#fractured shell master post

[theanonymousmystery]

Fractured Shell: Master Post

This is the master post for the Bug Fables comic, "Fractured Shell"! Looking for a specific post? Look no further than here!

PROLOGUE:

Pages 1-5

Pages 6-10

CHAPTER 1:

Pages 1-5

Pages 6-10

Pages 11-15

This post will update as new pages get uploaded! Feel free to drop an ask if there's any questions!

[nataliabdraws]

— IGNITUS (II)

pairing: sauron | annatar x narien (original elven female character)

summary: there's a new arrival in eregion!

warnings: N/A

word count: 3.7k

author's note: sorry this took so long to post! i had some stuff going on irl and couldn't get around to making a post! but here you are!

read full thing on ao3

Narien’s first memory of Celebrimbor is framed by the heavy velvet of her father’s cloak, warm and creased where her small fingers grip it tightly. She peers out, wide-eyed, at the visitor who has arrived in the high halls of their mountain home.

He is unlike anyone she has seen before—a figure out of some unfinished tale. His traveling cloak is dusted with the journey, his armor etched with silver stars and smeared with dirt, as though he’s come directly from the battlefield. Yet, for all its gleam and weight, the armor doesn’t suit him. Celebrimbor stands tall, as any elf does, but his broad frame and the set of his shoulders suggest a strength born of craft rather than combat. He looks uneasy in the shell of a soldier, his movements a little too careful, as if the steel weighs heavier on his spirit than his body.

Still, there is a kind light in his eyes, shadowed though they are, and faint lines at their corners betray smiles long since buried. When he bows to her—precisely, gracefully—the gesture makes her giggle, the sound high and fleeting, until her father’s firm hands guide her back into her mother’s arms.

At dinner, Celebrimbor is all cordial charm, entertaining Narien’s endless questions with a patience that seems boundless. She leans forward eagerly, small elbows planted on the table.

Did you know they mine gold Celebrimbor!—But you can't make a sword with gold—Atar said it is too soft. Celebrimbor had nodded, almost ruefully it seemed, and declared that her father had spoken rightly. The two talked late into the night, her father and the strange smith, their words dipping into subjects she is too young to grasp. Still, the cadence of their voices had lulled her to sleep.

Years later, Narien comes to know him again—not as the guest in her father’s halls, but as a name that lingers like a song in the aftermath of calamity. After the land of Beleriand sinks beneath the waves, swallowed whole by the wrath of the Valar and the weight of Morgoth’s defeat, Celebrimbor’s deeds carry whispers of legend.

By then, her world is fractured. Her mother is gone, lost in the upheaval, and Narien’s days unfold under the watchful, radiant eye of Galadriel. The Lady tries to soften her sorrow, to guide her forward as best she can. And so, it is Galadriel who sends her to Eregion—though at the time, it is little more than an idea. A place yet to be built, a promise waiting to be shaped.

The elven city had been a sapling then, its foundations fragile, nestled in the shadow of the newborn mountains. Eregion was more ambition than reality—a dream taking root in stone and soil. Celebrimbor, ever the visionary, stood at its heart, the master of its grand design.

He was as Narien remembered—affable, kind, with a restless energy that spilled into his voice and gestures. He had shown her his plans with unmistakable pride, guiding her through sketches and blueprints as though unveiling a treasure. His excitement was infectious, pulling even her hesitant smiles into the glow of his enthusiasm.

Afternoon light drapes itself across Narien’s shoulders, gilding the ridges of Angruin’s black-scaled back as they glide high above the river Bruinen. Once, she might have approached Eregion by shaded courtyards and council halls, trailing the Lords of the Eldar as they deliberated matters far beyond her mortal concerns. Yet Celebrimbor always found a moment for her, eager to speak of Eregion’s promise—of wonders yet to be wrought in fire and steel.

That was before.

Before exile.

stone and decree. But such decrees hold little weight when one arrives on dragon-back.

At last, she sees it—Eregion’s spires rising in the late-afternoon sun, gleaming as though forged from gold and song. Her heart clenches at the sight of that once-familiar skyline, distant yet achingly close. Beneath her, Angruin stirs, the sinews of his wings tensing with unspoken anticipation.

No doubt the watchtowers have seen her silhouette by now, that singular shape cast against the pale sky. Horns must be blaring through the streets below, summoning guards to arms. But all Narien hears is wind and heartbeat, the low thunder of Angruin’s wings.

Their shadow sweeps across rooftops and courtyards, a dark omen on sunlit stone. Narien leans into the reins, guiding the wyvern in a gentle spiral toward the grand courtyard by the tallest spire. Each pass brings Eregion’s clamor closer, heightening the pull of old memories and new resolve. With the city spread beneath her like a story waiting to be rewritten, she descends—ever aware of the storm she brings home in her wake.

Angruin tucks her wings mid-descent, the movement as effortless as a sword sliding home into its scabbard. A heartbeat later, she drops, sending a gust of swirling dust across the courtyard as her talons scrape and settle onto stone. Narien feels the impact in her bones—the ground trembling beneath the wyvern’s considerable weight.

— to be continued in ao3

[areadersuncertaintyprinciple]

Mrs. Dalloway captures the sense of rupture caused by a catastrophic war

Beneath the seemingly mundane surface of a single day in London, Virginia Woolf's Mrs. Dalloway paints a haunting portrait of a society fractured by the trauma of World War I. The novel's exploration of this rupture goes beyond explicit references to the battlefields, weaving the threads of displacement and fragmentation into the very fabric of its narrative.

One of the most potent tools Woolf employs is the fragmented narrative structure. The novel leaps between the consciousnesses of various characters, creating a kaleidoscope of thoughts and experiences. This fractured form mirrors the shattered state of post-war society, where traditional structures and expectations lie in ruins, leaving individuals adrift in a world that no longer feels familiar or coherent. Clarissa Dalloway, the novel's central figure, embodies this internal fragmentation. Haunted by the ghosts of a lost past and grappling with the hollowness of her present, her stream-of-consciousness reveals a mind struggling to find meaning in a world irrevocably altered by the war.

The novel's temporal tapestry further underscores the sense of rupture. Flashbacks and shifts in consciousness disrupt the chronological flow of time, creating a feeling of disjointedness and dislocation. This temporal disorientation echoes the profound loss of continuity experienced by those who lived through the war – a past that haunts the present and casts a long shadow on the future.

The contrasting perspectives of the characters further highlight the social ruptures caused by the war. Clarissa, clinging to pre-war values and traditions, represents the privileged upper class desperately trying to maintain a semblance of normalcy. Septimus Warren Smith, a shell-shocked veteran, embodies the trauma and disillusionment borne by those who witnessed the horrors firsthand. This stark juxtaposition reveals the chasm that now separates different segments of society, a consequence of the war's devastating impact.

Woolf's masterful use of the stream-of-consciousness technique allows readers to delve into the characters' raw and unfiltered emotions. Their internal monologues, chaotic and fragmented, mirror the psychological fractures caused by the war. Clarissa's anxieties, Septimus's paranoia – these intimate glimpses into their minds reveal the profound emotional ruptures that lie beneath the surface of everyday life.

Through its fragmented form, disjointed timeline, and contrasting perspectives, Mrs. Dalloway delivers a powerful and multifaceted portrait of a society grappling with the aftermath of a catastrophic event. The novel's exploration of rupture is not merely a historical artifact; it resonates deeply with our own fragmented times, reminding us of the enduring consequences of trauma and the ongoing struggle to find meaning in a world forever changed.

[out-with-the-boys]

The Dance- Chapter 21

Homelander x Supe OC

Notes: 18+ No warnings apply for this chapter. Each chapter will have individual content warnings as they apply to avoid spoilers. Find this work on AO3. Tumblr master post here.

Previous chapter.

The subway rattled past midnight, a low hum filling the sleepy station. Morgan’s hand clenched tightly around the crumpled plastic baggie she’d sealed her tracking chip in, her other hand steadying herself against the subway pole. She glanced over her shoulder, catching sight of the man she’d chosen at random.

Extracting the chip had been a bitch to deal with, and her arm still ached and burned at the incision site. The amount of adrenaline that was coursing through her, however, kept it dulled somewhat. 

Trying not to be so obvious in her approach, she strode in the direction of an office worker slouched over, half-asleep in his rumpled suit. When she passed him, she brushed her hand against his messenger bag, slipping the chip inside the outer pocket with ease. She barely glanced back as she moved toward the doors, the worn metal gleaming under the fluorescent lights.

By the time she climbed the subway stairs into the cool night air, Morgan felt her heartbeat settle. She reached into her jacket pocket, feeling for the small device she’d crafted just days earlier. It was a simple-looking fob, an old car key, inconspicuous in her hand. No one at Vought had questioned her mechanical tinkering; they saw it as just another future asset. She’d let them believe that, right up until that night.

She had been leading a lot of people to believe a lot of things lately. Herself included. It was hard to say when her life had stopped being her own, but she was a far cry from who she wanted to be.

Maybe the real question was why she had let herself drift into Homelander’s orbit at all. A wise part of her had always known that he was no ordinary danger. He was volatile—a man raised in a cage of expectations, with no room for humanity or remorse. At that, he was driven by the narrative that he was above all others. 

And yet, she had looked at him and seen something different. Maybe that was why she’d stayed.

There were times when she felt like a fool for wanting to understand him, to reach for something better in him. He was a maelstrom of destruction wrapped in a powerful, lonely shell. But beneath the carnage, she could feel his fractures—tiny, almost imperceptible moments when the armor slipped and the shadows in his eyes softened. 

Those rare moments had tugged at her. They made her wonder if, perhaps, there was a chance he could become something better than what he’d been made to be. It was foolish, she knew, but it was also human. 

Hope could be a blinding thing.

Part of her felt pity for him, too. She had seen things that no one else could. There were dark memories of a boy robbed of family, robbed of choice, reshaped by Vought’s brutal ambitions. He hadn’t been given the luxury of innocence, and for that, she couldn’t hate him completely. 

Maybe that was where the danger had started. The line between sympathy and self-preservation was unbelievably thin. She could sense his pain in ways he would never admit, and it left her with a strange, and tragic compassion for him.

Morgan had spent enough time behind the walls of Vought to recognize what drove him, to know how fear could twist even the strongest into something monstrous. She’d seen glimpses of it in herself, the moments when she felt her own moral compass veering under the pressure of survival. And perhaps, on some level, her closeness with him was a mirror. It was a way to understand her own fears and the ways power could corrupt anyone, even herself.

Yet, it wasn’t just empathy that kept her close. There was a part of her, buried deep, that held to a hope she wasn’t proud of. She believed she was the only person who could truly understand him, that in her, he might find the reflection of the person he might’ve been if things had been different. She was haunted by the belief that, if she left, the fragile pieces of his humanity might shatter completely. So she’d stayed, drawn in by an ache to save him as much as she wanted to save herself.

Maybe it was selfish, too, to think she could be his conscience, his one tie to a world that held something beyond domination. But she couldn’t deny the way she felt when he looked at her, raw and unmasked, desperate for something he’d never admit he needed. The darkness was always there, but so was a flicker of something she couldn’t ignore. And even when it terrified her, it felt real in a way the rest of her life didn’t.

Somewhere along the way, pity and empathy had tangled with hope and loneliness, blurring the lines between necessity and desire. In him, she saw a reflection of all the things she tried to bury in herself. She saw her own fractures, regrets, and compromises she made just to survive another day at Vought.

But maybe that was why she knew she had to start over. She had seen the depth of his pain, but she also saw the price of staying too close to it. Loving him—if that was what it was—felt like living in the eye of a storm, aware that it could pull her under at any moment.

And maybe, it was time to let go of the idea of saving everyone but herself.

Pulling herself from her introspection, Morgan slipped through the quiet streets of Manhattan. Now her mind is churning through the details of her plan. 

She ducked into a nearby parking garage, heading for the car she’d prepped earlier, its license plates swapped and its GPS wiped clean. Settling into the driver’s seat, her hand instinctively brushed over the fob in her pocket. It was a lifeline she’d spent weeks refining. Each piece of it was made to slip her through Vought’s hold.

The city lights faded in her rearview mirror as she drove north, the night growing darker and the road stretching long and empty ahead of her. Towering trees soon closed in, their shadows swallowing the beam of her headlights as the winding path led her deeper into the woods. 

Vought had chosen well, hiding Becca and Ryan far enough from the city to keep them contained, yet close enough to remain within reach. Each mile she traveled felt heavier, her resolve sharpening as the forest thickened around her.

Finally, the compound walls loomed into view, cutting stark lines against the trees. The fob in her pocket hummed faintly, a barely-there reminder of the time ticking away as Morgan pulled up to the guard station. The suburban streets inside the Vought compound lay quiet under the streetlights, casting a muted glow over the carefully manicured lawns and houses lining the road. 

This place was built to look like a sanctuary, but she knew better.

Morgan touched the minds of the guards at the station, nudging them into a momentary lull. Their gazes unfocused and their hands settled back onto their laps as her vehicle rolled past the barrier without a hitch. 

She felt a small thrill of satisfaction. So far, the fob was jamming any surveillance from within the car, leaving her a narrow window to move unnoticed.

As she drove deeper into the neighborhood, her eyes traced the eerily perfect lines of hedges and the faint glow from curtained windows. She gripped the steering wheel tighter, each house she passed filling her with a low, simmering anger. 

This was no haven, despite its quaint facade. It was a cage made up to look like freedom, and Vought’s control was embedded in every inch of it.

Her mind circled back to the woman waiting at the end of this drive. Becca was more than a prisoner. She was a mother bound to this place by her son’s safety, tethered by a delicate fear that kept her rooted here. 

Morgan knew all too well how tightly fear could bind a person, and her gut tightened at the thought of how she’d convince Becca to break herself and Ryan away from this carefully maintained illusion.

When she finally reached Becca’s house, Morgan slowed, parking a little down the street to avoid drawing attention. She took a steadying breath, letting her telepathy stretch out like a silent knock against Becca’s consciousness, a gentle touch that conveyed a promise of safety. She couldn’t afford to startle her; every second counted.

Morgan’s feet barely made a sound as she moved up the path, her gaze fixed on the house. A faint light spilled from the living room window, casting a warm glow that felt strangely out of place against the cold, silent night. She could sense Becca’s presence inside. Her thoughts were a mixture of apprehension yet something expectant.

The porch steps creaked softly underfoot, and just as Morgan raised her hand to knock, the door opened a crack, spilling light across her face. Becca stood framed in the doorway. Her expression was a blend of caution and curiosity, as her tired eyes searched Morgan’s to gauge her intentions before a single word was spoken.

“He doesn’t know I’m here.” Morgan began, ready to put that particular worry to rest before it could be voiced. “Nobody does.”

Becca’s expression remained wary, her grip tightening on the doorframe. “You promised you’d come back, but I didn’t think it would be like this.”

Morgan held Becca’s gaze, her expression unwavering. “There’s not much time for me to answer all your questions, but I know what you’re thinking.” She said, pausing for just a moment. “I know what Homelander is. I know what he did to you, and my heart breaks for you and your son.”

The sharpness of Becca’s thoughts as her eyes narrowed almost made Morgan jump. It was hard to know what to say in a situation like that, but Morgan didn’t have time to show the equal parts compassion and deference Becca deserved. She was bound to say a few wrong things.

“And without getting too deep into the particulars, I’m here to offer you an out.” Morgan quickly continued. “I had hoped I could fix things, but I’m so far in over my head right now… Things aren’t going to get better unless I make them.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Becca asked, her suspicion interwoven with a cautiously hopeful curiosity. 

“We have to leave.” she cut straight to the heart of it. “You, me, Ryan–We all have to disappear to someplace he can’t reach us.”

Becca’s grip on the doorframe tightened, her voice dropping to a fierce whisper. “Disappear? You’re talking about uprooting my son, ripping him away from the only life he knows. Do you understand what you’re asking of me?”

Morgan’s gaze softened, but her tone remained firm. “I do, Becca. And I wouldn’t be here if I thought there was any other way. If you stay here, it’s just a matter of time before Vought finds a reason to bring him closer, to pull you both deeper into their control. And Homelander…” She hesitated, glancing over her shoulder as though his shadow could be lurking just beyond the porch. “He’s not going to stop at just showing up here every once in a while. He’ll take what he wants, and you know that includes Ryan.”

Becca’s eyes flickered with fear, but she shook her head. “And go where? Just vanish into thin air? They’ll come looking. They’ll hunt us down.”

Morgan took a step forward, urgency threading through her voice. “I have a plan. I’m not saying it’ll be easy, but it’s a life where you won’t have to look over your shoulder every day, wondering when he’ll appear. I know how to protect all of us, but you’re going to have to put some faith in me.”

Becca’s jaw flexed as she considered Morgan’s words, a storm of emotions playing out in her gaze. “Faith in you? You’re asking me to trust you with my son’s life. You can’t just… You can’t just show up in the dead of night and expect me to say yes to this.”

With a steadying breath, she nodded slowly. “I know. And I’m not asking you to decide right now. But I need you to start preparing yourself, Becca. There’s only so much you can do here to protect Ryan. Sooner or later, Vought or Homelander will take him, and I won’t let that happen. Not to him, not to you.”

“And you?” Becca raised a brow, glancing pointedly at Morgan’s abdomen.

A hint of vulnerability flashed across Morgan’s face, but she held steady. “That’s another story, but I’m almost ready to pull the trigger on this.” Her voice dropped, a shadow passing over her expression. “I’ll have to make Vought believe I’m gone for good. That’s the only way to give you both a real chance.”

Becca looked away, the weight of it all settling in. “And how long would we have to wait?”

“Not long. I’ll do everything I can to make it quick, but until then… you have to be ready. Keep Ryan close, keep him safe. When the time comes, I’ll return, and we’ll leave this place behind. For good.”

A shaky breath escaped Becca's lips. She still looked uncertain, but that moment of hesitation told Morgan all she needed to know. “Alright. I’ll… I’ll think about it.”

Morgan contemplated reaching out, a gesture of quiet reassurance, but she refrained. “That’s all I’m asking. Just… be ready.”

With a final nod, Morgan stepped back, slipping into the shadows beyond the porch, casting one last glance over her shoulder. In the dim glow of the doorway, Becca’s eyes held a flicker of hope, mingling with doubt. Morgan couldn’t ignore the enormity of what she was asking Becca to consider.

As she walked back down the quiet street, her hand instinctively drifted to her abdomen, a gentle pressure reminding her of everything that spurred this plan. With each step, her chest felt like it was pulling tighter and tighter. It was a dangerous path forward, one that would sever every connection she had. But maybe, in that finality, she’d find the freedom they all deserved.

She would do whatever it took to see this through. As much as she wanted to hold out hope, as much as she wanted to cling to the tiniest slivers of silver linings, she knew better than that. They were playing by the house rules. 

She couldn’t let Vought win.

Song: Once Upon Another Time by Sara Bareilles “Once upon another time, Before I knew which life was mine.” Author’s notes: So, I don’t actually have much to say on this chapter. The pieces are all set, and the next few chapters are all pretty solidly in place. Some minor things to note! I added some cover art to the first chapter that matches a playlist I’ve curated of all the chapter titles. On that note, I’ve also forged ahead and put the next few chapter titles into the playlist as well. You’re welcome to check it out and speculate on what comes next!

Next chapter.

[hungrydolphin91]

Xillia 2???

it has been. 293 days since the last update. but we actually did it. My sister and I returned to xillia 2 after 9 months 😅 Apparently we were right at the start of chapter 8, about to enter the Fractured Dimension where Julius escaped to. A good part of the story, somewhat ruined by our unfamiliarity after so much time had passed 😓

Neither of us remember ANYTHING about where we were in the plot, or even how to play 😅 Me: "In this version of the story, Ludger developed total amnesia between chapters"

Me: "You might want to buy some items, once we go in we won't be able to leave." Sis: "Oh that's right, we have to kill the whole world first." Me: "Yup, it's genocide or bust." Her: "I want that on a bumper sticker."

My sister saw Elle rush to pick up the shell on the beach and immediately wished for her to get mauled by a monster crab. Which she was, two minutes later 😅 Her Elle hate is still going strong nine months later

Julius is humming from atop beachside rocks in order to lure Ludger. Sis: "He's literally a siren."

Unfortunately some of the sweetness of this adorable scene was lost by our pizza arriving in the middle of the cutscene but I at least enjoyed being reminded of how cute Julius's care for his brother is ;_;

I don't think I had previously seen the bonus Elize scene where she tells Elle, who is suffering from the stigma arte or whatever it's called, to hang in there because Bunnykins hasn't visited her yet. That's like saying "You have to stay alive Elle, it's what Spongebob would have wanted!!"

In Sharilton, Driselle wanted to bury a time capsule. Sis: "Wait, does she have time powers too??"

I don't think I can verbally describe it but our party of Ludger, Jude, Elize and Alvin all levelled up at once and ALL of them said their catchphrases like "You've gotten stronger!" "Guess who just got stronger?" "I want to get stronger!" "I have to get stronger!" And just when we thought it was over, Elize fucking repeated her phrase in the overworld too. Fucking dead 😂

My sister pointed out the feathers that Ludger wears by his belt and asked if it was a cat toy. Idk if that was the design intent but that's canon to me now.

We stopped after arriving at Xian Du, but we're en route to meet Gaius I think, maybe after another character chapter. Stay tuned, hopefully we'll play again before another nine months passes 😅

Master post link here

[ambrosiafm]

come on, 𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒃 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒎𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒂, and let the nectar flow! take a load off! — accepted! please familiarize yourself with the guidelines, plot, and lore. join the discord link from the pinned post within 24 hours or your roles will be reopened. welcome to 𝘬𝘦𝘧𝘪, 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘢, antonia 'toni' navarro, milo park, lorraine kline, cas donovan. melissa barrera, charles melton, zendaya, tom holland is now taken.

⧼ melissa barrera, cis woman, she/her, thirty-two.⧽ the shell by lucy dacus + grease stained hands and wiping sweat off your brow, the sweet & bitter burn of one too many old fashioneds, a night spent staring at the ceiling fan, sleepless. ☼ antonia 'toni' navarro last survived the second titan war, but just barely! nowadays they’re a sculpturist and are known to be creative & mercurial, makes sense given they’re a child of hephaestus. word around town is that they’ve been here for three years and her husband left her widowed after the war, is it true? it’s probably just gossip. whenever you see them around town they have their magical toolbelt. [ meredith, twenty-three, est, she/they, triggers: self harm/eating disorder ]

⧼    charles melton,  cis man,  he/him,  32. ⧽    family tree (intro) by ethel cain  +  a hair trigger temper, and the voice in your head: it sounds like your mother saying you look just like your father, fractured reputations, laying in the bed you made ☼  milo park survived the second titan war, but just barely! nowadays they’re a lawyer and are known to be dynamic & scornful, makes sense given they’re a child of ares, legacy of aphrodite. word around town is that they’ve been here for 5 years and were on the losing side of the war, is it true? it’s probably just gossip. whenever you see them around town they have their rolex.    [    emily, 26, gmt, she/her, sexual assault.    ]

⧼ zendaya coleman , cis woman, she / her, 28. ⧽ nightmare by halsey + random battle scars along the spine and leg, eyes that have seen hell and heaven, harmonious smile that matches her father's, smells of sweet omber oak, rhythmic dancing that matches any kinda of music. ☼ lorraine kline survived the second titan war, but just barely! nowadays they’re a pharmacist and are known to be reasonable & obnoxious, makes sense given they’re a child of apollo / legacy of zeus. word around town is that they’ve been here for six months and they spend time trying to master their disability during their free time, is it true? it’s probably just gossip. whenever you see them around town they have their apollo blessed bow and arrow. [ kiea, 27, est, she/her, none ]

⧼ tom holland, cis male, he/him, 27. ⧽ neon brother by nothing but thieves + the pooling of breath in the air on a cold winter night, nose buried in a book until sunrise, rain-soaked summer roads in the middle of nowhere ☼ CAS DONOVAN survived the second titan war, but just barely! nowadays they’re an astrophysicist and are known to be curious & a skeptic, makes sense given they’re a CHILD OF NYX/LEGACY OF HECATE word around town is that they’ve been here for 7 months and HAD A HAND IN HIS TWIN BROTHER'S DEATH, is it true? it’s probably just gossip. whenever you see them around town they have their two silver rings on each pointer finger. [ vi, 28, est, she/her, none ]

[hollowwhisperings]

Star Symbolism in KH

Kairi

was a literal shooting star (arrived to Destiny Islands via meteor shower).

was possibly the SAME 'star' that Riku & Sora swore oaths/wishes to each other on (as in Necklace Theory)

her face replaces the central paopu fruit of Sora's first Heart Station, when comparing Sora's DDD station with the one Ven enters in BBS.

in Sora's Heart Station, the paopu fruit/star/Kairi is the central icon... and is directly between Riku (formerly a sailboat) and the Sleeping Sora's face.

as one of the Seven Lights/Princesses of Heart, Kairi is the KH equivalent of a solar system's sun.

is depicted as 'starcrossed' with Sora in their childhood cave drawings of each other, a scene they recreate IRL in KH3 with two paopu fruit (that neither of them actually eat??).

has her first KH1 'reunion' with Sora in Neverland, located via Second Star On The Right (etc). in KH1, Kairi is narratively equated with Wendy (& Riku with Tinkerbell).

when the mural in Traverse Town's 'Secret Waterway' [are these sewers plz say they aren't merlin why is your house here] changes from depicting [a sun?] to a 'Moon' (i cannot find any screenshots of this mural for the life of me but, across the KH series overall, Riku Is The Sun/Light to Sora's Moon & the mural change happens between visits to Hollow Bastion and Riku). since Kairi remains, unchanged, and immediately gives Sora the [Promise Charm] keychain BY THIS MURAL, Kairi can again be interpreted as a 'star'.

Kairi's promise charm is made of five thalassa shells knotted/sewn together to form a star: it symbolises good luck and safe voyages for sea farers (who traditionally use stars to navigate by).

her [Promise Charm] keychain allows Sora to form the Oathkeeper keyblade, which looks like this in KH1:

in Sora's KH1 Dive to Heart, the "free" Princesses of Heart (Kairi, Jasmine, & Alice) share a Heart Station. They are depicted as three crowned silhouettes: one with a radiant sun (Jasmine?), another with a moon & stars in a cracked sky (???), a third with... what could be a hand? idek, have a pic:

(i would guess that Kairi is either the one held? in a hand OR the one with a moon & fractured, starry sky: Jasmine has Aladdin & comes from a hot world, thus Sun; Alice kind of only works with the "hand" holding her, playing into her being in imminent danger & her Looking Glass role as pawn-that-becomes-queen. KH3 frequently uses pawn imagery for Kairi AND Sora, both becoming 'Alices' in that game... nope, Kairi's probs the one with a moon & two stars: the silhouette is uses to imply Wendy & thus Kairi. the tendrils look like vines in the top image so that's likely a callforward to the Garden Maze in Wonderland)

Riku, as The Light, is replaced or halo'd by The Sun throughout the series: the opening cutscene of KH1 has Sora blinded by Riku before they sink into the ocean... Kairi means 'sea', btw. Kairi's primary role in KH thus far has been that of a Shiny & Distracting Star that draws attention away from Riku, The Sun.

in That Tunnel Scene in KH3, where Sora follows Riku's Light, Sora & Kairi easily become two 'stars' crossing in the night. Kairi's association with Neverland makes instances of her with Two Stars possibly Significant.

Sora means 'sky' (& void). One of the "Arc Phrases" in KH is "One Sky, One Destiny": Sora is the sky, Riku is the Sun, Kairi is a Star, Ventus is the wind... you see where I'm going with this.

Kairi, post Melody of Memory, will be studying with Master Aqua... and thus Ventus. Both Kairi & Ventus have been "falling/shooting stars" from Sora's POV (Kairi & Ven also just have A Lot in common: amnesia, mysterious pasts filled with Lore, mad scientists experimenting on them, getting kidnapped as bait, getting kidnapped for their 'pure' hearts, strong associations with childhood, staying in Sora's Heart Hotel... uh, maybe they should have their own list). Ven & Kairi would be 'Two Stars' studying under a 'Moon' (Aqua).

Naminé, Kairi's Nobody, is also associated with stars: paopu fruit, wishes, promises, lucky charms, childhood, magic, etc.

if i've missed any "Kairi Is A Star" moments in KH, do add them in reblogs. there's bound to be a star reference in the KH soundtrack. Kairi's association with 'promises' is referenced in Chikai (mostly as a Dig from Riku's POV of the Paopu Scene in KH3), for example. i'm also curious as to where else Ven is associated with Stars (& if Stitch has any Kairi connections beyond his whole "E-Stitch Go Home" thing).

[resbangmod]

Resbang 2021 Promo #23

Blade of Fear

presented by author: @jgartist916 [ AO3, DevArt, Insta ] with artist: @sojustifiable [ Soundcloud ]

Pairings: Asura/ Vajra Rating: NC-17 Warnings: Major Character Death, Fear/Anxiety, Explicit Blood/Gore, Cannon Violence, Explicit Violence, Foul Language, Codependent Relationship, Smut, PTSD, Light Alcohol/Drug Use, Toxic Family Dynamics

Summary: Before the madness crept in ... there was just fear. Fear. War. Pain. In this endless black sea of blood and destruction, one light twinkled, shining in the most peculiar a desolate of places. This light was love. A love that broke through the fear; had the strength to weather through war; and a touch so soft it soothed an unseen ache in two souls. It would be a love that would last forever. It’s a pity then that, for some people, forever is just not long enough. This is a story of the lives, struggles, and deaths of the most infamous weapon and meister pair in DWMA history. Are you brave enough to see the truth behind the madness?

Please enjoy the story and art previews below the cut!

Vajra sliced as she slid down; an inconsequential pain. Like the rest of them. Something shattered. My body implored me to twist and writhe as a foreign power devastated my being. A splitting pain burned between my brows, a new awareness stretching into wakefulness. Through all of it, I only allowed myself to breathe. Protectively curling as I followed Vajra’s descent. The esophagus. The lungs. My heart. My partner.

“Asura!” My father roared, disapproval a powerful blow. Or at least, it once would have been. “What were you thinking leaving your post?”

The reprimand stopped short. The stunned hush, broken by his weapon. “By the gods- Asura, what have you done?”

“What had to be done.” I pat my core. Vajra’s weight a steady assurance giving me strength. She’s always so strong. On guard, so I could rest. But it’s my turn now. This time… I’ll protect her.

“Rest. Heal. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

A shaking squeak called back, “Promise?”

“I promise.”

Her soul breathed a sigh of relief; noticeably relaxing. My features cottoned into a smile as she curled into me. Asleep.

“Vial Demon!”

My lips pulled back. Eyes lifting. The white bars in my hair fractured like the shell of an egg. I was free. Manic laughter threatened to bare teeth as I faced them. “Vial demon? Is that really what you think of your own son?”

“After what atrocity you have committed- you are no son of mine!”

“Atrocities? I have done NOTHING wrong!”

“You’ve kishinized! Given into it! Forsaken humanity, order, and chosen madness.”

Blind fool. We are all mad here. My bafflement tainted, turning my question into a snarl. “And what right do you presume to have, to pass judgment on my actions? Most times you cower in your chambers, shouting orders from your high horse while your generals fight your war. What gives you the right to judge the choices we are forced to make on the front lines?”

“You will show me respect, boy.” His blacken claws tightening around Waka’s handle. At one time I’m sure I would have found it intimidating. In some regards I’m sure it still was. But the intensity was greatly diminished. This power building in me turned a scythe wielding looming god, into a pouting schoolmarm brandishing a ruler. He didn’t consider me his child anymore, yet demanded respect for his false authority? Fine. Have it your way.

I rolled my wrist, dipping into a mocking bow. “But of course, master, you have no fear to speak of. You rejected such sins so as to play judge, jury, and executioner without reservation. That is the only reason I exist after all,” finally I bore my fangs, “because you were too weak to face your own demons.”

[thecleverdame]

Gods of Twilight - 21

Alpha!Werewolf!Sam x Human!Reader

Master List (posting schedule is there as well)

Summary: You marry Sam, The King of Lebanon, as part of an alliance between two lands. You soon discover that nothing is as it appears and that your husband is hiding a secret that may end your relationship before it can begin.

Warnings: smut, dub-con, canon-level violence, domestic discipline, spanking.  This chapter does contain some non-con elements.

Beta:  @ilikaicalie​

*This story is complete. All 27 chapters are available on Patreon. To get access to this and many other stories, subscribe for a pledge of 2.50 per month. CLICK HERE

-

He’s clearly lost his mind, they all have.

You stare at this man who insists he’s your husband, two women, one on either side of him. He must be insane but no one is reacting to these wild tales. You examine him cautiously, trying to determine if this is indeed reality.

They’ve explained this again and again over the last few weeks, carefully laid out the details of who and what you are.

“To be completely honest,” you begin, looking at Sam. “I’m not sure what part is more difficult to accept. That I am a queen or that I’m a shape-shifting wolf. You will have to forgive my disbelief.”

“I understand.” Sam nods agreeably. He’s always quick to assure you, he wants you to feel comfortable.  

He cares about you a great deal, that much is clear. The way he looks at you alone is enough to know there’s a long history, many twists and turns in your relationship that you wish you could remember. There are moments like this that you can practically feel his love for you, it’s radiating off him. He’d move heaven and earth to heal your fractured mind.

This man is a king, he should spend his time attending to the many needs of his people, but instead, he remains by your bedside for hours each morning and night.

There a rush, a heat that spreads quickly from your head to your toes making your body tingle and you fall back onto the pillow as it overtakes you. This happens several times an hour, increasing in both frequency and intensity. Ellen has explained that it’s a natural part of the transition and that it’s only going to become more intense as time goes by.

“Are you alright?” Sam’s immediate concern only serves to stoke the guilt you feel every time your thoughts wander to his brother. Dean. You wish Dean would come back to visit you. You want to smell him, look at him….get up close and….no. You don’t let yourself think about that.

This man gripping your hand for dear life is your husband and an impressive specimen of a man at that. What sort of woman are you that you’re unsatisfied with a life most people could scarcely dream of.

“I’m fine. It comes and goes.” You force a weak smile as sweat beads at your hairline. Ellen dips a cloth into the water basin, rings it out and begins to carefully pat along your forehead, then your down your neck and chest. ��“When can I meet my daughter?”

Your husband’s jaw tightens, his eyes ticking to the side. Martha, the midwife looks displeased, adjusting her stance. You know you shouldn’t continue to push the issue, but you simply can’t contain yourself. It’s a desire that increases with each passing day.

“We’ve talked and we’ve decided you should wait,” Sam explains softly.

“Why?” You look at each of them, unable to hide the sting of betrayal. They have these little meetings where they decide what’s best for you without asking for any of your input. “I want to see my child.”

“And you will,” Sam reaches out, taking your hand again. There’s a low tingle the moment his skin touches yours. A whiz that feels almost like a spark from a dying fire burning your skin. “We think you should wait until you display more control-”

“I have control now!” you hiss, feeling the anger bubbling to the surface. This is exactly what he’s referring to. It’s getting worse. The rage comes on quickly, a deluge of emotion you can’t stop from overtaking you.

“No,” Martha shakes her head, “you don’t have control. But you will, you just need time.”

“Please,” you change your approach, begging Sam. He wants to give you everything and anything you want and you’re not ashamed to use it against him. His face softens, brows coming together.

“We don’t know what kind of reaction the child will elicit,” Ellen speaks up, her tone makes it clear. This is not up for debate. “She could soothe you, or she could trigger a more violent response.”

“I would never hurt my baby.” You want to strangle her.

“I know, but you are not always yourself. Not right now.” Sam tries to explain. He’s gutted as you yank your arm away from him.  

“I still have milk,” you grab at your own breasts. “That must mean something! She needs me! We need each other. She’s four months old and doesn’t even have a name. Let me be a mother to her.”

“I’m sorry.” Martha nods with a finality that sets you off.

“I want to see my child! Damn you!” The rage erupts as you lunge forward, arms outstretched to grab at her. You want to tear her limb from limb. Eviscerate her on the floor next to your bed. Sam catches you, wrapping his arms tight around your shoulders, effectively pinning you in place as Martha retreats out of the room. “Let me go!” You scream at the top of your lungs, struggling against him. “I hate you for this. I hate you! Let me go!”

You snarl and growl and wrestle against your husband, trying to kick and bite and scratch your way from his hold but he’s stronger than you are, at least right now. Ellen disappears once she’s sure Sam has you under control. Then it’s just the two of you as you fight in vain.

When he’s not here you’re tied to the bed. These outbursts are becoming a more regular occurrence and he’s not around to restrain you most of the time. Sam visits as often as he can, allowing you time to be free from your bonds.  

By the time your rage passes you’re laying under the weight of him, breathing heavy as tears sting the corners of your eyes. You shake with anger, sweating and vibrating as your body purges the surge of fury and you finally give up and fall limp against the bedding.

“I hope I didn’t hurt you,” you whimper with eyes closed tight in a weak attempt to keep the humiliation from swallowing you whole. You’re a queen but you behave like a spoiled child. There’s less and less self-control as the days go by. Sam was right, you are slowly becoming a monster.

“No,” he confirms, lifting his weight off you, but careful to hold you in place, belly down on the mattress. “Are you in control?”

“I’m sorry,” you cry, burying your head. “I can't think when I’m like that. Ellen was right. There is no controlling it.”

“I know,” he whispers, nuzzling his mouth at the shell of your ear. “It’s alright. Don’t cry, my love. This is torture, but it will pass.”

His nose brushes up and down the edge of your ear, hot breath lingering longer than it should. He wants you, you can feel the lust coming off him. The more outraged you become the more the scent of desire wafts out of his very bones.

“I hope you’re right.” You roll onto your back and Sam helps you, hovering above you with a hand on your belly. His pupils are blown wide, betraying his hunger for you. “I’m so sorry I don’t remember you. You’ve been more patient than any man should be.”

“It’s nothing. I would do anything for you,” he picks at the wet hair plastered along the side of your face. “But this will get worse before it gets better. I want you to be ready, prepared for the days ahead.”

He could fuck you if he wanted, take you by force. He’s your husband and king, not to mention a wolf. He could take anything he wants from you here and now. And yet he doesn’t. You’re always surprised by that. While you don’t have specific memories of other powerful men, you do know that men of his stature rarely suppress their own appetites. He is a good man.

“Will you be with me?” you ask.

“As much as I’m able.” He nods as the hand on your stomach fists into the material of your dress. “The rage will consume you, it’s a bloodlust that will take over and for a time you’ll become feral. There’s no way around it. But you’re strong, I know you well. You’ll come out on the other side.”

“You have more faith in me than I have in myself.”

“I’ll have faith for both of us then.” He smiles softly, looking thoughtfully over your face, it seems as if he wants to say something but he remains silent.

“You say I'll become feral.” Your cheeks blush hot fire. “How is it possible you’ll want to see me like that? Like a wild animal.”

“You forget I am a wild animal as well.” He searches your face, his eyes glancing at your heaving bosom for a split second but you catch him. The truth is that being close to him like this makes your heart speed up too. It leaves a neediness between your legs that aches long after he’s gone.

“I feel a strange sensitivity when you touch me,” you confess, watching his eyes go dark.

“You are an Omega and you’re meant to be mine.” His voice is low, eye roaming over your face. “My touch will elicit certain...sensations.”

“Because you’re an Alpha,” you finish and he nods in confirmation.

For a moment you lose yourself in the fantasy of what Dean’s touch would feel like. The weight of him between your legs, the scent of his skin and the feeling of his teeth sinking into your neck.

“Where did you go just now?” Sam asks. He’s looking at you like he knows, knows all about your adulterous fantasies. “What were you thinking of?”

“You.” You lie, breathing in his scent and allowing yourself to focus solely on your husband. The more you breathe in his scent, the easier that becomes. You wonder if you’ve always been this much of a wanton woman before, or if it’s the bite that brought it out of you. “May I make a confession?” you whisper.

“Of course,” he murmurs, settling in as his hip presses against your thigh.

“Would you think me a whore if I told you I dream about you touching me?” It’s partially true, you do think of him, but you leave out the part about his brother. “I imagine what it would feel like.”

“Of course not,” he licks his lips, eyes fixed and focused on yours with a burning intensity. “You are my wife. I could never think of you that way.”

“Yes, but to me you’re a stranger and yet I find myself wondering about the feel of your hands on my skin.” He ruts his hips forward, unable to control himself. “What sort of proper woman would entertain such thoughts?”

“It’s perfectly natural.” His eyes drop to watch your mouth. “You’ll go through a heat soon and my rut will come not long after.”

“Ellen explained both to me.” You bite your lip, thinking back to the conversation. “You’ll knot me?”

He swallows hand, grunting in response. “Yes.”

“And you’ll claim me?”

“Yes,” he answers. His large hand spreads out wide over your stomach, sliding upward until his fingers are fanned out under your breasts, pressing lightly over your ribcage.

“And we did all this before?” You blink as a drop of sweat rolls down the side of his face. “When I was human?”

“Yes,” he nods slowly. “You were so beautiful that first time. You’re always magnificent, but it was a moment I’ll never forget.”

“Would you like to touch me now?” You’re nothing more than instincts at this point.

“Do you want me to?” He’s shaking with restraint, his hand trembling against your ribs.

“Very much,” you stare into his eyes and spread your thighs as wide as possible, the overwhelming lust overtaking any sense of propriety. “If you want me, you can have me.”

Sam stares at you as his hand disappears under the hem of your nightdress. He doesn’t respond, instead strokes the rough pads of his fingers up your inner thigh, wandering closer and closer to your sex.

The tips of his fingers ghost over your cunt, hardly a touch but it’s enough to bring your hips off the bed in search of more. He was right. Your body is responding to his, excitement sputtering to life inside you in the form of sexual desperation.

“Please,” you whisper, feeling sweat sliding down your temple.

“Shhh,” he hushes, his mouth nipping at your jaw as his thumb finds your clit. He rubs up and down over your bud, at the same time sinking two fingers into your pussy, sinking into wet and slick up to his knuckles. The fingers inside you feel good, but it’s the attention to your swollen nub that controls every inch of your body. He works you with an expert touch, he must know your body well because each pass of his finger manages to combine perfect timing and pressure as your orgasm builds.

The world fades away. There’s no anger or sadness, only the two of you in this moment.

“Sam,” you pant, eyes locked on each other.

“Alpha,” he corrects you. “Call me Alpha, Omega.”

“Alpha,” you breathe, the title ending in a moan as his fingers twist deeper, thumb moving faster, sliding easily again and again.

A few more strokes and you cum around his knuckles, shoving your cunt toward his hand to try and take him deeper. Pleasure spills out in every direction, back arching, toes curling as the wash of satisfaction consumes you.

And yet you want more, it doesn’t feel like enough. Blinking up at him you reach for his trousers, but he pulls your hand away. Wet fingers curling around your wrist to keep you from getting to his massive erection straining through his pants

“You don’t want me?” you hiss.

“I do,” he nods. “But it’s not time. You need to complete the change first.”

“Why?” you protest, struggling against him once again.

“Because we’re going to do this the right way.” He kisses your forehead, a simple distraction as you feel him wrap the restraint around your wrist.

“Please, don’t tie me up,” you plead, yanking at the rope. “I’ll be good, I promise!”

“Don’t struggle.” He’s always crestfallen when he has to leave. He hates this part as much as you do. “You’ll hurt yourself. Just try to be patient. I’ll come back in the morning.”

“You always leave me.” You go limp, looking away from him, knowing full well it breaks his heart to do this. He’d stay with you day and night if other responsibilities didn’t call him from your bedside.

“I am sorry.” He brushes a finger at your hairline and then he’s gone.

-

“Hello?”

A timid voice wakes you from your dreams. You blink awake, the early morning sunlight streaming through the window.

“Y/N?” The voice calls again.

There’s someone at the chamber door.

“Yes,” you call out. “I'm here.”

You can hear her heartbeat before you see her. The thump, thump, thump echoing in your ears.

A woman slips inside, looking around. Her eyes bulge at the sight of you, apparently horrified at your appearance.

“My God,” she clutches her hands over her chest. “They have you tied up.”

While you have no memory of her, she does feel familiar and apparently doesn’t understand why you’ve been tied up. You’re not stupid, you’re aware that they have you tucked away like a dirty secret in the far tower of the castle.

Your senses are stronger this morning. You can practically feel the warmth coming off her skin and smell the milk and eggs on her breath from her breakfast.

And her heart, that wonderful, arousing sound beating faster and faster.

This could be your chance.

“Will you help me?” You look from her to the rope secured to the heavy bed frame. “I’m a prisoner.”

“I knew something was amiss, my lady. Forgive me for not finding you sooner.” She rushes to the bed, working at the ropes. “Once I discovered where you were kept, I had to sneak past the guards.”

“You’re here now,” you mutter, staring at her neck. You swear you can see the blood rushing under the surface of her skin. And that thump, thump, thump is loud enough that you’re surprised she can’t hear it too. “Please hurry!”

“I’m trying!” She finally manages to untie one arm and moves on to the next. “I was so worried about you, my lady.”

“You know me well?”

She stops what she’s doing to stare at you.

“I’m sorry,” you try to look apologetic while fixating at the pulse point at her neck. “I seem to have some holes in my memory.”

She looks as if she’s about to cry and takes your hand between hers. “I’m Golda. I came with you to Lebanon when you married the king. We’ve known each other our whole lives.”

“God bless you,” you grip her wrist, pulling her even closer. “My husband is keeping me here. He refuses to let me see my child.”

“I’d heard the rumors, but I never imagined this.” Golda throws herself at you, hugging you tight. The flowery smell of her skin wafts upward, filling your senses and you yank your other arm free from the rope, holding her close in return. “I thought perhaps he had killed you.”

“I’m alive,” you murmur into her hair, rubbing your nose over her neck. You arms squeeze around her, tighter and tighter.

“Please stop,” she squeaks and you realize how hard you're embracing her. She pulls back, gulping at the sight of your face. “What’s wrong with your eyes?”

“Nothing,” you feel the sudden urge to sink your teeth into her shoulder.

“Please let me go,” she tries to pull away but you have a grip on your arm. “You’re hurting me.

-

“She calmed down after I left?” Ellen walks beside Sam as they make their way toward your room.

“For the most part,” he looks forward, afraid that if she sees his face she’ll know about his little tryst with his hand up your skirt. He couldn’t help himself. He desired you before the change but now that you’re an Omega his self-restraint is failing. “She begs me not to tie her up. I can hardly stand it.”

“It’s for her own good,” Ellen assures him. “You remember what Dean was like when he got free? A holy terror. We can’t have her running the countryside, killing farmers and gutting townspeople.”

“I know.” Sam bristles at the thought of you nothing more than a savage animal. “When she pleads to see the child I-”

He stops, Ellen slows beside him, both of them looking at the open door to your bedchambers.

“Did the midwife check on her this morning?” he asks, afraid of the answer.

“No, I spoke with Martha this morning. She’s planning to come this afternoon.”

They both hesitate, Sam takes a breath before pulling the door open.

“Oh my God!” he yelps.

You’re in the middle of the bed on your hands and knees, bent over a dead Golda who’s chest has been cracked open. You look up, eyes burning orange. Your mouth and body are covered in her blood and what’s left of her raw heart is in your hands as you take another bite, staring at Sam in pure mania. You flash a smile, looking proudly from the body to him, and pulling the heart into your chest as if he might try to take it from you.

“What have you done…” he whispers, eyes fluttering closed.

“Alpha,” you grin, kneeing you way around Golda’s body and toward him. You tip your head from side to side, appraising him before extending your arm and offering him Golda’s half-eaten heart.

[theanonymousmystery]

FRACTURED SHELL | Chapter 1 (Pages 11-15)

Previous | Next | Master post

I'M HERE I SWEAR

I'm sorry this post took so long ;A; I admittedly lost my motivation for quite a while, but I'm doing my best to get back onto this. Thank you everyone who was so patient for this!

[revolutionary-demosthenes]

So to start off, here are some mini-bios of people who I’ll be talking about! This is going to be a long post, but it will make it easier to understand my future posts if you don’t know some of these people. I’m covering: Alexander Hamilton, John Laurens, Francis Kinloch, Lois Manoël de Vègobre, Johannes Von Müller, Charles Victor de Bonstetten, Alleyne Fitzherbert 1st Baron, St. Helens, and Thomas Gray.

John Laurens: You might’ve heard of him if you listen to Hamilton. John Laurens was born in Charleston, South Carolina. His father was Henry Laurens, a prominent South Carolinian who co-owned the largest slave trading house in North America, “Austin and Laurens.” Yeah. He pretty much was a terrible father and a terrible person. He would later become president of the congressional congress. His mother was named Eleanor Laurens. Her death when John was 16 marked a significantly traumatic event in his life, however in general, John Laurens was very well acquainted with death. He was the fourth child born in his family, but he was the oldest by the time he was four years old, his older siblings all dying at young ages. One can only speculate how these early losses affected young John, or Jack, as his family called him.

John was most likely tutored at a young age. He grew up in very privileged circumstances certainly, as his father was one of the most well-known and rich South Carolinians of the time. 

As John grew up, he became very studious and serious. His father viewed him as the most promising child of the Laurens children, and prayed he would not fall prey to gambling or women. At nearly thirteen, we find our first piece of evidence suggesting John Laurens might be gay. His father Henry Laurens writes, “Master Jack is too closely wedded to his studies to think about any of the Miss Nannies I would not have such a sound in his Ear for a Crown…” In other words, Henry Laurens noticed his son’s unusual lack of interest in girls. Of course, one could read it as a passing comment on how studious his son was, or just thankfulness that Henry’s ‘best’ son didn’t seem to be ‘tempted’ in any way, but this does still confirm that as a young teenager, (and some point out that this is the time when many boys go through puberty, and therefore discover their sexual interests,) John was NOT interested in ladies. 

As John grew even older, his father decided the time was ripe for some education in Europe. Some speculation has occurred that right before John left for Europe he painted a collection known as Pope Brown Collection of South Carolina Natural History. It contains 32 paintings of natural organisms, including many types of birds and plants. This is not confirmed, but it is of interest to many that John Laurens was a very good artist, and probably quite interested in art. Many have heard of the (in)famous turtle drawings John did. In truth, though John did draw the soft-shelled turtle for naturalist Alexander Garden, he most likely did not have an uncommon affection for that particular animal.

So, John soon found himself on a boat to Europe with his younger brothers, Henry jr. and James, known as Jemmy. They eventually settled in Geneva, staying with a family friend. 

But before we even get to Geneva, it is worth noting a passage from a letter by Henry Laurens. This was written while John was briefly enrolled in a school in London. While complaining about the many crimes and indulgences of the city, he mentions “…and every black and execrable Crime had gain’d in the City is equally astonishing and shocking.” Now this simply could be another thrown in crime in the long list that precedes this, but in those those days ‘black crime’ was sometimes a code for homosexuality. So was John exposed to homosexuality in London the way Hamilton was at Nevis? This could provide some context for his later relationship with Francis Kinloch.

In 1772, the Laurens boys arrived in Geneva. John studied a multitude of subjects, and polished up his French. While he fretted about finding his brothers proper schools, his Uncle James Laurens was concerned about a different aspect of his time. Geneva, which had been a theocracy at one point, was now very open to new, more secular ways of thinking. John assured his Uncle that he was not influenced by any of his teachers not being ‘classically’ Christian. But it may not be a coincidence that the place where John most likely had his first homosexual relationship was a place more open to new types of thinking and concepts, especially in terms of religion.

What exactly was this first relationship? To establish some context, we must return briefly to Charlestown, South Carolina. The Kinloch family lived there and did know the Laurens’s. The name ‘Kinloch’ appears in some of Henry Laurens’s papers, and apparently Francis Kinloch’s sister made John ruffles for his travels to Europe. But in 1774, as John was dutifully studying in Geneva, his father wrote to him “From a hint which Waag dropped at Bath tis expected by the freinds of the young Eatonian that he will find a freind in you at Genevé, tho none of ‘em have Said a word to me on the Subject.��� This “freind” is in fact Francis Kinloch, so it may be that he and John had met before. 

John and Francis became very good friends along with one of Laurens’s tutors, Luis de Manoel de Vegobre. There is little documentation of the Kinloch-Laurens relationship whilst the latter was in Geneva, but once they were separated many letters were exchanged, several quite romantic sounding. What is quite possibly the most passionate line Laurens ever wrote to a lover is contained at the end of a letter to Francis. “We may differ in our political sentiments my dear Kinloch but I shall always love you for the knowledge I have of your Heart.” Kinloch was a loyalist, influenced by his guardian Thomas Boone, while John Laurens was obviously a patriot and the two debated hotly via letters. 

Another aspect that must be looked at when considering the Laurens-Kinloch relationship is the amount of trust in the relationship. The level of trust is apparent when we see John first express his abolitionist views in a letter to Kinloch,  “I could talk much with you my Dear Friend upon this Subject,” says John, referring to slavery. “and I know your generous Soul would despise and sacrifice Interest to establish the Happiness of so large a Part of the inhabitants of our Soil_  if as some pretend, but I am persuaded more thro’ interest, than from Conviction, the Culture of the Ground with us cannot be carried on without African Slaves, Let us fly it as a hateful Country_ and say ubi Libertas ibi Patria…” Kinloch responded that he supported the ideas, but did not see how fellow Southerners would adopt them. This only illustrates more clearly that though there were serious conflicts, theirs was a loving and trusting relationship. 

When John was forced to leave Geneva, (and he did want to stay… one wonders if Kinloch had something to do with this. It may have been other reasons, like that John felt freer from his father or enjoyed his rich social life.) he wrote a plaintive letter to Kinloch, telling him, “If my Letter is a little confused, dont be surprised at it, for I am quite like a creature in [a] new world…” 

  However, as if John hadn’t lost enough family in his mere nineteen years, his brother Jemmy lost his life that summer. The boy had apparently tried to jump to John’s window and had fractured his skull. John was with his brother through the horrible night. He wrote to his uncle James, “At some Intervals he had his Senses, so far as to be able to answer singe Questions, to beckon me, to form his Lips to kiss me, but for the most part he was delirious and frequently unable to articulate. Puking, Convulsions near very violent, and latterly so gentle as to be scarcely perceived, or deserve the Name, ensued, and Nature yielded.” It is notable that soon after this, John Laurens sent a letter to Francis Kinloch, whom he hadn’t corresponded with since late the year before, 1774. This again illustrates that though the relationship was not flawless or without conflict, Laurens trusted and confided in his friend/lover.

Now studying law at Middle Temple, John received an extremely upsetting letter from Francis Kinloch. Apparently Kinloch was ready to move on from their romance. He starts the letter with an almost deceptively affectionate opening, “Whatever may be your idea of my manner of thinking in political affairs, don’t let that hinder you from telling me yours, and I promise to be as free with you: we hold too fast by one anothers hearts, my dear Laurens, to be afraid of exposing our several opinions to each other.” But Kinloch signs the letter “be certain I shall never forget you.” Apparently John  saw this as Kinloch being done with him, and as a result did something that would change his life forever.

One of Henry Laurens’s business partners, William Manning, was in London the same time as John, and apparently young Laurens came to call occasionally and enjoyed the company of Manning’s children. This is where he met Martha Manning. There is one piece of evidence to suggest that they were courting for a time, however all we know for sure is that Martha became pregnant around the time the last Kinloch letter reached John, and John Laurens was forced to marry the woman, certainly not because he loved her. “Pity has obliged me to marry.” John  wrote to his uncle. It could be that if they were courting prior to the pregnancy, the relationship was one-sided, or was an attempt for John be seen as straight. 

Though John was now married, he was yearning to leave his unhappy marriage and fight for America. An ardent patriot and abolitionist, he longed to go overseas and join the army. Henry Laurens tried his best to hinder his son’s want, but found that John was no longer a child he could bend to his will. So, John boarded a ship to America, not knowing, and possibly not caring, that he was leaving his wife behind. 

Henry Laurens, being a very prominent Carolinian and future president of the Continental Congress, managed to get his son an excellent position as Aide-de-Camp to general George Washington, though John was not officially appointed the position until October 6th or 7th. He joined the staff in August 1777, and met Alexander Hamilton, a man who would change his life forever.

Alexander Hamilton:

In quite a contrast to John Laurens’s privileged, if morbid childhood, future Founding Father Alexander Hamilton was born out of wedlock on the tiny island of St Croix to Rachel Facuette and James Hamilton in either the year 1755 or 1757. (There is great debate over his birth year. Hamilton himself used 1757, but a large amount of evidence from his childhood points to 1755. For time’s sake, we will use 1755.) Hamilton adored books and writing, but was hindered in his intellectual dreams by the grim circumstances he was brought up in. 

Hamilton had a single brother, James, also born out of wedlock. When Hamilton was 12 his mother died of smallpox, quite common at the time. Alexander was also sick, however he recovered, albeit he always had health problems most likely connected to the early brush with mortality.

Where Alexander grew up, blacks outnumbered whites by a ratio of nearly 8:1, so there was existential tension in the air, a constant fear of sugar plantation owners that the slaves would revolt. Indeed, the slave owners were so cruel to their slaves that things Hamilton witnessed as a child appear to have given him a permanent pessimism about human nature. In addition to the rich white landowners and enslaved blacks, there was a population of poor whites and criminals. St. Croix was a place where outcasts in society at the time were sent as well. This included people accused of sodomy (homosexuality). Ron Chernow writes in his biography of Alexander Hamilton, “Hamilton had certainly been exposed to homosexuality as a boy, since many ‘sodomites’ were transported to the Caribbean along with thieves, pickpockets, and others deemed undesirable.” This may explain why Hamilton seemed more at ease with his sexuality than Laurens, who grew up in a more strict, to say the least, household.

After his mother’s untimely death, Alexander and his brother lived with their cousin Peter Lytton. Unfortunately, very soon after the arrangement began, Peter took his own life, leaving the boys with practically no place to go. 

Alexander managed to get a job clerking for a prominent businessman. It is no stretch to assume that this is where Hamilton began his economic studies. While Alexander managed to get a good job, his brother was stuck being a carpenter and competing with others for work. Ron Chernow points out that this is again an example of Hamilton’s superior intellect pulling him out of ditches.

When Alexander was seventeen, a horrible storm shook the island of St. Croix. Hamilton wrote a beautiful and moving account of the hurricane, and this led to people raising enough money for him to enroll in King’s College in New York City. 

Louis Manoël de Vegobre:

A Swiss lawyer who met Francis Kinloch and John Laurens while in Geneva. His early life is pretty elusive, as he does not even have a wikipedia page. He was a math teacher, and John Laurens’s math tutor. John Laurens taught him English, and both Kinloch and Laurens seem to have taught Vegobre to love America, as he grew despairing when he heard about the challenges of the war in America. The book, Evolution of a Federalist: William Loughton Smith of Charleston (1758-1812) says of Vegobre, “When the first rumblings reached Europe, de Vegobre wrote Laurens: ‘Poor America!—you cannot believe how much me heart is moved on its account; you, and after you Kinloch have raised in my mind such a concern for your native country! I am as much affected for what happens to it, as if I were an American…. English friends, I will, I will see you in your country, before I die!’”

Vegobre was likely in a romantic relationship with Kinloch. He wrote to John Laurens in December 1774: “Let me tell you what are these pleasures whose you are the first cause.  I began to understand speaken; I read Spectator, Clarissa, Milton and Shakespear, besides some philophical books.  Never, never in my life I have been so well entertained as I am when I read Milton; and why?  First, for Poet’s excellency, and secondly and chiefly because I read it with Kinloch.  My beloved, my dearest friend is Kinloch; how happy am I, when I teach him some part of natural Philosophy, when I read with him both English and French Poets, when I talk with him about various matters plainly and heartily as with a friend!  Let me say again: Kinloch is my beloved, my dearest friend.”

Charles Victor de Bonstetten (Karl Victor von Bonstetten in German):

A writer from Switzerland, he was educated partly in Geneva, where he would develop the liberal beliefs that alarmed his father enough to make him return to Bern, where Bonstetten was born. He introduced the people of the Ticino Valley to potatoes.

He appears to have had a romance with Johannes Von Müller and Thomas Gray (I will be posting about the Gray- Bonstetten relationship very soon)

Johannes Von Müller:

A historian who’s life goal was to compile a giant master history book on Switzerland. He was a teacher of Greek, and later appointed office by Napoleon himself. He wrote many history books, and traveled throughout Europe throughout his life. 

Letter from Müller to Bonstetten: “Any mistakes I may make in the future will be your fault; that is only if you neglect your letter-writing – your friendship can never grow cold – might I let myself be surprised by a passion. Tell me why I love you more as time passes. You are now incessantly in me and around me. My dearest friend, how much better it is to think of you than to live with the others! How is it possible to desecrate a heart that is consecrated to you? I need you more than ever; over and above these immutable, laudable plans for a useful life and an immortal name I have forsworn everything that is considered to be pleasant and delightful – not only pleasure but love, not only revels, but good living, not only greed, but ambition. B. is everything to me, you make all my battles easy and all abstinence sweet. Thus you live in my mind and especially in my heart. You write to me often, but it does not seem enough to me; you often address only the historian, and do not embrace your friend often enough.” 

Thomas Gray:

I stumbled upon this man while researching Bonstetten and Müller. I came upon the book My Dear Boy: Gay Love Letters Through the Centuries. I saw that one of the essays in the book was entitled Thomas Gray & Charles- Victor de Bonstetten. Intrigued, I clicked on the essay, and then from there I somehow managed to find the archive of a full biography of Gray. Thomas Gray was an English poet. He was/is pretty famous, but not super well-known, partially because he did not publish much in his lifetime. Thomas Gray’s childhood was marred with sadness. He had nearly a dozen siblings, but none except him lived past babyhood. He stayed with his mother once he had left his father, who was abusive. He was born in 1716 and died in 1771.

Francis Kinloch: 

John Laurens’s first boyfriend. He was also born in Charleston (then Charles Town) and educated at Eton College. After this he went to Geneva, where he met John Laurens. He later hosted what I call Kinloch’s Gay Retreat, in which he had Johannes Von Müller, Charles Victor de Bonstetten, and Alleyne Fitzherbert, 1st Baron, St. Helens stay with him.

Alleyne Fitzherbert, 1st Baron, St. Helens:

I haven’t been able to find anything gay about him except he was apparently lord of the bedchamber for George III, and find words.info says this about lord of the bedchamber: “A Lord of the Bedchamber's duties consisted of assisting the King with his dressing, waiting on him when he ate in private, guarding access to him in his bedchamber and closet and providing companionship.” So… possible? Maybe, but King George III also had like 20 other Lords of the Bedchamber. Also fun fact: Mt. St. Helens is named after him!

Hope this was informative!

[sakuralychee]

Is Naminé a Part of Sora?

It’s been a long while since I’ve done a theory/analysis post (though granted I haven’t done much) so I probably have gotten rusty. However, I truly wanted to explain some misconceptions that half the fandom are still confused about and truth to be told, I don’t blame them. Kingdom Hearts is already a confusing title and there are so much mysteries that surround its lore, plot, and even its characters. I would like to try my hand to explain the best as I can with one of the characters that arguably contain the most ambiguity in this franchise.

Naminé. 

To be honest, I would like to go much more in depth with her character itself in a later post if I continue doing this so I would at least want to explore one aspect of her that people are still confused about. So for now, I will go through a detailed analysis in order to solidify my point. To start off, I’ll give a general overview of Naminé’s backstory. 

Since the beginning of Kingdom Hearts I, because Riku allowing the darkness into his own world and Ansem Seeker of Darkness, Destiny Island falls to darkness in the beginning of the game. While the world was being destroyed, Sora finds Kairi in the secret place and as he tries to reach out to her, through a gust of wind, Kairi flies into Sora’s arms and disappears before he could catch her. This was the moment where Sora housed Kairi’s heart within him. (Most likely through Ansem SoD’s influence or the descent of Destiny Islands to darkness that caused this effect, it is reasons unknown but I might make this post way too long so I will leave this point be.)

From here on, we receive hints that Kairi’s heart is within Sora throughout his journey until Sora figures out through Riku (or rather Ansem Seeker of Darkness using Riku as a host). After Riku’s defeat, Sora figures out the only way to awaken Kairi was to release her within his own heart. Using the Keyblade of Heart, he sacrificed himself to return Kairi’s heart and because of his strong will, he created two more beings into non-existence, Roxas and Naminé.

This is the portion where people are confused about. For Roxas’s case, through Kingdom Hearts games (Kingdom Hearts II, Days and bit of Birth by Sleep), lore, as well as interviews, we’re able to figure out Roxas’s existence which is a bit more straight-forward, Sora’s nobody who holds Ventus’s heart which resulted in his appearance looking uncanny to Ventus. (If there are people who want a full in-depth(including Sora’s existence from KHI->beginning KHII), I would also love to do that as well). 

Naminé’s case however, is a bit more interesting to say the least. Originally, Kairi would create a Nobody the moment she lost her heart in Destiny Islands. However, because of the mere fact that she’s a Princess of Heart, the only type of existence who is unable to house any darkness within herself, this makes it impossible to do such a feat. This was the reason why she couldn’t become a heartless and her body instead goes into a comatose state. This is where Sora comes into play, where he provides the darkness in order for this act to come into motion and create their existences. 

From looking through Ansem’s reports ( (the one in Kingdom Hearts II where the notion of Nobodies were introduced) regarding Naminé, these are the conclusions he’s reached, 

Naminé emerged as Kairi's Nobody...but the body and soul necessary to exist as a Nobody belonged to Sora. (Ansem Report 10)

From Ansem’s reports, (we would assume that) he’s concluding Naminé has Sora’s body and soul because Kairi couldn’t create them. Does this mean that Naminé’s a part of Sora? 

As we know from how Nobodies are created, they are basically the shell left behind after one (only those with a strong will) loses their heart to darkness and the heart’s darkness is able to provide the basis for Nobodies. (This is ultimately the reason why Nobodies can only be created when a Heartless is born though of course, Sora and Kairi are the special exceptions to this.) Their bodies giving them their form while their soul is what gives them their sustainability to life and what allows a body to live. 

Let’s go back to Sora’s sacrifice. When Sora released his own heart, he brought his heart to darkness, and he created his Nobody Roxas as a result. However, because Kairi who was unable to produce any darkness, was also released through him as well, Naminé was also created. Because Roxas is Sora’s nobody, it should be quite obvious that he is the embodiment of Sora’s body and soul as explained earlier. But.. doesn’t this create some contradictions? Shouldn’t Naminé have his body and soul? There are many that argue that Naminé holds some essence of Sora’s body/soul (using Ansem Report 10 as evidence), and especially with the fact that Namine’s powers revolve around Sora’s existence and those connected to him, shouldn’t it make sense? While it may seem the case, people seem to forget that this statement is quite illogical. For starters, there are no records whatsoever where a body and soul itself can split into multiple portions where it can be shared with two existences (while this cannot be said for the heart I believe). So it shouldn’t be possible where Roxas and Naminé share portions of Sora’s body and soul. 

Continuing onto this, it’s been consistently said by multiple characters, including Ansem the Wise and Naminé that Roxas holds half of Sora’s existence. While this is taken in more general terms, when stating a half, it usually means that there are only two portions in Sora’s complete existence, Sora holding his half while Roxas holding the other. This is especially when we take into consideration of the relation between an Other and Nobody. Near the climatic ending in Kingdom Hearts II where both Roxas and Naminé make their last appearance in front of their other selves, we witness a scene where Roxas and Naminé return to Sora and Kairi respectively. If Naminé held some of Sora’s essence within her, wouldn’t it make more sense for Naminé to find a method to return it back to him, especially since she herself was working on Sora’s recovery to complete him? Yet as we look through her limited appearances after Sora’s completed, she only had two goals: going back to Kairi, her original self, and, from what we’ve seen in the Final Mix exclusive cutscene where she’s with Axel and Riku, meeting both Sora and Roxas again to fulfill her end of the promise she made to both of them. There was no implications in the narrative where Naminé was necessary to complete Sora nor did she state any desire for such. (Sorry for the contrasting image sizes. I tried finding smaller sizes with no luck..)

Secondly, as said right before this, he stated this is a hypothesis. The meaning of a hypothesis is “a supposition or proposed explanation made on the basis of limited evidence as a starting point for further investigation.”(Oxford Dictionary) In other words, he, as a scientist, made his own explanation based on his observation and that limited evidence. This is not a fact; it’s his own theory. As such, we cannot treat this as such when he himself is not completely familiar to the concepts of Nobodies (at least during this time). This is especially true for an anomaly (he himself named) whose birth is the most unique among the rest of the Nobodies. 

So what is Sora’s connection to Naminé? If Naminé doesn’t hold any of Sora’s essence of his body and soul, how was she created?

Continuing into future reports, we now come across Ansem Report 12 where he discusses Roxas’s existence after he obtained him through Riku. After examining him as well as re-examining Naminé, this is what he writes.

Naminé is Kairi's Nobody, but came into being via Sora's body and soul. (Ansem Report 12)

It’s important to note that this took place right after Riku captured Roxas and before he transferred Roxas into the digital Twilight Town. Comparing this to Report 10 where he recently took Naminé to the Old Mansion and recruited Riku, some time has passed between. As a scientist, especially one as famous as Ansem the Wise who is also stuck on revenge, he’s always making observations towards the Nobody’s existence and as his title, he makes changes to his initial theories whether to add or change it depending on the subject(s)’ actions. Notice the wording on how she came to being, via which by definition means “through; by means of”. (Oxford Dictionary) In other words, Naminé’s birth was possible through Sora’s body and soul as assistance, because of this source that it was allowed to happen. Instead of thinking that Naminé took a figment of Sora, it’s more accurate to say Sora’s body and soul (also his darkness) served as intermediary, a path, a chain to connect and complete the process for Kairi to have a Nobody, to create Naminé.

This can a bit confusing. In order to further understand it, let’s look at another scene from a different entry. 

While this does not have any relation to Naminé’s case directly, I’ll try my best to connect it to my initial point. When Ventus’s own heart was separated with his darkness by Master Xehanort, his heart was completely fractured. This is because humans, excluding the Princesses of Heart, cannot live when they lack light or darkness in their hearts. With this being the case, Ventus was on the verge of death before Sora as a newborn heart provided salvation and prevented it. 

“Now our hearts touched, nothing will slip away from you again. And one day, you’ll be strong enough to be able to win back the part that already did.” 

It is this scene we see that Sora’s heart joined with Ventus and how they gained a special connection with each other when Sora was just born. While the infliction obviously is not the same as the creation of Naminé (and Roxas), I wanted to show here that Sora used a part of himself. his heart, to provide a link as a means for Ventus to heal. A connection in other words. (While this can be argued that maybe Sora did give a portion of himself, even if the narrative did not imply that and Sora was shown to be completely functional throughout his 4 years before Ventus returns to Sora, note here that it was his heart and from my understanding, hearts can be fractured into multiple pieces. (Evident in Kingdom Hearts BBS with the scene that I presented above is where Xehanort splits Ventus’s heart in half as well as Kingdom Hearts III Re:Mind with Master Xehanort shattering and separating Kairi’s heart. Please correct me if I’m wrong on this case of Re:Mind. I need to further research on this aspect.) 

However, I would like to go back to my point that this proves that a part of a being can be used as a link to connect and going back to Naminé’s case, because Kairi had the necessary requirements to create a Nobody but because of her unique existence was unable to provide the means, Sora provided the missing compounds to create the link between Kairi’s heart to Naminé’s existence. We can also speculate that it could be because of this link that Naminé had acquired her powers to control memories and its chains of Sora and those connected to him, however that is not confirmed and only theoretical so I cannot confirm this to be the case. 

In conclusion, we can now ascertain that Naminé does not hold any essence of Sora and Sora was only acting as an intermediary to create Naminé , especially since he will be an incomplete existence if Naminé did actually hold it. 

Does this mean Naminé hold any essence of Kairi? That could be the case if her appearance striking a resemblance to Kairi (though there is noticeable differences). It is true that Naminé has made it her goal to return to Kairi throughout Kingdom Hearts II once she completed the process of Sora’s recovery. At the very least, Naminé is not a vessel for Kairi’s body and soul like a normal Nobody though. We cannot say for sure if Kairi lost anything in the process of her Nobody’s creation and looking through the end of Kingdom Hearts I and throughout Kingdom Hearts II, we can make an inference that this separation/creation has not affected her personally. It seems more likely that Naminé’s return to Kairi is more beneficial on Naminé herself and provides as a sort of salvation to prevent her from disappearing to darkness like other Nobodies. It’s hard to say how she was able to maintain her existence in the first place when she’s not in possession of a physical one. (It could be the case that she’s Kairi’s Nobody that Kairi’s powers as a Princess of Heart has influence to her manifestation and “body” (like Sora’s case) yet it’s also unconfirmed.) Naminé’s existence was intentionally made to look fragile in the first place (Nomura paying special attention to this) so it wouldn’t be far-fetched to say if it truly is the case that Kairi was necessary for Naminé’s existence to stop from fading. 

With her limited appearances and lack of intel pertaining to her existence in lore, the only thing we can only truly say is that Naminé’s entity is still shrouded in mystery, defying all logic and elements of a Nobody despite being classified as such, an anomaly. Hopefully some of it can be answered in future installments (and if any chance, I may do a theory on my take on her existence or along the lines.)

I apologize for this being a really long post. I hope I was able to explain this misconception well enough for you to understand. If you see any mistakes I made or if you disagree with any points, feel free to leave any constructive criticisms. Like I’ve said, it’s been a while since I’ve written a whole theory from start to finish so forgive me if you do find any. Thank you so much for taking your time to read this and I hope it at least quelled any curiosity you have if you initially did have it. 

[kaibacorpintern]

thejanestofdoes replied to your post “M and O for the Fanfic Ask Meme, please.”

…god I really wanna know more about #5

lmao kind of a low-burn slice-of-life drama kind of deal, post-DM, not DSOD compliant (no atem)… i wrote an entire chapter and a half and then threw it all aside in a fit of inspiration to work on some beast. i won’t return to it unless i make some significant revisions. here is an excerpt. 

context: mokuba has asked yuugi to take some dinner to kaiba (working late at kaibacorp) super late at night, bc even though he’s fucking furious about the (OUT OF NOWHERE, UNEXPLAINED) firing, he won’t abandon his brother to his own self-destructive devices. kaiba, ofc, is trying to get yuugi to leave, but yuugi has orders to make sure kaiba finishes his food.

* 

Kaiba was miserable, that was normal, but somehow… his beloved brother was part of it. A step further: this time, Mokuba was the spear of that misery.

Kaiba finally released Yuugi from his gaze and shoveled a clump of rice and beef into his mouth, reading his phone again with sour disinterest.

Yuugi opened his mouth, and shut it. A vision of Atem shot through his mind like a spark, fiery-bright and then fading. Warmth and grief crested wave-like through his chest, just as fresh and powerful as the day Atem left. They had shared a body, a heart. Even their dreams came together – the mundane absurdities of classrooms and shopping malls and subways sliced apart by dizzying visions of scorching red sands, hieroglyphs, the heady smell of incense. 

And in the late hours of the night, under the skylight, when Atem’s restless, churning energy had kept Yuugi awake, an insomnia like floating on the sea – those moments were theirs, and theirs alone. They had rarely, if ever, been angry with each other. And no one else had known. Like all other things, the fractures were private, sacred. 

If the brothers Kaiba were fighting between themselves… that was the same. It was not his place to ask why, or how. Still seated atop the desk, Yuugi slouched, pressing his phone flat between his hands, watching raindrops roll down the window. The puzzle half-solved, and doomed to be abandoned. On one hand, he wanted them to figure it out themselves. Why not just go home and leave them to their own wretched, stubborn devices? On the other hand… their problems were his problems. As their friend – by some stunted, perpendicular definition of the word – he wanted them happy. 

Movement from Kaiba. Yuugi looked back. Half the bowl was gone, and Kaiba was standing up, phone in his back pocket, chugging from the bottle of water. 

“If you’re going to stay,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “let me show you something interesting.”

“Alright,” Yuugi said, feeling like the only thing he might find interesting was his own bed, or a text from Mokuba announcing that this was all some kind of sick joke, or Kaiba being sedated.

Kaiba briskly plugged the cables back into his duel disk. He lifted the lid off the gold box on the coffee table to reveal several dozen cards, slotted neatly into grey foam. After only a slight hesitation, he chose a card, deftly plucking it from its slot and playing it in attack mode on his duel disk.

The familiar summoning chime played from speakers somewhere around the stage. The card appeared on the stage, face up. Recognition hit Yuugi with a sharp pang, sadness and affection and excitement all at once: an old friend had come to visit. The Dark Magician rose, in a spiraling, glittering flare of light, from the card.

The cards had long since been able to breathe, blink, flex their claws. This was no different: the Dark Magician hovered above a foot above the stage, gripping the staff. Against the white screens, his breathing was magnified, his chest rising and falling visibly in the purple robes. 

Kaiba scraped a small object off the coffee table and threw it underhand at Yuugi, who caught it – a white device like a flash drive. “Now get off that desk. Walk back a few steps.”

Clutching the device in one hand, Yuugi slid off the desk and walked backwards, watching the stage. Kaiba was watching him, a smirk starting to form at the edge of his mouth. The Dark Magician was still just the Dark Magician, floating, his oceanic blue eyes shining in the silence…

“Oh, shit,” Yuugi breathed, startling backwards into the side of a rolling chair, barely noticing Kaiba’s low, short laugh. 

The Dark Magician was looking at him. Not in the blank, unfocused way of a doll, into some vague middle distance, but right into his eyes. The Dark Magician saw him, Mutou Yuugi, standing still and breathless in the dim light. 

Yuugi took several steps back, his sneakers making no sound on the carpet. The Dark Magician’s gaze stayed on him, with that cool-blooded self-possession, now somehow even more alive with focus. And if he moved around…? With the device still pressed hard into his palm, Yuugi dropped to the floor and crawled under the nearest desk, past table legs and power strips bristling with plugs, lanyard dangling onto the carpet. Out from under, and up again. He went as far as he could go, all the way to the last window, at the far end of the room. 

The room was silent save for the rain, an unceasing crackle on the glass windows. The Dark Magician never stopped watching him. Neither did Kaiba, who had picked up the bowl again. 

Whatever Kaiba had done to the Dark Magician unnerved Yuugi, in the same manner of something shifting suddenly in the night – a noise in an alleyway, or a thump on the roof. A distant sound in a dark forest. Life, unknown, but knowing you. Something was alive inside that colorful holographic shell, vibrating with power and predatory desire.

If all the Duel Monsters were like this now… a thrill raced up Yuugi’s spine. Across an imaginary battlefield he saw a line of beautiful creatures, lithe and muscular, waiting for the command of their master. All of their attention trained, with falcon-like precision, on him. Kaiba’s bloodlust, pulsing in the neck of a Blue-eyes White Dragon.

With a cool, not-unpleasant flush of fear, an adrenaline he could not quite name, Yuugi came back to the stage. 

“Don’t explain it. Not yet, at least,” he said, dropping the device into Kaiba’s outstretched hand. Briefly, the Dark Magician’s eyes slid to Kaiba, and Yuugi felt a twinge of – envy? Regret. Then Kaiba clicked the device off and tossed it back onto the coffee table. The hologram flickered, once, and the effect was gone. “Knowing will ruin it.”

“Nothing is ruined by knowing,” Kaiba said impatiently, muffled by a mouthful of food. 

For a moment, they stared up at the Dark Magician in reverent calm, Yuugi feeling for all the world like an acolyte at an altar, the god come down to earth. Kaiba, the high priest.

Atem would’ve loved it.

“Oh, fine. If it makes you happy,” Yuugi said. 

[authorkimberlygrey]

I know I said I was gonna do a monthly world building post over on my website first but there’s basically nobody over there so /shrug anyway, here’s a mostly condensed history of the conflicts on earth

Be wary ye who enter here, it gets dark.

enjoy

The Blood Empires

 Long ago, the first blood mages  discovered a few simple spells to alter their surroundings, but as time moved forward, these simple spells became the seeds of empires. The most important of these seeds was the one that sprouted into the Twisted. Humans transformed through blood magic into terrifying weapons that only grew more powerful as they fed upon their victims. Over the centuries, hundreds of thousands of these creatures were unleashed against rival kingdoms until only two great empires remained. Their names are lost, but their conflict left deep scars upon even the modern world. Even thousands of years after their fall, their  Twisted wander the earth. Many have been destroyed, but there are others who slumber beneath the wreckage of ancient buildings, waiting for someone foolish enough to wander close and set them upon their bloody missions once again.

The greatest of these twisted was the dragon. There is no way of knowing which empire created it, but the peak of Mt. Everest is still a crumbled wreck, the shell of an egg that hatched and scorched the world. Records of its creation are, thankfully lost, but there are still stories told of it into the modern day. It is said that a hundred Guardian fledglings were slaughtered in its creation, and a hundred thousand humans besides.

So powerful was the dragon that not even the Guardians could stand against it, it was only because the Trinity intervened that the beast was stopped at all. This would later go on to be known as the great flood, and it was from this point onward that Guardians inhabited the land of Caelam.

Though the blood empires left their mark on the world, they would never rise again. This did not mean that peace would reign supreme, however. The years after the Dragon were just as, if not more, tumulus than the days of the empires. Guardians had become more powerful with the gift of their new home and now many among them styled themselves as gods and reigned over their human followings.  Oathsworn Guardians stood against them, and it was in the remnants of one of these great battles that the seeds of a new empire were planted.

The Fae Empire

Around eight thousand BC, a pantheon of Fallen Guardians were destroyed and their followers were cast out of the human enclaves. Angered, they took it upon themselves to create a new type of Twisted, a weapon of their truth that could be unleashed against those who denied them. The volunteer of this process was so focused upon the proving of this truth that instead of becoming a mindless beast of destruction, they became the first elf. The others quickly attempted the process for themselves, and though the majority of these first elves instead became Twisted, they eventually figured out the secret to keeping their minds intact. The twisted that resulted from this process were weak and quickly discarded as even canon fodder.

These first elves had fewer powers compared to the later ones, but it was still enough to begin forging a small kingdom of their own. As their numbers grew, the secret of keeping their anchor and how it kept their minds together slipped out and many more blood-changed races began appearing. Many of them were weak and their rituals created more twisted than blood, and they were easily brought into the elves empire as lesser member-races.

Mermaids were first created in a sea-side human enclave. They were women angered by their treatment in this enclave, and so there were no men among them. Unlike the other races, they were powerful and more often sane enough to hold their own against the elves. Their race quickly grew and spread to control the oceans, which they used as leverage against the elves to gain equal status in the empire.

Over time, the creation rituals for both races were adjusted and improved, until they were both far more powerful and longer lived than the earlier versions of themselves. However, though their minds were still present and not destroyed by the power flowing through them as Twisted are, they were still affected by it. Slowly in some and more quickly in others, but among the elves especially, their minds were slowly eroded away until they were insane in the cruelest of ways. Fallen Guardians were another group that was granted equal status to the elves. But even they were not immune to the cruelty of their supposed allies. Mad elves were just as likely to slit the throat of a Fallen as they were an Oathsworn Guardian.

Things only got worse when the elves developed their mental abilities. None are quite sure how they came about, but there are many suspicions that the inspiration for these powers came from Guardians, who were, up until this point, the only race with any telepathic or empathic abilites. While Guardians made it part of their code to never abuse these powers—in fact, most, aside from Fallen, never use them at all—the elves had no such hesitations. They enthralled droves of humans and as they refined this part of the ritual, their powers even became great enough to overpower the minds of Guardian fledglings, and even some adults.

Despite all of their allies and powers, Oathsworn Guardians still managed to keep the expansion of the empire relatively slow. Thus the elves began working to create a new race, one that would help them destroy their enemies once and for all. These efforts culminated in the creation of werewolves. They were capable of disguising themselves as humans. And with with no indication that they were magical at all, they were able to enter Guardian Sanctuaries unopposed as simple refugees, but once they’d gained access to the Sanctuaries, they unleashed their devastating powers.

An average werewolf is eight to nine feet tall standing on two legs, with powerful jaws and sharp claws, capable of leaping nearly twenty feet into the air to catch any attacking or fleeing Guardians. Their most devastating aspect, however, was their fur. No magic could penetrate it, not even the powerful Guardians and so they fell in droves. Their blood only fueling the deaths of their wards and comrades. With the werewolves unleashed, the war quickly turned in the empire’s favor. Guardians were driven to the bares scraps of territory and the clans which had been separate for thousands of years were united in a last ditch effort to strengthen themselves.

While the Guardians were uniting, the Fae empire was fracturing. The elves, growing ever madder in their quest for more powerful telepathic capabilities, angered the other member races. The mermaids began a slow withdraw from the empire, either becoming neutral or in the case of some, even working with their old enemies, the Guardians. These were limited alliances, of course, but it was enough to give the Guardians a stronger foothold along the coasts.

The werewolves, too, began to side against their masters. As the mermaids, some simply turned their backs on the war and kept themselves occupied with whatever territories they could hold. Others, however, turned to the Guardians. For many years, they were uneasy allies at best, neither trusting or respecting the other. The elves were pushed further back and an uneasy cease-fire developed. Every race dedicated themselves to gaining or regaining strength in preparation for the next development.

Only the next development wasn’t another bout of violence, but a gesture of peace. The Poet-Queen Clarity began her reign in the Citadel and though it was an extremely unpopular move, she opened true friendships with the werewolves. From these friendships were born the first Blessed werewolves. They couldn’t change shape like their elf-loyal kin, but they had the aid and protection of the Guardians and that proved to be a deciding factor. Slowly, the elf-loyal wolves began to die out but the Blessed werewolves were capable of having werewolf children and so their numbers increased.

This might have eventually spelled the end of the Fae empire, or perhaps the elves would have created a new shadow race to turn the tables once more. There is no way of knowing, however, because it was just after the first tentative steps of this peace that disaster struck the Guardians. The Calamity. The peoples of earth had no idea what happened, but one day, there was panic and instability among the Guardians. Their Queen was rumored to be dead, and there were no more doorways from Earth to Caelam.

The remaining Guardians clung to their Sanctuaries, but the elves smelled the blood in the water. Even formerly loyal blessed-wolf packs began to lean in the favor of their old masters. However, these weren’t the only powers that sensed a time of change.

The first vampires were a coven of seven blood mages, dedicated to wresting control of earth from the Fae empire. Chief among them was Militades, and when they were transformed, he was the first to gain control of himself and usher his companions back to rationality. With him at their helm, they began a bloody campaign against the remainder of the elves, Militades political cunning also gained them the cooperation of the unaligned mer clans.

Militades wasn’t just well versed in politics, he was a ruthless military commander who was in no way afraid of casualties. It was a quirk of the vampire ritual that the newly transformed were mad with blood lust, blind to any pain or rationality. Legions of blood-ferals could be turned against their enemies and the would be unstoppable until their thirst was slaked or they were killed.

Militades unleashed these blood ferals on elf territory, satisfied to either kill the elves or the humans that they relied upon to keep themselves alive. When he wasn’t unleashing swathes of destruction though, Militades plans could be insidious. He found the few who knew how to preform the elven ritual and killed them all, sending the knowledge of elf creation into death with them. It was in this way that the vampires rendered elves extinct.

Though mermaids worked alongside them in this work, they preferred their independence to becoming part of a new empire, the werewolves were of the same mind. Preferring their friendship with Guardians over servitude to another Shadow Race. The Guardians themselves were weakened from the Calamity still and though they had a new king, they didn’t have the numbers they used to. The vampires, luckily, were more sane than the elves and made themselves content with ruling their own lands. Treaties sprung up between all of these races and peace was—at least temporarily—returned and the Fae Empire forever ended.

The Loss of a Shadow

It was during this time of peace that Militades comrades turned against him. In one night, the vampire’s Elder Council was reduced from seven members to four. Militades and two of the other Elders simply vanished, presumed dead. The truth of the matter was that the Council had turned against their own leader, and though they couldn’t kill him, they managed to lock him away with a small guard of humans. It is unknown if the other two missing members of the council fought against Militades and lost or if they sided with him and were cast into the pit with him. 

 There he stayed for the next three hundred years, as his guard slowly transitioned into a cult dedicated to worshiping—and containing—what they believed to be the end of the world.

[architectnews]

Ten end-of-year architecture projects from students at the University of Reading

A project that reintroduces endangered countryside animals into an orchard environment and a church ruin in Bristol transformed into an educational kitchen are included in Dezeen's latest school show by students at the University of Reading.

Other projects include a proposal that merges architecture and landscape design and a centre for the rehabilitation of badgers.

University of Reading

School: School of Architecture Courses: BSc Architecture and Master of Architecture (MArch) Tutors: Ana Dina, Professor Lorraine Farrelly, Associate Professor Oliver Froome-Lewis, Georgie Grant, Dr John Harding, Mike Kane, Martin Lydon, Sabrina Morreale, Piers Taylor, Michelle Tomlinson and Dr Izabela Wieczorek

School statement:

"The School of Architecture at the University of Reading engages the complex issues facing architecture in our society today, including the environment, re-use, collaborative innovation and creating equalities. It includes a topology of practice-based research and precisely situated studies in design, technology and theory.

"Our students work alongside academics and practitioners and look beyond the transient and the topical to frame precise methodologies and expertise in relation to these borderless concerns as they flow inexorably across our local and European contexts.

"Imagination and new thinking establish new links between the conceptual and the contractual; every day and the abstract; the pragmatic and the speculative; the interviewer and the interviewee and our experiences and our possibilities. Interpreting these circumstances gives us opportunities for positive change.

"These are outtakes from the end-of-year online exhibition 'Adaptations', which is now available on the University of Reading's website."

Nature's Interlude by Clara Everest

"Located in an almost flat, open field landscape, this proposal is conceived as a human-made hedgerow. It is an investigation into the merging of architecture and landscape.

"Conceived to be self-sufficient as possible, it utilises solar energy, heat recovery, natural ventilation and natural water filtration from the adjacent pond.

"Earth walls disperse outwards from the facility into the landscape, representing the roots and weaving structure of the hedgerow, whilst also framing views and connecting to the far horizons of the surrounding landscape.

"The fractured and dispersed walls create a multitude of courts and sheltered gardens referenced back to the traditional fruit walls of England."

Student: Clara Everest Course: BSc Architecture, Year three Tutor: Mike Kane Email: clara.everest[at]gmail.com

The Lambourn Valley MycoWorks and Centre for the Rehabilitation of Badgers by Harvey Warren

"The project is a 'collaboration' between clay target shooters, badgers, fungi and trees. Set along with the M4, earthworks are appropriated as sites of diverse life instead of specific human functionality.

"The building and badger tunnel bridge, which spans the M4, are linked by paths and tunnels through wild woodland, full of shooting huts and badger sets.

"The cob and mycelium building hosts a badger vet, cherry winery, shooting clubhouse, and mycelium moulding facility. Life flourishes within, and the product of these unusual relationships is a sustainable, diverse and exciting landscape, driven by organic processes."

Student: Harvey Warren Course: BSc Architecture, Year three Tutor: Associate Professor Oliver Froome-Lewis Email: hpw2000[at]hotmail.com

Alternative Rurality by Lloyd Jackson

"The AR project proposes a way in which we can better integrate into the rural landscape. As we gradually cut ties with the EU and move away from the single farm payment, agriculture in the UK will go through the most significant transformation since the post-war era.

"A farmer's subsidies will no longer equate to the amount of land they farm, but how well they can maintain and enrich the ecology of their land and incorporate ecologically beneficial practices.

"In this proposal, animals stranded in bounded pockets of land are assisted through the introduction of wildlife bridges, the expansion of hedgerows and the introduction of a new fruit forest."

Student: Lloyd Jackson Course: BSc Architecture, Year three Tutor: Michelle Tomlinson Email: l.wyn.jacksonp[at]gmail.com

Revival of the Orchard by Rosie Clark

"Situated in an open field landscape in southern England, this proposal introduces endangered species of countryside animals into a new traditional orchard environment. Drawing inspiration from the local vernacular, the truss form of the timber-framed facility gives character to the spaces offering respite, care and breeding facilities for birds, dormice and hedgehogs.

Conceived to repair habitat fragmentation created by the M4, an animal bridge extends from respite care spaces to the wider landscape, composed of a network of habitats for species outlined in the National Biodiversity Action Plan.

"By creating a landscape designed for the re-establishment of biodiverse ecosystems, proposals encourage biodiversity and ecological complexity, whilst restoring a historical farming landscape."

Student: Rosie Clark Course: BSc Architecture, Year three Tutor: Michelle Tomlinson Email: rosielauraclark[at]gmail.com

From Strata to Structure by Sofia Sergiou

"This project aims to map the natural past of a site, adding to its history and letting the geology and landscape guide the scheme's placement design.

"My designated site was the location of rare, well-preserved fossils and shells, which led to me selecting snails as my endangered species for the project.

"Continuing with the theme of pests, I selected brambles as my orchard fruit, something that is seen as a weed of sorts, being internationally grown. This was then aged in clay pots underground using an ancient method, almost being treated as a fossil itself."

Student: Sofia Sergiou Course: BSc Architecture, Year three Tutor: Sabrina Morreale Email: sofiasergiou2000[at]hotmail.co.uk

The Formalisation of Nature by Tom Rogan

"Situated adjacent to Wilder's Folly in West Berkshire, this project forms a considered narrative around local food production, endangered bird species and vernacular materials.

"A well-trodden existing footpath aligns a central spine wall of rammed chalk, with adjoining spaces including a medlar orchard, brandy distillery and breeding facility for turtle doves.

"Thatched tapered forms, inspired by both dovetails and William Morris textiles are integrated into the undulating landscape. The resulting project forms a sensitive mosaic of wild-flower meadows, hedgerows of hawthorn, mulberry and elderflower, rewilding an area once consumed by agriculture into a long-term habitat for local wildlife."

Student: Tom Rogan Course: BSc Architecture, Year three Tutor: Dr John Harding Email: tjrogan[at]btinternet.com

Mistletoe by Yann Bracegirdle

"The remnants of historic mining and lost rail lines form the spine for a new architecture for refuge and renewal. Ancient and fragmented tales of mythology to ecotherapy were discovered here to create new narratives of dislocated places and tales. King Bladud's recovery from leprosy and St Anne's healing well, intrinsically connected with nature, still run the length of the site.

"This proposal feeds off a system of corridors and habitats to provide a place with a refuge, centred around the timber three-layered gridshell atrium. A sensitive approach is merging old and new structures and pathways to re-connect the past in the present."

Student: Yann Bracegirdle Course: BSc Architecture, Year three Tutor: Mike Kane Email: yann.bracegirdle[at]gmail.com

An Urban Escape, Bringing Balance to Bristol by Adam Dobson

"With the increasing pressures of modern-day life combined with the demise of natural habitats and the climate emergency, this project looked to create an outlet by repairing, re-purposing and rewilding Bristol's Temple Church, a Grade II* listed ruin.

"The proposed public mental health and well-being service provide ecotherapy whilst subsequently increasing the biodiversity within the urban context.

"Adopting a regenerative design approach, the project looked to utilise locally-sourced reclaimed materials, whereby 'whole system thinking' was integrated into the design, creating a resilient site-specific intervention that aims to leave the ruin, the people and local wildlife in a better condition."

Student: Adam Dobson Course: Master of Architecture (MArch), Year one Tutor: Design Research Unit 2: Regenerative Design – Radical Retrofit & Adaptive Reuse. Academic Lead: Dr Izabela Wieczorek, Studio Practitioners: Diana Dina and Martin Lydon (Haworth Tompkins) Email: a.j.dobson[at]student.reading.ac.uk

The Cultural Kitchen Project by Daniel Hellyer

"The project is centred around regenerative design and radically retrofits a Grade II* listed church ruin in Bristol into an educational kitchen. It seeks to encourage community interaction and collaboration through urban food production and the celebration of cultural events throughout the year.

"Allotment spaces are designed to collectively grow food, which can be harvested and used within the cultural kitchen for events and education as well as donated to vulnerable communities suffering from food poverty.

"Whilst demountable construction techniques respect the site's heritage, the choice of materials and environmental strategies, such as rainwater harvesting, biodiversity gain and renewable energy production help to limit the project's total embodied carbon."

Student: Daniel Hellyer Course: Master of Architecture (MArch), Year one Tutor: Design Research Unit 2: Regenerative Design – Radical Retrofit and Adaptive Reuse. Academic Lead: Dr Izabela Wieczorek, Studio Practitioners: Diana Dina and Martin Lydon (Haworth Tompkins) Email: danielhellyer13[at]gmail.com

Inspiring Art through Nature | Inspiring Communities through Art by Ethan Cherrett

"The proposal for the Weston Island redevelopment project sought to reshape the existing landscape of the island to accommodate public inhabitation, inspiration and future flood mitigation.

"The project aimed to reinvigorate the island and promote the bridging of the surrounding communities regardless of the demographics they find themselves situated within, as well as to radically reuse both the existing structures and the landscape to form the proposed structures.

"Rammed earth was utilised as a driving component throughout, where 40 per cent of the build-up of walls were derived from the excavated subsoil from the proposed terraced SUDs System."

Student: Ethan Cherrett Course: Master of Architecture (MArch), Year one Tutor: Design Research Unit 1: Collaborative Design – Working to Empower Communities to Make Change. Academic Lead: Prof. Lorraine Farrelly, Studio Practitioners: Piers Taylor (Invisible Studio) and Georgie Grant (Onion Collective Watchet) Email: ethancherrett[at]gmail.com

Partnership content

This school show is a partnership between Dezeen and The University of Reading. Find out more about Dezeen partnership content here.

The post Ten end-of-year architecture projects from students at the University of Reading appeared first on Dezeen.

[theanonymousmystery]

FRACTURED SHELL | Chapter 1 (Pages 6-10)

Previous | Next | Master post

Leif's magic senses are tingling!

~~

More comic let's gooo! So disclaimer: If you're wondering why the art style changed midway through these pages, it's because I've gotten a new drawing tablet~! It has definitely helped to streamline the drawing process though, I will say.

(Also fun fact, pages 7-9 were the first pages I made. Yes, even before the prologue pages, lol)

In other news, I now have a master post for this comic! Hopefully that will make it easier for you guys to find your place when reading ♥