#enter my domain of side characters that only I like to play with for it is silly time

[certifieddilfenjoyer]

Astral Prism, Orpheus & Raphael Theory

So you know how most people in Baldur's Gate 3 fandom make the Raphael joke?

I'm here to tell you that it's extremely hurtful, because his character has a lot more depth than some of you are willing to see.

Behold, my Baldur's Gate 3 theory:

Right before we enter Act 3, we are jumped by githyanki who want to retrieve our Astral Prism. We are summoned to the Dream Visitor - The Emperor, to help him in the fight.

We find out then that our supposed ally is an illithid but there is one more guy, The Gith, the Orpheus, The Prince of the Comet.

You can ask the Emperor what the heck is a githyanki doing there and he will tell you the brief story about the War of The Comet*.

He is going to mention, that he is bound by INFERNAL chains. Hold on? How come?

After we are done with the Royal Guard, we can go to the upper left side from Orpheus's prison and find an ancient Githyanki disc. It will tell us, that Vlaakith had some infernal business conducted with a devil with wry charm. Of course Raphael isn't the only devil capable of being charming, but it feels natural for it to be him when he is already a very important character in game.

Baldur's Gate 3 Wiki says that it is indeed Vlaakith and Raphael.

OK, but why would they exchange the Astral Prism and is it Vlaakith getting it or Raphael receiving the relic?

He is giving it to Vlaakith. But how would he be in possession of such an artifact?

My theory: He is the one who had it created for that trade. (Commissioned from someone else)

Explanation:

If you look at Hope's and Orpheus's prison, you will notice a striking resemblance at the crystals that can be only shattered by the Orphic Hammer. A Hammer, that Raphael is in possession of! How convenient!

(Even Hope's and Orpheus' eyes are glowing in the same way when they are enslaved.**)

The runes and the design of both Astral Prism and Orpheus' shackles are also strikingly similar. It does not look like anything of Githyanki creation, it screams infernal.

But that still doesn't really add up, does it? Who would possibly create such a powerful object which plays such a major role in the plot?

Here, we have to familiarise ourselves with the wonderful post by Bearhugsandshrugs

Em explains above who the people visiting House of Hope are***.

One of them is a crazy, extremely knowledgeable wizard who specialises in creating copies of himself which prevents him from dying in battle.

When we kill Raphael, we kill him in HoH, in his own domain. He should be gone, for good! But yet, upon interacting with the Orb of Infernal Envisioning, we see that he is soon to be devoured by his father. Hells do not split into separate planes - so either Mephisto snatched his soul somehow (which seems impossible because his body is still there and devil's souls are their bodies) or Raphael respawned and his father took one of his clones or something like that. (He's just so cool I had to put it in here, but let me return to my theory now)

Another name on the list points out to Raphael's interest in different planes (even the ones which don't seem to be reachable) but also, magical puzzle boxes capable of holding items inside. As you can see, the name on the list is under the uninvited visitors section, which most likely means that they either fuel his soul pillars or have been turned into a soul coin. So it didn't have to be that particular person helping Raphael with the creation of the Astral Prism, but it points out to his interest in that topic.

Now, when would that even happen?

Karsus Folly took place in -339 DR, BG3 takes place in 1492 DR, around 2000 years later.

The enslavement of Orpheus - so also the Vlaakith trade - happened at around -4000 DR.

It is not impossible that Raphael was already around and scheming at that time. Why? Because Mephistopheles gifted Haarlep to Raphael most likely when Raphael was about to get the Crown before his father snatched it. Comparing their visual age, it seems that Raphael was already a young adult cambion at around the War of The Comet age.

Another thing is the fact that, Kith'rak Voss, the badass Githyanki Red Dragon rider, the sword of Vlaakith, found out about Raphael and contacted him and told us to get our ass inside Sharess Caress. Raphael doesn't mention him having an 'office' there, it's Voss who does it. Only upon entering the place, we can interact with Korrilla who's like, hey girl go upstairs Raphael rented a room hoping you'd drop by. HE KNOWS WE SPOKE TO VOSS, he has to! And also, Voss was around when Orpheus got enslaved! According to Wiki he was inside the Astral Plane when that happened. And Raphael has absolutely 0 interest in trading with Voss, yet the githyanki managed to reach him somehow. In my opinion, when he finally realised the lies of Vlaakith, he was looking for a specific devil, for Raphael, because he might remember him from back then.

(* Justice to my poor Githyanki, the most based and cool race in BG3. Imagine how painful it has to be to realize over centuries of time that you helped the self-proclaimed queen establish her tyranny over your own people because you've been brainwashed to believe that Orpheus is a traitor and Vlaakith the rightful heir of the throne)

(** The eyes, the chains, the crystals. The top of the Orphic Hammer is literally partially built from that same gem/crystal and on top of that, if you use Examine on it, it clearly states that it has been built in Infernal forges.)

(*** headcanon warning: The Amulet of Vigor that is present in the Archive is actually proven to have some... Other invigorating capabilities ☠️☠️☠️ and the old, ancient, crazy wizard has the boudoir privileges. Coincidence? ☠️☠️)

Anyways, to sum up:

• Githyanki disc shows us a deal between Vlaakith and Raphael where the devil gives her the Astral Prism.

• Raphael orders creation of the Orphic Hammer (the name itself, come on, it's such a mockery just like House of Hope) to make sure that he has the means to free him if it will benefit him in any way.

• In exchange for the Hammer, he receives some kind of knowledge of ascension to godhood. (Lae'Zel tells us during the game that ascension is the githyanki's greatest honour but it turns out it is nothing else but ensuring that Vlaakith remains alive and a god, because she just consumes the life force of her greatest warriors)

• Hope's and Orpheus's chains are strikingly similar and the part of the Orphic Hammer is built from the same gem/crystal that seems to be enslaving both of them.

So yea, my humble request is that you start fully appreciating the incredible writing of the game, instead of just focusing on the shallow 'haha bottom' jokes. I could make another post about that itself, but it's pointless. I hope you enjoyed!

[enden-k]

btw now that i can get to it (was busy and had someone over) i can babble a little abt zzz and give my thoughts so far on it if anyone is still wondering whether they should try it or not

first thing i have to say is, to me it feels like a cozy casual kinda game. and i love it. i think thats the part i saw some ppl complain abt

it reminds me a lot of P5 w the overall vibes etc (i played on first release years ago but not the additional stuff afterwards so idk if there were changes to the plot or anything with whatever royal is about) and it was a comfort game for me back then so yea. this might add a lot to why zzz feels like such a comfort game to me

the siblings are not active, playable characters in combat since theyre the proxy guiding and supporting the playable characters (agents) in the hollows (compare it to domains). outside of the hollows you run around with ur chosen sibling and whoever you picked, the other doesnt disappear or becomes irrelevant. they are a unit, run their video store together, theyre one proxy, supporting each other. i already love how trailblazer is more vocal than traveler but the siblings are active, talking parts in cutscenes and whenever theres dialogue choices, your chosen sibling ACTUALLY SAYS IT. this is smth i wished for a while in gnshn so seeing it in zzz made me super happy. it gives them sm life and gets me into it idk how to say it

(this is them btw. pretty mfs)

anw its not overwhelming like gnshn feels to me. gnshn has sm to explore and sm story and its smth i both enjoy and feel exhausted by. now, if you played persona or are familiar, its easier for me to use for comparison. you get to run around as the chosen sibling in the city but the fighting (w the agents you pull from the gacha) all happens in the hollows (similar to when you enter the metaverse). it runs with a day-night cycle and depending on the time, npcs and quests pop up. you can pass the time if you need a specific time of day for an objective, by doing hollow exploration or simply resting in ur room. theres side stuff you do, like running your store and visiting the arcade and play snake akjscbk

the combat itself reminds me of HI3 and wuwa and feels super smooth and fun to me

it has cutscenes etc but the story parts in between are illustrated and presented in a comic/storyboard kinda way? which fits the whole video/movie aesthetics well. its pretty cool

overall, if you didnt try it out yet bc you think it requires lots of energy and time like gnshn, its nothing like that at all. ofc im not through with everything but so far it feels like a very nice game to play casually, w a big cozy bonus when youre spending the day freely in game. i play only on pc or on console when i wanna lay down but this game even i would play on phone or ipad to chill akjscbk

the characters are also pretty fun and cool looking! like, look at them, so far we got

the most chaotic ragtag group in all of new eridu (they share one braincell and its anby who is in charge of it)

fresh looking heavy industry workers (they have a bear)

classic horror housekeeping service who will poison ur tea ig

motorcycle gang (oggling the glasses guy and boss lady super hard, they will be mine when playable-)

public security (they have an actual catboy in case weve got catboy enjoyers here)

special hollow operation elite squad aka the coolest strongest mfs out there taking care of hollow disasters

ALSO THE NPCS!!! LIKE!!! look at the cook!!! tinmaster running the coffee shop!!! the girl selling gadgets or the bunny person running the arcade!!!

even the regular npcs just roaming the streets. theres lots of cool details and life in every bit, its really cool

anw!! idk if this helped or made sense, this is also just my own impressions and feelings so far so yeee. if someone decides to play, i hope you will have fun and get whoever you really really want!!

[lorkai]

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: I wrote this a while back and recently was thinking "hey maybe tumblr folks would like this", I'm not used to write character x character, but these two are adorable and have my whole heart. I loved Venti at first sight when I started playing genshin and wrote tons of fics for him that I probably gonna post later. You can also read this fic on AO3.

Warm gusts of wind blew across her face, sending beads of sweat down her forehead as she ran up the hill, the smell of sunflowers dancing over her messy bangs as she forced her weak legs to keep running.

Normally Lumine would fight the monsters chasing her with the greatest pleasure. Fighting was what she had been doing since she woke up, but today her whole body was screaming for mercy and rest and she wasn't going to deny herself that, after having spent the day fighting hilichurls and abyss sorcerers, doing guild missions and entering multiple domains. All she could do now was run, run and hope her glider worked, any other time she would laugh at the way the stiff wings over her back made her feel. Now she just wanted those same wings to carry her to the safety of solid ground and away from these creatures.

Her heart beat quickly inside her chest as she spared one last look back. Everything was a mess, but she hoped Kaeya's ingenious plan would work - she was the bait everyone was chasing up the hill, but what the monsters didn't know was that a huge siege had been set up to defeat them.

"Don't worry." Paimon muttered.

The fairy pointed to Amber and her bow ready under one of the branches, to Kaeya and Jean hidden in the shadows of the leafy trees. The little fairy knew that Lumine's soft and empathetic heart wanted to continue fighting alongside her friends, but she would stop her this time. Her little hands gently pushing her friend's shoulders to encourage her to keep going.

"They'll be fine, come on, you promised Paimon we'd eat sticky honey roast." Paimon let out a small scream, making Lumine let out a long sigh and massaging her sore ears.

But she couldn't disagree with the fairy; her friends were strong. From all sides, Favonius' knights were attacking without mercy. Lumine's eyes followed every blow of cryo, pyro and anemo that flew everywhere. The ingenuity of the hilichurls and metachurls had cost them a lot and, if by chance, one of them survived the attack, they would certainly think and plan better next time.

Tired, the girl approached the cliff with slow steps, the tall grass brushing her ankles in a way that made her laugh softly. She would meet them down there anyway according to plan. Her job was done and she could leave without worrying about one of her friends getting hurt.

Lumine observed the way the terrain spread out in cobblestones, mud puddles still present due to the recurring rain that had ravaged Mondstadt these last few days. For a second she almost wanted to stand and admire the view, but finally she jumped. Paimon following closely behind her.

The wind enveloped her completely, as if it hugged her and invited her to glide without ever touching the ground again. The feeling of being in the air was freeing, freeing from the pressure of continually having to look for her brother without ever finding him, from the pressure of helping everyone just because she could and was strong. Lumine was a warrior, one who had been fighting forever, traveling world after world, one who had seen and defeated many monsters with her brother. And a warrior only stops fighting when no one needs them anymore; people still needed her - but now, the girl would rest.

When she reached a safe distance, Lumine activated her glider. Its long, white wings spread like those of an eagle, but instead of gliding they do nothing to stop its free fall. It's desperate; Her eyes widen, filling with tears as the wind whistles loudly in her ears and slaps her face repeatedly. As she sees herself quickly falling towards the abyss, Paimon screams and tries to grab her arms.

But it is flawed. The little fairy is unable to stop her friend from falling. And there is no one who can help now.

As she fall, shaking, Lumine thinks about her brother and how alone he will be. She think about the little fairy at her side, about all the Genius Invokation TCG rounds she won, about all of Venti's bad performances, about the archery lessons she took with Amber, about looking for Diona's cats, about the games with Klee and the incredible drinks that Diluc offered her after a tiring day. She remembers Jean's smile and Kaeya's silly comments.

Lumine opens her teary eyes, puts her hands together and uses her Anemo energy in order to stop her fall. She is moving too fast, falling as fast as the tears that soak her amber eyes, the wind that invited her was now the wind that carried her to her death, somewhere above she hears loud noises. Maybe, screams.

The ground is close now. Nothing and no one can stop it; or better said, the only person who can command the wind to his will would be Venti. The young woman's heart sank knowing that he was far away and that again he would lose someone he loved; her eyes close, the breath is lost in her lungs and she waits. She waits to fall and hit the ground, waits for a second of pain before disappearing from this world. But nothing happens.

"Come on, open your eyes!" A familiar voice whispers in her ears. And she feels herself shaking from head to toe.

Despite his small and graceful figure, Barbatos holds her in a gentle grip, hands entwining the young woman's waist as he looks at her with great care.

Lumine looks at Venti in surprise, grateful for his quick intervention. In his arms the girl trembles slightly, fear and apprehension, and gratitude flooding her chest as she realizes the gravity of the latest events. Beside her, Paimon flies over them both, unable to chant any words or make any sound, which only makes everything even more serious.

"Thanks." Lumine whispers with a shaky voice. Death is something that naturally surrounds her, but even for someone like her, death is scary. "Thank you, Venti. You saved me." She repeats, wiping her eyes as she hugs him tighter to herself.

There are things they share through their complicit looks, fear was the main emotion. The hug becomes stronger, suffocating, but neither of them moves away from the other for even a second as Venti uses his powers to slowly bring them to the ground. The bard looks at her tenderly, caressing her cheek with one of his hands and he speaks, his tone full of affectionate mockery. "I would be more than happy to reciprocate your feelings, Lumine. You didn't need to fall for me."

The girl smiles and rolls her eyes.

"How did you get here?"

It was a silly question. But for more than two hours he had been playing his harp and drinking as he always did, Diluc had sent her a bloody look when she left the tavern in the company of Kaeya and Amber. It didn't make sense for the bard to be there at that moment, he would have to travel for at least forty minutes to get there. Either way, she was happy he was there.

"I'm here, I'm there, I'm everywhere," Venti smiled for a brief moment. "I am like the wind and the wind told me that someone I care about was in danger."

The traveler nodded, seeming satisfied with the answer. Her feet finally touched the ground after a few seconds, but Lumine was still clinging to his green cape and refusing to leave his personal space. She was like a little leech invited to stay and Venti didn't mind that at all, letting her rest her face on his shoulder, breathe the fresh air again and, most importantly, feel alive, free from fear.

For someone who always made so many jokes and always had a smile on his face, Venti was quiet now, slowly taking Lumine with him to sit on the soft grass and lean against an old oak tree. The whole time he was holding her. The anemo archon deep inside was also afraid. He was afraid of losing Dvalin, of losing Mondstadt and losing her, the girl who slowly made him lose his barriers and saw him like no one in a long time had been able to.

"Everything will be fine." He assured her gently. One of his hands found its way to her blonde hair, playing with it as she looked at him completely exhausted. "I'm here now, nothing could hurt you."

Lumine forced a smile, her eyelids slowly closing. If exhaustion was consuming her before, after seeing her entire life flash before her eyes and imagining a future in which she would not be present, Lumine would need to hibernate for another five hundred years in order to recover from such past emotion. Sweat stuck to her complexion, mud stained her dress, but she could only feel a comfortable warmth as she continued to spoon the bard.

Beside her, Paimon hugged her arms, half trembling, half trying to appear stronger than she really was, and Lumine pulled the fairy closer until she was in the middle of the two. Like a child. Like their child.

"I know." She whispered.

Lumine knew that she would always be safe and sound if Venti was by her side. She knew that he would take care of herself, her injuries, that he would listen to her anxieties and fears, and that he would then motivate her to get up another day and try again. She knew she had a home in him just as he had one in her, she knew she could wake up after a nightmare and seek comfort in his arms, in his lyre and his singing, she knew that his husky voice after waking up would make her smile as much as the his messy hair. It was the little things that showed her that no matter what happened, Venti would be there for her.

For now, however, they could enjoy the rest and the silence, and the fact that they were still together and would be together for many years to come.

[ohraicodoll]

Figment | Chapter 4

Chapters:  4/7 Fandom:  The Sandman (Comics & TV 2022) Rating:  Mature Relationships:  Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Original Female Character, Dream/Reader Characters:  Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Original Female Character, Matthew the Raven, Lucienne Additional Tags: Mix of TV Dream and Comic Dream, Spice a little later, kinda enemies to lovers, Cause Dream likes when people backtalk to him, lots and lots of tension Summary: She had only been able to enter other’s dreams two years ago, but she knew the rules. Don’t interfere with the dream. Don’t create anything in another’s dream. Don’t destroy anything in another’s dream. But then she stupidly broke one of those rules and the Lord of Dreams does not take kindly to others messing with his domain. Chapter Summary:  A return to the Dreaming on better standing. Read Here on AO3 Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7

CHAPTER 4

It’s amazing what a good night’s sleep can do for your sanity. For the first time in ages, I slept the whole night. There had been some slight apprehension, my mind playing over the encounter with the Dream King over and over again as if it had been a delusion my sleep deprivation had crafted for me. A clever trap. But as I slipped into the Dreaming, it was all wonderfully normal and absent the underlying tension. No nightmare waiting or twin stars watching me from the shadows. He’d been true to his word and I was free to exist once more in the dream world. I’d spent that first night in my own dream world, relaxing for once as all the tension drained from me finally. Blissfully and utterly relaxed, sprawled out on the lushest green lawn. The grass and flowers had almost curled around me lovingly embracing my worn mind. The next day the dark circles under my eyes lessened and some color returned to my skin. I smiled slightly at my reflection while getting ready for work. Meeting Morpheus, knowing that as long as I followed the rules then I could walk the dreams freely, had re-energized me. The colors were still bright while awake and I wondered if finally I would try and put some of that energy into attempting to pick up my writings again. Stories were why I got into book publishing to begin with, even if I was only a clerk for now. Maybe I could have the magic of the dreaming at night and translate that into magic during the day, do something useful with the odd gift I had. A few sharp thumps made me drop my compact into the sink, startled, and I cursed at the scattered powder before furrowing my brow. That hadn’t been the door…? It sounded again, inconsistent but sharp, and it took me a second to realize it came from the window in my kitchen and not the front door. I slowly, cautiously, made my way over as the tapping continued, unsure if I should grab a weapon or what. I was on the second floor facing the street, there was no way someone could climb up the brick wall and no tree was close enough to scrape the glass. I grabbed an old newspaper lying on the coffee table on the way and rolled it up tightly in my small hands, bracing myself as I pulled the cord to raise the blinds quickly. The raven on the other side jumped at the same time I let out a small startled scream. Its large wings flapped and it gripped onto the ledge to brace itself with sharp talons as I dropped the newspaper, hand flying to my chest. It took a few seconds for my heart to stop racing and for it to start tapping the window again with its beak until I finally unlatched the window and raised up the glass. “I assume you are Matthew,” I commented with a frown and raised brow. I felt a little dumb, talking to a bird, but it wasn’t the oddest thing that had happened to me in the past 48 hours. The large black bird hopped in a little bit with a head quirk and briefly I wondered if I had accidentally let in a stray bird. Then it spoke. “Uh, yeah, hi. Sorry about that,” Matthew replied sheepishly. My eyes widened and I froze, not expecting the bird to actually talk while I was awake. At least I thought I was awake. My mind had thought that maybe it was like a messenger pigeon, carrying a note or something. “You can talk?” I blurted and took a few steps back. “Oh, yeah, totally!” if he had shoulders he would have shrugged as if his statement was completely obvious and normal, “I thought the boss had mentioned that but guess that must have slipped his mind. Or he didn’t care, that’s a pretty big possibility with him actually.” I blinked slowly, trying to process that a talking raven was in my kitchen and chatting normally, “Yeah, must have slipped his mind that the raven stalking me can talk.” If a bird could look guilty, he did. He lowered his head, talons clicking against the wooden sill, “Yeah, about that, I…wanted to say I totally get that it came across super creepy! I promise, I didn’t see anything! I didn’t exactly have much of a choice, you know, when the boss says go follow the human you gotta kinda say okay, yes sir. But now that you both seem on good terms, I wanted to swing by and you know, say sorry for the awkward situation.” My eyes were still wide, arms crossed protectively over my chest. A bird was apologizing to me. “Did Morpheus send you?” I asked, leaning back against the countertop across from him to keep a bit of distance. Matthew quirked his head, big black eyes blinking at me, “Nah, he doesn’t know I came. Well, I’m sure he does know cause he knows everything but like, he didn’t tell me to come. Listen, I was human not that long ago and even if he doesn’t see how watching a girl through their window can come across, I do. So that’s why I swung by, especially if you may be hanging around the Dreaming every now and then. To say sorry. So…are we cool?” I couldn’t help the small smile crawling up my lips at the large, magical black bird that had thought to come back afterwards and say sorry for making me uncomfortable. The utter contrast in how he acted versus how Morpheus had been, especially in how they spoke. Matthew seemed to ramble on and on and I could only imagine him chatting endlessly at the mostly quiet being. “Yeah, we’re cool,” I laughed, “Thank you for the apology, Matthew. I understand you didn’t have a choice and you didn’t mean to be creepy.” His big, shining black wings spread out and he fluffed up his feathers almost in relief, “Yeah, yeah, no problem. I’m glad you and the boss are on good terms. Means I’ll probably see you around! You better get going though or else you’ll be late for work!” Glancing at the clock on the stove, he was, in fact, correct. I was running late if I didn’t want to run to work to get there on time. I shook my head at the utter absurdity that was my life, “Right. I’ll see you later, Matthew.” With a sharp caw and a goodbye, he hopped back out the window and spread his massive wings to take off into the sky. I leaned forward across the sink and watched him soar into the growing light of the day until he disappeared entirely from view. Smiling, I couldn’t help but chuckle unbelievingly and shut the window. I was going to be late for work after all.

-- A week passed with little fanfare. I stayed in my own dreams mostly but as Morpheus had said, dream walking was in my nature and it didn’t take long before I was opening doors to visit the dreams of the others that lived in my complex. The lovely old woman that lived above me dreamt of her deceased husband, them both doing nothing more than sitting on a park bench together and watching the stars whiz by like small fireballs. I sat in the grass a bit far off, watching with them alone in the tranquility and wonder. The single mother on the first floor dreamt of towering skyscrapers made of newspaper paper stacks where the world was black and white and the words themselves, made of ink, walked down the streets and slid up the walls to find their places. I stared as a single period bounced after the word “fixate” like a dog on an invisible leash and grazed my fingers along the top of it, watching as black ink stained them black. Black as the dreamlord’s eyes, absent of the twin stars. After weeks of paranoia, I would have thought that I’d be glad to be rid of the intense stare always watching me. But now that the Lord of Dreams was no longer a terrifying figure to me, just a man drinking black coffee in a nicely tailored wool coat and piercing blue eyes, I only found myself unsatisfied and with an insatiable curiosity. Turning, I glanced at the plain brown door standing tall in the sea of black and white and shrugged. Sometimes I didn’t even need to call the doors, them popping up in odd places to take me to other dreamers as if beckoning me. I wiped the black ink on my bare legs, dressed only in an oversized shirt and sleeping shorts, feet bare, and grabbed the knob before entering the new dream. I paused, the walls made up of a mixture of impossibly tall mirrors and glass windows. I frowned and walked down a walkway made of dark obsidian, the floor so shiny it reflected everything around it and the ceiling so tall it was only pitch darkness. Peeking through the windows, each looked upon a small scene as if it were an exhibit or a sound stage. Each window peered in on a different scene. A kitchenette, a dark office, a movie theater. Each held a different man on the other side, none I recognized, but the same woman in each. Jeanette, the next door neighbor. A deep disgust left my lips and I felt discomfort as in each scene the couples began to have sex or were in the middle of it, a glimpse into her different conquests. A familiar flash of dark brown hair further down drew my attention and then I forced my eyes to the ground, halting jarringly. That one I did recognize. Thomas. The dark walls of my bedroom familiar along with the black of my comforter. He was in my room with her. This was like a rogues gallery of all her different fuckscapades. That anger rose, familiar and curling, and I clenched my fists. She could do whatever she wanted and live her life however she wanted. But she had known me, been friendly enough after three years being in the same complex, saw Thomas and I on multiple occasions, and she still went through with it. My teeth clenched and I thanked whoever that the glass between the walkway and the scenes seemed to be soundproof. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. The anger was something I felt when awake but never so vividly, as if I had squashed down emotions that seemed unattractive but couldn’t keep them at bay when dreaming. A mouse in the day and a coiling snake at night, wound tight and cautious. But I couldn’t break the rules just a week after getting reprimanded even though I desperately wanted to shatter the glass and mirrors all around me and destroy it all. It would be satisfying. I forced calm into each breath, nails digging into my palms. A door. Another door, different than before, where the previous one had been, beckoned me forward. It was old, with deep woodgrain and a swirling, arching frame that seemed hand carved. It looked like it could have come out of a fairytale and was absurdly out of place in the sex-dungeon like atmosphere of the current dream. The handle even was antique, a long flourishing brass. Not sparing a glance at the scene of Thomas and her in my room, I turned and walked back down the walkway and to it. I wasn’t going to let that dipshit ruin anything else for me. I needed the Dreaming, needed the escape. I pushed it open and suddenly, I was somewhere familiar. A library. Not just a library but the most magnificent library I had ever seen. Sprawling, endless rows and rows of books rising above me and in spiraling levels below as if crafted by M.C. Escher with a gorgeous cathedral-like ceiling and warm mahogany wood walkways. I’d been here a couple times before, had browsed the rows of books full of titles I knew and some I was certain did not exist. I had never been able to figure out whose dream it was, but now I wondered if it wasn’t someone’s at all. Morpheus had said the Dreaming existed even when we woke up so that meant there were certain places that were there for everyone to visit. The door disappeared behind me and I walked forward to let my fingers trail along the spines comfortingly. This place was a dream for me, no pun intended. I could stay here for days and read non-stop, devouring title after title. Books had been my escape when I was little, a lonely only-child who sought comfort with the fictional world to feel not so alone. And when I got older, I wanted to make my own stories, craft my own worlds. But I never got around to it. Life was busy, college wasn’t an option because who could afford that, and you can only be told your writing was “cute” and “interesting” so many times before you stopped sharing it. I sighed and read over the different titles, resigning myself to stay here for the rest of the night and try to purge the last dream from my head. “Hello, can I help you?” a voice asked from behind me. Startled, I pulled my fingers away as if in trouble and glanced over my shoulder to see a woman with round glasses and pointed ears standing there, a book held to her chest with one hand and the other tucked behind her back. She had warm, dark skin, complimented by a maroon overcoat that flared out on the bottom. I’d seen her a few times but never interacted, knowing deep down she wasn’t the dreamer of this place and not wanting to get “caught” per se. “Uh, sorry, I was just….browsing, I guess,” I winced, glancing down at my rumpled shirt and the ink stain still smeared on my leg. Hardly appropriate dress wear for a library, “Is that okay?” She smiled warmly, eyes scrunching up a bit behind her spectacles, and gave a gentle nod, “That’s no problem at all. Lord Morpheus told us that you may come by on occasion and that you are perfectly fine to do so.” I paused with wide eyes, “Lord Morpheus told you? So this isn’t someone’s dream?” Confusion colored her face for a second, making her pause and she shook her head slightly, “No, this is the library at the Heart of the Dreaming. We are currently in Lord Morpheus’ palace at the center. This place holds every book ever written or unwritten and the lives of many dreamers and histories.” His palace. I was in his palace and had actually been here before. Right under his nose and didn’t even realize it. Somehow he hadn’t realized it either until I made myself known. “I…didn’t realize that,” I muttered, still slightly stunned, “Sorry, this is all kind of new to me. I’m still getting the hang of everything and didn’t know that's what this is. I was passing through and had only wanted to read some.” Her smile returned and she nodded understandingly, “I can only imagine. When we are children, concepts like this are much easier to process so it can be difficult as an adult to grasp everything.. I am Lucienne, the Head Librarian of the palace. If you need anything at all, I’m more than happy to help. Was there anything you were interested in reading in particular?” Lucienne began to walk down the wooden walkway, holding the book she had been carrying lovingly against her chest and I followed along beside her, “Not particularly? Since I started dream walking, there’s been so much to see and take note of. I guess I wanted to take in all the stories and ideas that I could, there’s just so much of it.” “You’re a writer, correct?” she asked, glancing my way. I chewed on my lip and shrugged, “Sort of. I wanted to be. I have written some but nothing I’ve finished or ever published. I don’t think I’m very good at it honestly.” The librarian paused, pushing her glasses up a little bit higher, and looked at me with her chin turned up, “On the contrary, I believe your writing is rather good. A little raw but there’s a lot of potential there in the two of yours I’ve read so far.” “Uh-” I blinked large owl eyes at her, stopping a little ahead and turned sharply to stare at her confusedly, “Two of mine? I don’t- You’ve read my writing? How?” There was a pleased look about her, a smile in her eyes that was slightly sly as if she was relishing in a secret. Lucienne turned down the path to the left and went to the shelves there, skimming the titles quickly before she plucked a book out. With a wider smile, she proudly held up a black hardback book with gold embossing on it and my name written on the bottom. “Like I said, we have every book ever written and unwritten. All the stories that were never published or finished or realized, we have here,” she grinned encouragingly, “Including yours. And it is rather good so I am nothing if not a librarian if I don’t encourage you to keep at it.” I stared at the book, my name there in print, and glanced at the spot she had pulled it from. I could glimpse another book of the same size there along with a much smaller one. Three books. I had three in this magical library. “What’s the small one there?” I asked, stepping forward to inspect it. Lucienne folded both books now into her hold and came over to look at the small, thin book as I pulled it out. It was another hardback, but couldn’t have been more than fifty pages with my name now front and center. The urge to open it was too hard to resist, even if I didn’t know if I had to worry about some sort of weird dream paradox by peering into my own books. But what I found instead was a biography of sorts. It was about me. About my life. I think. The first few pages were empty though, bare and white, and when words finally started they began in the middle of the page, in the middle of a sentence, as if the beginning part of the story was invisible. The story didn’t begin at my birth, but two years ago during the first time I realized I was dreaming and perfectly lucid. The pages fluttered under my fingers as I flipped them, seeing the different dreams I had visited, meeting Thomas, our downfall, the nightmare, and meeting Morpheus. “Why is it blank?” I whispered, returning to the beginning and skimming my fingers over the stark pages. Lucienne cleared her throat, face more severe than it had been previously, lips pressed together, “The library writes the lives of different dreamers, but it has always had a hard time with Dream Walkers. I’ve found that it will usually start when a walker traverses their first dream, but…circumstances were unusual for you and so instead of starting at birth, it started two years ago.” “...but these were not normal circumstances and I am finding that I cannot fault you for this lapse. It was not your doing.” I frowned, remembering Dream mentioning the same thing. Unusual circumstances. “He said the same thing,” I muttered and shut the book, staring at my name, “That circumstances were different than normal. What does that mean? Does it have to do with why I didn’t start dream walking until two years ago?” The silence was loaded and Lucienne let out a deep sigh with a grimace. I could tell she was trying to decide whether or not to talk to me about whatever it was, that I was only a lowly dreamer and probably one of millions that she’s met. Why should she disclose anything to me? But then she met my eyes and I could see the sympathy there and pain. “Yes, in a way,” she started off slowly, “Until recently, Lord Morpheus had been…away from the Dreaming. Involuntarily.” I frowned and she let out another sigh, moving to start walking down the pathway again if only to have something to do with herself, “An occultist and his order managed to cast a ritual that entrapped the Lord and kept him away… It had an adverse effect on the world and the Dreaming. The Dreaming became unstable without our Lord. It wasn’t until recently that he managed to get free and return, which would be when you and the rest of humanity were also able to dream as before.” He’d been captured. The King of Dreams had been captured for god knows what reason. My mind could barely fathom that such a thing was possible, let alone that it had happened to him. A being higher than a god. Endless. “But I haven’t been able to dream normally almost my entire life. How was he gone for that long?” I asked disbelievingly. The look on her face fell even more and her eyes focused on the ground, Lucienne’s face set in a deep frown, “They held him for 105 years.” I froze in my spot, her walking a few steps more before noticing and pausing to look at me. Over a hundred years. Dream was held captive for over a century and was only free barely two years ago. It explained so much. Why my mother had never dream walked and then was gone while he was still locked away. My grandmother had only been able to do it as a child and then never again, but remembered it for the rest of her life. She had clung to it desperately and had known that her mother could do it as well. It was a gift in our family, but one that was gone for so long. My breath caught at the other implication. The Sleepy Sickness. It started over a century ago and only lessened two years ago. Because Morpheus was forced away from the Dreaming. My throat felt tight at the horror of it all. Millions of people suffered worldwide for so long because of the selfishness of a few people. “Why would they do something like that? That’s awful, it’s…disgusting,” I spoke with absolute revulsion. The devastation these people had caused, the sheer inhumanity to not only capture someone and hold them for that long but to see the world fall apart as a result and still not let him free. And he probably knew, could probably feel everything collapse while he was trapped. Humanity could be so terrible. “It was not their intent to capture me,” a voice dark as the abyss and soft like smoke replied behind me, close, “Their goal had been to capture my sister, Death.” I spun around just as the feeling of Morpheus’ power ghosted over my skin, the warmth of the fire that danced along the edge of his cloak so close and the only indication that he stood only a foot behind me. I towered over me, large and powerful. Gone was the man dressed so casually outside the café with me. Those black eyes were back, the stars intense from the void and piercing as he stared down at me with the cloak fluttering like a living thing around him, grazing against my bare legs. Dream’s hair was wild and reminded me of the ink left behind by the words in that black and white newspaper city, painted against the backdrop of the library. His face didn’t show anger or surprise to see me or that he had happened upon a conversation about him. It showed nothing at all. He was back to being the King of Dreams and all that encompassed, a ruler at home in his domain. In his palace. I couldn’t imagine seeing this figure and treating him as a pet, caging him for so long and thinking they could hold his power or make demands of him. But his words broke through the horror in my mind over the lunacy of his imprisonment. They had meant to capture his sister, Death. His sister was Death and they had wanted her. He hadn’t even been the goal, just a consolation prize for this order. “Why?” I whispered and I knew the revulsion at it all was plain to see. The burn of bile was in my throat and the sharp bite of stinging tears danced behind my eyes, “Why even try to do that?” The dreamlord watched me, silently, and those dark eyes flickered behind me to give Lucienne a slight nod. I didn’t have to see her to know that she was walking away, leaving me with the Lord of the realm. But he simply plucked the book I had been holding from my hands, long fingers so pale against the dark hardcover. He didn’t answer immediately, choosing to inspect the thin book that held my dreams quizzingly, flipping it open to the blank pages. I chewed on my lip, breath heavy in my ears and frozen in waiting, and watched his face and those black eyes ponder at the emptiness of the paper. “Greed is a powerful thing. Mortals fear the sunless lands so much that they wish they could take control of my sister’s gift. All of humanity should count themselves lucky that they did not ensnare her. I doubt many things would have survived if that had been the case,” he spoke so softly, almost as if he was distracted by his fascination with my book and the question was offhanded but I could feel his focus on me. Could feel him gauging my reactions and emotions. Dream’s fingers touched where the words in the book finally began, mid sentence, and traced them lightly. I could only stand there, frozen and marveling at the being before me. The embodiment of dreams and nightmares stood there, cloak settled around him like the night sky and calmly looking over the book of my life. He should hate us. Hate humans and their petty wants and wishes and greed. Hate them for causing harm to his realm and the world. And I was a reminder of what happened in his absence, the power he couldn’t tap down on now before he had missed the time table. He’d been angry at me for breaking the rules, for disturbing the Dreaming because it was fragile, scars fresh, and someone had already torn it apart before. I licked my lips and whispered to him, unable to speak clearly past the thick knot in my throat, “I’m so sorry.” He paused then, star eyes flicking up to meet mine beneath a dark brow, and a slight tilt of his head being the only indication of confusion, “For what are you sorry? It was not you that bound me for all those years. You did not steal my power and make the world suffer. So for what do you have to be sorry for, little dreamer?” With a soft snap, Dream closed the book and set it down, stepping slightly closer to me. I didn’t back up or break eye contact. It felt so reminiscent of our first official meeting, in the nightmare forest and the black void. Him bearing down on me, all that power raging and my anger burning hot. But it was a marvel how things had changed so quickly. Now he looked down at me with confusion, with intrigue, and I could only stand there with an apology on my lips. “I know I didn’t,” I murmured, the words so faint I was afraid the black writhing of his cloak would swallow them before they could reach him, “But I think someone should say it to you. You didn’t deserve that horror. No one does. And I’m sorry there exist humans so monstrous that they did that to you and no one helped get you out sooner…so I’m sorry.” Morpheus’ eyes narrowed and I couldn’t read the emotions there, unable to look away from him. His power was all around me, in the ground we stood on and the air we breathed. It wrapped around us. This realm was his but it was also him, entirely. He was the Dreaming itself, like he had said before in that first meeting. Slowly, he stepped slightly closer, almost imperceptible, and I could feel the heat of his skin radiating off of him. A feather light touch grazed my hand and those long, elegant fingers of his lightly wrapped around mine. I couldn’t breathe. His skin was the color of marble and I almost expected him to feel cold but instead he was burning, the flame of a hearth warming my own skin.  Taking my hand in his, he ever so slowly raised it, eyes fixated on mine the entire time as he gently pressed a kiss to my knuckles. A sharp streak of heat shot through me and I found that I couldn’t look away from him even if I tried. I was transfixed, the electricity of his lips warring with the burning heat from his skin touching mine. His lips were so soft, a bare graze but lasting. When he pulled away, he didn’t drop my hand, instead speaking centimeters away so the warmth of his breath could ghost over my skin, “Thank you, little dreamer.” Time was standing still and I was trapped. I felt like I was in that black void again but instead it was the endless abyss that swirled in his eyes. I swallowed, breaths shallow and ragged, and my voice low and hoarse, “I’m…glad you’re free.” There was the barest hint of a smirk, one that I had gotten to see just a few times before. Dream lowered my hand but didn’t completely let go as his fingers stayed wrapped around mine, the spot where his lips touched still tingling, “I believe you once said that you were tired of turning around and seeing me in every corner of your dreams.” Yes. Yes I had said that. In my defense, he was very angry and intimidating and was very much the King of Nightmares then. But this dreamlord, who gave out smiles secretly and only spoke in dark whispers, I think I was beginning to get used to him. Maybe even like him. Pressing my lips together, I shrugged, “I did…but I think the shadows in my dreams are a bit lonely now that you’re not haunting them.” He raised his brow, “I do not haunt them.” I grinned then, lightness returning as the heaviness faded away. I raised my free hand, still very aware of his hand softly grasping mine, and pinched my fingers an inch in front of my face, “You haunt a little. Maybe like this much.” Dream reached up and grabbed that hand as well, fingers wrapping around them and lowering them both, and much like the other hand he didn’t let go. And I realized how close we were, staring up at that impossible to read face, transfixed on those eyes that contained the universe and the small raising of his lips as he smirked down at me with both my hands in his. Fire and electricity raised through me, centering on where his skin met mine. His eyelashes fluttered, so dark against the paleness of his high cheekbones, as he stared down his nose at me, “In that case, perhaps I shall have words with your shadows and rectify that. It would be unbefitting of a monarch to leave his subjects wanting so.” The words were utterly slow, a drag of a finger along silk. The gentle whisper of heat along skin in the darkness. Sensuous and promising with the barest hint of a threat and power. I swallowed thickly, tracing the line of his nose and jaw and lips with my eyes. With a shuddering breath, I muttered back in the heat building in the shadows between us, “No, we can’t have that, your highness.” And his smirk at that was dark and full of amusement and curiosity and surprise. Raising the other hand he had managed to capture, he laid another kiss on the knuckles to match the first. This time there was a purposeful lingering, a slow drag of his lips along my skin, and I could have sworn those twin stars flashed mauve as he stared beneath those dark lashes. “No, we cannot,” Morpheus spoke against my skin and then pulled himself to full height leisurely. The flames along his cloak slid along my calves, the faintest whisper of warmth. With a slight bow of his head and the ghost of a smile still dancing on his lips, he stepped back and let his fingers slide away from mine. “Goodnight, little dreamer,” he murmured, “Rest assured that your shadows shall not remain lonely upon your next visit.” I smiled at that, body on fire, and bit the inside of my lip, “Goodnight, Dream.” And then it all melted away as my body began to wake up.

[hungnitan]

Wuthering Wave (WuWa) DAY 1 Review

Wuwa finally opened their server today (May 23) so as DAY 1 player I gonna write a little review :

For now I finish main quest and stuck at level 21 quest and already try some bosses too~

PS : if you're Asia players but not JP KR CN I suggest play at SEA server for better connectivity~

For beginner banner I think they're pretty generous, guarantee one non limited 5* for max 50 pull with discount 8 ticket for 10 pull means max pull are 40, after you get 5* the banner gone and change to focused non limited 5*. But if you asked me, most 5* kinda groggy and some 4* are better. Imagine genshin non limited banner and you're good (I gonna take Yangyang route until endgame lol)

And into banner currency, same like most gacha games except guaranteed at 80 pull and they added one more for limited weapon. Tbh I still don't understand for whoever reason they seperate limited character and limited weapon currency...

For story tbh I don't understand anything (lol) but I gonna pointing at skipable story. Yups, some main story can be skipable. Look at left above button from screenshot below, skipable means it just showing us something or any useless info but non skipable means some info important enough to read.

Additionally, all side quest can be skipable~

Nonono even if there's skip button, I won't skip cutie Yangyang holding a cat scene 🤣

Now onto negative things, their loading very slow ! It include entering the game, loading after domain farming, even teleport. Imagine everytime you want to teleport only to wait like the one element attached on right below side Genshin loading.

Resin usage. Or what WuWa called it. I know it's 240 energy but it balancing with 60 cost energy every raiding an ascension and weekly boss... But if we think we don't need to farms relic artifact means it's balancing each others

This one more into bugs/their developer side don't know but for mine it's clunky movement, my joystick movement kind of slow respond means sometimes I can't walk straight or climbing switch to glinding even climb straight on ladder...

(this bug seems exclusive for android only, so yeah too bad on us android user lol)

Plus low graphic eventhough I use medium quality, my eyes hurt bc of blurness everytime I want to see anyone faces... This one need to fix asap, I'm one of players won't read any stories aside main bc of can't look straight at NPC blur face~

Aside that I like the gameplay, despite their clunkyness movement, the battle phase which pretty same like HI3 PGR are unbelievably smooth. Which indicate more question like why their normal state are more laggy than battle one (lol)

Plus good test run with how to use their characters. It have the best ways to show players how to use each of them in simple ways and it still one of my many question why Genshin can't add their test run character just like WuWa and HI3.

Verdict : I know this sounds like die hard fans but from WuWa I just realize what a breakthrough hoyo makes with Honkai and Genshin...

For how long I gonna play this game I guess depends, if nothing much change in one year eventhough I just got Jiyan it means uninstall. First of all, please fix clunky movement and graphic problem or Kuro just throw an useless money on this project~

Oh and adding can't play more than half hours per day, better take it slow I guess~

[encrucijada]

PÍA RAMBLES #7

if you've been around then you know about my walking disaster character adam rubio and his (ex)girlfriend piedad narváez. they're from a pjo rp i share with @chaoticdecember. it just so happens i love the characters so much i decided i needed to create an original ip for them to exist in, something that was mine (and fluffy's) because i cannot let these characters stay just as pjo ocs.

not that i hate them for being pjo ocs. in fact they're some of my favourite. they are well-rounded characters inside the pjo universe, they play with the formula. they show a side we barely get to see in the books (the titan army, the demigods luke's age). their powers that abide by the rules of pjo are cool, the conflicts that abide by the rules of pjo are cool... i just wanted something that was mine. and that wouldn't require people read all of pjo to understand.

enter: KEEP STARING AND I'LL NEVER FALL ASLEEP.

you will also find this referred to as greek tragedy! yes, with the exclamation mark.

i have done no writing prior to posting this! unless you count the thousand of words worth of fanfic of my own ocs in the pjo version of them (if you're reading this you probably know about pointed north, aka all those snippets of adam being a wet cat of a man because his ex won't give him the time of day... this is like 10k words alone).

so i'm gonna tell you about the worldbuilding and the character setup because i'm so excited about it!!!

genre & category: urban fantasy, adult

here's the short summary: people wear animal masks to ward off the monsters prowling the city, there are eyes painted on the faces of buildings, and the dreamers are on tv... not malcolm and adam though. after failing to stop their old team members from killing one of the oneiroi, the dreams walking among the regular people, they take less glamorous jobs and stew in anger (or at least adam does, malcolm says he's moving on). when adam's patron gives him instructions on where to find their old team members they find with them a bomb waiting to go off: a dreamer kid with the ability to kill people in their sleep.

and here's the long summary:

welcome to a world just like our own! if nightmares prowled through the cities and everyone had to wear an animal mask for the chance of warding them off. in this world dreams walk among the people and dreamers are what you call the people whose lives belong one half to wakefulness and one half to sleep. they are the only ones who can enter the domains of other dreams and take special artefacts, and for this reason dreams — or oneiroi — seek them out and make the agency known of their existence. with nowhere else to go that would teach them how to navigate this double life safely, the dreamers stay and they respond to the call of the oneiroi. in return, they get a good helping of recognition and a chance for their oddity to be seen as the perks of a celebrity.

luke's* team was the best in the business. teamed up less as a necessity and just as a matter of friendship. despite of what it seems like, being a dreamer isn't all that glamorous, you get tired of hearing you're fated for greatness without seeing the results. mutiny stirs within the agency, with luke and three others going rouge. culminating in the biggest sin of all: luke traps an oneiros within himself. their remaining still loyal team members, malcolm and adam, are set on their trail with clear instructions of not letting the oneiros come to harm. the only witnesses of what happened that day are their three remaining disgraced team members, luke is dead and so is the oneiros within him.

now, adam and malcolm are demoted. no longer the darlings of the agency they take less glamorous jobs. until adam's patron oneiros contacts him in dreams and directs him to the hiding place of their old friends. there they find they're hiding more than just themselves. they have with them a boy with a unique and deadly ability, that of killing people in their dreams.

woah, okay, so that's the setup! it was a lot, i know, but... worldbuilding.

what are the nightmares? the nightmares are me reusing the same monster concept for all of my wips because i find eldritch animals to be very cool. they're lovecraftian horror type animals that populate the world and are basically my excuse to why the characters are good with weapons because everyone is armed and knows how to defend themselves in case they're attacked. i also just adore the animal masks aesthetic so i wanted to use that here, and yes this also recycled from like 4 other wips don't even @ me. the masks' purpose is to sorta repel the monsters, as it gives you an uncanny appearance — sort of like theirs! so they won't attack on sight. the "eyes painted on the faces of buildings" are meant to help out with warding the nightmares, keeping them from overpopulating. sort of like the eyes on moth wings.

what are the dreams (oneiroi)? the well-adjusted cousins of the nightmares. they are my stand-in for the gods in pjo. they abide by their own laws and as part of these laws it dictates they can never cross paths with one another or grab each other's stuff. they don't affect the world around them, at least not the waking world, and a slight change in one of them would affect all of them. for example, if there was a gravity oneiros and they were killed, all the oneiroi would start floating. their appearance is very optic illusion-based. are they human? animal? something else? yes. the main thing people notice is they don't have to wear masks when walking around outside.

what are the dreamers and how do they work? with the oneiroi being unable of meddling with each other, that's where they dreamers come in. dreamers touch oneiroi artefacts, enter their domains, etc. just like demigods they are affected by both worlds, responding to human logic and dream logic. the core aspect of a dreamer is their ability of bringing things from their dreams (oneiric creation), though not everyone does it the same or is even capable of it... okay let me explain. most dreamers can bring things from their dreams, when they do they create dreamwaste, which'll usually correspond to their patron oneiroi (which is the oneiroi who found them and took them to the agency). it could be raw light, could be plants, could be cotton, feathers, paint, whatever. other dreamers have more niche abilities, such as dreamwalking, or they can only bring back one type of object but they create no dreamwaste.

and finally, what is the agency? i'm not exactly sure yet. i knew i didn't want an "academy of superpowered kids" type thing, but i still needed a central hub where the main cast met because it is essential that they know each other since they were kids. the agency, at least rn in the early stages of writing, is little more than an office where dreamers are taken to after being picked by a patron and it's a place where they can hone their abilities and eventually get picked for errands and jobs by the oneiroi. being a dreamer is kind of a big deal in this world. there is no veil between the fantastical world and the known world in this story, like pjo with the mist, no the fantasy world is everyday life. normal people know of the oneiroi, they live with the nightmares in their backyards, and dreamers for them are like small celebrities. the agency also takes care of the image.

let's talk characters! bullet point style

luke*. getting him out of the way rn. yes, this is luke castellan from pjo except he's my oc now. i'm probably gonna keep using luke as his name all through drafting and then find something new later to claim originality. if i wanted to explain him i would have to sit down and talk how he relates or doesn't relate with his pjo self... so i won't. instead i'll tell you his mask is shaped like a serpent (hermes). and he's a very special type of dreamer because he can bring anything from his dreams without creating any dreamwaste, making him the golden boy of the agency.

hudson moretti. fluffy's oc and originally a son of hypnos, so he fits pretty cosy here. his mask is the bear which just felt right as fluffy and i call him a big teddy bear all the time. his dreaming niche is dreamwalking! he can't bring anything from his dreams but he can visit anyone's dreams. he can also "discard" dreams, which essentially means taking dreams from others and getting rid of them. he does this a lot with his friends when they're having nightmares. as he doesn't bring anything out, he creates no dreamwaste.

piedad narváez. my girl! originally a daughter of urania which is why i have given her the rabbit mask, moon symbolism. another one with a particular niche. i'm sure you all know piedad's thing(tm) is she has premonition abilities which is essential to her character. when translating that into this story the obvious change was that she now receives those premonitions from her dreams, but this limits what she can bring back which always relates to those premonitions. her dreamwaste is glitter.

ericka mulligan. she belongs to royalbookblog and was originally a daughter of demeter. her mask is that of an antlered deer. she is a typical dreamer, capable of bringing anything she wants. her dreamwaste is plant life. probably the one most loyal to luke and would put her hands in the fire for him. makes up for her lack of niche by being the one making sure everything is running smoothly around here.

adam rubio. the previously mentioned wet cat of a man. originally a son of apollo, he wears the hawk mask. another typical dreamer, his dreamwaste is light. has a strained relationship with his mother, walking bisexual disaster, stands out in that he spent most of his time in the agency as a child as his mum tended to leave him there like it was a babysitting service.

malcolm*. oops we stole another canon character. malcolm pace is a son of athena we aged up and who became hudson's love interest. now thanks to pointed north he's also adam's best friend. he wears the owl mask and he's a typical dreamer, his dreamwaste is ink. unlike luke his name will stay as malcolm, i will only be changing his lastname.

nico*. OOPS ANOTHER ONE. i'm sure you all know who nico is, he's the son of hades. he wears the goat max and he's the kid with the ability to kill people in their dreams. he's a hudson type where he can dreamwalk but instead of being able to discard dreams, he can... well, kill people in their sleep. his name is definitely going to be changed don't worry. nothing will remain the same about him, no backstory or anything, aside from him being an orphan.

the story itself takes place after luke's mess has mostly fizzled out. it's been little over a year. piedad, hudson and ericka are missing in action. adam and malcolm are getting booed by tweens on the street because they're no longer the cool dreamers on the block. killing that oneiros had lasting consequences, remember what i said about them abiding by their own laws? and the hypothetical case of a gravity oneiros? there is no gravity oneiros but you catch my drift.

we have some carried over conflict from everything fluffy and i have developed about these characters in the pjo version. luke being a classical tragic hero who is taken down by his own fatal flaw. his friends believing in him to their own detriment in the end. piedad receiving a premonition of his fate but keeping it to herself. the rift between hudson-luke-piedad-ericka and malcolm-adam. piedad almost killing adam on purpose. ericka being in love with luke but luke never fully returning that affection. adam's patron (stand-in for apollo from the pjo version) telling him where to find the deserters. also apollo having a sorta thing with piedad (she has two hands).

i don't know what else to say! so i'll leave you with the opening line (this is from the prologue which will be a rewritten one-shot from the pjo version)

Piedad watched the dream and waited to wake up.

cheers,

pía

[rutilated-quarz]

The tumblr sexyman polls and mcytblr sexyman bracket were super fun, so I thought I'd run a small one with my own OCs ^_^ Links to the polls will be added as they go up!

Ennui vs Ruti

Flux vs TBN

Synchronicity vs Roulette

Lumin vs Electra the Moth

Warden vs The Alchemist

Null Pointer vs Callum

Ren vs Neo

Quarz vs NitroLock

More info about the characters can be found under the cut!

Ennui

[profile link here]

Originally a D&D-inspired OC, now just a general OC

Lich that was so so shit at magic when he was alive but now that he's dead he's actually sort of decent at it

Worldhopper - he travels between universes, using a jury-rigged super powerful explosion spell to catapult himself into a different universe by destroying the one he's currently in.

He only cares about one person, and that's his demonic boyfriend Alu. Anyone else can get fucked, as far as he's concerned.

Ruti

[profile link here]

Technically a general OC, but mostly used for minecraft.

he was born on a minecraft skygrid world all alone

Body is comprised almost entirely of solid magic. He can shapeshift, but only really uses that to change if he has legs or not.

Never got taught how to control his magic, so he has to use an enchanted mask to hold his power in - this has the side effect of compressing his magical body mass enough that he has to forgo the wings while it's on to avoid spreading himself too thin.

Can eat a lot of things normal people can't eat. Like diamonds. And swords.

Flux

[profile link here]

General OC in the same world as some of my and my friend's kinsonas

Her species infects the brain of other species, appearing as a sort of ghost or hallucination until they mature enough to become physical, bursting out of the host's body and killing them in the process. They usally give their host immense bloodlust and taste for raw meat. [mmm flux hungy feed her tasty prion diseases]

On that note, the most lame and cringefail of her entire species. She's supposed to get her host to kill and stuff like that, but she mostly just annoys and makes fun of him.

TBN

[profile link here]

General OC, worldhopper.

Shapeshifts whenever it goes into a new world to match the appearance of the creator-inserts or gods of that universe. [e.g. would look like the annoying dog in Undertale/Deltarune, would look similar to the Dev Gnomes in everhood, etc.]

It chooses a different name for itself in every universe it goes into. [It's called Showtime in my JJK AU that has it, and Usurper when I put it into a Digimon world, for example]

Any world it enters immediately splits off into a different timeline with its arrival, and that timeline dies/disappears as soon as it loses interest and leaves.

It's fiction-aware, and totally chill with that - mostly because, considering it's my sona and thus an extension of me, it's pretty much in control of the narrative. If it were to ever lose that control, it would likely become incredibly paranoid and anxious.

Synchronicity

[profile link here]

Minecraft OC

One of the fair folk, lives in the deep forest and would quite like not to be disturbed.

Finds great fun in tormenting whatever non-fae might cross their path

Thought NitroLock_ was fun to 'play with', so when they got his name, they kept him around to do some work for them.

Kind of sadistic, sometimes. Usually. Most of the time.

Has stolen peoples blood to use for sympathetic magic before

Roulette

[profile link here]

General OC

Demon, under the domain of luck and gambling.

Plays the part of a carefree hedonist, but almost always knows more than she lets on.

Knows how to use people to get what she wants, and has no issues doing it.

Lumin

[profile link here]

Originally designed as a general oc, but quickly adapted into a Cosmosdex (Tegyp) OC.

Almost never wears a shirt under his open suit jacket, unless he's pretty much forced to.

Kind of an alcoholic. Tries to pretend he's a fun partyboy, but he just gets all miserable.

Very into modifying robots. He claims he improves them, but he's fucked up a perfectly good Cupid unit is what he's done. Look at it, it's got anxiety.

Electra the Moth

[profile link here]

Sonic OC, builds and codes robots for a living.

She has built a robot that she considers her son, so she could technically be a MILF, if you're into that.

Mega autism and hyperfixated on engineering. Would love to infodump about whatever her current project may be, and gets super attached to everything she builds.

Warden

[profile link here]

General OC. He's the god of space-time and oversees a large collection of worlds and thus deals with worldhoppers semi frequently, despite not being one himself as he only really exists in the space between worlds.

Has gay thoughts re: one of his coworkers/fellow gods. But he'd never admit it

Kind of stuffy and stuck-up

Dear god, I forgot he was originally based on G-Man from Half Life VR but the AI is Self-Aware

The Alchemist

[profile link here]

Minecraft OC, an AU of Ruti.

Basically what would've happened if Ruti grew up with other magic users who could've taught him how to use his magic.

It speaks primarily Standard Galactic.

Never calls people by their names, instead using a title/other noun ["shopkeeper" or "friend" or "thief", etc.] because names have immense power in a language as soaked with magic as Standard Galactic is, and that habit carries over into other languages.

Makes potions. Definitely legally.

"ruti" "the cooler ruti"

Null Pointer

[profile link here]

BNHA/MHA OC, but liable to become a general OC any day now.

he/she girlboything

Has the ability to lag herself out of reality for a bit; from an outside perspective, this looks like freezing in place and loosing all collision before abruptly teleporting.

Also has the ability to hack any sufficiently complex technology, as long as line-of-sight is maintained.

His mascot [the little demon dude shown next to him] shows up on the screen of any technology he hacks. Just to be cocky about it.

Generally very cocky and aggressive while fighting/sparring, or just in general.

She has 97 mental illnesses and is banned from most public spaces

Callum

[profile link here]

Sonic OC, lusts after their AU's counterpart of Eggman

the gay gay homosexual gay

Sort of a bratty little twink

The type to pick fights and then be like "aah im just a little guy nooo im just a little guy and its also my birthday im a little birthday boy"

Has a cool copper [possibly radioactive] robot arm, but usually keeps it hidden

Ren

[profile link here]

OC for Monkey Wrench [by Zeurel on Youtube]

Big bear of a man [in the gay sense]

Mechanic/weaponsmith/arms dealer

Former mercenary. Would take out entire ship crews by sneaking on under the guise of a mechanic and "fixing" their ship [rigging it to blow as soon as he got to safety.]

Neo

[profile link here]

Minecraft OC, specifically for Empires SMP Season 2

Has ice magic powers, and lives in an Ice Spikes biome.

Its moral compass is a fucking roulette wheel

Tries to be nice, but has a very skewed idea of what "nice" and "good" is.

Would probably keep you as a pet if you asked

Quarz

[profile link here]

General OC

Shapeshifter, and he uses this power for evil. [Shapeshifts into whoever he's talking to in order to psych them out, though he claims it's to "level the playing field".]

Sort of a sardonic personality, often deriding others and putting himself above them. He does it to distract himself from feeling shitty about himself, but you could never get him to admit that.

Loves to inflict terrible events and circumstances on others [my ocs. or sometimes my blorbo du jour]. It is his favorite activity

Nitrolock_

[profile link here]

Minecraft OC

Dumb of Ass

Accidentally gave their name to a fae (Synchronicity, specifically) and signed a contract to get it back. Because of said contract, which they didn't fully read before signing, they now owe them a bunch of other stuff, too.

Being made to use customer service voice is the one thing that could truly break their spirit. I believe this wholeheartedly.\

so. so tired. emotionally physically mentally the whole thing.

Used to be part of a formidable PVP duo with their sibling Necrolock_, but the two of them have kind of drifted apart.

[mass-effect-galaxy]

Angel of Death

While the redemption arc from "evil" to "good" is a common theme in literature, art, or, here, video games, I find the other way around even more fascinating: what does it take to turn someone who is supposed to be an idol of "good" into a raging monster?

In this case, I had created a Selûne cleric to see what additional content I could get with Shadowheart. But, since I am serious about roleplaying my characters, I also tried to imagine how someone like that would react to the sight of an (albeit abandoned) Temple of Selûne defiled by filthy goblins, Loviatan perverts, Zhentarim scum, and all this under the guidance of a Lolth-sworn drow now worshiping an Ilithid abomination of a goddess.

Add to that some mockery from Shadowheart's side and a Selûne cleric of the war domain with more muscles than brain and you end up with probably the worst carnage you can create in a single mission in Baldur's Gate 3.

Save for Volo, Halsin, and the guy on the torture rack, we slaughtered absolutely everybody inside that temple, including the guards, the four guys drinking and minding their own business on the road to the Mountain Pass, the kids playing with the human corpse, the drunks on the balcony, the Zhenatrim traders, and the Loviatan priest.

The sheer violence of that approach (no talking, just killing) broke the game mechanics several times: while the inner court is completely violent when you try to leave the temple that way, introducing yourself by killing the trader on entry is only considered a "crime" to which only the "witnesses" react. The other goblins needed an extra invitation to join the party.

Entering the temple through the crumbled wall most likely is only meant for sneaking inside - not for getting on higher ground to shoot priestess Gutt and her followers like fish in a barrel. Different from when you start a fight anywhere on the ground level, this didn't cause the torturers to leave their victim alone nor the Loviatan or the Zhenatrim to get out. Curious about what is with the latter because she is supposed to re-appear in Acts 2 and 3.

[lairofdragonagelore]

The Raw Fade - Part 1

Main Quest: Here Lies the Abyss

The Raw Fade is a section of the Fade which its "raw" characteristic doesn't seem to be related to physically enter it. In DAO, The Raw Fade was a section of the Fade that belonged to a demon of Sloth, and we entered it via dreams. In Inquisition, this section of the Fade is the domain of a Fear demon of phenomenal size and power called the Nightmare. The Inquisitor also discovers this is where the Nightmare sealed their memories of what occurred during the Conclave at the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

This post contains the following sections

Falling into the Fade

Statues and Artefacts

[This is part of the series “Playing DA like an archaeologist”]

[Index page of Dragon Age Lore]

Falling into the Fade

When we enter this place, I think there are only two characters who should be payed attention to understand this space with the highest degree of certainty that the game allows us: Solas and Cole. Both are the only ones who truly understand the majority of what the Fade entitles.

Solas recognises this place as the Fade, and sighs in what seems to be a frustration or sad gesture. Probably he is seeing something too broken and infected from what it used to be.

What surprises me here is Cole: he does not recognises this place as Fade. He understands that his new, current nature makes him feel it a bit different, but clearly “it should not feel like this”.  This comment was what made me develop the idea that this Raw Fade is not exactly the Fade, but a pocket world, imitating the Fade, created by the Tevinters in an accident or in a rehearsal to the true entrance to the Black City [after all, this space is rather close to the Black City, according to Solas]. I’m not so sure about that theory anymore [I kept it in my list of Old Explorations]. It seems too over-complicated, and if I want to follow this game under the principle of the Occam’s Razor, it does not seem to be adequate. 

So for now, we will stick to what these chars say. If Solas recognises it as Fade, it must be the Fade, and I should not question it. Solas is, after all, the most adequate and knowledgeable char on this matter, and like he says in Trespasser, he only lies by omission. That Cole does not recognise it as Fade could be due to the infected nature of this piece of Fade. In general, this Fade reflects a lot of Kirkwall elements, and as we analysed in Kirkwall history and design, it’s well hinted that the city was the place where the Sidereal Magisters accessed to the Fade physically. This Fade is contaminated with red lyrium and fears, and may distort it or make it feel different for Cole. 

The other chars with some ability to speak about the Fade will not recognise this place as the Fade either, since they always accessed to it via dreams, already reflecting their desires. The truth is, this is a similar space the Inquisitor walked across in the beginning of the game. The landscape is the same one, as well as the ill-green coloration that everything has with the exception of the red lyrium. In the horizon we can see the Breach. We are “on the other side of it”.

Statues and Artefacts

Now, this place is filled of dozens of statues with or without meaning. Without describing exactly where I found them, I will proceed to numerate them. Some of them are more or less easy to interpret. Others are beyond my ability. 

We know the Fade has the property of reflecting what exists in the real world, so most of these objects are (historical) reflections in some degree, so some of them allow us to understand the meaning of the statues in the real world. This is not a mere interpretation, our expert in the Fade told us so:

Blackwall: You've seen many things in the Fade, how do you know they're true? Solas: I don't. Everything in the Fade is a memory and memories are all too easily muddied. Just like your history books, they contain truths, but reason and sense are required to extract it.

Cassandra: You say you've witnessed past events in the Fade, Solas--or the memories of them. But the Fade distorts reality. Surely it cannot offer a true reflection of what occurred. Solas: Are your own memories any different? The truth is never precise, regardless of where you are.

Cassandra: I had not considered how fighting in our world might affect the Fade. Is it always thus, Solas? Solas: It is worse this time, with the Breach pulling spirits through against their will... But, yes. Every war, no matter how just, leads to hunger and rage... and so come the demons. Cassandra: It is said that generals should avoid fighting in the same battlefield too many times... Solas: The deaths, the rage - all of it weakens the Veil. But nothing is ever said of the effect war has upon the world of spirits, what we might be doing to them. Every war has unintended victims. All too many go unnoticed.

In the moment we start the exploration of this place, we see a Tevinter Sacrificial altar, over a variation of a Keeper of Fear. This could be a symbol reflecting a piece of history: Tevinter invading the South, killing alamarri and other tribes, and potentially using them as sacrifices. This is the beginning of the history of Tevinter expansion before the breach to the Golden City. 

Close to it, we find the Beheaded ram-man statue which has been a mystery so far in the few opportunities we saw it in the Waking World. Due to the letter that accompany it, I have the impression that the meaning of this statue is “mere slaved sacrifice”. It’s a head of a ram, offered in sacrifice. The body is filled with scars and lashes. The base of the statue is a capstan, usually used with slaves in what the trope calls "wheel of pain". Bellow the capstan we see images that resemble a lot the white slave drawings of Kirkwall's walls, but unlike those, these are smiling and being "cute". They are stained with dripping blood. The whole statue lays over a  Keepers of Fear. The whole composition tells me about a content slave being a sacrifice, or being the fodder cannon [ram for sieges] that gives room for the “important people” to do their job.  It’s on the base of a keeper of fear, because of course, people in this role fear their own obvious destiny.

The codex triggered here is A Letter by a Burning Candle, which gives us an idea of what this statue may represent: the stubbornness of the faith, of the lamb-behaviour, and confirms a bit the idea of “sacrifice” and “fodder cannon”. The person who wrote this letter has faced all the worst events in Thedas in the last decade and fought for the Maker in all those situations, even if they were scared. This person has been sent to Adamant Fortress almost as a sacrifice, as a fodder cannon. This person has been facing everything with fear [hence the  Keepers of Fear on its base] and accepted themselves to be a sacrifice to give “the important people a chance”. Sacrifice and usage represented as a ram, Faith as a headless body that doesn’t question, that only follows a Maker, as a bunch of slaves with little other choice.

In the starting area we also find this table with six plates. The table seems to have the symbol of the Qun on it.  The plates display a pig head, a horned animal, a fish, skulls, and a pie. It’s almost as if people gathered in a meeting to speak about the Qun. Or maybe the Qunari. By the end of the game DAI, we have been heavily hinted that Qunari are a crafted race, so maybe the Qun is the way to control them, and a group of powerful people decided the fate and creation of them. This historical fact could be reflected here in this table where a lot of dishes were mixed to have a final product. I’m not sure if this has some subtle interpretation as “the Qun has been served” or similar. This same table appears in Flemeth’s Fade too.

Close to the table, we find what I called Eroded dragon  skull, clipped in a “pseudo-fractal” way with others to make a new different statue.

Here we find this pair of statues that we saw in the game several times and I called them Female Kossith/ Desire demon /Tevinter Warrior. A detailed study of these two statues can be found in Venatori main camp.

Walking a bit into this place, we find out the first red lyrium vein, standing out violently in this green-based landscape. We also find many heads of Keepers of Fears from which alamarri mabari statues come out from their mouths. This may have some sense if we remember the codex The Keepers of Fear, where the alamarri screamed their fear into these statues, thinking it would prevent darkspawn from reaching their houses, or even just as a way to get rid of the fear before battle.

In a comfortable chair, we find the reflection of a book: Walking the Fade: Frozen Moments. This is a codex that gives us CONTEXT to understand all what we are seeing [It also makes sense from a mechanical point of view: we can read this book very early in the exploration]. This codex appears quite immediately in the zone before exploring it in depth. The codex is written by a Magister who, due to the description of his exploration of the Fade, was a somniari. He tried to make a map of the Fade, failing due to its constant changing nature. When he accepted this fact, the spirits themselves guided him along. He says something very curious:  “I was shown vast oceans, containing not water, but memories, drawn from the minds of dreamers.” which brings the idea of something similar to the Well of Sorrows and therefore, the image of A Flowering Imago from Ancient Elven codices; Vir Dirthara comes to my mind. The description of these memories in this book looks like the recording images we find all over the Shattered Library. This Magister reached to a Library of ancient time.

To continue the exploration, we have to go up using a stair flanked with Free Marches eagles. This seems to be a poor reflection of Kirkwall’s Viscount’s Keep.  If we remember, Viscount’s Keep as well as the Chantry were located at the highest points in Kirkwall.

We find the "avvar” mabari with meat inside her neck, urns that contain fishes, and skulls trapped in a cage, with cookies. It seems to be elements that show how bizarre the Fade is.

At some point, we reach another stair with two Free Marches eagles. Beside one of them, there is a metallic desk/metal art with the drawing of a “pointy tower” that I’m not sure how to understand. Due to its pointy design I tend to associate it with a Tevinter building, however, the whole tower design, with the shape of the door and the windows, may suggest elvhen [even though the pointy/thorny design seems a bit alien for an elvhen tower]. The material is metallic, so one is inclined to think in Tevinter or Free Marches style. This element is very confusing.

At the feet of one of the eagles, we find: A Letter Written in A Shaking Hand. Written by Sorra, it’s a letter to their son. It seems to be a fighter from Starkhaven, who fought to borrow time to the Grey Warden during the Second Blight. It speaks about the disease left by the Blight on the battlefield, that even after its ending, it keeps poisoning the land and all what walks over it. This parent begs to their son not to search for trinkets in the battlefield until the crows, birds that escape the Blight, land on the ground, pointing out that it’s safe and free of poison. The topic of the fear is repeated here too, in the sense that fear helps to survive [“They watch patiently, and they let their fear keep them alive.”]

Immediately after going up, we find an old friend:

Several Claws of Dumat with Free Marches eagles.

As we step into the entrance of this region, we see several Claws of Dumat, and  Free Marches eagles. There is also a Thrummer combined with a Tevinter urn and a diapason-like artefact that we had assumed it may be related to writing or reading veilfire runes [see Frostback Basin: Frozen Gate for this connection]. Maybe this is a mere clipping to make it look more dramatic without much meaning in it. However, we know that the Thrummers are fuelled with red lyrium, as we saw it in Emprise du Lion: Suledin keep, and they seem to be used as energy generators, as we saw them in configurations with “injectors” in places such as Western Approach: the open or Western Approach: The Still Ruins, Main Chamber and Hall of Silence.

In this Fade scene, we can see how the eagles are flanking a figure of Andraste that raises in the background, and all this is framed, at the same time, by the claws of Dumat. This may reinforce the idea we explored in DA2 in Kirkwall history and design and in particular with Enigma of Kirkwall : It was in Kirkwall where the breach to the Fade was done centuries ago, through blood sacrifice by Tevinters, in search for gods. Close to this Thrummer we find another bit for the codex Fears of the Dreamers [this codex is analysed in another post].

In this place we find the wonderful codex The Claws of Dumat on one of these claws, which is the justification to call this object as such. The codex is written by Corpyheus’ slave who was sacrificed later. What we learn here is:

It implies that Corypheus has been developing different altars to “bring Tevinter to Glory”.

Once more, now from a slave’s point of view, we are informed that the Old Gods have been silent for a while and that has caused the loss of followers. This has caused fear on Corypheus. [This info is now confirmed by Corypheus as well as his slave]

This slave knows that Corypheus has been meeting with other “priests” to try to find a solution to the decline of the cult to the Old Gods. 

Corypheus took his name after or around the time the Tevinter Magisters entered the Golden City. So we can assume this is a narration very close to the time in which the Sidereal Magisters went to the Fade.

Corypheus knew that the old elves were tied to the Fade, and the mortal elves have something of that power in their blood, hence he wants to use their blood for the ritual of entering the Fade.

The Claw of Dumat supports the victim on its top, with shackles, and seems to drip blood along the statue to a pool with runes.

Apparently, Corypheus was not cruel [Of course, this is from the point of view of a slave, we have seen this mentality in action with Orana, in DA2]. The weakening of the religion and the silence of the Old Gods in his dreams changed Corypheus. Fear changed him.

It is implied that Corypheus used little blood magic before the silence of the Old Gods. The loss of gods made him fall in despair.

Corypheus had a wife.

I cannot be sure if this is a moment before the great breach of the Sideral Mages or it’s a test. In any case, this sacrifice where the narrator of this note dies was done in the “western hall” of Corypheus’s house. I’m not sure how well this ties to any part of Kirkwall architecture.

These words were written and reflected/preserved in the Fade at the base of one of these claws of Dumat we find just after the  Free Marches eagles.

As we continue past this zone, we see more eagles, emphasising the idea that all these situations happened in the Free Marches. We can see the statue of Andraste in the background along these corridors that lead us into a “Tevinter region”.

When we approach the “Tevinter Region” we can see this subtle detail: the ground has two layers, one soaked in blood and the second one covering it up.

In this part we can see the typical dragon gargoyles, and the spikes that are typical in Tevinter infrastructure. One of the dragons triggers the Templar side of Excerpt from a Journal. This is a codex about a mage complaining about the Templar Order and how things work for mages outside Tevinter. The other piece belongs to a Templar who went to Tevinter and saw these dragons as representation of the mages: he sees mages as creatures that only want power to rule over normal men. Both narrators, mage and templar, seem to have gone to the conclave, but in this combined codex we can easily see how there is no compromise in their vision. The power that one group has over the other keeps things tense and they are determined not to solve the conflict, but keep fuelling it. 

Immediately after these dragon gargoyles, we see this place: three Claws of Dumat aligned in a triangle, a person in front of them, with their head in Veilfire and a book at their feet.  Behind one of the claws, there is red lyrium, as if it were hidden from the vision of this body.

At the feet of the burning body, we find the mage side of the previous codex [Excerpt from a Journal]. The figure here  seems to represent a mage, whose head burns with Veilfire. Once we investigate it, the figure explodes into a rage demon. This situation maybe is useful to tell us that these bodies with burning heads represent, in this Fade, mages. Maybe they are the reflection of Mages reaching the Fade. It’s hard to understand unequivocally. 

Close by, we find another eluvian, surrounded by six bodies with burning heads. It seems that a burst of magic came out from the eluvian and killed these people [potentially mages, according to what I’ve just said before] that were doing something with this eluvian and the Tevinter artefacts around it. Or they were trying to escape via the Eluvian and something burnt them. 

It’s a scene that has strong similarities with the landscape we saw in the Temple of Sacred Ashes after the explosion. There are some bits of red lyrium behind too. Since in DAI we saw that any eluvian can give access to the Fade physically, only if the mage is powerful enough [Kieran], this scene may suggest something similar to the Temple of Sacred Ashes happened here: a burst of power, coming from the eluvian, killed these people. I speculate that they may have been empowering the eluvian with these Tevinter artefacts to force the mirror to give them access to the Fade and something went wrong. 

We continue the exploration through corridors decorated with more Keepers of Fear, reaching to a place where the Inquisitor sees the enemies as spiders. Solas tells us that these creatures are shaped in what we fear. Here we trigger The Birth of Fear when we click spider eggs. This note talks about the fears of a child of a warden: the fear of the blight, the darkspawn, and how the blight advanced in their father’s body. It’s very curious the situation: a Grey Warden with a child. After the Joining, having children are difficult, and if he had this child before the joining, it’s strange for a Warden to be part of his previous family. Duty comes first.

In the next zone, we find Justinia, and over her, the Humanoid Mythal statue. Depending on the angle, we can see Mythal facing the colossal statue of Andraste [last picture in the row].

Below the statue of Mythal we find A Note Left by a Burning Candle. This seems to be the letter written by one of the people that helped the Inquisition before the attack of Haven. It’s a sad letter because it was written by a parent to their  daughter who died at the Conclave.

Close to a door with a statue of a mabari, we find Letter in a Child's Simple Writing, which is about the fear of the darkspawn in a child whose town was attacked and he returns to check if he can find his mother.

In this section of the Fade we recover the second part of the Inquisitor’s memories. Hawke and whoever is the Grey Warden accompanying them, will discuss about the warden and their responsibility, to which Solas and Cole will add details about the Order being something more harmful than beneficial.

We find again this pair of statues I called Female Kossith/ Desire demon /Tevinter Warrior which were speculated about in detail in Venatori main camp.

A curious detail of the ground of the Fade: at some parts we see a lot of sea-bottom rests, trilobites, shells, and even fossils. I didn’t make a detailed following of this, but it seems to reinforce the idea of the Fade as a “place of preservation of history” or where you can find “fossils” from the past, preserved, maintained, and reflected. Exactly what Solas always says.

Close to the entrance where the path bifurcates, we find these Tevinter or Andrastian statues. Once the barrier is gone, there are two path, one I call the Tevinter Path, and the other, the Beach Path.

Close to this place, we find a vein of red lyrium and the important codex of Whispers Written in Red Lyrium. 

We are here We have waited We have slept We are sundered We are crippled We are polluted We endure We wait We have found the dreams again We will awaken

It’s a bit complicated to analyse this codex without going too conspiracy board guy.  What I think we are allowed to think after the last mural of Solas given in the trailer of DA:D is that the Black City has red lyrium veins. 

Maybe whatever has been trapped there is what whispers into the lyrium. They slept and awaited, they are incomplete, sundered, crippled. These entities use the word “we endure”, which is very associated with Elvhenan culture in all DA games: it has been said several times in cinematics [Solas in the Temple of Mythal or Solas in his personal quest] as well as in codices by Abelas and by Solas.  And I think the key word here is “we found the dreams again”, implying they had been removed from the world of the dream for a long time. Now, this may apply to Evanuris as well as Old Gods [or even Forgotten Ones, these last ones have almost no information in the Shattered Library, so we don’t really know what happened with them if we don’t trust the unreliable Dalish Tales]. 

As a personal speculation, I still keep seeing the lyrium as an element that gathers the “will” of many, so if the lyrium is associated with rituals like Uthenera that preserve memories and “wills” and allows the creation of artefacts like the Well of Sorrows [as it’s hinted in A Flowering Imago], the Red Lyrium doesn’t look to work differently on that aspect. So the Red Lyrium may gather the contaminated/corrupted will of many entities in it.

[snapdragen0artist]

Characters for one of my original stories called Inner Demons. Note that I only take inspiration from the Christian bible, some parts of the story are similar to the lore while others are completely different. My designs and characters have very little to do with their counterparts, so do not see them as the same.

King of Pride: Luc Noa Na

Pronouns: L-oo-s N-ō N-æ

A demon whose title fits his attitude. The eldest of the siblings and third only by the Emperor and The One, only thing which he is less then is in height, but who ever comments on that will be shown how he leaves no survivors.

He is closest to Za Zou Noe but will make sure not to admit it. Hates because called an angel for his wings. HATES angel, except for one- but that doesn’t matter anymore. Is never anywhere without his most trusted servant. 5’5 ft.

King of Greed: Ma Mi Mon

Pronouns: M-a M-ē M-on

A towering demon who is has mountains of gold just to bury sinners in them. As the second eldest of the siblings, he speaks the most openly to Luc Noe Na, but he knows his place. He is actually quite modest but enjoys torturing humans with what they can’t have.

Him and As Mo Tel are the mean girls of the group. He likes to play with his horn rings and his beads. Only wears the gifts his siblings have given him.

King of Lust: As Mo Tel

Pronouns: A-z M-ō T-ell

A demon who loves to torture sinners almost as much as her siblings. As the third eldest, she is the one who keeps the peace and stops infighting, with out her, most of ******** would have burned down by now.

Is a big fan of romance novels. Actually very much dislikes lust. Hangs out with Ma Mi Mon and Za Zou Noe the most. Has a very deep masculine voice.

King of Envy: Lev Than Ou

Pronouns: L-ē-v Th-an õ

A large demon who mostly stays in his domain but is completely willing to change forms to see the goings on. The middle child of the siblings who likes to push his luck with his older brothers. He also lets his two adopted sons live on earth so they understand human society better.

Favorite past time is to embarrass Za Zou Noe in public by loudly screaming how much he loves her. Likes to chill with Be Ize Bu. Likes to take trinkets that he finds in earth’s waters. Does commonly swim in earth’s oceans.

King of Gluttony: Be Ize Bu

Pronouns: B-ē Ī-z B-oo

A interesting demon who is just doing his job. He see humans almost like pandas, no matter how much angels and they try and save their species, they just keep making it harder. Has the fifth sibling, he sometimes gets overshadowed by his other siblings, but he doesn’t mind.

Likes to hand out with Lev Than Ou. Sometimes puts the sinners he hates in to his chest hole to feed of them.

King of Sloth: Bel Ge Gor

Pronounces: B-ell G-ē G-or

The largest of all the siblings in size and intelligence. Doesn’t need to do much since she can pray on the weak members of society with only her thoughts. Even though she’s the sixth eldest, her plans are always taken as the main plan in any strategy.

Doesn’t hang out with most of her siblings other then Za Zou Noe. Always has her Adopted son by her side.

And finally, last but not least….

King of Wrath: Za Zou Noe

Pronouns: Z-a Z-oo N-ō

Our main character, the not so wrathful king. She is the society weakest of the kings for not fitting in to the sins might. Is close to all of her siblings. The baby of the family and the favorite child. Has been harder for her to keep her self motivated after the war… after she di- better to not look back, for she can never forget. And even if other demons call her too soft, she will make sure that sinners and oath breakers will see true pain, for there is nothing false in the words of demons.

Is the kindest out of the kings and treats humans with an equal respect. Most a shy demon who would prefer to talk through situations than fight. Is the only demon allowed to enter Heaven. The only people who can calm her down are As Mo Tel and her jester.

[corvus-rose]

🎀 [Bow] How many named characters are in this WIP? How many do get a POV?

and

💖 [Heart] What is your favorite moment in this WIP?

:D

oh shit hi, gonna answer for Answers of a Yaksha

🎀: One of the hallmarks of my projects is Entirely Too Many Named Characters. Answers is on the lower side, and it still has 10-12 important named characters, and that's not counting one-chapter wonders who have names in the text. In the finished product, there will probably be only 2 major POVs, Vayu and Eden, with maybe a little Mycaed POV for the prologue and perhaps a Shiyala POV right before Act 4 (I haven't talked about Yala yet), but that's probably gonna be it. So 10~ important named characters and 2 (3) POVs.

💖: ay this is hard to answer. Here's some moments I am very fond of:

Vayu and Eden bond over playing chess/chaturanga/the combination chess and chaturanga at a party that may or may not all be a dream Vayu is having (Eden is very real and present though it's kind of their thing) (this is the only one that has been written so far)

Eden gathers up the courage to finally enter their old domain and they find things they do not like about themselves

Vayu escapes Lalanika by burning her house down

The entirety of Act 4! The slow buildup to the reunion! Dubious decisions and sword fights that ultimately lead to a happy ending

Bonus: anytime Mycaed makes an appearance. strange fungus yogini hours.

[notmuchtoconceal]

One thing I love about your runes is they don't look language based. They look downright mathematical. Almost like electrical blueprints. Resistors, capacitors, inductors, transistors. Full wire diagrams. Not many people know this, but houses with electricity installed in them are basically sentient beings. Wire up their nervous systems. Lights on the end of their fingertips. Outlet synapses. Fan-grinders. Complex portable cold brains like the clusters in octopus limbs.

Anyway, that's the way runes ought to be. Hard magic, not soft. Math, not language.

#ithinkmyvoiceiscomingback

#notthereyet

My friend, it is my pleasure to enlighten you. What you saw depicted in that post, side by side, were not runes, but goetic sigils.

A sigil, to put it succinctly (synopsis is its own form of deception) is a packet of concentrated simultaneous information, in contrast to language which is a narrow and linear stream of information. A young Christian lady whose work I'd partially transcribed for my own elucidation -- to say nothing of the elucidation of any others who would have it -- in her introduction to something of a slant expose on the gentleman on the right up there, spoke rhapsodically about the "fourth-dimensional" quality of Hebrew thought which we can see at play in the Old Testament.

This is what she is describing. Meditating upon one of these will change your perception in a certain way, for you are in effect stimulating certain regions of your brain by placing yourself in a receptive mode -- depending on your belief -- to your own unconscious attitudes or an externalized stream of deamonical energy entering your body, and empowering you with its malice. To meditate on them is thus to receive "downloads".

Goetia, which means howling, in the Solomonic sense, is contrasted with Theurgia, the invocation of higher celestial beings. Less the bestial revealing of one's own repressed psychopathy and more their higher mind's true calling. Your parsing of them is quite astute. I too see electrical-grids and circuit boards as I gaze, and it may be part of why they make me feel so lively. The sigils themselves being something of a stylization of those brain regions they're activating -- you could say -- thus revealing the conflict of internal/external as fully one of the ambiguity between entity and organ, a very Cronenbergian dilemma.

Very fetus-in-fetu. Does it have teeth or eyes?

If you'd like me to either cheapen it for you, or make the implications of the unseen reality around you much worse, 'daimon' in its original Greek sense specifically meant something closer to 'genius' in the sense of an effective process :-- something designed to be really good at doing a certain thing. When we say someone is 'a' genius what we really mean is that possesses a plurality of genius. Genius in multiple domains. Truly, anyone and everyone can acquire genius in some domain or other, for everyone has their talents, they're simply seldom discovered or nurtured.

This is true not only of people -- who can, offended and ensnared to another's will, be forced to labor under specific tasks, til they feel they're so good at doing simply that one task, they'd like to do it for anyone who would ask, they simply like doing it so much. Almost all demons are bottoms. They want to serve. They want to serve and install. They want to make you just like them so you can keep doing the thing they're doing and spreading on their trade and their secrets and their knowledge.

Tell me if this sounds familiar.

What do you engage with daily -- sometimes multiples of them at once -- they could be alive, they could be inanimate -- which market themselves as really good at performing a specific function, and which wants to sell you on its efficacy, purchase your devotion, get time-and-money based commitments, and sometimes even have representative mascot characters, but nevertheless, you still primarily engage with them as one stylized representation among many :-- a symbol usually framed within a box or grid, though they may now appear in numerous colors, styles and shades of transparency, much like men's underwear.

Try not to think too hard about it. It could be in your pocket right now.

[paper--moons]

Flip!Trumpet and Regressor!Skeptic Headcanons

Something that sets the Meta Liberation Army apart from other villain groups like the League or the Hassaikai is that they are made up of professionals. Yes, they are Big Bad ProfessionalTM villains—they are going to change society to align with Destro's vision, they have already set the plans in motion, they...also need small time. How else are they to maintain the "well-oiled machine" aspect of the MLA if they don't take proper care of themselves? Given that they all lead rather high-profile lives—the public part of their secret double-life as white collar villains—it's unsurprising that this would come with a lot of stress. What is surprising (or statistically unlikely, if you ask Tomoyasu) is that more than one of them have the same way that they manage all of that stress: regression. Although they do find that it manifests differently for each of them, as is to be expected.

No one is exactly clear on who began regressing first, or even when it started becoming a more common occurrence. All they know is, at some point, it wasn't exactly odd to find someone slipping during the lulls in official MLA business while staying at the villa. If they had to guess they might have said it was Geten, or maybe even Tomoyasu who first started to display some more obvious signs. But there are a few things they are certain of despite the wishy-washy beginnings. Like the fact that Koku is a flip with a fairly wide regression range of anywhere from two to seven, and usually settles at about five when he regresses. Whereas Tomoyasu is very much strictly a regressor and is permanently stuck in his terrible twos, although he maybe reaches his terrible threes on a few rare occasions should the stars be aligned.

Most of the time Koku doesn't mind playing cg to Tomoyasu if Re-Destro or Curious are busy, but the second they ask him to watch Geten at the same time is a different story entirely. Both of them require undivided attention in his opinion and watching them at the same time is a nightmare because someone tends to get jealous and fussy if he isn't getting all the attention. So Koku will absolutely jump from team cg to team regressor for the day, completely checks out and has left the big boy building, thank you very much. He does this out of spite and for the pure joy of knowing he won't have to be the one to clean up whatever the resulting chaos is if he's helping contribute to aforementioned chaos. He's just a little guy, they cannot get mad at him! Even if he did abandon ship on them...no, cannot yell at him, especially when he bats those eyelashes at them all innocent-like. Koku knows what he is doing when he gives the puppy dog eyes; he knows exactly how to play this game and he's going to win.

It's usually during this time that he slips on the smaller end too, a fact that Tomoyasu isn't pleased about. And he will make sure everyone knows that he is displeased. Because whenever they do happen to regress to the same range, it never ends well. Usually this means they'll play nice for about an hour or so, until Tomoyasu's temper gets the better of him—which isn't a difficult state for him to reach, especially when he's small and all those already-big emotions are even bigger. All it really takes is one "inexcusable offense" (typically crimes against his dolls, because Tomoyasu knows that Koku knows he isn't supposed to touch them but he says he can't help it! they're so pretty!) and then he's yanking on Koku's hair accompanied by a litany of no, no, no, no, an act that is met with a screech and his own hair getting tugged on (turnabout being fair play and all). Until, a very short while later, they are both crying and someone has to come separate them. They have cool-down time in separate corners before they have to apologize and try playing nice again.

Conversely, Koku handles acting as the big brother rather well when on the older end of his range, though it isn't clear whether he has a lot of patience or simply is used to Tomoyasu's antics. Probably the latter, given that Tomoyasu can put quite the strain on a person's nerves if they aren't used to how he operates. He can be well into the middle of one of his little hissy fits, huffing and well on the verge of frustration tears and Koku just. Plays along without really discounting whatever it is he's feeling. Taking his toy microphone and conducting a little interview of sorts and working through the tantrum. Asking him at first about whatever has him upset before moving on to a different subject, like what colors he likes or what they should have for lunch, to more specific questions about the dolls he likes so much. Tomoyasu can't really remember what it was that set him off in the first place when he's being prompted with what he would normally describe as asinine questions, if he were feeling bigger that is. As it stands however, he answers the questions (because he's so so good at knowing things!) until there's only the occasional hiccup and sniffle, his fussing forgotten for a time.

When they do collaborate together while small, it can sometimes be dangerous—or at least, dangerous for Daddy's credit card. Borrowing the credit card is their prerogative though, and they can and will use it. It isn't their fault that Curious left the TV on the home shopping network and it happens to be the hour that they are showcasing a lot of very enticing toys. They practically have to use it at that point! Tomoyasu isn't going to argue either as he watches Koku put in the long string of numbers on his phone, especially since he assures him that Mr. Re-Destro won't mind buying him a new LeapPad (which he needs because Geten broke his old one after dropping it in the toilet). It isn't as if they'll get into immediate trouble either and baby brain doesn't exactly work in long-term consequences; it isn't until much later that their little crime is discovered and their new toys revoked for a few days, banished to the cruel fate of having to share the (incredibly sticky) iPad with Geten (who is also incredibly sticky in that special way that only toddlers can achieve).

But rather than any arguing amongst the pair of them over who is to blame for the latest credit card incident (as this sort of incident occurs more often than it should, really), they must instead act as a united front against the true enemy: Geten. They come to the conclusion that it was his fault, since he broke the LeapPad that they just had to get replaced—an argument that had fallen upon deaf ears, unfortunately. Which means they must enact their own form of justice by shunning him. Lest they face another Chocolate Extreme incident, where there were no survivors and everyone was subjected to a bath by the end of it. No, they won't be playing with him or the yucky iPad, and instead are gunning for Re-Destro's phone (given that their own were confiscated once again due to their shopping spree). Somehow they do manage to get their hands on it and Tomoyasu unlocks it for them using his rather impressive hacking skills (i.e., remembering the pattern to swipe). Their mission successful, they are going to download so many games, they are...immediately buying more LeapPads, per Tomoyasu's request for another since the new one was confiscated and Koku's desire to show-off how well he can operate the phone. They might learn their lesson this next time. Maybe. And so the cycle is complete, and they can return to their regularly scheduled MLA business come Monday.

[kingdaddydaichi]

↳ Random HCs: R. Sukuna Edition ↲

Warnings/Notes (don’t skip this shit): n/sfw, 18+ only, mdni, f!reader, look the easiest thing to do would be to just tell you not to read this if you don't know who Sukuna is and/or if you are offended by his character/personality, black semen (yes, i’m disgusting what’s up 💁🏼‍♀️), marking, exhibitionism, voyeurism, collar, “pet”/"slut"/"whore", degradation, praise, mention of ass play, cumflation, squirting, mention of drawing blood, breeding, Sukuna just being fucking Sukuna k? 🤷🏼‍♀️

Says “bruh” sometimes, especially at Yuuji

Marks you, gives you a curse mark that’s like a signature/brand to let others know you belong to him.

Okay but what if his jizz is black?

100000% has dick tattoos…a pair of thick, black bands matching the ones on his arms.

Also has the same tattoos on his legs…one pair of bands around his muscular thighs, the other just above his ankles

Likes it when you ride his cock while he sits on his throne. "Ganbare, ganbare..."

Will bend you forward if you're riding him in reverse when he's ready to cum. He'll slam into you so hard that his flexing ass raises up off his seat while his wet thighs clap against yours.

I know this is played out, but it’s basically canon at this point: grows a mouth just above the base of his cock to tease your clit (or asshole...or both) while he fills your cunt with his fat dick

Puts a collar on you and calls you “pet”

Expects you to wait on your knees for him…

until he tugs on your leash, then you are to crawl on all fours while he leads you around his domain

“Stop. Stay on your hands and knees, pet,” he growls. Still holding onto your leash, he circles behind you and moves his robe to the side just enough to pull out his hard cock.

He gives his dick a couple of strokes, pulling his foreskin back before slipping it inside your squelching cunt, bulldog style.

Will deadass fuck you right in front of those who happen to enter his Innate Domain to establish his “irrefutable dominance".

Loves it when you make slurping noises while sucking his cock

How big is his cock? However big he wants it to be. “You seem to be enjoying this a little too much, pet. Gonna make my cock so big you fucking weep while I ream you.”

Before he falls in love with you: “Did I say you could look at me while I’m fucking you, whore?” “Keep your eyes on my cock, you fucking degenerate slut. Watch my fat fucking cock slide in and out of your filthy pussy.” “Gonna break that tight little pussy of yours while it drools all over my loins.”

After he falls in love with you: “I said look at me while I’m breeding you, pet!”

If your fingers go anywhere near his asshole he has to fight tooth and nail not to cum on the spot.

His tongue-fucking game is SNAAAAAATCHED asf okay?

Kisses your tongue if you burn it on something.

Laughs at you when you get the hiccups.

Teaches you to suck his dick E X A C T L Y how he likes it. Rewards you by shoving his cock down your throat.

Sleeps shamelessly: naked, on his back, spread eagle, no covers; heavy, soft dick lolled to the right on proud display

Cumflation. Sukuna loves to fill your soft belly with his thick black seed.

Takes a pic of your face when you cum on his cock for the 3rd time in as many minutes and makes it his home screen…while he’s still fucking you.

Uses your phone to take a close-up video of your twitching pussy slurping away on his wet, veiny dick then flips you onto your belly and makes you watch it while his hips clap against your ass.

Loses his mind when you cry out for him while he’s ravaging your cunt. “YesssS’kuna, oh shit fuck me harder! Oh god, oh fuck Ryooooou!” All 4 of his eyes will roll back in his pretty head.

Sure, he could text you these things, but he secretly loves leaving little handwritten notes for you in random places: “Love you, pet” on your bathroom mirror. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about last night” under your windshield wiper. “Text me if you need anything” in your coat pocket. “Can’t wait to feel you gag on my cock again, sweetheart” under a magnet on the refrigerator door.

LIFE👏🏼STYLE👏🏼DOM👏🏼

Messy pussy eater…never breaks eye contact with you and comes up after he makes you squirt in his mouth with a big toothy grin, his long tongue licking his dripping chin as he mounts you, groaning in your ear “Mmm…I could devour every last drop of you, my sweet little pet.”

Alternates letting you paint his fingernails while he paints your toenails when he gets bored inside Yuuji’s head.

Speaking of his fingernails, get ready to have their marks on you on a constant basis

Grips your thighs and hips so hard while he’s slamming into you that he draws blood at the very least

Falls asleep on your shoulder when you lightly trace your soft fingertips over his tattoos.

Buries his face in your neck, so close he can smell your hair. “I don’t like your new shampoo. Change it back.”

“M’hands are cold, Ryo,” you say, pouting while pushing them around his back under the trim of his robe. He looks down at you for a moment and huffs. “Fine. Just keep ‘em close to me.”

You gasp, pointing, “Ryo! Look! Taiyaki!” He walks after you to the street vendor, waiting patiently for you to pick which flavor you want. “I can’t decide between chocolate and sweet potato,” you say, chewing your lip. Sukuna pushes off of the wall and drops a few thousand yen on the counter. “Give her two of both.”

Will not fucking move if you fall asleep on him. Loves listening to you breathe and feeling your heartbeat against his warm, inked skin.

[ohraicodoll]

Figment | Chapter 5

(Gif credit to FilmBlazer)

Chapters:  5/7 Fandom:  The Sandman (Comics & TV 2022) Rating:  Mature Relationships:  Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Original Female Character, Dream/Reader Characters:  Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Original Female Character, Matthew the Raven, Lucienne Additional Tags: Mix of TV Dream and Comic Dream, Spice a little later, kinda enemies to lovers, Cause Dream likes when people backtalk to him, lots and lots of tension Summary: She had only been able to enter other’s dreams two years ago, but she knew the rules. Don’t interfere with the dream. Don’t create anything in another’s dream. Don’t destroy anything in another’s dream. But then she stupidly broke one of those rules and the Lord of Dreams does not take kindly to others messing with his domain. Chapter Summary:   A game between two where both win or both lose. Read Here on AO3 Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7

CHAPTER 5

The memory of his touch followed me through most of the following day. When I woke up, I replayed the scene over and over, trying to figure out how it had gotten to the point where the King of Dreams was sensually kissing my hands. There was no mistake, that’s what it had been. It was amazing how even with those inky black pits for eyes, I could feel his gaze burning on me. The heat of those starry eyes was scorching and powerful enough that even remembering them, I had a hard time breathing. Because he was Dream of the Endless, the embodiment of dreams and nightmares and stories, billions of years old and more powerful than the mind could fathom. And I…was human, utterly and blandly, human. We were brief flashes of life in comparison to him. Existence that long had to be lonely and he had said he had relationships. He’d been cheated on, which now that I’ve met him, seems mind-boggling because who would dare? Lust and want and desire seemed to beckon all though. It should be no surprise if he had had escapades through the years, if only to temper back that loneliness. It was hard to wrap my mind around. I don’t know, maybe he was secretly a flirt. He didn’t seem like the type but also, who knows? The minds of gods are hard to fathom. My own was struggling to simply process that all of that powerful attention, the attention of such an ethereal being, had been on me.

And I had enjoyed it. Reciprocated. Teased him as if he couldn’t snap a nightmare into existence in a second. As if it was no big deal to stick your hand into the open mouth of an alligator, the idea that it’d bite not even worth considering. I had been brazen, so unlike how I would have been in the waking world. But I was beginning to realize that the me in the Dreaming had no reason to hold back, no reason to skirt around others feelings or to not speak up or hold back anger. Because nothing felt permanent, even if I knew that wasn’t true. It felt like it. I didn’t have to be worried about getting fired in the Dreaming or hurting a coworker's feelings or being embarrassed about mis-stepping. And there was power in that and courage. I chewed on my lip, struggling to focus on the reports in front of me as the echo of Morpheus’ fingers on mine played over and over, the tingling of his touch that reverberated throughout my whole body. My skin had been so sensitive, every minute caress of his thumb sending lightning through me. Someone snapped in front of my face and I jumped, knees smacking hard and loud against my desk, and I almost bent over from the sharp pain.

“Hello?” My coworker, Anissa, was hanging off the side of my cubicle, eyebrows raised high into her hairline, “I’ve been calling your name for like a whole minute. You’ve just been staring at your screen and haven’t stopped pressing the letter A the whole time. I blinked, a wince still on my face, and glanced at the screen to see lines and lines of A’s filling it. Well shit. “Sorry, I was distracted,” I grumbled and rubbed my hurt knees. Anissa smirked, “Yeah, no kidding. There’s practically drool on your face.” The smirk grew when I instinctively went to wipe my lips and found nothing. I only glared annoyed and leaned back in my chair, “Sorry, what did you need?” She grinned and stepped even more into the small space, leaning back into the cubicle’s wall, “Oh no, we’re not skipping past whatever this is. So who's the dream boy? Cause I know for a fact you did not go back to Thomas.” Flashes of skin the color of marble and hair like ink danced in my mind and I shook my head, “It’s not like that, there’s no one. I just stayed up late to finish reading that new contemporary romance they’re pushing hard next week and it’s still on my brain.” Anissa raised a brow, utterly not believing my bullshit lie, “Uh huh. Sure. The mediocre romance with the paper thin characters. All I’ll say, because you seem like the type to be embarrassed but you completely shouldn’t be, is that it’s okay to have a little… fun so quickly after a breakup. Life’s too short to be mopey and you’ve been utterly mopey these past few weeks. Who knows, something non-committal might just be good for you.” I laughed awkwardly and coughed, embarrassed and not knowing if this is a conversation I really wanted to be having right now, especially after last night, “I will…keep that in mind. Thank you, Ani, I would like to hide under my table now.” She winked and pushed off my wall to leave, “Fine, go back to daydreaming about your mystery man. I was only coming to tell you the meeting is canceled since everyone decided Friday meetings are dumb so you can spend the rest of the day and all weekend thinking about him.” She practically cackled as she walked off and I shrank into my seat, face in my hands. What was wrong with me?

__________

“Rest assured that your shadows shall not remain lonely upon your next visit.” It had taken me a whole extra hour to settle my nerves and actually fall asleep that night. His words had whispered through me like a promise. That he would be there in my dream, watching. My lip was raw from worrying it between my teeth all day and I had paced the length of my bedroom for an unreasonable amount of time. This was dumb. The anxiety was dumb, the fact I had even flirted with the Dream King, the thought that anything was going to happen. The Dreaming was his domain, he was in every facet of the realm. Of course he was going to be there, he was always there in some form or fashion. And with that, I slipped into the Dreaming, not knowing what I would come upon. I could hear music, string instruments filling the air and indistinct chatter humming in the background. Opening my eyes, I was standing on the second floor landing of a large ballroom, lanterns lit everywhere and light sparkling off all the shining golden décor. The style of the place was Victorian but still modern with intricately carved pillars and facades. The ceiling was made of glass though, a dome top with the night sky dazzling above. There was a host of different people below me, dressed to perfection but with indistinguishable faces underneath masquerade masks of various animals. They laughed and danced and I wondered if they would have actual faces underneath those masks or if they were just blank slates, placeholders to fill out the world of my dream. The candles of the lanterns flickered, casting everything in warm light but leaving deep shadows all around and in the corners. My eyes searched and I wondered if he was there, waiting and watching, keeping those shadows company as he had said he would. I couldn’t feel a mask on my face but knew I was dressed to match the rest of the crowd, glancing down to take in the black fabric of my skirt. Sometimes my dreams changed my clothes, sometimes it was whatever I had worn to bed, but it had never been this extravagant as if it knew who I was hoping to meet. The dress was gauzy and so deeply black it felt like I was staring into a void, the same darkness Morpheus’ eyes seemed. It was floor length, the skirt pooling at my feet and sparkling crystal stars glittering in the fabric but still felt light as if I was dressed in a cloud. The shape of it hugged my frame, A-line with a deep V-neck that fit me well, gems and sequins embroidered in the bodice in swirls and flowers and leaves. My arms were bare, with the exception of bracelets of gold leaves, but attached with golden pins to the straps of my dress, a long cape flowed to merge with the inkiness of my dress with the fabric draped just so to where my back was still a bit bare and exposed. I felt royal, a dark queen watching over her court and the night her domain. My hair was left undone, falling around my shoulders and down my back in long curling waves. I could see my reflection a bit in the mirrored reflection of the floor, buffed and shined to magnificence, and could see the shimmer of gold streaked over my cheeks and the coal lining my eyes to darken them. I looked like the night sky and the shadows cast by the flickering candle flame. Pushing away from the railing, I was surprised to notice I wasn’t wearing shoes though, my feet bare against the cold of the marble floor and the chiffon of my dress dancing along the skin. That pleased me a bit, as if I was the only one allowed the impropriety of going barefoot in the midst of all these elegant people. Dressed to the nines but still having a small act of rebellion. A winding staircase led to the first floor and I smiled at the mingling people, trying to overhear their conversations but only hearing gibberish. As if the dream had been sure to populate the setting, but couldn’t put forth that much more effort to craft every single thing these people said. The attendees wore finely pressed suits with waistcoats, flowers tucked into pockets, gold embroidery sewn into their charcoal fabric. Nothing was plain, everything exquisitely over-the-top. Black and gold seemed to be the theme for this party, the women wearing glittery dresses with dark flowers sewn in ornate styles with obsidian stones while the men wore ebony suits with gold details and chains attached to antique pocket watches. It was beautiful and felt dark, mysterious, a ball made of smoke and extravagance. I walked around the edges of the dancing crowd, taking in the details and the various masks everyone wore, and began to feel it. A prickling at the small of my back, lingering, like a finger trailing over the exposed skin there. Pausing, my breath hitched and I slowly peaked over my shoulder to stare at the corners of the room where the candlelight did not reach. The darkness engulfed those edges, writhed, making the ballroom seem as if it had no walls and was floating in the abyss, but no twin stars could be found. I knew he was there, could feel him, that vibration of his power sliding over me like the whisper of silk and a lover’s caress. Chewing on my lower lip, thankful the dream hadn’t given me lipstick and knew my tendencies well enough, I turned back around. I could go to him, sink into those shadows and let him find me there. Eager, so very eager, to see what he would do. Or… I made a choice. Head held high, I merged with the crowd, deciding to hell with staying on the fringes, and slid through the bodies of masked people dancing and laughing there to the innermost parts. A woman, slightly reminding me of Anissa, with a gold beaded cat mask danced by me in the arms of a man with an angular deer mask. His antlers were tall and almost made him a crown of thorns atop his hair. They cheerfully laughed and swung each other in a circle, her skirt twirling along mine as she went past to the thrum of the music. Someone with a fox mask and gold dusted black jacket brushed against me and paused and before I could blink, had grabbed my hand in his. He raised it up and was spinning me before pulling me into his arms so fluidly I was disoriented. My hand was in his and the other on his shoulder, his resting on my waist, and we danced.

It was frenetic, fast and loose, as if the music and the dancers knew the rules but chose to push the limits and test the boundaries. It was less structured and I realized, more like following the flicker of flames. This was a ball of mystery and passion and they danced like it, unbound and wild and letting themselves be carried away. I didn’t think I knew how to waltz but I kept up, adrenaline rushing through me and that knowing burn tracing up my back and following me, as the fox faced man spun me again. My dress flared around me like tendrils of darkness and a different hand held mine high now, a man with golden hair and a black crow mask. Both of us mirrored the others movements as we swirled around each other, connected with only our one hand pressed against each other. Someone else grabbed my other hand, a woman in a rabbit mask, and the crow faced man passed me off to her. Our movements were liquid as we moved into the same dance, a mirrored circle where the only point of contact was the soft press of our hands conjoined together to form two halves of a whole. It went like that on and on, hands grasping and pulling and sending me off, the various strangers of the ball spinning me in circles before passing me off to the next, an endless chain of revelers going on and on. The room was a carousel of flickering lights, shadows, and masked faces. It was exhilarating and dizzying and I was laughing, feeling almost drunk and light and warm. Weightless. Absolutely weightless, as if I was shaking off every worry and concern with each press of hands and touch of skin. I danced with them all. Women. Men. Shapeless forms that seemed recognizable and unrecognizable but swirled around and around. The ball, the crowd, the darkness pressing in from the corners of the room, were bewildering and sensuous and I soaked in the magic that hung in the frantic air like the sweat that clung to my skin and dripped slowly between my breasts. My heart was racing and hair flying around me to match my dress as I danced, partner after partner in a twirl of glittering fabric. And then he was there. My breathing was ragged, lips still turned in a smile, as the spinning suddenly halted and the world came to a jarring stop as it was his hand that took mine and I had to keep myself from careening into him. A rock in the middle of a rushing river, the stopping of momentum earth tilting. Morpheus stood in front of me, a pillar of night in the sea of the crowd. No one looked or even brushed against him, as if we were in a bubble of our own that could not be touched. Those eyes of fathomless darkness and their pinpoints of light for pupils stared down at me, taking in the flush of my skin and the energy radiating off me. Our hands were raised between us, opposites clasped, his fingers strong on mine but still so gentle. His cloak looked like it was cut from the stars themselves, the flames burning almost a light gold at the hem and the edges brushed in stardust. If I wasn’t mistaken, he almost looked more formal, a waistcoat and silk black shirt underneath to match the ensemble of the crowd. His skin glistened in the light of the candles, making him look warmer, almost more human-like under their cast. Not quite so pale and made of stone, but still not human. Too beautiful and powerful to ever be mistaken for human. I couldn’t help it, couldn’t help the utter thrill of seeing him there, and grinned, chest still heaving as I worked to catch my breath.

“Hello, King of Dreams,” I spoke, husky and full of laughter as I looked up into that immortal face of his and felt the music thrumming through me. That ghost of a smirk, so miniscule I could reason it away as a shift of the light, played along his lips. He bowed his head to me and slowly, so achingly slowly, he brought my bare skin to his lips and laid a kiss across my knuckles as his eyes bore into mine, “Hello, little dreamer.” A lightning bolt shot through me from the touch and my skin felt so sensitive and tight, blazing heat coursing through me. I laughed, the sound dark and breathy, bottom lip between my teeth, “You kept your promise. I guess my shadows haven’t been so lonely tonight.” He stood straight, keeping my hand in his, and raised a brow, “You were aware I was here?” The tone was less quizzical, less him believing he had been sneaky about it. I’m not sure he had ever been sneaky in his life, but it felt like a whispered accusation, small, as if he was almost saying, “You were aware and did not come to me.” This was a king and he had expected my obedience, my supplication, and I hadn’t given him that. Had never given him that. My gaze was entranced with the way the light moved on his skin, casting his face in stark relief, and I murmured, low and smoky, “I’m always aware of you.” Those twin stars flashed mauve in the candlelight. Everything about me was vibrating as I stood before him, overheated and tingling. I lowered my gaze, staring at our clasped hands between us as my free one balled in the fabric of my dress and then blinked up at Morpheus from under long lashes, “Dance with me, Dream King?” I could feel his gaze roam over mine, face flush from the revelries and lip slightly swollen from chewing on it most of the night (and day). Sweat slid along my skin, clinging to my neck and chest and back but I didn’t care. I felt untethered and unworried and delicious under the gaze of this powerful creature. But he bowed his head in an apology, that small smile of his almost tinged with sadness, “Apologies, milady, but I do not dance.” And there were almost unspoken words there. He didn’t dance because how would it look? He didn’t dance because he was the Lord of the Dreaming and wouldn’t lower himself to the act. He didn’t dance because he couldn’t give himself over to an ounce of frivolity. In that wave of reckless abandon that was carrying me through the night, my hand in his and those eyes of ink and stars meeting mine, I let myself grin widely at him as I questioned incredulously, “Thousands and thousands of years old and you don’t dance? I hope that doesn’t mean that you don’t know how because that would be an absolute travesty. Mostly on your part.” A part of me knew that this was a being that didn’t exactly like to be teased. He was stoic and unyielding in his ways and tightly coiled, but I didn’t care at that moment. I’d walked the razor's edge with him before and I couldn’t keep myself from doing it over and over again. It was the game we had begun. Two opposing forces butting heads, clashing and burning. One would eventually lose but not yet. Morpheus only quirked a brow, not biting at the tease, thumb grazing slowly over the skin he had kissed. “I am very well capable of the act, little dreamer. I simply do not partake,” he replied, admonishing and daring. I raised my own brow, taking a step back in challenge. We never broke eye contact even as I moved a little further away, fingers still wrapped around each other, and a dare in my eyes. Chase me, play with me, take the bait. And with a flash of a mischievous grin, I raised our joined hands and twirled under his arm, letting the darkness of my dress ripple around me as I spun myself.

Dream’s hand reflexively followed the movement, keeping me grounded as he knowingly or unknowingly helped me spin. Then I stopped with the soft rustling of skirts, my hand clasped firmly in his, closer than before as the fox faced man had done to me. So close now I had to crane my neck up to see his face. My grin was wide and proud, chest almost pressed against his while I took in air and my other hand rested on his shoulder to balance myself. His hand had caught on the curve of my waist, those long fingers of his digging gently into the embroidered fabric. His cloak coiled around us like a serpent, blending with the blackness of my gown, and I was surprised that it felt like the most luxurious velvet I could have imagined. The velvet of the night sky, soft and warm and inviting. Laughing softly, I beamed with my tongue between my teeth, “See? Now you’ve partaken. Dream of the Endless does, in fact, dance.” The candlelight darkened his face, eyes shadowed completely and mauve stars burning as he whispered, “Impertinent little thing.” But the words were almost adoring this time, an echo of the angry words he had once hissed at me, a whispered promise in a dark room behind closed doors. “Always,” I whispered back into the space between us, grin slipping into a playful smile. I knew my cheeks must be flushed, that the redness was probably creeping down the exposed skin of my chest. Every point of contact was electricity. My body was so sensitive, alight with his touch and gaze and the dark way it traced from my eyes to my nose, lips, neck before meeting my own gaze. His head tilted ever so slightly and in the back of my mind, I thought I could hear the crowd hush and the music slow. Then we were moving, him guiding us slowly into a dance. Less a full waltz and closer to a gentle sway but I would take it. I would take whatever he would give me. He held my hand in his and pulled me flush against him, chest to chest, not allowing any space between us. And I didn’t care. The whole world could be burning and I wouldn’t care because he was a cold fire, dark and burning and swallowing me whole in its blaze. The other revelers were dark shadows, not quite tangible anymore, but merely brushes along my skin like smoke as they danced around us. The music was low and rich, thrumming through me and reverberating through my blood. Morpheus watched. He watched every little reaction. When he twirled me, almost lazily so my dress could slide along him, and pulled me back in with my back to his chest, he drank in my laughter and watched it light up my face. When I was fully against him, he drank the shaky way my breath rasped out at the contact, hand still entwined with mine and arm fully wrapped around my waist and keeping me there against him. He pressed his face into my hair, nose trailing down my neck to match as he ran a single finger down my free arm and watched my chest hitch at the feather light touch. He laughed softly against the sweat soaked skin of my neck and laid a teasing kiss there, lips lingering until I clenched my fingers in his and let out an imperceptible moan. “Have you had quite enough, little dreamer?” the dreamlord asked into my skin, lips grazing the sensitive spot there as he spoke and I almost moaned again. But I let my head fall back to his shoulder, neck bared to him and eyes slid shut, and grinned, “Oh hardly. Don’t tell me you’re tired already, your highness?” He chuckled into my ear and leaned his head down to lay another torturous kiss on my collar bone, teeth grazing this time. Then he was twirling me away from him, spinning me, pulling me back into the whirlwind of skirts and dancing and heady music that wrapped around us. We danced and danced some more, my body floating and only tethered by his body against mine and our clasped hands. My fingers dug into the muscle at his shoulders, grasping onto him, and I felt them shift under my hands. He was sculpted from stone, lean but muscled, his grip on me tight as if I really were smoke and would flutter into the air if he let go. While sweat and hair clung to me, breath coming out in frantic gasps, Morpheus was unaffected but I could feel his hungry gaze taking me in, watching each bead of sweat slip down into the bodice of my dress and the flush along my gold stained cheeks. We slowed and swayed, his thumb brushing patterns into the back of the hand that was trapped in his. The hand at my waist shifted and left my body and I didn’t even have time to be confused to where it had gone before I could feel the light tracing of his knuckles along the bare skin of my back. I jolted, something I’m sure he could feel, and my breath hitched as he ran them up and down, up and down in agonizing slowness. My breath came out in tattered wisps, so close to him that each exhalation brushed along his neck. If I were to lean forward, I could rest my forehead along his jawline, the long stretch of his neck before me. Images flashed of licking up that long expanse of neck, tasting him, clamping my teeth around that pulsing heartbeat there and seeing if I could garner a reaction. That small trace of his knuckles were undoing me, my mind only able to focus on that small bit of contact and gods if it wasn’t the most erotic thing. Dream leaned forward, breath hot on my skin as he whispered in my ear, “Are you certain that your shadows are sufficiently comforted? I am here, but perhaps they wish for your presence as well.” I bit my lip and turned my face to his as he turned as well, my nose skimming along his skin. He pressed his forehead to my own and I was utterly swallowed by the darkness of his gaze, the feeling of his breath mingling with mine. It wouldn’t take much, just the smallest of movements, and I could press my lips to his, could taste him, drink him in like he had.

I was lost to this creature, completely lost. “Maybe,” I licked my lip and those starry pupils followed the movement, before replying in a barely audible whisper, “we should both keep them company. You obviously need a break from all this dancing you don’t partake in.” Those pinpoints of light in his eyes turned, darkening, and he twined the fingers of our clasped hands together before stepping forward, guiding me backwards. In two small steps, our surroundings shifted and my back hit the wall of the ballroom, shadows swallowing us and the revelry suddenly much farther away from us. Away from view, where no one could see us. Those twin stars in the darkness swallowed my vision as the shadows completely wrapped around him, welcoming him back with loving arms. But I could feel his breath fanning on my cheeks and lips, his hand now flush along the bare skin of my back, and I could swear I felt him smirk hungrily as his nose skimmed along mine. The dreamlord raised our intertwined hands along the wall, the long skim of cool wood against my fevered skin almost making me moan in relief, and pinned it above my head. The hand on my bare back arched me forward, pressing fully and completely against him. I could feel the message there, the trace of amusement in his movements. Caught. Captured. Trapped. I’d coaxed him into playing with me and been triumphant in that, but he was winning this game and I was his prize. The alligator had clamped down and bitten. My one free hand clung onto his shoulder as he slid his nose alongside mine before following a path along my cheek and down my jawline. I was liquid fire, a puddle in his arms with a racing heart and shallow breaths. The torture of those small, simple touches raked along every nerve of mine, taunting, and setting me a light. Morpheus blew out a small, gentle breath along the skin on the underside of my ear and I shuddered, a loud moan escaping me. “Shhh,” he whispered into the skin there, “It would be most…improper, little dreamer, to be caught like this.”   Fuck improper, he was unraveling me and he knew it. There was no one else here, no one of consciousness at least, but this was his game now. That anyone could be watching us, could hear us, could catch us and the game would be over. Continuing to trace along my skin, he bent and ever so lightly grazed his lips under my jaw and up and down my neck. I tilted my head up, eyes closed and biting down on my lip to keep from moaning out loud lest he decide to punish me and stop. He wasn’t kissing the skin, was barely touching it with his lips, gentler than the caress of a feather, but the promise that it would take so very little to do so, yet he didn’t, was aching and torturous. It was the promise, the temptation and want that was driving me insane. Because I wanted him to kiss me, to lick and bite me and unmake me entirely and the denial was painful. My chest pressed against him with each rasping breath and my captured hand spasmed, wanting desperately to be free to touch him, feel him. But he kept me in place, palm against palm and fingers intertwined with a gentleness despite the power. My other hand left its place on his shoulder, the only thing of mine free, to at least move upwards and curl around the back of his own neck. He was so warm under my fingertips, the hair at the nape of his neck unbelievably soft and my thumb tracing the hard edge of his jawline. The tip of his nose dragged upward and I was burning, dying, wanting to pull him forward by his neck and drink in his kiss, taste his lips, and completely devour him. I wanted to feel his hands on my skin, wanted those hands to dive under my skirts and grip my thighs and drown me. His forehead pressed against mine as before and I opened my eyes and could almost feel the knowing look he wore. The dreamlord was deceptively calm, but I could tell it affected him as well from the hard press of his body and the flexing of his fingers along my back. He was the image of restraint, able to take his time, all night perhaps, to pace this out. He was endless, he had all the time in the world. But I wasn’t and patience was never my strong suit. My loose fingers ran up to tangle in his hair, the soft tendrils of strands beneath them and I lightly, slowly, dragged my nails along his scalp. Morpheus hissed, half a moan, onto my lips and shuddered against me at the sound. I couldn’t help the large grin that crawled back onto my face or the utter pride that I could play this game too. He hadn’t won yet. “Wicked thing,” he growled. I chuckled darkly, pressing even closer until our lips were only a hair from each other, whispering my words onto his, “You started it, I’m merely participating.” The hand at my back trailed down, following the curve of my hip, and, as if he had read my mind, he gripped my thigh tightly, bruisingly, while pushing me back hard and fully flush against the wall. I let out a gasp onto his lips as he pressed his own body in closer and let me know exactly how much he enjoyed my participation. But he still didn’t give in, his voice molasses and burning embers and dark promises against my lips, “Well then … perhaps I should put an end to this game.” I wanted to say yes please, for him to quit torturing me and finally kiss me, to wrap my legs around his waist and sate the aching need that was throbbing through ever part of my body. Not pulling away entirely, he bent and so incredibly gently pressed his lips along my neck. I was riding the electrical current flowing through me at the touch, was sure he could feel the want dripping off me as he laid kiss after kiss up my neck up to my ear. I moaned, pressing myself harder against him, body absolutely writhing. The Lord of Dreams smiled against my skin and pressed his forehead against the side of my head, his breath teasing my ear as he whispered tenderly, “Goodnight, little dreamer.” I sucked in a breath and he pulled away enough that I could see his face and that predatorial smirk, full of satisfaction and deviousness, before the dream began to melt away and faded completely. I jolted up in bed, panting and heavy with desire and utterly annoyed to the point of being enraged. The air was cold on my heated skin, body wound so tight, and I stared in the darkness of my room, thinking I could still see Morpheus’ twin star eyes in the shadows but instead found nothing. That asshole. That complete asshole. With the loudest, most agonized groan of my life, I flopped backwards, grabbed a pillow, and placed it over my face to smother myself in. I’d made him play the game. I lost. Then again, I’m not sure he won either, if how much he had seemed to want whatever was happening was evident. But I wasn’t done playing. Not just yet.

[roscgcld]

RYOMEN SUKUNA || we will meet again

anime: jujutsu kaisen

characters: ryomen sukuna

pronouns: she/her

proof read: N/A

"Promise me...that one day, we will meet again."

Back in the day, when Jujutsu Sorcerers were at their prime, lived a Cursed Spirit who goes by the name Sukuna. Once a human Sorcerer himself, he had somehow managed to create himself into the Jujutsu world's most feared Cursed Spirit. He was dubbed 'the King of Curses' and rained terror over the human and jujutsu world; with super natural powers and a sadistic personality to match the title. Everyone who has crossed him shook in absolute fear.

That was, of course, before he met a particular princess.

She was a beautiful woman; the daughter of one of the then king’s favourite concubines. Born with the alluring beauty of her mother, and a heart of gold, it was hard to ignore her presence when she walked into a room. 

She was brought up in the palace, where she was given the title as princess; but she will never sit on the throne of the kingdom her father rules over. As only the King’s wife is allowed to bear the heir that will sit on the throne. She didn’t mind, she had never desired such power to begin with. Even if she was going to be married off to one of the many foreign princes asking for her hand in marriage, she didn’t care about titles. 

Since she was never destined to sit on the throne, her father had given her quite the freedom to do as she pleases. With all her free time, she tends to use it connect to the people of her kingdom; helping the needy during their time of need, always purchasing things from the local vendors and merchants that have travelled long and far. She is beloved by the people, and shines a light on the royal family that makes them more human instead of the godly image that is projected onto the royal family.

Anyone who meets her would fall in love for her - and apparently not even Cursed Spirits were the exception.

The princess have always love spending her time out in nature - horse back riding with a few of the guards in training, swimming in the river that her brothers love to hunt by, learning about the different plants and herbs from the doctors that go out foraging for medical herbs. So it came to the surprise to no one when Sukuna stumbled onto the princess by accident on the riverbed.

Sukuna had not expected to see any human about as he goes about his walk deep in the woods. It was one of those rare moments to himself where he does not necessarily have anything he needed to do on hand, and also the few rare moments where he does not have a mob of sorcerers up his ass. He was just enjoying the sounds of nature and the soft wind blowing against his kimono when he heard what sounded like a human's laughter coming from the river near by. At first he was curious, since no human usually ventures this deeply into the woods. At the same time, he had wanted to ignore it, since humans are just a pain in the ass to deal with even if they can't see you. However, there was something so alluring about that soft giggle that had him wanting to see just who this annoying brat was. So, without even him realising what was happening, his feet quietly walked towards the river and before he knew it, he had pushed the last branch aside to peek over at the river bed curiously. Sitting before him on a flat rock by the river was a woman with flowing hair, her small feet dipped into the running water below as her hands reached forward to play with a few of the fishes that swam by. The pink fabric of her furisode laid behind her like a pink halo, showcasing the intricate sakura trees and flowers that were sown into the fabric. The aura around her was relaxed and peaceful, and somehow just seeing her brings him a sense of peace. As if she could sense his stare, the woman suddenly pauses before she turns to look over her shoulder curiously; bright and seemingly glowing eyes meeting his red ones head on. Sukusa felt the world around him come to a stop as the eyes of the princess before him trapped him on the spot, causing him to loose all train of thought from before. "Oh - were you wanting to sit here too?"

"Huh?"

The casual way she just asked him that question definitely threw him off. The woman actually just lets out a soft laugh at his dry answer. "It's alright - we can share the space if you don't mind." She commented, a teasing tone taking over her voice as she patted the free spot beside her. "I promise I don't bite."

If she had known just who this man was, she might actually understand how ironic her sentence was. But Sukuna decided not to comment on it as he quietly makes his way towards her, sitting down at the spot beside the princess whose eyes had already returned to the river before her. "The water feels extra nice today. And there is more fishes then usual." She conversed with the man casually, causing Sukuna to wonder if she is pretending to be as dense as she is right now. "How are you so calm right now? I mean, do you see a 10ft tall human with four arms every day or what? Your reaction is sort of dull." 

The princess pauses in thought as she thinks, looking far too relaxed by his side. "I have always been able to see...odd things." She started off with a soft hum, glancing over at the man beside her with a soft smile. "I have asked people around me before, and after realising that I am the only one who can see them, I decided to ignore them." She admitted, running her dry hand through her hair softly. "But if I am being honest, this is the first time one has actually ever spoken to me."

"Well, I'm not the everyday curses." He said with a slightly proud tune in his voice, to which the princess beside him looks up at the taller man with interest. "Every day curses are small things, I am basically what people in my world call a Special Grade Curse." He continued, and for some reason, when he saw how her eyes were staring up at in him awe, he looked away with a light blush on his face. He doesn't even know what was about her that drags out these human-like emotions from him - he had never felt like this ever before.

"Special Grade Curse?" She echoes back with curiosity, to which the man beside her just nods softly as he leans back to rest on the free arms, the other two crossed across his chest. Suddenly she turned to face him, her eyes shining so brightly with excitement that it caused Sukuna to squint a little. "Can you explain just what you are to me a little more?"

One question was all it took to have Sukuna falling, and if he was being honest - he actually didn’t mind spending so much time on this little human. From sharing stolen nights in her bedroom in the royal palace, to sneaking out to just go to the riverbed where the met for the first time; they even spent time just wandering about his domain. It was actually during these small explorations of the world around them that created a special bond between the two.

For her, he was her escape from the restrictive and repetitive routine of royal life. For him, she was his utopia, a person he can turn to whenever he feels like just killing everyone around him. Soon though, these emotions sprouted into something deeper and more personal. It was jarring at first, falling for a human - but he knows that she was worth it all.

He remembers the way her eyes shone brightly with a constant look of innocence in them, yet she is mature and realistic enough to know that not everything is sunshine and rainbows. He remembers the way she carries herself, her warm and loving smile, how content he felt whenever she wrapped her arms around him. He loves the feeing of her soft hair that tumbles around her face in soft waves, how it feels like silk whenever he runs his fingers through them. How with just one glance, she can fill the void in his heart that he didn't know existed.

Yet they were never set to happy ending to begin with.

It was during just what started off like a normal day when the town the princess was in was suddenly invaded by a rival kingdom’s army. Their goal was to conquer and take over the kingdom with any means necessarily; meaning that the royal family had to go.

Uraume had entered his hideout, panting with wide eyes as they told Sukuna of the town now plunging into chaos. Within seconds the Cursed Spirit was up and sprinting towards the royal palace, great fear and anger gripping him from within. Entering through the destroyed doors of the grand palace, he ignored the screams of anguish of the others around him as he ran straight towards one of the buildings - the building where the royal sleeping chambers were located.

When he finally found her room, he felt like his heart was ripped out of his chest at the sight before him.

The once beautifully crafted shoji doors with panels decorated in a beautiful forest scene now laid in tatters, the furniture inside looking as if though a huge scuffle had happened. Rushing deeper into the room, he felt his heart sank to its stomach when he saw the splatters of blood leading towards the small room where the princess would sleep in.

Entering the back room, his red eyes scanned over the many splatters of blood about the room, the red handprints of the princess smeared across the ornate walls whilst the body of the princess laid on her futon; the sheets now soaked in blood. "No, no, no.." Sukuna managed out in horror as he quickly made his way to his lover's side, pulling her bloodied body into his arms immediately. "Flower, open your eyes. Please.."

Slowly her eyelids begin to move, and Sukuna felt his heart break when he saw how her now dull and tired eyes shifted to look up at him, taking a moment to truly process just who he was. "I'm so sorry..." Sukuna mumbles out through a small voice as he pulls her closer, trying his hardest to press his hands against the gashing wound on her abdomen. Since the wound was inflicted by a non-sorcerer, there was no trace of cursed magic on her; meaning that there was no way he can save her to begin with. "I-If only I had known..."

"Shh...it's okay.." The princess whispered out in a soft but pained tone, her bloody hand reaching up to cup his tattoo cheek ever so softly. The familiar touch brought another wave of emotion through Sukuna as he tries to blink back his tears, pulling her closer to his chest as he shifted his posture so she was sitting in his lap. He barely even acknowledge his own kimono that was slowly being soaked in blood. "Y-You didn't know this was going to happen...no one did...don't blame yourself..."

With watery red eyes Sukuna marvelled at how even though she was on death's doorstep, she still tried to put on a smile for his sake. "I'm so sorry..." Sukuna manages through a pained tone, tears now sliding down his face in thick streams whilst the woman just gave him a loving smile, resting her head on his shoulder. "Don't be.." She mumbles softly, forcing the man to look down at her as she gave him the same smile that had him falling for her from the beginning. "You know that...it takes more than this to get rid of me.."

The teasing words caused Sukuna to let out a soft and pained laugh, remembering the times where he would tell her how annoying she was whenever she would cling onto him and tease him relentlessly. He would trade anything to go back to those moments once more. "Brat.." He manages through his silent sobs, to which the woman just lets out a soft laugh as her fingers slowly traced along his features. For a few moments it was just silence, but the next time she spoke, Sukuna knew that the end was coming.

"Promise me...that one day, we will meet again."

"I promise, my love." Sukuna mumbles back quietly, resting his forehead against hers when he noticed how much effort it takes for her to blink. "No matter how long it takes, I will wait for you." He told her firmly as he presses a loving kiss on her forehead. "No matter how long it takes.." She echoes quietly, to which Sukuna just press a loving kiss on her head just as he felt her soft hand slowly slide down his chest, falling limply on her side.

For a moment Sukuna just held her against him, quietly crying into her hair. His entire world was in his arms, and just like that she was taken away from him. From that sadness came anger, and he soon found himself with the deep desire to crush whoever took her away from him.

Thus started the true rein of terror under the King of Curses, his anger fueling him to chase for bigger goals. Whilst he strive to rid of this world of dirty humans who took his flower away from her, he kept the vow that they promised one another - that they will wait for the other no matter how long it takes.

Because he had promised you so, and he’d do anything to keep that promise.

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