#i went insane i went feral

[gatheredfates]

For the relationship ask thing: Kor & Alphinaud!

Have your followers send you NPCs and you describe your OC's feelings/relationship to that NPC! I have nothing to say except I went insane.

He is just a child.

She reminded herself of this fact through gnashed teeth and folded arms; he is just a child, he does not deserve your ire.

But Kor was very tired of children. She had only recently interred one to the sea — to the crabs, the fish and the three-day rot — and the arrogant intervention wore thin in the repetitive belief that Alphinaud knew better simply because he was the prodigal grandson of a man who gave his life to Eorzea. He intermingled with the potentate, both of city-states and non, and she watched with loosely contained annoyance how he prattled on.

But she watched. That was one thing the Captain was good at, she supposed — watching. Guarding. He monopolised it with lazy gestures and self-assured smiles, and she fell easily into the role of dog to its master. Not because she respected him exactly, but because it was all she knew. Because she couldn't be better.

Should she have said something? Should she have intervened? She saw the way they looked at him like he was a thing to be used, a stepping-stone to their aspirations, armies and Warrior of Light. When Ilberd glanced to her she could see intention in the edges of his easy smile, "Daughter of Ala Mhigo, don't you see the opportunity?"

If looks could kill she'd encase him in the amber of her eyes, right at the juncture where equitable manner bordered on ridicule.

Why didn't she? Because the last time she had said something, the last time she tried to intervene, it only sent the child running.

Right into the jaws of the deep.

He is just a child. He was tired. Alphinaud doesn't complain (perhaps he knew better the limits of her patience), but she could see the weariness in his eyes — exhaustion hugging the corners, hoping to fuse with the rest of the cold truths.

And they were cold. Not just of the temperature, for Ishgard was abysmally frigid, but of the loss of their comrades and the fall of their station; how their pedigree had diminished to the kindness of an foreign nation determined to arise from the ice, even if their sanctuary to accused murders might isolate them all over again.

Or heresy. Koret thought herself more superstitious than religious, though maybe it was all the same in the end. An offering to a deity, a prayer for good luck (give Llymlaen a Dagger just so she can throw it at the bastard again), click your heels three times or whatever-the-fuck. She wasn't praying to anyone when she rescued Tataru and he from the Tribunal. She only knew outrage and the acrid taste of bile in the back of her throat at the thought she could lose them too.

"Are you alright?" It was the first time she reached for him since the banquet, her fingers just a little too tight on the groove of his shoulder. Kor hadn't even thought about it, so natural was the movement, but when he jumped and fixed his gaze to her, she immediately knew her misstep.

"...I am fine, my friend," he answered, and before she could whip her hand away he had laid his own atop of it. They stood there for a far too long in their strange silence until Kor thought to squeeze once and finally relinquish her hold. She stepped back, awkward in her intimacy, and could not look directly in the eye.

"Good."

She soon realised he was learning the values of leadership, too. He saw them in Aymeric's careful navigation, Estinien's brute force and Ysyale's hope. All had their merits but all had their flaws. He internalised them and stepped carefully over the ruins of his mistakes until his friends were whole and hearty again.

Not a leader, just a comrade... a friend.

He is just a child, but fucking hell he's a clever one. Kor couldn't deny his intelligence, especially given what she knew of Sharlayan, but she was reminded of the old idiom of teaching a man to fish: teach a boy bureaucracy and he might become a man through it. Show him what it means to lead, to plan and to prepare; allow him the privilege of the floor, but be prepared to challenge him when he oversteps. Do not squander his inexperience, but allow innovation to bleed through tried methods.

Frankly, she appreciated his methodology, for it allowed her little room to think about herself. He was the enthusiastic foreigner, not the diaspora grasping at the hems of the little culture his father felt prudent to leave him. He could meet the gaze of M'naago, Lyse and Conrad instead of staring just a little too far to the left.

She only had the left these days. When she woke up screaming in the night, disorientated from a lack of vision, his were the hands intermingled among the many that grasped her frantic fingers. "You are safe," he reassured her, squeezing tightly in the din. "Koret, you are safe."

She wasn't sure she believed him, but it was comforting all the same. There was a familiarity in their company now, whether she liked it or not. Kor teased him for his whimsy and his innocence (the art, the sword — fuck, he was a terrible swimmer) while he offered wisdom beyond his years and a hope they could make a difference in the world.

So who was holding him — why did he need to be held? It was her job to protect him, her job to guard; she knew the job well well since the banquet, it was the one thing she was good at. Kor ran to him so desperately, wrenching his lifeless figure out of their arms as if her violence might be the one thing that would bring him back to her, yet his weight was like an anchor that pulled them roughly to the ground.

"Alphinaud!"

She cradled him, one hand in his hair while the other gripped him far too tightly, but he did not wake. Not even when she shook him, not even when the other Scions had to pull her from him, not even when her voice cracked in its snarl. "Wake up you fucking — WAKE UP!"

She wondered if he was a child in body only, given all the things he'd seen. Weeks for her was a whole year for him; a year of separation, strife and sorrow. Alphinaud was so infuriatingly formal when she found him, as if embarrassed by his failings on the Source, and balked when she wrapped her arms tight around him to prove to herself he was real.

"A-Are you alright?" By the navigator did she laugh! It was a desperate, pained sound, but how could she hope to encapsulate anger and relief in the same breath?

"Just dandy. Now shut up."

And he did, bless him. He hugged her tightly back.

She wanted... a lot of things then. Mostly she just wanted to apologise. She wanted to apologise for failing him and forcing him to this foreign world. She wanted to tell him that she was alright, even when she was igniting from the inside and spewing hot ichor across the floor.

Kor wanted to lie to him, but she was a terrible liar. When she writhed on the floor of the Crystarium, and the veins in her hands turned a vibrant gold, she wanted to scream that he was just a kid! He was a child discussing how much time she had left, contemplating how they might survive if she were to purify in front of them. He did not deserve it. Alisae did not deserve it. Ryne did not deserve it.

He had weathered the brunt of her suicidal ideation for far too long. Enough. Enough.

"If the fucking bastard is going to disown you, I'll just adopt you myself. It can't be that hard. You're like, what, seventeen —?"

The way Kor paused was enough to make them snort with laugher, so stunned was she that she rendered herself speechless. The Captain looked like she had swallowed a lemon, as if she only just became reacquainted with the passage of time, and her single eye narrowed to glare at the twins suspiciously.

"How old are you?"

"Literally or figuratively?" Alisaie asked, slicing through the tension of the hour with impish wit.

Koret Swan threw up her hands as she came to the horrific realisation they weren't really children anymore. But they were hers — they were her kids — and they only laughed harder despite it.

"I think I should like to watch you contemplate a bell longer," Alphinaud teased, that self-assured smile appearing when Alisaie snickered, and she had a mind to strange him anew.

"I think I should like to kick your arse," Kor answered, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Fuck me."

"Brother, we graduated! She swears openly in our company!"

Never mind, she was going to kick both their arses. They could be orphans.

The end of the universe was no place for anyone, least of all them. They held her hands in theirs, small when pressed against the leather of her gloves, and it was their steps that carried her to the precipice of apathy.

It wasn't that Kor would not continue (they had come so far, seen so much, done too much), but that she knew what taking those last few steps meant.

She thought she knew death a thousand times. She swore It was her friend when her sister died, a siren calling her so sweetly from the craggy rocks as it ushered her into the king-tide. It wore the faces of friends — occasionally her enemies if it suited — and soothed her aching bones when exhaustion became almost too much to bear. "There is a solution," it cooed, "if you're brave enough to take it."

No! She wanted to live! For fuck sake, she wanted to live — and she wanted them to live! She didn't want to walk towards the yawning void with its songbird's dead-eyed stare; she wanted to be home in Mor Dhona with the their annoying merrymaking and cheap, frothy beer. She didn't want to keep stepping over ground earned with her loved ones' lives while the Endsinger herself prised her ribcage higher with her butchers knife. I will take everything from you, and you will only know despair.

Kor did not feel worthy. Tears streaked her cheeks as she tried not to cry, and the tension in her jaw was excruciating when she stalled.

There was no bravery in death, but they were so brave. Alphinaud sensed her pause and took the first step forward, turning just enough to face her, and smiled as he squeezed her fingers in his.

"Come, my dearest friend," he softly encouraged, "There's not much farther left."

I love you, I love you, I love you. She wanted to tell them more than anything but her mouth would not make the sound. Instead, Kor looked to both of them, desperately trying to memorise every inch of their faces on the chance she might lose them forever. I love you. I don't want you to do this. I don't want to do this.

Acceptance was the swallow that felt like ingesting razor wire. When this was over she would bring them back, and she would give them everything.

They deserved everything.

Hence, she walked.

[deimosatellite]

thriller bark . .

[the-prima-vista]

[introspectivememories]

TIM DRAKE: ROBIN #7 YOU WILL ALWAYS BE FAMOUS

[zhongrin]

i truly can't choose between these two i need to be stuck between them i need to be sandwiched how does one become the filling of a sandwich they're like my bread they're the ones who completes me they're my carbohydrates they keep me going i need them to take a bite of me on either side front back left right i literally could not care I JUST NEED TO BE BETWEEN THEM

[sophsun1]

Queer as Folk – 3.07: Stop Hurting Us

[stvrmhondss]

blacked out and put runway music over max’s little cindy crawford-esque model walk. enjoy.

[indigocloverr]

wingiesss

[tenrosedyke]

i've always been weird about fictional couples being weird about fictional couples is my passion. but nothing and I mean nothing ever compares to the doctor and rose tyler. and I know that's not surprising because of my url but like holy fuck. they make me insane. 'im burning up a sun just to say goodbye' are you actually yanking my chain rn. say sike

[dddrunkderella]

firestorm semi-prime fucking!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (commission for the lovely mona on twitter and in the firestorm discord!)

full view on poipiku ⚡🔥

[svenituse]

bites him

[possamble]

realizing im kind of a weirdo about laios and marcille

[sunbloomdew]

i was just casually playing honkai star rail, doing the simulated universe and then THIS CHARACTER APPEARED, I WAS NOT PREPARED

you don't understand. they are the prettiest hoyoverse character. i mean it. i have been thinking about them ever since. they KISS THE MC (it makes the mc feel like they are dying and in general yaoshi is kinda sus but omg they kiss the mc). they're perfect omg omg omg,,,

i might want them to kill me, kiss me or be them, idk yet probably all three

[sadnsxft]

he plays bass... he PLAYS BASS... HE PLAYS BASS

source: Barry Sloane Instagram

[mvndrvke]

ACT TWO FINALE, LOVE NEVER DIES

personals and non-mutuals, please don't interact with this post. mutuals who wanna use this, go for it. trigger warnings : death, abuse, guns

this is going to be part of a much larger post rewriting love never dies, but for now, this is lyrically what i'm changing in act ii, starting after christine's performance. rather than going to the pier with gustave, the final conflict happens backstage. meg confronts her mother about helping the phantom once again trick christine and bringing her back into the life she'd tried so hard to leave behind.

at this point in the musical, meg is fueled by unholy rage against everyone, but especially her mother and the phantom, for dragging christine into everything. she just wants to see her friend finally happy and content like she's been in her life in england.

meg, madame giry, gustave, and raoul are all backstage; the phantom and christine enter mid-argument. i've tried to block things out under the cut; this will probably end up changing around idk.

[[ MEG stands backstage with a gun pointed at MADAME GIRY. RAOUL stands to the side, keeping GUSTAVE shielded behind him. ]]

[ MADAME GIRY ] all these years i've been mother to you and christine! my ignorant daughter.

[ MEG ] enough!

[ MADAME GIRY ] do you think i don't know how it hurts to see one's child far too off?

[[ CHRISTINE and THE PHANTOM enter. MEG points the gun at THE PHANTOM ]]

[ MEG ] not another step!

[[ THE PHANTOM blocks CHRISTINE with his body ]]

[ THE PHANTOM ] give me the gun, meg.

[ MADAME GIRY ] give me the chance to see you clear at last.

[[ MEG points the gun at MADAME GIRY again ]]

[ MEG ] not another word!

now that i've got your attention at last here's the big finish, and then you can go!

diamonds never sparkle bright if they aren't set just right. beauty sometimes goes unseen. we can't all be like christine.

[ THE PHANTOM ] christine...

[ RAOUL ] christine...

[ MEG ] christine, christine. always christine.

[[ MEG points the gun at THE PHANTOM ]]

[ MEG ] who kept singing, desperate for your favor?

[[ MEG points the gun at MADAME GIRY ]]

[ MEG ] who kept dancing, hoping you would save her?

[[ MEG points the gun at RAOUL ]]

[ MEG ] who kept dying, and this is what you gave her?

[[ music shifts to "past the point of no return" as meg lowers the gun ]]

[ MEG ] past the point of no return. the final threshold.

[ CHRISTINE, softly ] give me the gun, meg. give me the hurt and the pain and the gun, meg.

[ MEG ] the bridge is crossed

[ RAOUL ] give me the blame for not seeing the things that you've done, meg.

[[ MEG points the gun at MADAME GIRY again ]]

[ MEG ] so stand and watch it burn. we've passed the point of no return.

[ CHRISTINE ] give me the gun, meg.

[[ MEG slowly lowers the gun. the music shifts again to the beginning notes of "angel of music" as CHRISTINE takes another step closer to MEG ]]

[ CHRISTINE ] i'm with you even now.

[ MEG ] my hands are cold.

[[ CHRISTINE takes another few steps towards MEG ]]

[ CHRISTINE ] give me the gun, meg.

[ MEG, softly ] it frightens me.

[ CHRISTINE ] don't be frightened.

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

do you think leonardo or comte is older? i can’t remember it being specified but i’m not sure. i mean we have leonardo’s age but how old is comte??? i haven’t played comte’s route so idk if cybird mentioned it or made one up but his real historical birthday/place was pretty much unknown i think??? thoughts?

I always thought Comte was the older of the two? But to be honest I was never sure if that was just my bias talking or it was actually the case. So naturally, because I am So Normal, I did a little digging through all the stories I've read up to this point to see if there were any concrete indicators. The most promising lead I was able to find was from the "Tell Me Your Story" collection event.

Meta under the cut, since I was left unsupervised and it got long:

The contents that are most pertinent to what I have to say are as follows:

In this story, Comte speaks a little bit about his childhood because MC found him playing the violin. He talks about how he originally trained as a young boy on an instrument called "a rebec." Mind you, Comte says that he still has the first one he ever bought--he remembers because he acquired it the day he was told he would stop aging forever. In due course he takes it out to show her--and later plays for her, at her request.

Now, looking at all the facts. The violin was said to be introduced between 1540 and 1560, roughly speaking (I'm not a historian, this is all based on rudimentary research). This doesn't tell us too much though, as Comte does say the instrument he trained on and first purchased was much older. Many sources show the rebec dating back as early as the 10th century (meaning anywhere from 900-1000) in Spanish courts, a supposed mashup of the Arabic rebab and the Eastern European lira. The clearest written records (the few that exist) begin from the early 12th century and on, though it was at the height of its popularity towards the 15th/16th century.

Aside from the fact that that's fuckin crazy, that would place Comte as being born anywhere from 900-1100 (1200-1500 at the very latest). Now I know what you may be thinking. How the hell does that narrow anything down, Minnie?

Given the cultural implications surrounding the rebec's emergence, the context actually does allow certain tentative conclusions to be drawn. I've seen indications that musical talent with a rebec was considered a big deal as an indicator of wealth/higher status in the earlier years of that time frame. Taking Comte's childhood into account--that he was raised to effuse aristocratic breeding and poise--I think that makes it highly unlikely he was learning when it was most associated with street performers (during the latter portion of my posited time frame). Everything about Comte's family pretty much screams old money (aka wealth they were born into, not curated during the rise of the mercantile class trying to be posers), so I really can't see them raising their son to play commoner music.

Another very telling bit lies in the phrasing of how he found the instrument: "he discovered the old rebec among other goods from a foreign trader." Remember that in the latter end of the time frame, it was so commonplace it could probably be found among local vendors/craftsmen--there would be no need for them to be imported from foreigners. I imagine his family only had access to the instruments in accordance with their social standing; naturally the rich would have their connections, but not just anybody would have the money or means to get their hands on one.

If my beginner's dive isn't too far off the mark, that would make Comte anywhere between approximately 400-1000 years old. I get this hunch that he's probably somewhere in the middle, I just don't know where exactly. I wish I had a better estimation since that's a pretty huge range, but considering the lifespan of the rebec it's hard to tell.

The only great anachronism in all this is the existence of Comte's pocket watch which was gifted to him by his tutor (I believe that's what she was, I know it was one of the human people in his house when he was young). The first pocket watch is said to have been created in Germany in 1510 (and shortly after distributed in Italy), but honestly it feels a bit out of place compared to all of the other evidence available to us. If that's the case, then Comte could have been born in the 1490s (since he received it when he was like 12, somewhere around there). Honestly I do feel the game suggests that he's older than that, so there's some dissonance there. But I leave that up to personal interpretation, since I'm not 100% sure about it either.

Lowkey, I feel like they might have gone so hard with the timepiece imagery for Comte that they forgot the historical practicalities attached to them, so that's half the reason I don't know what to do with this information. I get that vibe of like something something rich people cop out, unless purebloods have weirdly long childhoods--

Leonardo I don't have as many receipts because I'm just a poor Comte stan trying to live (his collection stories are pain), but if we go by the indication that his in-game life loosely follows the historical figure and simply continues on with his faked death, that means he was likely born somewhere around 1452. I can't remember super clearly, but for whatever reason my only memory of age indicators for Leonardo was around 400 or so (which tracks with that interpretation). That would actually make him potentially younger than Comte, younger than I initially anticipated. Or, if Comte was born on the latter end of my estimations, they are at the very least close in age.

Also please don't hesitate to let me know if I'm missing any receipts on Leonardo, I have only one brain cell and she is trying so hard, my friends

As to the place of Comte's birth I haven't the slightest clue about that. It's pretty obvious he's of European ancestry, but as to where he was born/raised exactly, it's difficult to tell. Given all the talk of the rebec there's a decent likelihood he originates from the Mediterranean area/Southern Europe, as it is an Arabic instrument by origin that was adapted into something new by Spain. (This could mean he was born anywhere between France, Spain, Italy, or even the countries a little further up or closer to the Middle East.)

I considered Northern Europe/England, but honestly the evidence doesn't really seem to lean in that direction. Comte mentioned that he once lived in England and made friends there, but the way he talks about makes it sound like he was a visitor/traveler, not a native. And frankly, Comte isn't insufferable enough to be English lmao, he has a conscience. There is actually some tentative evidence for Irish descent, as the vampy mind persuasion/compulsion is termed "geas" in the game, which is a word that stems from Irish gaelic/folklore. The only reason I don't think there's a real connection is that there's no further evidence tying Comte to Ireland; and I don't think the etymology necessarily guarantees ancestry (though there is something to be said about the Irish gothic and vampiric origins).

Admittedly it feels like the game makes his nationality vague on purpose, and I think this has a two-part intention. The first is that historically he was shrouded in a great deal of mystery, so it only makes sense they would be reluctant to name a singular place. The second is that--and I don't remember where the screenshot is, I saw it a while ago--the game describes him as belonging to no one place (that he belonged to all and none). Keeping his character construction in mind, I feel like this aligns with his general theme of contradiction. He's a greater vampire who prefers to keep company among humans, he's a powerful being with a fragile/sensitive heart, he has strong convictions but hesitates constantly, he's able to blend in almost everywhere he goes but never truly feels like he belongs. It would only make sense, narratively speaking, to keep with that motif/trend.

Also quick aside, because I can't help the music nerd in me. Rebecs are bitchin?????? Holy shit slay. Fun fact: they appear to have been primarily used for festivities, played for dancing. That gives a whole new impression to the fact that he bought one the moment he found out he would never age any further. I guess I just think about how that's a pretty joyous purpose for the music (beyond the pedigree aspect). That he clung to this specific artifact as a way to remind himself of his connection to humanity, that it was about people gathering and enjoying each other's company (and yet at the same time, all the political games that come with such leisure)...what a reflection of who he is today. I think it's fascinating how much people are at the heart of his personal motivations and feelings, considering how easy it is for purebloods to become lone wolves (power and secrecy would lend itself to that.) Instead, Comte chooses to hide in plain sight and actively works to stay engaged in the times and among the population. Then again, if I were hundreds of years old I would probably also beg for a distraction from the encroaching madness so like ajkhslgfkjhfslakjh it's very sweet but also mood...

In short:

Thank you for the ask, lovely!! 💛💛💛💛 I hope this answers your question? I love any excuse to talk about my one and only 👀💍