh… what?” I managed, and at that moment, a car came around the far corner.

It was the first one I’d seen here; expensive and black, rather large, but silent—like someone took a Bentley and refitted it to be electric. It pulled without a sound to a stop in front of us and waited, windows tinted.

“Absolutely haunted,” I proclaimed.

Martin laughed and opened the back door.

#

Maybe it was haunted. The quarter glass was tinted, too, and whoever was behind it never spoke.

“What’s he like?” I said, soft.

Martin shrugged. “If Mick Jagger and Neo from The Matrix had a baby,” he began.

“Stop.” I raised my hands. “Dear lord, Martin, you’re going to summon something.”

He laughed again, then leaned forward and took my hands between his eyes. Tears glistened on his lashes. “I forgot to laugh until you came back. I mean… I’d do it. For people. Because I… I’m trying, Jon. I’m trying so hard.” He stopped to swallow around the roughness in his voice. “But you’re the only one I don't have to try for. I’m tired.”

Don’t panic, I told myself, because I didn’t think I had the power to save him. Don’t panic, I told myself, because I wasn’t even comfortable in my own skin yet, and here if I failed, I might drag him down with me. Don’t panic,I told myself, because this was Martin, and I would do anything to keep him safe.

I brought his hands to my lips and kissed them. “I don’t know what I can do for you. I’m just… I’m just me. Whatever that is anymore. I don’t know. But whatever I am, all that I am, Martin… I’m yours.”

He met my eyes. His own had gone silver with dark gray radial streaks and an eerie limbal ring of blue.

I took a breath and held it, unable to move. I’d never seen anything so beautiful.

So… so horrible, what was I thinking? What was this? Was he in pain? Was he slipping away? Was—

He leaned in, gripped the back of my head, and kissed me with warm breath and warm lips and nary a hint of mist or fading, and I clutched his shoulders and pulled him in for more.

“Silly,” he whispered in my ear. “I’m fine. I saw that look, Jonathan Sims. You got all spooked.”

“I know you’re fine,” I lied, clinging.

“I’m not a ghost, either,” he said.

I was still laughing when the car pulled to a stop and the door was opened by a surprise.

Jared Hopworth bent down nearly double to peer into the back seat, chauffeur cap jaunty on his head, elephantine suit straining at his shoulders. “Come on, lovebirds,” he said. “You ain’t the only job I got today, so move it.”

I gawked at him.

Martin dragged me out of the back. “Thanks.”

“Sure.” Jared gave Martin the same look Mike had.

Maybe I had gone mad, after all. Maybe this was entirely my subconscious inventing a world, revolving around the fact that Martin was desirable, even to me (which was something), and so it only made sense that all the characters with speaking parts would want him.

Or maybe I was just jealous, and had never been good at reading people, anyway.

Jared drove off, the vehicle silent.

Ahead of us rose a ridiculous building that could’ve gone head-to-head with the Magnus Institute, but instead of Victorian academia, this one was a gods-damned church.

It rose in ridiculous splendor, its doorways a pointed arches, its enormous rose window portraying some strange-looking knight battling a hydra. Ornately carved flowers and fluting patterned the building’s facade.

“Why are we meeting in a church?” I said.

“I think it’ll make more sense when you meet him,” said Martin. “He’s, um. Dramatic?”

“Wonderful.”

He smiled and opened the heavy door for me. It was unlocked.

#

The inside of the gothic church was… a gothic church. Flying buttresses. Vaulted ceilings. The pews had been removed, replaced with desks and filing cabinets; boxes of files lined the walls.

Then I caught a glimpse of another Martin and damn near fell over my own feet.

Another—

Another Martin?

Another—

“Steady,” said Martin. “That one’s… that one was never yours.”

“What?” I said, staring at the other Martin.

The other Martin looked spooked and skedaddled. A door slammed.

Everybody else here looked at us.

There were… there were people I did not know, and I was deeply glad of that. But there were also people I did.

Two Jude Perrys, for one, sitting side by side, with wildly different hairstyles. A Melanie, with both her eyes; one, two, three Georgies, who seemed to be focused on some sort of project building a tower from tarot cards.

I couldn’t move. Are we all just being collected? I’d asked Mike, and for one dizzying moment, wondered if I were right.

“I thought Sasha warned you,” Martin whispered.

“Not… really,” I managed.

Another door opened, and all heads turned away from me and toward the other end. “Well, well, well!” boomed a voice I knew—a voice like Christopher Lee’s, a voice with weight and wealth and the wide confidence of a man who rarely hears a no.

It looked like Jurgen Leitner—if Leitner came wrapped in black leather, wearing a pair of green-lensed spectacles (small and round lenses, very trendy, I supposed), numerous rings that sparked with some power tickling the back of my senses, and a gods-damned sword strapped to his hip.

Right. That cinched it. I had definitely gone mad.

“Come on, come on,” he said, gesturing. “Come along, now—nobody’s going to bite you, Jon. May I call you Jon?”

“Please,” I said, years of training in social norms finally coming to use as the parts of my brain in charge of voluntary behavior seemed to have stalled. (The image of a skull full of eyes rolling back in an Edwardian fainting spell did not help at all.)

“Come on, now. Come on!” He held open the door back there—another deep, pointed-arch affair—and beamed.

There were smiles among some of the people here. They still watched me; wary, to a one, and far too many with baggage, but no one yet seemed inclined to attack me, or anything.

All three Georgies looked sad, which was awful.

Martin tugged my arm.

Right. For him, I would do this, and not turn around and run away down the street as fast as I could and hide in the bushes and hope to die a quiet, eye-rolling death where I could harm no one and no one could harm me.

Leitner was taller than I remembered, but then, I’d not been in a good place when we met. “There you are,” he said with great satisfaction, and stepped aside for us to enter his office.

“I think I’m in shock, just so you know,” I informed him as I stepped inside.

“Wouldn’t expect anything else,” he said with great cheer, and closed the door behind us.

------

Notes:

Looks like this monsterverse AU is go. Oh, boy, what have I gotten myself into?

[nervousladytraveler]

Just curious...in the sequel to Someone Who Knows Her Own Mind, will Demelza's father for brothers come into the picture at all?

Thanks @abradner1 for the curious question. Brothers for sure! And hopefully without giving too much away, here's a bit (involving brothers) in a completed sequel to the incomplete sequel.

----

“What if they moved into the North Barn? The main apartment is spacious and quite lovely,” Ross said. Your design--but he didn't need to say that outloud. “Drake could work here until Sam gets back and then…”

“Ross, love, I see where you are goin’ with this and I do appreciate it.”

“Demelza, you are a part of my life now so if that means caring for your family, taking them in as necessary…”

“Careful Ross, I have an awful lot of family you've scarce met. Invite two and the rest will no doubt follow,” she laughed. “Oh, wait--you really are serious?”

“Yes, but you are not,” he said. He wasn't disappointed that he hadn't read her properly and tried to understand where he'd gone so wrong.

“Listen, Ross,” she said. “I have an idea--a counter proposal--that I think you’ll like better. At least I think you will.” 

“Go on,” he said softly.

“What if I gave up my room in Truro so that Sam, Rosina, Drake...and whoever else could all live there at the flat. And then I’d move in…here.”

His chest swelled and for a moment he struggled to catch his breath. 

“I love your ideas,” he said and pulled her close. “I always have.” He raised her chin just a bit so he could kiss her lips. He could feel her smiling so he pulled away just a little knowing she wanted to speak.

“Thank goodness,” she laughed. “For a moment I was that nervous I’d read you wrong and you’d be mutterin’ somethin’ about how you’re flattered but really you do need your space and we should be takin’ this slow…”

“We’ve had quite a few years of slow, thank you very much. And if I truly wanted my own space would I be inviting your brothers to move in?” he teased. ”Have I not made it clear how much I want you here with me always?” Then he had a panicked thought. “Oh shit-- you didn’t mean you wanted to move into the barn alone…and not into the main house...did you?”

“Not unless you’re there with me, Ross. Or is that our new plan, Ross? All the Carnes take over Nampara and we get turfed out to the barn? You’d love my stepmum, Nell.” Now it was her turn to tease.

“Go to sleep, my love. You are enjoying yourself far too much at my expense.” Ross kissed the top of Demelza’s head. It was still a little damp from the bath she’d had earlier and smelled like jasmine and citrus.

“My favourite pastime, it turns out,” she laughed. “But Ross, really, thank you.”

He didn't want her to think he was dismissing her thoughts so his hand paused on the lamp next to the bed and he turned to face her..

“For what?” he asked softly. 

“For thinkin’ of my family. And before you say anythin’--because I know what you’ll say--you're only doin it for yourself and to keep me happy makes you happy, blah, blah, blah--I also know you're doin’ it because you can't help but to help people. It's in your nature. That’s why I’m here after all.”

“No, Demelza. You're here because you chose to be here. That first time all those years ago but also now. So it is I that should be thanking you.”

“I was merely seekin’ what needed to be found. Now I found it, I have no reason for further pilgrimages. Unless we go on them together.”

I will follow you anywhere, my love, he thought.

“Good night, Demelza,” he said and this time switched off the light.

[amemoire]

ㅤㅤKinich isn't afraid to die. Growing up in Natlan— the nation of war, home of warriors— he's long since made peace with that inevitability. Its why he doesn't hesitate to take up arms or put himself in harms way when necessary. Of course, it helps that his skills grant him so much confidence that he doesn't feel the need to worry. ( But that doesn't make him overconfident to the point of recklessness ). Nonetheless, he knows that day will come and has already faced death in the Night Warden Wars. The only concern he has is dying while he's still in top form, allowing Ajaw to take his body and do who knows what with his prowess.

ㅤㅤHowever, just because he isn't afraid to die and has already done so once, this doesn't mean it didn't affect him. In addition to having a large scar on his back and chest from being pierced, he also has mild PTSD. He's able to go about his days and still participate in the pilgrimage for the most part. But sometimes he has nightmares and flashbacks to that day. Having to kill monsters wearing familiar faces— of tribe members, his friends, his parents. Something he didn't have the time or liberty to think about in the moment. And the memory of being the last one standing against a seemingly endless horde. Tired and powerless in that cold, dark place where even Ajaw didn't dare to make some snide remark.

ㅤㅤThe events of 5.1 wrenched all this to the surface. But he had to shove those memories aside as much as he could, not unlike like that day, and let instinct take over. He had a job to do and people to protect.

[tevcrozier]

**Siren's Compulsion**

*Enchantment (Compulsion)*

- **Level:** 4th

- **Casting Time:** 1 action

- **Range:** 120 feet

- **Components:** V, S, M (a seashell)

- **Duration:** Concentration, up to 1 minute

You sing a haunting melody that compels those who hear it to heed the call of the depths. Choose any number of creatures within range that can hear your song. Each target must succeed on a Wisdom saving throw or be charmed by you for the duration.

While charmed in this way, the affected creature regards you as a trusted friend and believes your song leads to safety beneath the waves. At the start of each of its turns, it must use its movement to willingly approach the nearest body of water, such as a sea, ocean, or large lake, if possible, using the most direct route available.

Once the creature reaches the water's edge, it feels an irresistible urge to enter and dive beneath the surface, attempting to drown itself. The creature must make a Wisdom saving throw at the end of each of its turns while charmed. On a success, the creature shakes off the charm and realizes the danger. On a failure, the creature continues to believe in the safety of the depths and remains compelled to enter the water.

The spell ends on a creature if it succeeds on the saving throw or if it takes damage from any source.

**At Higher Levels:** When you cast this spell using a spell slot of 5th level or higher, you can target one additional creature for each slot level above 4th.

---

Being under the spell of Siren's Compulsion is a harrowing experience, akin to being caught in a waking nightmare where reason and self-preservation give way to an overwhelming allure.

At first, there's the haunting melody, echoing in your mind like a distant memory. It draws you in, filling your thoughts with a sense of familiarity and safety, as though the singer is an old friend you can trust without question. The world around you seems to fade into insignificance, replaced by the singular focus on reaching the water's edge.

Every step toward the shore feels like a necessary pilgrimage, driven by an inexplicable urge to find solace beneath the waves. The call of the ocean grows louder with each passing moment, drowning out any doubts or hesitations that might arise. It's not just a desire to be near the water—it's an instinctual need to submerge yourself, to embrace the depths as a sanctuary rather than a peril.

As you stand at the water's edge, the compulsion intensifies. The waves beckon with a hypnotic rhythm, promising safety and serenity below. Despite any rational thoughts screaming against it, you find yourself drawn to wade into the water, to surrender to the unseen force pulling you under.

The struggle within is palpable. A part of you fights desperately against the charm, trying to break free from the spell's grasp. Yet, the enchantment is relentless, clouding your judgment and distorting your perceptions. It's as if your very senses betray you, convincing you that the only path to peace lies beneath the surface, your lungs filling with water.

If you manage a brief moment of clarity—a fleeting grasp of reality—you might attempt to resist. The sheer terror of drowning, the primal fear of losing oneself in the abyss, can momentarily break through the spell's hold. But for many, that clarity is fleeting, lost again as the siren's song reasserts its irresistible pull, a calming blanket over your mind.

In those moments, under the spell's influence, you're both victim and witness to your own undoing. The ocean becomes a yawning abyss of deception and danger. Each tranquil step deeper into the water feels like an acceptance of fate, a surrender to forces beyond comprehension. To be submerged feels divine. The only true peace can be felt through releasing the air from your lungs.

[bonefall]

Thoughts on Wasp? I like the idea of cats joining that turn out that the Clans aren’t great… but also it feels… weird? Like it seems like another “lazy cat bad” on some levels. I don’t mind him not joining the Clans but these “outsider learns they’re not fit for the Clans” things always give me a pause from the Erins. Also interested in how you would handle him!

Moonkitti's video on him is really well worded, if you haven't seen it yet. I do think he's different from the way that other books tend to portray outsiders in that they are saying that he was driven away by the xenophobia of the Clans... but.

They still make him extremely disinterested in Clan life while he's in ThunderClan. I think that was a massive blunder to write, if the thing they're trying to say is "XENOPHOBIA PREVENTS OTHERWISE ENTHUSIASTIC MIGRATION"

It would have hit harder if it was Wafflepaw who tried to run to RiverClan, got assaulted, and then didn't want to be a Clan cat anymore.

Wafflepaw WANTS to be a warrior. Wasp did not. It reads more like Wasp getting hate crime'd was a "last straw" more than THE reason why he won't stay.

That's where you're getting that vibe they're saying "lazy cat bad," imo. It's a bit different from usual, but it still seems like the narrative is saying that Wasp really didn't belong here anyway.

(no, Nightheart's moment where he looks at the camera and says "he could have been fine!" doesn't change that they showed, in their text, with the actions they wrote, that Wasp was not enjoying being part of the Clans anyway. If that was their intended thesis, their writing was sloppy.)

It feels especially weird that Bee didn't go with Frostpaw. Bee was the character with a lot more setup and that strange dream. A lot of people were confusing Bee and Wasp when the book first came out and I don't blame them.

Most importantly, you can't talk about Wasp without also mentioning one of THE worst lines I think has ever been written into a Warrior Cats book. The part where tigerHeartstar says, "Those cats who just committed a hate crime were perfectly good people before the evil dictator took over. If we kill the evil dictator, I'm sure they'll CHANGE BACK"

I'm still REELING. Fuck you MEAAAN "CHANGE BACK????" CHANGE BACK? LIKE BEING A BIGOT IS UNCOMFORTABLE SHOES???

CHANGE BACK... me bringing my evil dollars up to the villain store and exchanging it for racism coins... change back...

So when I get around to it, I'm going to evaluate if Wasp is even actually necessary in the form he's in. BB is already about xenophobia and bigotry and the harm it does. Frostpaw has no shortage of examples to witness what Thistle Law is, and what it does to those excluded from Clan Culture.

When I first made my Family Tree for RiverClan, I actually ended up making Splashstar's MOM, Havenpelt, an ex-rogue. I think seeing him order a hate crime against his own mother would be a LOT more impactful here, actually.

What Frostpaw DOES need is allies and friends. I'm already starting by expanding her little "DND Party," a word I'm using to affectionately refer to some cats who will be following her home from her pilgrimage to the Park. 99% chance that Nightheart is going to become a permanent member of this party, joining RiverClan at the end of ASC. Waffle will be another. She'll probably also pick up a Tribe cat.

Wasp will be on this party, but I won't decide what happens to them until I see what that last book has in store. Who knows, he might come back (though I hope not, run as far away from these ghouls as possible Wasp!!)

[hawkepockets]

BG3 CHARACTER PAGE

Jove they/any 🌩️ blue dragonborn 🌩️ paladin 🌩️ guild artisan

🌩️ multiclass: bard

Jove’s Oath of Ancients is a sacred commitment to affirm life, foster joy, be excellent to each other, and PARTY ON, DUDES!! A literally sworn optimist, they can come across as risk-happy, blasé, even callous in their dismissal of danger and negativity, but it’s also easy to get swept up in their huge dragonborn muscles and +9 rizz modifier and believe them when they say it’ll all be okay.

They used to be a gifted artisan, but don’t talk about their career or how it ended. Now they’re a paladin errant, wielding their giant glaive and ferocious positivity against the agents of despair. After losing an eye, breaking their wrist and their oath, Jove’s optimism has grown back harder and more gnarled than before, and they tend to defer to their companions for major decisions, not trusting their own judgment anymore.

Romancing Shadowheart Lae’zel. Best friends with Gale. Healer tank.

My first solo playthrough PC, abandoned at Moonrise Towers (for now).

TAG: #oc: jove

Estis she/her 🌞 gold dwarf 🌞 dream guardian

Ritika Estis was the master metallurgist who taught Jove to work with molten materials, despite their misgivings about being a blue dragonborn without fire breath or resistance. She passed away some years ago in Baldur’s Gate, but Jove’s dream guardian takes her form—whether as a cheap ploy to gain Jove’s trust, or as a genuine echo of their old mentor, they can’t be sure.

Auntie she/her ◾️ githyanki ▪️wild magic barbarian◾️ The Dark Urge

▪️ multiclass: storm sorcerer

This gith knows nothing about her life before the nautiloid, but since Lae’zel addressed her (and mocked her) like an elder relative she answers to “Auntie.” Lonely, curious, reactive. Center of a Venn diagram between “cigarette mom” and “Frankenstein’s monster.” Looks and fights like a gith, but lacks any cultural context or instincts that would make her feel like one.

Romancing Gale & Minthara.

Second playthrough, the only one I’ve completed.

TAGS: #oc: auntie, #ellie’s fucked up playthrough

Deadeye & Singer she/her 🏹 human 🏹 rogue/ranger she/her 🪕 halfling 🪕 bard

Auntie’s 2 hirelings. Deadeye was a young hunter, blinded in an accident and then given her sight back by a True Soul… just so she could watch her entire village burn, then have—her killers thought—her eyes put out and closed forever. Singer was a halfling traveling apothecary, killed for refusing to tend to Absolutists and sing for them after the massacre.

Though both women’s presences are cold and diminished and they can only speak with Withers’s vocabulary, traces of their personality remain. Deadeye was playful once, and still has the light step, deft hand, and trace of a wicked smile to prove it. Astarion swears he’s heard her coo and giggle faintly while playing with Scratch at night, long after the party’s living members are asleep. Singer was stern, matronly, and humorless with others, her face only relaxing when she was absorbed in her herbcraft or music making. Auntie gifted her Lihala’s lute, though it hurts to see a bard outlined against the campfire again, quietly picking out the notes of “The Power,” just feet away from the shadow of Alfira’s bloodstain.

Auntie doesn’t know she is a Bhaalspawn, but she feels instinctively that it’s her duty to care for murdered bodies and souls. She knows the names these revanants bore in life (Maddala and Brenna), but doesn’t use them, out of respect for these women’s vengeful echoes being different from the women themselves, and she’s as protective of them as she is of her “real” companions.

Terpsichore 🐏 she/her 🐏 satyr 🐏 rogue

She sings! She dances! She rams you with her horns!

Like Shadowheart, Terpsichore is on a holy mission for her patron goddess, armed only with her wits, blades, and the memories that her enclave—her Selûnite enclave—considered necessary for her to complete the task she’s been set: a pilgrimage to Moonrise Towers to assassinate an agent of Shar.

One second, she was crossing the Tower’s threshold (or windowsill, in the adept rogue’s case)—the next that she knew, she was being sealed in a pod aboard the nautiloid for processing. Failed. Abandoned. Godless. For now. If she doesn’t salvage this.

Terpsichore was told she’d know her target on sight, but she can’t be sure it isn’t Shadowheart—after all, while wrestling for the chance to kill each other they saw flashes of their own memories in each other’s minds, and Terpsichore feels… a lot… when she lays eyes on this particular enemy. ;-)

Romance: 3 guesses

TAG: #oc: terpsichore

[emissaryalder]

who?: @serkanxulusoy | @adamoromerof | @floratitus | @romeoverga | @hearthstonc where?: the meeting house

^*^

"Call me crazy, but is it really necessary to come up with so many defensive strategies? I mean, don't get me wrong I could toss up vicious trap wards all around the city, but should I? Time is money, baby." Almost immediately, Alder throws up his hands and laughs boisterously. "Kidding! I like helping out around Lupercal. I'm just saying, magic is great and all, but no number of magical defenses can make a lycan population feel secure, even I know that much. And more people are moving here every day. From the sounds of it, we might see another boom after Lupercalia." Even when he sounded reasonable, Alder was playing an angle. From now until the end of the massive lycan pilgrimage, he'd have a closely trained eye on each member of the Lupo council. "Don't need to tell you that I'm sure. The next alpha will have a huge opening to fill. Any thoughts about that? They'd have to be well respected and knowledgable about the pack's history in Rome, right?"

[lookbluesoup]

😭 for headcanon asks!

😭- how does my muse cope with sadness?

In his early ARR days, Nahte would mostly hide it. He didn't like looking vulnerable and this became increasingly reinforced well into Heavensward because he felt so much pressure to appear strong and confident for the sake of those depending on him.

When he took on the role of a Dark Knight, he had so much pain and sorrow repressed away that it nearly killed him. I hc Fray's manifestation was partly due to Nahte's skill as a summoner and subconscious breakdown. His PTSD was so bad at this point he was closed off emotionally even from A'mahl (Nahte's partner), hallucinating, and dissociative/amnesiac about some of the worst of his traumas. He would disappear for days sometimes and no one would know where he'd been, nor would he talk about it.

After that reached its peak and Nahte was forced to physically battle his own inner darkness to protect the people he loved, he realized this wasn't sustainable. He started to open up again to A'mahl and Haurchefant, making a deliberate choice to trust people who cared about him to actually help take care of him when he needed help.

Nowadays he strikes a pretty good balance and isn't afraid to let himself feel sad. He's learned pushing the emotion back only makes it harder to work through, and knows the people who love him are willing to stay by his side even when it's not all sunshine and roses.

So the emotion gets to roll through him, examined and accepted for what it is without judgment or shame. He still struggles to rest sometimes, but will take breaks to grieve if necessary. Often he'll spend time with his partners, just being close and reinforcing a sense of safety; other times he'll allow himself solitude and quiet to process. He may write letters or visit pilgrimage sites. And then, when he's ready, will focus again on positive feelings and hopes to take the next step forward.

Headcanon Meme

[weonlyneedfour]

"My condolences to your vampire friend, little one." "Keep them. And don't call me that." "I am sincere. Human blood tastes revolting to the palette, to need it for sustenance must be truly humiliating. And you are little, as are all humans. But yes, Miss Ion, I’ve heard about the disaster at the auction in Toulonville." "Then you know why I'm here."

"You came to me because there were Tiger Gallery representatives at the scene, and your theory is that I was behind them, trying to attain the, "Gellar Meteor", yes?" "Let’s call it more a, currently polite guess, than theory. Someone had to send them there in enemy grounds with orders to engage if necessary."

"Yes, and to break regional agreements over some old trinket and pick a hopeless battle with the local agent, ridiculous. I have nothing I want in the country you fled to, Kartoshka, nothing but my wish for it to choke to death under the weight of it’s murderous greed. And for that, I merely have to wait, as I have the past century. I remain under confinement, as per our agreement. I have yet to break my end of our bargain."

"Yes, Tsar Tiger, always the gentleman, always the monster with a code, I know your script and I am not impressed by it. I’m not feeling patient enough this evening to take your word for it."

"I have nothing worth lying about. And you are no one worth lying to. What is the matter, can you not sense lies? See my soul, or feel the atoms around my heartbeat, perhaps? I'm sure you can think of something your abilities can do."

"You have no heart, Tiger." "Precisely." "And no soul either. You are nothing but a shell of fizzling contempt and violence where life should be. And if you don’t even have anything worth saying, I'll take my leave. The black hats of Toulonville brutalized my friend, I have no time to waste around you.”

"Tch, "black hat", you even sound like them now. But as is, if you want a name, the Vicars have discussed Professor Attila's latest pilgrimage to Arkansas. He is operating in America, and he takes an interest in the ancient and the arcane. He quite dislikes me, so he might have thought of hiring the Gallery to invade that auction and breach conduct in an effort to reach me."

"...I’m tracking Doctor Aurora's whereabouts. Her interest in weaponizing cosmic phenomenon marks her as a suspect. She joined up with you after I left the Rezina Circus, and I know you keep track of your associates even from here."

"Of course you know, but she was your acquaintance. If she wanted that meteor, she would have shown up in person to claim it, and brought her cosmo-tons with her, and she would have alerted you directly. I take it you must not be on speaking terms with your old clown troupe ever since you fled to America.”

“I’m not taking constructive criticism from a murderer.” “No, you're just chasing after one. I assume you don’t want to hear about Aurora, then.” “She eluded me in Belarus three days ago. If, if you know about her, where I can find her, stop her, tell me where she was last found….Please.”

“Tch, “please” is profane coming from you, don’t do that. Still, Aurora hasn’t been herself in quite some time, it’s possible she tires of the game, just as I did. All I know is that she’s on the run on her own, and she’s cut off contact with the Vicars and me. She might make an attempt to raid my base in Volgograd for supplies in the meanwhile. I suggest you head there. And getting back to that meteor, if my 86 years of experience mean anything to you, and they do because you are still trying to pry answers out of me, then I’ll offer this: it is far more possible that the auctioneer hired the Gallery to pose a front, to throw off suspicion on their own repurposing of the meteor. Had the agent Sangrier not arrived in the scene, he might have ordered the Gallery to assassinate all the other rogues in the audience, to have the American agents blame the Gallery while he breaks protocol without interference. If you want to play detective, you have three suspects now.”

“Four”.

“Yes, four. Suspect me as much as you wish, but you forget: My position in the Vicars of Hatred does not allow me to command the Tiger Gallery anymore, I haven’t issued direct orders to any of my peons for eleven years now. None have had the courage to outright replace me, but they do as they please ignoring the Vicar mandates. And the Beast Union, well, they've never quite obeyed me to begin with. No, Miss Ion, I had nothing to do with your friend’s accident. I’m afraid you missed my violent miscreant era by quite a few decades."

“Is that your way of threatening me?”

“I can do no such thing, no. But perhaps, if you hated me more, had your powers been developing faster, maybe you could be the one to finally kill me. Hrrn. A blessing that would be, no? We could have terminated our agreement sooner. You hold yourself back, and someone will kill you for it. You do not believe me, but as ally or enemy, I live to serve. I am simply lamenting what could have been. ”

“Then serve me by keeping your putrid tongue to yourself, Tsar Tiger. I am not your friend, nor another of your little projects. You deserve no forgiveness or respect. You are but one of a thousand ghosts trying to drag me into the pit of regret with them and I'm tired of it."

"Well, then don't say I didn't warn you. Hard as it may be to believe, I have always been very sincere in my attempts to help idiot children in hats and capes. I've spent decades hammering order out of chaos, putting vile agents in line, and I am bound to your suicidal lifestyles whether you want me there or not, so why don't you make this easier for the both of us and tell me, what else would you have me do?"

"On most days I would simply like you to fuck off and die. And if you can't do that, if I'm the next person your curse latched onto, I would like you to atone, for the lives you ruined, for the part you played in breaking the world, for everything you could have done of your life when you had the chance."

"And I'm giving you that chance, Tsar Tiger. You don't deserve it, but you have it. Help me, and I'll give you what you want."

"...impudent human brat. What makes you think you know what I want?"

"I know about Cadet Solarbolt. I know what you were trying to do together. It is the only reason I'm helping you."

"....."

"And when we’re done, I’ll help you see your own journey to oblivion myself. You can apologize to him, and the ghosts surrounding you, as much as you want then. I'm going to go find Aurora. Until next time."

....

“I’ll look forward to it then, little one.”

Tsar Tiger

Title: Tyrant Servant. Alter Ego: Sevastyan the Timber Tabby. Nationality: Russian tiger-human hybrid. Occupation: Crime Lord. Philanthropist. Blacksmith and lumberjack (formerly). Base of Operations: Volgograd, Russia. The Tiger Gallery and the Beast Union have members and associates around the globe. The Vicars of Hatred operate within Europe and parts of Asia. Likes: Solitude. Mementos he collects. Had a disco phase. Dislikes: Humanity. Back pain. Traveling by boat. Skill: Financial management. Intimidation. Warfare. Group affiliation: Founder of the Tiger Gallery. Leader of the Beast Union. Councilman of the Vicars of Hatred. 

Former partner of Cadet Solarbolt and The Solarbolt Family.