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A Setting: The City of Sethennai

Because I’ve spent long enough tinkering on this that I might as well share it with a population of more than a half-dozen potential players. Also it could almost certainly use an editing pass, and I don’t want to lose it all next time my computer dies.

So, a collection of densely packed plot hooks in the shape of a city

City History

The City of Sethennai is quite possibly the oldest city in the world, or at least the oldest still inhabited. When the first Dwarfs and Goliaths fled the Titans for the coast, they found ziggurats already rising from the water and tunnels dug beneath their feet, ruined by some already ancient cataclysm. Supported by fertile soil and full waters, they built their own city over it, and welcomed their own gods to it, a center of resistance to the Titanomarchy that became an empire in its own right.

Centuries passed and power drifted inland, to the mountain palaces of the Titans’ Giant heirs and the divinely appointed heroes who sometimes overthrew them. The City was rich, but peaceful, its soldiers only raised when one princess or another took it as a capital during a civil war. Such was the case when the first ships appeared from the East.

The adventurers from the League of Free Cities had been spurred across the sea by visions of fortune and glory, overwhelming the defenders with armies of goblin slaves and the ability to evoke demons far beyond what they could deal with. Their leader Sethennai proclaimed himself Emperor and renamed the city in his honour, taking it as his capital. After his assassination some years later the ‘empire’ fell into an anarchy it has never quite recovered from, but the name has stuck, and for the two hundred years since wonders and riches have flowed across the eastern ocean while mercenaries and adventurers have poured west in ever greater numbers.

The city’s ruler for the last fifteen years has been Prince Cael, an adventurer universally believed to be supported by the League’s political rivals back East. If so, they got what they paid for – experts and financiers have been imported and sponsored, and trade opened to anyone capable of paying the reasonable import duties.

Until two years ago, he had been the picture of brutal decadence, rousing himself from luxurious hedonism only to brutally deal with any threats to his power. Recently though, he changed – sponsoring vast expeditions into the ancient palaces of the interior and the ruins buried on the city’s outskirts, and installing a self-proclaimed Hierophant whose heresies had earned her a death warrant back East in the city’s grandest temples (violently banishing the cults which had held them since the Conquest in the process).

One week ago, at exactly noon, the sun vanished from the sky for one minute, and the entire city was filled with a deafening scream. Since then, the Prince’s grand palace has been sealed tight, with ingeniously horrifying magical defences ensuring that anyone who tries to force a door or window isn’t around to try again. Everything’s very rapidly falling apart, and the city’s traditional power brokers are reacting like so many rabid weasels in too small a cage.

It is, then, a perfect opportunity for people with the will to seize it.

Districts

The Palantine

If Sethennai is the oldest continually inhabited city in the world, the vast palace complex which crowns its central hill is probably likewise the oldest building still in use. Its foundation is burrowed deep into the hill on which it stands, to the point that some delvers and historians have theorized that it was once a truly massive pyramid now mostly buried by the ages. Rising out of it are two great peaks - impressive ziggurats in their own right - of obvious dwarven make, fashioned to house their ancient Ancestors-Kings and gods in suitable splendor, and since renovated and built over to house the city’s rulers and most favored priesthoods. Surrounding them are a dozen smaller peaks, each the estate of one of the city’s foremost patrician families, teeming with retainers and servants. The land around them is pristine and perfectly manicured, full of wondrous botanical gardens and menageries for the amusement of Sethennai’s greatest citizens.

Location of Interest: The Throne

A palace built on the ruins of a palace built on the ruins of a palace. The grand ziggurat which the city’s rulers have called home since time immemorial is built into and sits at the peak of its highest hill, the highest point in the sky for dozens of miles in every direction. Its labyrinthine apartments, kitchens, vaults, galleries and corridors house the Prince and his family, dozens of favorites and notables, and hundreds of guards, servants, retainers and entertainers.

Or, well, housed.

One week ago, the sun vanished from the sky, and a scream echoed through the city. Since then, the palace complex has proven impenetrable. Every door and window is closed, and attempts to open them by force have fared...poorly. In a ‘never going to walk again’ sort of way. Scrying and other means of magical surveillance so far attempted have simply failed. No one has tried to escape, and no noises have been heard - the whole complex is simply silent.

Of course, that means that all its secrets and riches are there for the taking. Or that’s the growing consensus - at least three separate groups have camped out near various gates and major entrances, each preparing their own scheme to break in and seize everything within. There’s no fighting between them. Yet.

Faction of Note: The Hierophant

Yri Cenred is many things. A self-proclaimed ‘experimental theologian’. One of shockingly few mortal humans to piss off the Illyrin clergy enough to be specifically declared Anathema. A member of the Commonwealth’s very exclusive list of ‘Enemies of Reason’. Empirically immune to thunderbolts from cloudless skies and most other signs of divine disfavor. Easily one of the most powerful mages in the city. And, for most of the last two years, its High Priestess and Hierophant.

No one knows quite how her first meeting with Prince Cael went, and whether she was responsible for her change in personality or if he sought her out because of it. All anyone knows is that shortly after she arrived in the city a few days ahead of Imperial Witch-Hunters looking for her head on a pike, Cael forcibly expelled the Khasali cults which had occupied the Palantine’s grand temples since the Conquest, and installed her in their place with the newly minted title of Hierophant for the city. Since then she and her growing coterie of acolytes (bright-eyed, motivated and young, though you can flip a coin as to whether their hands are stained with ink or blood) have been extremely busy, though no one can say exactly what with. Certainly they haven’t held any public rituals or services. Despite the costs - both political and monetary - in protecting and sponsoring her, Cael never seemed to question whether it was worthwhile.

The general opinion on the streets is that she’s probably to blame for anything and everything worth complaining about. The only real divide is between those who think she bewitched the Prince and turned him into her puppet, those who think she’s the one who killed him, and the moderates who think the correct answer is probably ‘both’.

Foundrytown

The New World is absolutely full of exotic reagents, fuel sources, and materials to craft and invent with. It is also absolutely full of people who will pay in your currency of choice for finished goods, armor, weaponry, and whatever nasty alchemical tricks you can keep from blowing up in their face until they want them to. Foundrytown is the sprawling mass of smokestacks, workshops, factories and markets that has spilled to the north of Sethennai’s walls, exploiting both opportunities to the fullest while limiting the chance that some idiot will burn half the city down (again). Robber barons, militant workers, loose fraternities of tinkerers and half-trainer artificers, and the occasional rogue clockwork or alchemical monstrosity all jostle for space and control of the beating heart of Sethennai’s economy.

Faction of Note: The Grand Bazaar

Official Imperial theology accords true dragons a place of honour - the Princes of the Earth, entrusted by Heaven with containing the fury of the elements within themselves so as to render the world peaceful enough for cultivation by the younger races - and forbids very few things to wyrms willing to play the part. (Principally, do not become undead, a god in your own right, or an archdemon of the elements. Though some justification can usually be found for how any sufficiently problematic dragon is actually doing one of those).

And Tyramara the Magnificent, the Fire of the Deeps has not technically done any of those things. Still, the ancient wyrm has little interest in allowing the wasting disease which has crippled her continue to spread, and her solution is unorthodox enough that she thought it prudent to abandon her palace-lair in Imir and relocate to the New World, six treasure galleons worth of her hoard in tow.

One of the city’s wealthiest residents from the moment she landed, she has bought a plaza in Foundrytown and offered her sponsorship to nearly every tinker and engineer who cares to set up shop there, provided they help sustain and improve the mechanical and hydraulic prosthetics that supplement and replace her dying organs. She has promised a full half of her hoard to any who can permanently deal with her condition, a fortune men have killed for in the past, and certainly will again.

Faction of Note: The Hellworks

They’re not officially called the Hellworks - there are, in fact, absolutely no devils involved. Still, between the billowing clouds of soot and steam pouring from their chimneys at all hours of the day, the severe architecture, and the bound spirits who keep the looms running at all hours of the day and eagerly take any opportunity to leave anyone who gets too close crippled or maimed to vent their anger - well, the name stuck.

One of the most obvious consequences of Prince Cael’s turn towards the esoteric these last years, the ' ‘Royal Sethennai Weaver’s Trust” is the brainchild and absolute domain of the Lady Binder Katerine sol Dalme sol Telrin ir’Paimon. An Illyrin magister with heterodox opinions on the proper uses of magic, popular opinion is divided on whether it’s more accurate to say Cael invited her to reside in the city, or just offered her asylum before her elders had a chance to properly condemn her.

Regardless, after six months of operation she - and her half-dozen strictly bound and extremely unhappy ifrit, and several hundred eminently replaceable more mundane workers - are already well on their way to supplying all the clothing and textiles Sethennai’s teeming masses require single-handedly, produced at a scale and speed far beyond what any traditional artisans guild could hope to compete with.

Crossroads

Dominating the Old City - synonymous with it, really - that the district is called the ‘Crossroads’ is often considered something of a cruel joke by new arrivals. The ‘Labyrinth’ is usually offered instead. Ancient stone tenements and storehouses are basic facts of geography, surviving through conquest and fire, and over and around and through them are generations of newer building - mansions of imported oak and marble, shantytowns of cannibalized carts and derelict ships built on rooftops, and nondescript inns and stores conveniently built on top of trap doors and tunnels leading to much more exciting locales. Natives of a neighborhood who know all the secret passages and blind alleys can quickly get to anywhere they like. New arrivals are strongly advised to pay well for a reliable guide.

Faction of Note: The Dreamers

There’s something under the harbor. There always has been. There probably always will be. Most people can go their whole lives without noticing it, but a certain few find living in the Old City a haunting experience, their nights spent dreaming of drowned palaces and impossible angles, their days spent lost in alleys and markets that have never existed. Inevitably, they come out of a daze and find themselves perched on the waters edge, staring into the filthy, polluted depths with an intense sense of longing.

Called the Dreamers, they’re an eclectic and informal fraternity, living in makeshift houseboats or the cheapest tenements that press against the water. Quite a few simply sleep on the streets. They’re something like a religion, and something like a guild - the most personable and talkative are merchants, selling the fish that others catch, the strange relics and minor treasures that their divers retrieve from the harbor, and the often beautiful - if always uncanny - art they produce. They take care of each other and, though no one has ever seen a dreamer raise a hand in anger, every attempt by syndicates or rival cults to extort or expel them has ended with their opponents going mad, screaming and clawing at their flesh in the middle of the night, or found poised in some elaborate and improbable suicide. After the third time, everyone more or less got the idea.

No one knows who leads them - if anyone does. Insofar as they have a public face, Zoe Alvane is it - a street urchin who ‘found the sea’ before she had hit puberty, for the last few years she has been the one who spends seemingly every hour of the day ensuring her ‘aunts’ and ‘uncles’ have food and shelter, and looking after the other beggars and poor in the neighborhood while she can as well. She’s also the one outsiders deal with when they come looking to buy information - it’s a disquieting fact of life in Sethennai that the Dreamers’ know almost everything there is to know about almost everyone. They are generally content to be left alone, and Zoe is very sympathetic and willing to offer personal advice and play the part of fortune teller to anyone desperate and willing to trade or do a favor - but it’s generally agreed that trying to force information from them is a bad idea.

Faction of Note: Ironfang Mercenary Company

When Prince Cael seized the throne, he didn’t do so single handedly. He needed trained, disciplined soldiers to seize the Palantine and coastal forts, ensure no one escaped the palace, and keep order on the streets while the messy business of extinguishing the previous dynasty was carried out. For all this and more, he relied on the professional expertise of the Ironfang Company.

Formed around a core of hardened hobgoblin veterans of various border wars and colonial filibusters in the Free Cities, the Company has for the last fifteen years been the Prince’s favorite tool for securing his interests, keeping order, and bloodily making examples of any threats to his rule. For their trouble, they’ve grown fat and happy - a steady paycheck and yearly bonuses have left every officer with a townhouse, and most common soldiers with coin for families and apartments for them to live in.

Despite the lack of real combat - and the need to take on locals as new recruits, as more and more soldiers retire or die over the years - Captain Azaersi is a leathery old warehouse who has never let her troops grow soft. Even week the grand parade ground in Crossroads echoes with screaming drill sergeants and the crack of muskets, and it’s an open secret that the Prince paid to import stocks of grenades and munitions from Quepta for her arsenal. No one knows quite how she plans to deal with the sudden disappearance of her patron and employer, but for the moment the Ironfang seem content to keep order in the corner of Crossroads around the arsenal and parade ground that they call home.

The Ruins

The ruins are not, legally, part of Sethanni, and absolutely no one with anything resembling sense would ever actually choose to live there. No one actually knows where the eponymous ruins come from - or at least, no one can agree which section is from where. Shantytowns of the most despised and desperate and built on top of their predecessors, which are built on top of battered and broken pre-Conquest ziggurats and homes, which are built on top of - well, some of it is just a natural cave system, and no one is sure about the rest. Or ever found just how deep it goes. Aside from the casualties of the Prince’s attempts to map it, the Ruins are inhabited exclusively by those that would be strung up or burned alive if they tried to live anywhere else, or those sufficiently dedicated to their greed or ambition that they’re absolutely certain they alone can unlock the secrets and find whatever wonders are buried beneath all the traps and monsters. Not great company, either way.

Faction of Note: The Weavers’ Masquerade

Sethennai never really followed its ‘sister cities’ in the League in religion, with a sort of tolerant anarchy of different gods and sects almost always predominating over the gleefully blasphemously sublime demon-cults that the conquerors originally brought with them. But the small cultists that did exist at least enjoyed a luxurious, privileged irrelevance, with sanctums in the city’s grand temple. That finally changed when Cael seized the temples for his new Hierophant - and every relic and sacred text in them, as bloodily as necessary. Which with demon worshippers meant a massacre - letting one escape and beseech their patron for aid in crafting some horrible vengeance being generally agreed to be a terrible idea.

Not that that actually worked, of course. One acolyte managed to escape - no one’s quite sure how, but then, probably best not to ask unless you’ve got a particularly strong stomach. Well, that’s one of her stories, anyway - she goes by Maia Dayal, Beloved of the Architect, Wearer of Ten Thousand Faces, and sometimes she prefers to say she’s a recently arrived priestess from Celmy, or a street urchin who found enlightenment entirely on her own. As might be expected by the self-proclaimed title, she also changes her face (and build, age, species…) about as often as everyone else bathes.

While she has shown no interest in actually taking bloody revenge on the Prince, Dayal has done plenty to earn the price on her head. The Masquerade that has grown around her is a carnival of wonders and horrors, where all manner of temptations are offered to the truly desperate, debauched and vile. Skinweavers and facetakers always need raw material, and secrets and deaths can both be easily bought for the right price - though in keeping with their patron, the Masquerade is hardly a safe or stable place to do business, and offending the wrong cultist can easily lead to a shift from ‘visitor’ to ‘canvas for artistic expression’.

Faction of Note: The Keendream Expedition

Over the last two centuries, the actual facts about the pre-Conquest city has (with few exceptions) been buried under the weight of legends, rumors and (when necessary) several tons of rock. Despite this (or because of it) whenever things get bad (...worse) for the original population of goliaths and dwarves who can trace their lineage back to that time, stories about some hidden savior or buried relic that will free them spread like wildfire. This is just such a time.

Ilidak Keendream Kathu-Viano is an explorer from a family with some grounds for its claim of being pre-conquest nobility. For the last year he has worked on commission for the Prince, leading a large and incredibly well-armed expedition into the ruins across the water from the Old City, digging into them in search of..something. No one who knows the goal has been willing to talk, but certainly it has involved hiring every historian and scholar with anything like knowledge of the city before it was Sethennai (not to mention half the charlatans and rumor mongers who might know something).

Once news of the Prince’s disappearance reached Kathu-Viano, work shifted from its previous sedate pace to something much more determined. Certain paranoid minds have said it’s almost like he was waiting for this. Other, moderately less paranoid ones have pointed out it’s a bit odd that the government-sponsored expedition is so short on patricians and city notables and so high on mercenaries form the interior and goliath clans with far more reason to listen to Kathu-Viano than the Prince, should some conflict break out.

The Stacks

Museums, exhibitions, satellite campuses, mystical archives, storehouses of eldritch knowledge, and one actual wizard tower - if the faint taste of ozone in the air doesn’t warn you what you’re getting in for leaving the city’s eastern gates, then the architecture certainly will. Wedged between variously reputable bookstores and inquisitives, different formalized and longstanding campuses are dedicated to the arts of conjuration, enchantment, sparkcraft, and practical cosmology. Competition for new discoveries and to fully unlock ancient secrets are good natured and nonviolent - at least, that’s all you can get out of anyone left standing once the smoke clears.

Faction of Note: The Bookhounds

The Bookhounds aren’t any sort of formal organization - and at least half of them would roll their eyes at the name - but rather a loose network of gutter mages, disreputable academics, private inquisitives and researchers for hire, and people with a little talent or cash to burn and far too much curiosity for their own good. They act as a sort of volunteer police force in the Stacks, passing each other clues and leads and doing each other favors to track down stolen (or escaped) relics and curses, stop idiots from unleashing anything really dramatic, and generally help people and save the day. Not to mention accumulate really impressive bags of tricks and rare books themselves in the process.

While they don’t have anything like a real leader, the group’s beating heart is Nikos Roth, an Esheri academic who arrived in the city as a fresh-faced student on a three month expedition a decade back and who never intends to leave. Running a small, incredibly ramshackle-looking secondhand book store wedged between two tenements, he nonetheless has one of the more impressive collections of occult lore in the city, and is more than happy to trade for more of it, or connect anyone in need with a specialist who can help them. As more than one would-be thief has discovered, he’s also a fairly talented mage, and for all that being entirely self-taught has left him with some obvious holes in his training, it’s also left him with some tricks that basically no one comes prepared to counter.

Redgate

Once, Redgate Prison stood alone, a fearsome warning of the Prince’s power to anyone looking south from the city center. Eighty-some years of steady urban sprawl later, most of its inmates would probably just need a running start from the prison walls to land back home. Filled mostly with those whose dreams of a new world fell flat, but with too little cash or too many enemies to get home, the slums of Redgate are a natural habitat for street gangs, drug peddlers, flesh traders, and everyone else looking to take advantage of the desperate and vulnerable. The prison itself - and its infamous and heavily armed wardens - has stumbled into being the center of law writ large, dealing out summary justice for criminals that are (correctly) assumed to be beneath the Prince’s notice.

Faction of Note: Regate Prison

Sitting on a steep hill across the water from the Old City, Redgate prison was at one point a fortress, but for generations has been put to use housing the city’s worst, most dangerous, and most profitable criminals. Given the sprawling, crime-ridden slums that now surround it, its wardens also work as a sort of brutal police force, keeping the pretence of order on the street and preserving the Prince’s Peace. Usually.

The problems with discipline start at the top, really. The Prison’s infamously brutal First Warden is also its oldest and most dangerous prisoner. Before the Conquest, Vrocdruk was one of the city’s lesser gods, enthroned in one of the Palantine’s grand temples. When Sethennai - the man - defeated him, he chose to pull his demons away before they could tear the god into so much bloody aether. Instead he was crippled, lessened, and bound to a new home in the fortress and a new purpose; defending the city and its rulers. Later, less skillful, princes altered the binding, making him responsible for most crime and punishment and hoping that his sacred nature would make the native dwarves and goliaths more obedient.

Vrocdruk is still crippled, still bound to the prison, still forced to obey the orders of the city’s acclaimed ruler, and still extremely unhappy about it. He takes any excuse to work out his unhappiness on criminals or troublemakers with the incredible bad luck to catch his direct attention. His wardens largely follow his example, often acting less like agents of justice and more like a particularly well armed gang - to the point of semi-officially collecting fees for ‘security’ from nearby businesses, supplementing the cash extorted from prisoners and their families for both necessities and luxuries while incarcerated.

Sootcliff

Trailing south of Foundrytown, on and under the steep slope beneath the city’s western walls, the densely packed tenements of Sootcliff are certainly stained grey enough to earn the name. Existing primarily as a source of blood and sweat to feed into the ever-hungry foundries and assembly lines to the north, The buildings are cheap, massive, and constructed at the lowest possible cost, with all the consequences you would expect from that. With easy access to weapons and alchemical supplies from Foundrytown and (literally) beneath the notice of the Old City, Sootcliff is famous as the home of militant bands, revolutionary conspiracies, disgraced artificers, and generally anyone who has a dream for a new world and a plan that will require a lot of explosions to get there.

Faction of Note: The Painted Doctors

Less a single organization and more an extraordinarily loose confederation of - often feuding - crimelords, the Painted Doctors are a fraternity of (largely half- or self-) taught alchemists who have over the last year grown to be the dominant criminal guild in Sootcliff. The name sometimes refers to the incredibly distinctive tattoos each ‘Doctor’ has covering much of their body, universally agreed to be somehow enchanted or cursed. Otherwise it refers to the incredibly alien and vibrant skin tones that their test subjects and muscle develop after repeatedly ingesting their ��miraculous’ potions and tonics.

While possessing remarkably little actual magical talent among them, the Doctors have perfected the recipes for several extremely useful potions - several incredibly addictive drugs, a half dozen forms of acids and grenades, and a dizzying variety of enhancing tonics to improve themselves and distribute to their thugs - and have managed to keep both the recipes and their sources for the necessary reagents entirely secret. This has left them in the enviable position of being able to promise anyone signing on with them that they’ll be able to more or less become a regenerating ogre for an hour whenever they need to fight, while their opposition has had to settle with advising their men to stock up on fire and acid.

The leading light of the Doctors is one ‘Dr’ Fadre - almost certainly not his real name - an alchemical savant whose ‘miracle cures’ are bought and resold across the city. A flashy and well dressed sort whose patronage has turned several of Sootcliff’s most prominent dens of vice into something close to palaces for those who can afford it, he’s said to be far less interested in the nuts and bolts of running a criminal empire than enjoying its fruits and indulging his passion for the Sciences. It doesn’t hurt his reputation that he doesn’t look a day over thirty, and has for as long as anyone has known him.

Chance

Facing Oldport from across the river’s mouth, the docks of Chance are significantly new, cheaper, and altogether more ramshackle. Not really a part of any conscious design, Chance grew organically as the city sprawled beyond its original walls, essentially smuggling docks so successful it was easier to legitimize and start taxing them than it was to hang everyone involved. They now provide the city with a constant infusion of nerdowells and fortune seekers, and the district around them takes great pride in fleecing new arrivals of every penny to their name by the end of their first night on land. Hostels and boarding houses are usually safe, traditional vice dealers less so, and anyone selling treasure maps or magical amulets not at all. Still, they’re probably more harmless than the various mercenary recruiters and ‘exiled princes’ promising to give new arrivals exactly the thrill and fortune they came searching for.

Faction of Note: The Red Ocean Trading Company

What is now the Red Ocean Trading Company has gone through several dramatic changes over it’s eighty years of existence. First a privateer fleet hired by the Free City of Celmy during the First Armada War. Then eventually growing strong enough to seize several islands as an independent pirate state, before being crushed by the Esheri Navy during the Second Armada War. It’s remnants learned a bit of humility from that, and it is now seemingly content with its existence as either (depending on who you ask) a obscenely profitable shipping firm, or one of the most widespread criminal syndicates in the world.

The Company’s significant interests in Sethennai - nearly half the docks in Chance, guides and guards for anyone heading into the Interior, and fingers in quite a few less legitimate pies as well - are ably represented by Captain Arun Prem, a(n in)famous adventurer and scoundrel in his own right, apparently enjoying his semi-retirement behind a desk by getting outrageously drunk with his favorite mercenaries and criminals every night and swapping incredible (and implausible) old war stories.

There’s plenty of rumors, of course - that he’s here in de facto exile after angering the Company’s mysterious senior leadership. That he’s a thousand-year-old vampire and is the Company’s mysterious senior leadership. That he ate a kraken’s heart, and is immortal as long as he doesn’t lose sight of the water. That he’s biding his time to prepare an army before heading inland to carve a new kingdom for himself. That he’s only in the city for as long as it takes to carry out some truly spectacular heist. That he killed Prince Cael in a secret duel and trapped his soul in the pocketwatch he wears at all times. And so on. Of course, other rumours say that he started all of those himself to preserve his mystique as he grows fat in his old age.

Oldport

Facing out to the harbour but safely ensconced within the city walls, Oldpot is, as the name implies, one of the oldest ports in the new world - and certainly one of the busiest. Fully loaded merchant ships arrive daily, their cargoes emptied and replaced with the plunder of the New World almost overnight so they can return home on the next turn of the wind. Beyond the grand ports themselves, this district is home to all the most respectable shipping companies, merchant banks, hotels, and townhouses and apartments, as well as all the official consulates and embassies that Sethennai plays host to.

Faction of Note: First Bank of Sethennai

Despite only being as old as Prince Cael’s reign, the Bank already feels like an eternal and irreplaceable part of Sethennai. This isn’t something people are necessarily happy about, but its leadership had done a truly amazing job at keeping dissent to grumbling and resentment of the inevitable, and not actual resistance. They’re good at that sort of thing, even when they used Prince Cael’s (and, thus, the City’s) massive debts to his foreign benefactors as justification for taking control of the city’s tariffs and tolls, and began rigorously enforcing them, possibly for the first time ever.

Combined with a legal monopoly on the ability to mint coins, this has of course made the Bank incredibly wealthy. But not to the degree that might be assumed - the riches collected are to a large degree shipped back east to foreign creditors. Of the remaining, quite a bit is invested with as much an eye for politics as strict profit.

Executive Director Salman Ticaret, like most of his staff, is a Sethennai native who sought education in the Commonwealth (like most, he took a new name on gaining citizenship). Along with modern accounting and investing techniques, he came home with a firm grasp of political economy - and so for the last decade and a half has been more than happy to offer favorable rates to well positioned patrician and merchant houses, in exchange for their own favors and consideration in turn. The result is that the bank’s marble halls and adamant vaults house information as much as money. And Ticaret is perfectly willing to invest both, if the opportunity is promising enough.

Foreign Interests

The League of Free Cities

The League of Free Cities is not so much a single power as a collection of fiercely independent deomcratic city-states held together by the intertwined private empires of their leading citizens, deep and interdependent trading relationships, and a common religion that the rest of the world calls demon-worship - they view this as deeply offensive. Also they’ve been doing it for hundreds of years and they’re not all dead yet, so clearly everyone else is just doing demonology wrong. Politics are a mess of knives in the dark and openly bribing the voting populace with feasts and spectacles, with glory and riches to anyone who can hold the mob’s favor for long.

Demonic evocation - and the arts learned as a result of it, like fleshweaving, orienomarchy , breaking reality down into elemental chaos and shaping it to your whims, and so on - are in the rest of the world generally met with very thorough execution, making the freethinkers of the League the world’s bleeding edge in magical innovation. The entire culture of the League is also nearly custom-made to produce bold idiots willing to do what it takes to get rich or die trying, and the various Free City’s Adventurers Guilds are (in)famous the world over.

Until recently, the Free Cities considered Sethennai, if not one of them, then at least a younger sibling or benevolent dependency. Prince Cael’s coup has been taken as something of a wound, and the merchant interests who have lost out as he opened trade have made sure that in the decades since his name has become synonymous with bloody-handed tyranny. The first broadsheets celebrating his death will sell out in moments, and the acclaimed merchant adventurer Vyas Asraya, said to be en route to the city, is said to be very optimistic about future trading opportunities.

Holy Illyric Empire

Technically speaking a vast and sprawling feudal state unified only in the person of the Sovereign (Empress of Illyrin, Queen of Belthaya, Defender of the Hierophant of Imir, Grand Duchess of Abhari, etc, and so on, and so forth), the Empire dominates the better part of two continents, and in terms of size and prestige is unquestionably the foremost state on the globe. It is also a bureaucrat’s nightmare, its aristocracy distracted from their internal feuds only when they need to defend their ancestral rights from central overreach.

Ancient controls and long established relationships make Imperial binders the most fearsome conjurers and thaumaturges in the known world, a process not at all hurt by the wholesale incorporation of any powerful spirits or terrestrial god who will sign on the dotted line into the official pantheon. Illyrin Paladins are also easily the most storied heavy cavalry the world has ever seen, and Abharic necromancers are generally held to be the heirs (or direct pupils) of the inventors of the craft.

Illyric interests have prospered under Prince Cael’s reign, but the last years have seen Sethennai become a haven for heretical priests and radical binders, something Ambassador Konrad Reingard has been rumored to be increasingly frustrated with, though no one heard a word from his Oldport estate since the chaos began.

The Sublime Esheri Commonwealth

A thoroughly modern and enlightened state, the Commonwealth is history’s gift to the cartographer, an empire with firmly delineated borders and clear, rationally determined administrative divisions. Governed by a Janissary Corps educated and conditioned from childhood to put principle above self interest and the good of the Commonwealth above friends or (nonexistent) family, the Esheri control far less land than the Illyrin Empire, but has been able to fight it to a standstill and even force it to abandon certain far flung dependencies over a series of wars across the last century.

Beyond a ruthlessly efficient system for taxation and conscription, the Commonwealth’s military might is credited to two sources - on the one hand, its marines are the finest and most disciplined line infantry anyone is likely to ever see, experts in the use of gas and artillery and famously cool under fire. One the other, their heavy automata are an answer to any conjured devil or bound beast, enlightened clockwork providing enough force to cleave through scales and enchanted plate without missing a beat. But the Janissaries are as happy as their enemies to admit that they prefer unfair fights - though they credit their infamous spy network to the fruits of their scientific studies of society and history, while their enemies instead blame the corrupting effects of gold, blackmail, and a complete indifference to the morals of those they work with.

While the Commonwealth does have an embassy in the city, it mostly exists as an appendage of the First Sethennai Bank, the private institution responsible for printing and guarding the solvency of the city’s currency, its entire upper rung staffed by experts trained in the Commonwealth and generally considered Prince Cael’s way of paying back their support for his coup. More recently, it has been rumored that the Secretariat has taken an interest in the struggles in the interior. Coincidentally, an ‘Academic’ has been seen floating around various less than reputable bars in Chance, ostensibly as part of a project to record the city’s myths and folklore.

The Warlord States

For the last two hundred years, the interior has been an evershifting patchwork of successor kingdoms, native revolts, monstrous empires, released horrors, and stranger things besides, the unending tide of weapons and adventurers ensuring that no single player was ever able to secure dominance (and the various rulers of Sethennai have certainly played their part in keeping things that way). At the moment the foremost powers are a giantblooded kingdom led by a messaniac priest-king claiming to be the reincarnation of a Titan, a personal union enforced at sword point between a Khasli pirate queen and a goliath ‘emperor’, a red dragon who has claimed an old giant palace and forced the dwarves living in the mountains around it to provide tribute and worship, and several dozen more minor principalities. It should go without saying that war is the natural state of being, and soldiers are sucked up like ships in a whirlpool.

Adventurers are the lifeblood of Sethennai, and they don’t only flow one way. A constant stream of veterans - either enriched or embittered - skulk, limp or run back once they’ve had their fill of the wonders of the new world, usually missing something important or carrying something priceless - sometimes both. The courts and inner circles of every powerful warlord are composed exclusively of this sort of hard, tricky and generally insufferable type of rogue, and they’re often the only agents trusted enough to be dispatched on delicate missions. The line between warlord and criminal kingpin or pirate magnate is also extremely thin - sometimes nonexistent - as smuggling, sabotage and assassinations are simply basic tools of statecraft in the ruthless arena of the interior. More than once, an ambitious Prince of Sethennai has attempted to recreate their ancestor’s short lived empire, only to be found butchered in their bed but the agents of one warlord or another.

The Warlord States view Sethennai as a vital artery for supplies and funding, and for manpower to refill their armies with disposable bodies for their constant border wars. On a grander scale, those with ambition view it as either a crown jewel and future capital, or a bleeding ulcer on the land which needs to be razed to its foundations. In either case, few are interested in a strong, stable government for it. Regardless of their opinions, sending emissaries and embassies to the city is the first (and often only) diplomatic initiative of every new warlord state - though in truth their role is often closer to mercenary recruiter and fundraiser.

#this is theoretically a writing blog #D&D #abhari #well D&Dified but mostly #worlbuilding

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chaseatinydream · 4 years

Text

pirate king (76) || atz

Tortuga is not happy to have you back.

“You were the man who took our town leader hostage! You cannot simply just stride back onto port and walk here as if you have not just committed the gravest of sins!” A portly man dressed in velvet and gold waves so furiously that his expensive silk cravat has become stained with sweat. “You, hooligans, don’t ever come back to this town!”

Wooyoung simply shrugs and makes to pick his ear with his pinky, entirely without a care in the world. You kick him in the shin and he yelps, shying away.

“Say you’re sorry!”

“I didn’t do anything wrong!” He protests, and Yeosang tilts his head back slightly in the middle of negotiations to fix Wooyoung with a glare so menacing you can practically see the darkness rolling off him. Wooyoung must feel the same sensation - of death stepping across his grave - because he shivers and rubs the back of his neck. “Okay, maybe I might have done a thing or two-”

“This man… utterly unbelievable!” The official continues to rant, and even the soldiers lined up behind him are starting to wince from how piercing his voice is. He jabs a finger at Wooyoung ferociously. “I respect you, Pirate King, but the disrespect this man has shown us! Breaking into the officials’ town headquarters! Knocking out the guards! Dragging the head of this town out of his chambers in his… in his sleepwear! Preposterous, I tell you!”

Hongjoong raises his hands, a calm smile on his face to placate the official. “I deeply apologise for my crew member’s behavior. It must have been a terrible experience, but I can assure you my crew regrets his actions and is extremely repentant about his behavior.”

You look dubiously at the supposedly repentant man.

“He sleeps naked.” Wooyoung whispers loudly into your ear, a cheeky smile decorating his face. You stare at him, and then shake your head. He’s incorrigible.

“However, I ask you to understand that the situation at hand was dire, and that we had no other choice in order to go after our captain. As thanks for letting this matter slide, we’ll compensate the town head appropriately.” Yeosang’s angelic smile is at full power, and for a second you’re almost blinded by the halo settling above his head. The bag of gold coins in his hand (polished by Wooyoung for the whole of last night as punishment) somehow seem dull in comparison. “I’m sure you won’t regret it.”

The official’s eyes are like magnets, drawn to the gold. You can almost see him licking his lips. “... compensate?”

“Very handsomely.” Yeosang shakes the bag once. The sound is more alluring than any symphony or sirens’ song to your ears. Apparently, that must be the how the official feels too, because his hand reaches out to touch it, before he jerks it back to his chest, coughing lightly. “Well then, I suppose it couldn’t hurt just to let it go just this once...”

A soldier behind the official rolls his eyes to heaven in exasperation.

“However! That man is not allowed to step foot into the town, and must stay on the ship at all times. This in nonnegotiable. Also,” Yeosang hands over the bag of gold, and the official beckons Hongjoong closer. “There have been... ah... rumors... among the townspeople... Royal Navy... searching for a woman.... bounty... alive... five thousand...”

You glance over at Wooyoung, who’s sulking miserably. “You kind of deserve it. Although... thanks for doing it, to get captain and I back.”

At your words, Wooyoung instantly brightens. “No problem! It was the most fun I had in weeks anyway!” You send him a flat look, intent on chiding him, but then your captain calls your name.

To your surprise, his lips are drawn into a thin line, and there is a furrow to his brow that definitely wasn’t there before. “Chin Hae, do you... remember ever encountering the Royal Navy before meeting us?”

Frowning, you shake your head. There’s tension would tight into his face, and you feel something in your stomach sinking. “No. Why?”

Hongjoong opens his mouth to answer, but then closes it with a sigh before he can say another word. He wears a fond smile as he ruffles your hair gently, lithe fingers carding through the strands. “No matter, this isn’t the place for it. Will you come see me in the captain’s cabin tonight? We have some pressing matters to discuss.”

When he walks away, the smile melts into a grim, worried look on his face.

>>>

“Your legs are starting to hurt?”

San’s expression is filled with concern as he crouches in front of you, gentle fingers kneading and massaging your calves with practiced movements. You nod quietly, watching him as he works. “Yeah. Honestly... the same thing that happened with my hand might be happening to my legs, master.”

His fingers still, and when he looks at them, they come away white. San rubs at his temples, his face drawn taut with worry and something bordering dismay. He stares at your legs as if they could give him an answer to this question. “But this isn’t supposed to happen. Nothing happened to them, you didn’t get hurt, or stabbed, or-”

Your heart warms at the desperate concern burning in his eyes, and you reach out your hand to take his into yours, gripping it gently. When his pained gaze meets yours, you do your best to put on a reassuring smile. “It’s alright, master. I have no intention of dying. You’ll help me out, won’t you?”

San looks at you for a moment with his mouth parted, as if surprised, before it draws into a sharp, determined line. He squeezes your hand back tightly. “Of course I will. As if I’d let anything happen to you!” He rises to his feet, gestures over to the multitude of books and scrolls haphazardly piled and stuffed into every nook and cranny of the sickbay. “There’s got to be something here somewhere similar to your condition, and even if there isn’t, it’ll be somewhere in Tortuga. If it exists on this earth, I’ll definitely find it.”

Something hot stings behind your eyes, but you blink it away, gripping San’s hand tighter. “Hey, master... I... really want to live, you know? I want to keep sailing with the crew... and I want to be with all of you forever. You know that, right?”

It’s fear.

The ugly, twisting feeling coiling deep in your belly is fear. Fear that you’ll never feel the warm sunlight on your face again. Fear that you can never talk and laugh and cry with the crew again. Fear that everything might be coming to an end; an end that you simply cannot come to terms with.

You’d do anything. Anything to stay with the crew, and keep on living.

“Silly apprentice.” San rests a tender hand on your head, looking at you with so much affection you could cry. “Of course I know, because that’s exactly what I feel as well. If there’s any way, I’d take it in a heartbeat! Even if it means getting rid of captain!” He jokes, and you snort, swatting him on the arm.

“Don’t be silly, master, both you and I know that you’d never do that.”

San grins, a large cat-like smile spreading across his face, and rises to his feet, striding over to his workbench.

“Hey, we’re going to cure you. This is your master you’re talking about! You know,” he turns back to give you a little wink, “back in my home village, they called me something of a medical prodigy.”

You rise to your feet, heart so full you can barely feel the pain in your legs and press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Then, master... I’ll be counting on you. I’d help you out, but first, there’s something I need to do.”

“Something you need to do?” San peeks over, curiosity brimming in his eyes as you fish out a red fox fur coat from beneath your pillow. A sly smile turns up one corner of his mouth. “Oho. Is that a gift for a certain someone?”

You poke at his side playfully. “He lost his jacket, so I thought I’d make him something to thank him. Why, unhappy you’re not getting one as well?”

San pouts and turns away, arms crossed. “As if! Now get going, I need some silence to concentrate, so shoo!” Under his breath, he mutters, “stupid captain stealing my apprentice... stealing her first handmade gift... maybe it’s really time to get rid of him...”

Giggling lightly, you step around him and out of the room, the fox fur gathered in your arms. It’s soft and warm and light, perfect for a sea voyage and comfortable to wear. You only hope your captain will overlook the some of the stray threads sticking out here and there; your sewing still isn’t perfect, but it’s the thought that counts, right?

As you step out onto the deck, empty save for loose coils of rope and a pair of wooden cleats lying on the floor, you glance down at the fox fur in your arms.

You’re going to be giving him a gift... that you made with your own hands.

What if he doesn’t like it? The thought pops into your mind and you groan, burying your face in your hands. Your cheeks feel hot, and you step over to the side of the ship to cool off and calm down. Beneath you, the ocean is like a mirror of glass, stretching out as far as the eye can see.

Calm down, Chin Hae, it’s just a jacket. And even if he doesn’t like it, so what? You could just give it to someone else!

With that thought in mind, you clench your fist, ready to get it done and over with. But before you can go, there’s a strange sound from beneath you, and you glance down in surprise as the water.

To your shock, the surface of the sea begins to ripple and swirl, disrupted by whatever’s beneath it. You can feel something rising, coming up to the surface, and its intent focused solely on you and you alone. Something in your mind screams for you to run, but your feet only stay rooted to the spot, your hands trembling and cold sweat running down your neck.

What is this?

And out of the depths emerges...

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #wooyoung #jongho #ateez pirate king #w;ot8 #w; pirate king #w; fanfiction

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aondaneedles · 3 years

Note

Bella Goth (all as well!)

Which one, my fake (the clone) or the real one? I'll just answer for both (and will regret this not even halfway through).

❤️: OTP

Of course I ship Bella with Mortimer. That's not even a question.

For fake!Bella, I think she's a free spirit. She needs to find herself before she can ever settle down. For now, I don't see her with anyone.

💔: No OTP

Um, anyone but Mortimer? But that's not true. I've seen her with Pascal and liked that. I don't think I have a NOTP for her...

Anyone who clips her wings.

🌈: Sexuality

Bella is straight, maybe bi-curious?

Fake!Bella is bi.

😊: Friends

Morty, of course, and the rest of her family. Bella is everyone's friend. You may have met her just two minutes ago, but she behaves just like you've already known her for years.

Fake!Bella befriends Erin pretty early on and they're as thick as thieves. She's also one of the few sims who really just... gets Nervous.

💀: Enemies or Rival

Bella has this larger than life personality that doesn't hate anyone. Or at least, you won't notice if she hates you. She'll always behave just as amicable as if she likes you. Dina was one of the only people who could see behind that facade and it drove Bella nuts.

The Beakers, no doubt. They'd love to get their hands on the clone, and while fake!Bella may not realise this, she senses that something is way off about them!

🐶: Pet or favorite Animal

Bella comes from a long line of witches. She is a cat person, 100%. But like... those ridiculously fancy, naked cats. They're just as high-maintenance as she is.

Fake!Bella has a pet lizard back at the gas station she sleeps at. She's named him Ziggy.

🌷: Flowers or plants they like

Roses!

Have you ever seen a blooming cactus? They're kind of pretty...

☀️: Favourite Season

Winter, when everyone gathers together and all of the big functions are held.

Anything but summer.

🌧️: Favourite Weather

That's easy! Sunny weather for both!

🕯️: Favourite Aromatic candle

Bella is a big fan of exotic flowers. Mix them with anything that creates an interesting smell (like herbs, sea salt or something) and she's all over it.

Fake!Bella likes it simple, in contrast. Lavender is nice.

🥘: Favourite Food

There's nothing better than a homemade barbeque with burgers for Bella. They had an old grill they got out of storage a few times of the year and did a small family barbeque. Bella manned the grill (because Mortimer burns everything he touches). Michael and Dina used to bring salads (Bella would never admit it, but Dina's salad was actually quite tasty) and the kids played in the graveyard. There aren't as many family barbeques nowadays...

Fake!Bella is not too picky. Anything that fills her up is fine with her. Whenever she's got some money, she heads over to the diner. Their burgers are good.

☕: Favourite Drink

Officially, champagne. Inofficial, Bella is fuelled by coffee.

Tap water. If she ever had coffee, she'd be all over it, too.

🍦: Ice-cream Flavour

Something simple, yet elegant, like Straciatella. Bella loves the little chocolate bits in it.

Chocolate.

🍕: Pizza Topping

Bella and Mortimer used to get salami pizza every Friday back when they were in high school. She's been craving it lately.

Once again, Fake!Bella is not picky. She's heard that pineapple pizza is a crime against pizza, though and steers clear from it.

🍟: Snack

Bella's favourite snack is frozen grapes. Very refreshing and sweet.

Fake!Bella's favourite snack is chips. Every flavour is fine, but the more savoury, the better.

🍿: Movies they like to watch

Bella is really into those old-school Hollywood movies. Movies like that just aren't made anymore...

Whatever's running on tv. Fake!Bella has a soft spot for those lifetime-esque movies though, where long lost family members are reunited and everyone gets a happy ending.

📺: TV Show they like to watch

Don't tell anyone, but Bella loves telenovelas. They are her guilty pleasure.

Fake!Bella has been watching soap opera reruns religiously lately. Erin showed her how to use SimTube, and she's been spending all her free time watching them. She's on Episode 2751 of "Days of the Cowplant" already!

🎵: Music they listen to

Classical music. Maybe a bit jazz, if Bella's feeling fancy.

Fake!Bella hasn't heard anything but the type of elevator music they play at the gas station yet, but she's pretty sure that that's not it.

⚽: Sport they like or play

Golf.

Fake!Bella goes running sometimes. Just runs as far as possible. Until her lungs burn and she can't remember anything. It's freeing.

📚: Books they like to read

There's a library of classics in the Goth library and Bella has read most of them.

Fake!Bella has found a tattered copy of "The Great Simsby" behind the trash cans of the community pool one day and for some reason, it spoke to her...

🕹️: Video Games they like or Play

Bella doesn't do video games.

You can find fake!Bella at the arcades on a good day. She likes anything that has jumping and running. And she loves rhythm games!

🎻: Musical instrument

Bella knows how to play the piano and usually plays it to entertain guests.

Nothing yet. Maybe synthesizer?

🎨: Favourite Colour

Her signature colour, red!

Red, even though she feels like a fraud for wearing it...

👠: Shoes they like

Fancy high heels. Bella has ruined her feet years ago but she doesn't care. She loves how powerful and sexy she looks in it.

Sensible shoes. Who needs uncomfortable shoes, fake!Bella thinks.

👕: Clothing style

Fancy, elegant, yet understated.

Anything that she can find in the dumpster behind the clothing store. She makes sure to look put together, though. It's an urge she can't help.

👜: What’s always on their bag

Her lipstick. And a good book. Always carry a good book with you and you'll always be in good company.

A few coins, if she needs to buy stuff.

📰: Section of the Newspaper they read

The society section.

The celebrity section.

💻: Website they visit the most

Bella spends a lot of time on various fundraiser sites to look for a good cause to sponsor and fundraise for.

whoisbellagoth.com

📱: Social media they use the most

Bella doesn't really use social media. She'd rather spend time with her family and friends in person.

Fake!Bella is addicted to SimTube. Not only for her daily dose of soap but also for conspiracy videos about aliens and the Elixir of Life.

📗: Favourite School Subject

Economics and Biology. Morty may be the genius in their family, but she was no ditz either!

Fake!Bella never went to school. But if, she would have been be super into P.E.

📕: Less Favourite School Subject

P.E. She wasn't bad at it, but she hated getting sweaty.

Maths. Her brain's wired weirdly and she just can't wrap her head even around simple maths. She usually just tosses money on the counter and hopes it's enough.

🎓: University they attended (or not)

Bella attended ALT, of course. She was in a long-distance relationship for all of it, as Morty attended LFT.

Fake!Bella was never college-aged.

🎒: University Major

Economics. It surprises a lot of people, but it really suited her. She has a mind for business. In another life, maybe...

I think that Fake!Bella would have ended up in philosophy due to being unable to decide which major to choose.

🔮: Something Random

Sometimes, Bella wonders what would happen if she were to disappear. Would her family be fine, or would they struggle without her? Of course, she wants them to be happy, but a not so nice small part of her wishes that they'd have trouble to move on...

Fake!Bella sometimes has random flashes of... she's not sure what she sees, but it makes her sad... a small girl with pigtails, a big house, a man holding a baby...

Phew! Thanks for playing, anon!

#sims #sims 2 #ask #anon #meme

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rhysand-vs-fenrys · 3 years

Note

Do the same thing for Heaven Official's Blessing (use Maas characters to tell the story)!

Heaven Official’s Blessing // TGCF told using ACOTAR characters (Obviously there will be spoilers, read at your own risk)

TGCF is told in a non-linear form, with Books 1, 3, and 5 taking place in the present, and Books 2 and 4 acting as flashbacks. I will be telling the story in a pure linear format.

** I’m going to have to ask people to ignore shipping stuff for the sake of this. I matched characters based on their personalities, so things became kind of scrambled.

THIS WAS VERY VERY HARD TO WRITE OKAY

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful Crown Princess named Elain. She was completely beloved by her people not only for her looks, but for her kindness, warmth, and incredible talents. Whatever she put her mind to, Princess Elain would easily accomplish, and those who read fortunes often said she was born on an auspicious day and was blessed with unparalleled good fortune.

Princess Elain’s father was fairly elitest and tended to ignore the common folk, but Princess Elain made it her mission in life to protect them and ease everyone’s burdens.

When Princess Elain was 17, the royal capitol held a parade to the king of the heavens, Helion. In this parade, an elite warrior dressed as the Divine Hero would actually spar with another elite warrior dressed as a Demonic Beast. The parade would circle the capitol as the two warriors fought, only ending when their stamina ran out and they were too tired to carry on. The more laps the procession completed before this happened, the more good fortune it would invite and the more honor to the god Helion. Generally the goal was around 15-20 laps.

On the third lap, as people clamored to see clearly the Hero and Beast battle, there was a horrible accident. A deformed child in the crowd, barely 8 years old at MOST, was knocked from his perch on a high wall and fell to his death.

As he fell, the Divine Hero abandoned their battle and leapt high into the air to catch the poor child. Picture like wire work when I say “leapt high”, it counts more as minor flight.

In the rescue, the Divine Hero’s mask comes off and it is revealed to be none other than Princess Elain herself! The Divine Beast was Elain’s bodyguard, Cassian.

While the common people go FERAL for this beautiful Princess who saved a wretched orphan’s life, the royal priests are angered. They warn Elain that her actions are an insult to Helion, and she must repent to avoid his wrath.

Elain famously and simply replies that if a god would begrudge her saving a child’s life, then they are not worthy of becoming a god.

And in spite of the priest’s words, the heavens agree with Princess Elain.

The child Elain saved has half his head heavily wrapped in bandages, but Elain is not afraid of him. She cradles him in her arms and he is mesmerized by her face. Still, after someone tries to move the bandage to see his face, the child runs away and vanishes.

This child was Azriel.

Tamlin is Elain’s cousin. His mother was a royal lady who had a baby with an abusive brute, and she ended up dying in disgrace after being abandoned by him. Tamlin was therefore raised by Elain’s mother, and he is disturbingly obsessed with the glory of his Princess Cousin. He is also dangerously unhinged and violent.

Just a few days after the ruined parade, Tamlin is racing through the city streets in his carriage, whipping his horses raw and yelling that if he runs over anyone it is their own fault. He has no cares for anyones lives, and Princess Elain considers him a thorn in her side.

Princess Elain is out with her bodyguard, Cassian, and her personal servant, Lucien. They see Tamlin coming and no only is he driving dangerously, there is a bloody sack tied to the back of the chariot.

Elain and Cassian leap onto the carriage to stop Tamlin, while Lucien breaks the rope on the sack. Elain and Cassian take Tamlin into custody, knocking him out, and Elain is ready for Tamlin to be thrown into prison for his behavior.

She opens the bloody sack, and inside finds Azriel. Tamlin was so incensed that the royal priests were angry with Princess Elain that he decided to kill Azriel to “avenge” his cousin!

Elain brings Azriel to the royal palace to be healed by the physicians within. He has broken bones and cuts all over his body, but again he strikes out if someone tries to move the bandages on his face. For his part- Tamlin is locked in his rooms and his carriage is destroyed, he is banned from leaving the palace.

But once again, Azriel slips out and runs away.

A few months later, black clouds swirl over the Royal Palace, and in a massive thunderclap, Elain ascends to the heavens as a newborn Warrior Goddess. Though by the laws of the heavens she cannot enter her kingdom for one thousand generations (to make sure she doesn’t give favors to the families of old friends), her father and his people build 10,000 temples in her name, several with massive statues of pure gold.

Goddess Elain brings Lucien and Cassian to the heavens with her, to help her in her duties as a god. She must intercede when appropriate (if there are demons or ghosts attacking people) and answer prayers. Despite the ban, she likes to sit on the altars of her temples, invisible, and listen to the prayers of her followers.

Elain doesn’t like the wealth and splendor of her temples, she wishes people would not bow, and just wants things to be simpler.

After a few years as a goddess, while wandering her city, she notices a crummy old shrine tucked into a forgotten alley. It is roughly made, with only a flower and a bun on the offerings table.

She watches this little but clearly loved shrine for a long time, and notices that it is tended by an 11 year old boy. He is homeless, cold, malnourished, and had bandages wrapped around half his face. Rather than eat what food he manages to get, he puts it on the offerings table to Elain, only taking a few rotten fruits or moldy buns for himself.

Elain hates to see this- the boy is so desperately starving and yet he leaves food for a goddess who has no need for it. Bullies come and destroy the boy’s shrine. He is beaten by them, but when it is over he only fixes her shrine back up, and curls in a ball beneath it to sleep.

Elain feels that this boy is more sincere in his devotion than those who leave gaudy offerings at her temples, so she leaves the boy some food, a blanket, a straw mat, and some food. When he wakes he knows it was the goddess who heard his prayers, and he is delighted.

She does not realize that this boy is Azriel.

Elain’s country becomes embroiled in a civil war. Elain breaks the rules of the heavens outright and tries to end it before it begins by helping refugees of a horrible drought. She is kind to one refugee, taking on mortal form and helping him bury his son’s body, which he brought to the capitol to show the king of how severe the people’s suffering is. Her father didn’t care, and would not see the poor man.

Elain’s attempts to stop the refugee situation from becoming a civil war as the capitol refuses to send aid go nowhere, and in the end the war begins. She feels she has no choice but to openly step out as a Goddess of War and take the side of the capitol, where her parents still rule. Her heart aches at fighting the common folk, and she is still trying to end the drought in their homeland, but war is inevitable.

During the war, Elain meets a young soldier of only around 15. He is brave and good with a sword- though she advises a saber would suit him better. Though he is too young to really fight, she keeps him by her side. Together they witness the desperation of the refugees, whose leader- the man who she helped bury his son- summons a horrible demon.

Amarantha- a monster who always wears a mask that is half crying, half laughing.

Amarantha calls forth a plague that rips through the capitol. Elain realizes that the only ones who aren’t becoming infected with this plague are the soldiers and criminals- anyone who has taken a life. She realizes if others figure it out, the whole world will be consumed in blood as everyone tries to kill one another for immunity.

Elain’s favorite soldier is removed from the army by Lucien’s command, outing the boy as too young. Azriel is once again thrown aside- not that Elain realized it was him.

Meanwhile Elain, heartbroken at the suffering of her people, makes the ultimate decision: she saves her parents, but leaves the capitol to die and fall. If the refugees- now rebel army- kill everyone inside the capitol then the disease won’t spread (since soldiers would do the killing), and no one would ever know what the cure was. One city to save the world.

Helion knows the Goddess Elain’s heart was in the right place, but her intercession not only failed to stop the war, she made it worse. He is forced to put a Cursed Collar on her, stripping her of all her powers as a goddess. However, instead of her becoming mortal again, Helion gives her an immortal body.

Elain, after all, was only seventeen when she ascended and now could be counted in her twenties. Young by any standard. She is a good person, so Helion grants her the immortal body believing that some experience in the world will help her learn. With time and dedication, she can ascend once again to be a goddess, and he will remove the Cursed Collar.

Lucien and Cassian descend with her.

But her confidence has been shattered. To keep the royal family hidden, they are forced to perform tricks on the streets for meager coins, do manual labor (including on monuments insulting and demeaning the Goddess Elain), and are constantly on the run from members of the new government’s army who are hunting the King and Queen mercilessly.

Eventually, Lucien tells Elain and Cassian that it is simply too much, he’s sick the struggles, and leaves to take care of his own mother. Cassian and Lucien always hated one another and bickered nonstop, but this is the ultimate betrayal. If Cassian could kill Lucien with his bare hands, he would.

Elain becomes paranoid and terrified that Cassian will leave her too. She has no possessions of worth- they’ve all been pawned- but she has a single golden belt left. The mark of a heavenly official. A reminder of what she was and what she must work towards becoming again. She gives it to Cassian, for its value is very high, as a way to beg him to stay.

Soon after, Elain finds a shady merchant selling lanterns she realizes are lit not by fire, but by little flame spirits- remnants of souls that should have been allowed to rest in peace. These spirits were taken from the battlefields around the royal capitol, her soldiers. Elain manages to use a few meager coins to buy them, and goes about releasing the spirits.

One small flame spirit will not leave. It tells Elain that it cannot move on, because its beloved is suffering and it must watch over them always so they will not be alone. Idealistic and lovely, but Elain is too disheartened to feel anything by cynicism towards such words.

She leaves the little spirit- Azriel, who had snuck back onto the battlefields after being removed from the army and was cut down.

And then the king falls ill.

Elain is desperate for coin to help make things easier for Cassian (who is earning most of the money now) and to buy medicine for her father. Everything she tries fails, and, utterly at her wits end, she is forced to try her hand at robbing.

Though Elain is too horrified to actually rob a man, she chases after him and runs afoul of several junior heavenly officials who recognize her. She begs them not to tell anyone, and flees. They swear they won’t say a word.

Elain returns home, and she’s terrified of what she almost did for money. She decides to leave, going to find a mountain with good spiritual energy to meditate and hopefully make progress back towards gaining the merits to become a goddess again.

As soon as she arrives thirty-three heavenly officials come to train on the mountain, as such a thing can even help gods advance among their own ranks. They bully Elain, and eventually mock her for trying to rob the man (those junior gods were assholes and didn’t keep their word).

What’s worse- Lucien is among them. He didn’t go back to care for his mother, he abandoned Elain to become a god once again, a junior in the service of another (not a path Elain can take since she was once a full goddess). He helps chase Elain away.

That little flame spirit- Azriel- is there to witness the humiliation.

Elain flees in tears, running down the mountain until she collapses, sobbing. When she is left staring at the ground, a hand appears to help her up- Lucien. Elain slaps his hand away and screams at him, and leaves.

When she arrives home, Lucien is there with sacks of food and medicine for the King. He tries to explain that he only left to return to the heavens- betraying one master to go to a new one- because he knew he could use the position to get food and such for Elain, Cassian, and the King and Queen.

Elain screams at Lucien to go, throwing the sacks of food at him. Cassian takes Elain’s side, and Lucien lets slip that Elain tried to rob for money. He doesn’t know Cassian didn’t know, and Elain is thrown even further into despair.

More time passes, once again the money and food and medicine run out. Elain starts seeing figures around her where there is nothing- the figure of Amarantha all in white with that horrible mask. Her own robes are sometimes replaced with Amarantha’s, and she is slowly driven mad.

At the absolute edge of sanity, Elain feels a summons drawing her into the woods. She follows it, even when ghostly flames try to block her path and stop her from advancing, and ends up in a ruined temple. A ruined temple that was once hers. The divine statue has been destroyed.

Elain sits on the altar and waits, knowing Amarantha will show up to claim her.

Over hours, people trickle into the temple, and lured by a mysterious summons even they don’t consciously remember following. When there are 100 people inside, wild howls come from around them and crazed figures appear, all infected with the plague that destroyed Elain’s kingdom.

They fall back into the temple and Elain seals the door. She is grabbed by Amarantha, bound, and Amarantha holds her up on the altar by her skull. Amarantha tells the people what Elain was so scared of anyone finding out:: that the plague can be cured if the person is a murderer. Amarantha helpfully explains that Elain cannot die, but if they land a blow on her that would be fatal on another, it counts. To demonstrate, Elain is run through.

The pain is horrible, and when the next person picks up the sword and stabs her, she screams. A white flame spirit enters the building, the one who tried to stop Elain from coming in the first place. Amarantha captures it to play with (torment) as the villagers line up.

No matter how much Elain screams, they stab her. Some slash her throat, so that she can no longer make a sound. She is trapped in her body as it is mutilated and wrecked, staring up at that flame spirit and imagining she can hear it screaming at what is being done to her.

People stab her two or three times, just to be sure they landed a would-be-fatal hit and unable to tell what they are stabbing as she ceases to look even human anymore. Just a pile of ruined flesh spilled across her own altar. Even her face is destroyed.

That flame spirit- Azriel- screams out with every stab, until he can’t take it anymore and loses his sanity. He explodes in a wall of flame that turns all the humans inside the temple- and the infected outside- into ash. Above the skies roil, marking the birth of a particularly dangerous spirit.

Elain lays in agony as her body slowly knits back together. She is dazed as she stumbles away from the ruined temple. Traumatized beyond the brink of insanity. What was done to her horrifies her, and she feels only rage and grief. She was a Goddess, and now not only is she living in squalor and humiliation and degradation, she was attacked by humans for no reason other than personal gain. Not an ounce of kindness shown to her as they hacked at her body.

Elain sees Amarantha, who wants to take her as a disciple and raise her to wreak vengeance against the world. Elain flees.

When she gets home, two weeks (or months, the translation is inconsistent) have passed. Cassian has kept the king alive and the queen has been beside herself. She swears she will never chide Elain again, just please don’t leave.

None of them know what happened to her body. None of them can understand. Elain is sick and tired and broken. And she knows the worst will pass sooner or later- Cassian will abandon her just like Lucien did. Leave her in disgust. She can’t bear thinking about his friendship turning to hate, so she attacks him. She rips him apart with the worst words she can muster, until he leaves in disgust.

You can’t fear something that already happened.

Elain locks herself in her rooms and ignores even her mother’s pleading to come out.

When she wakes, she bathes. She has to go and try to find coin again, but cannot find the bandage she uses to cover half her face and hide her identity (since, you know, as a disgraced goddess her face is everywhere). The house is too quiet, and when Elain opens the doors to her parents room, she finds out why:

With the king’s health failing, and the humiliation of being deposed and on the run, living in squalor, he has lost all hope. Her mother won’t be left behind, and she knows her life is a burden on Elain’s as the fallen goddess tries to care for them.

So the king and queen have hung themselves. Elain carefully takes down their bodies and tries to hang too, but of course this immortal body- a gift from Helion himself- cannot die.

The hangman’s noose has absorbed two lives, and was used in incredible grief by a goddess herself. It is imbued with the love Elain’s parents felt for her and their tragic desire to die as a way to help them. The cloth comes to life, sort of like a snake meets a puppy, but when not in use, it wraps around Elain’s wrist as if her arm were injured.

At the king and queen’s deaths, whatever is left of Elain shatters.

She goes to the battlefields outside the dead royal capitol, her home, and wakes the souls of her people. Millions, all killed in battle or in the plague. She screams to them all, demanding to know if they hate. On her face is the white mask of Amarantha- half crying, half smiling.

And thus, the White Clothed Calamity is born. A twin to the White No-Faced demon (Amarantha).

The souls appear as black smoke that floods into Elain’s blade- the one that was used to mutilate her body. All that hatred condensing.

And in front of Elain appears the form of a soldier. Also wearing a mask. A particularly powerful resentful spirit on his way to becoming a demon.

Not that Elain would recognize Azriel even if she could see, so consumed is she by her hatred and wrath.

Elain takes those souls to the new royal capitol to kill the leader of the rebellion- that man whose child she helped bury. The man who rained hell down on all.

But he’s dead. Killed by the plague. She can’t even take her revenge right.

So Elain goes next to the lands ravaged by that drought, the whole reason for the civil war in the first place. The very city she tried to save as a goddess to stop the war from starting. She drops from the sky, impaled by the black sword. She has given herself three days.

Three days for a single soul to show her an ounce of kindness. If none do, she will unleash those souls and the plague will begin again as the hateful spirits infect body after body until the world runs red with blood.

No one helps her. Not until the third day, when a man trips over her body, cusses her out, and then feels bad for losing his temper. Right as the sun sets on the third day, he takes off his bamboo hat and offers it to her, to protect her from the rain.

A single act of kindness.

But it’s too late. The souls trapped in the sword explode into the sky.

Elain tries to tell the gathering crowd to pick up her sword and just stab her. She’s resigned to being hacked to death again and again if it will save even a single person from what she unleashed in her wrath and grief.

But no one is willing to hurt her. Not even to save themselves, and not even when she is begging them to. Unlike the group in the temple, who attacked her for themselves even when she begged them to stop.

So Elain does something painful and horrible- she raises the sword and draws all those hate-filled spirits into herself. It could very well destroy her, and the pain is worse even than being stabbed, but she will do it. If she can even save one person to undo her own mistake, she’ll do it.

But that second soldier appears again, the one who stood across from her on the battlefield.

He takes the souls into himself. Elain absorbs 300. He takes a million. It destroys him utterly- that kind brave man giving his soul, extinguishing himself forever- just to help her right a wrong.

But Azriel didn’t die. He was blown apart by the power, and re-formed bit by bit later on to become a Wrath-level (tier 3) ghost.

Helion descends from the heavens to meet Elain. Yes, she nearly did something unforgivable, but she was willing to destroy herself to right the wrong. For this- and all her suffering- Helion wishes to bring Elain up to the heavens once again as a goddess.

Her wrath extinguished, her spirit broken, Elain refuses his offer. That poor man’s soul was destroyed (seemingly) because of her. Someone suffered for what she did. She wants to atone, and atone for those one million souls she roused rather than helping them lay at rest in peace.

Elain asks Helion to put a new Cursed Shackle on her. This time not one that banishes her spiritual powers. Once upon a time she met a small boy she saved from falling. She was told she had infinite fortune, well above a normal person’s, but that child’s fate was endlessly dark and wretched.

Elain asks for a shackle that destroys her luck. That takes all of her good fortune and shatters it. Fortune is something that ebbs and flows through the world, by removing all of hers, that luck will be redistributed, and could bring good to the lives of others.

But an offer to return to heaven was granted, so Helion and Elain come up with a little show to explain away the new curse shackle without Helion appearing to punish a goddess who has done no wrong:

Elain ascends, as offered, and storms through heaven, hacking at the bodies of gods and challenging Helion himself. It becomes known famously as her Second Ascension, which lasts all of 10 minutes before she is fitted with a new cursed shackle and hurled form the heavens.

Elain’s life will be wretched, luck-less, and full of strife. Nothing she ever tries will go right. it is a life that would shatter the spirit of anyone. But for Elain, every misfortune means someone else has better luck than they should have. Every harm she suffers means someone else is blessed. She is atoning for what she did, and that makes her happy. She still mourns the soul of that boy who was destroyed, still lives in repentance of that, but she is atoning for her crimes.

During this time, that boy- now a Wrath Level Demon- finds he cannot loose. All the good fortune lost by Elain is funneled into him, and it is impossible for him to not get what he wants. He enters the Demonic Kiln and is re-forged as a Supreme (highest level) Demonic King. His weapons are the Silver Wrath Butterflies- a form he grants to those million souls he swallowed to help Elain.

He wears around his finger a red string, one of the ones that had bound him to that ghost lantern as a little flame spirit, a red string of fate that promises he will find his way back to Elain one day.

Azriel walks into the heavens and challenges thirty-five gods-- those who humiliated Elain on the mountaintop plus Cassian and Lucien, her hateful servants who abandoned her.

Cassian and Lucien refuse the challenge, but thirty-three gods take Azriel’s challenge---

He kills them all.

Not only does he humiliate them in front of their worshippers, he destroys 10,000 of their temples in a single night. One temple for every one of Elain’s that was destroyed when she fell as a goddess. Without worshippers or temples, the gods fade from existence.

Until, 800 years later, the heavens explode. Godly palaces are destroyed (including those of Cassian and Lucien, who are now full gods), the infrastructure shatters, and when the smoke clears there is Elain. A goddess once again. Except instead of being a goddess of war, she is a goddess of misfortune and junk.

To atone for accidentally ruining so many palaces (though she had no power over the size of the boom when she ascended, it corresponds with power), she goes to the mortal realm to solve a mysterious haunting.

The moment she arrives, she finds a silver butterfly following her and is enchanted by it. The butterfly vanishes, and as soon as she steps into the haunted forest a man in red appears, takes her hand, and gently leads her through a blood-rain, destroys barriers that would have kept her contained, and delivers her safely to the lair of the creature she is hunting.

From then on, Azriel is never far from her side. He has hunted for Elain for 800 years. The beautiful princess he fell in love with as a child, and met time and time again without her realizing it. After their second adventure together, Azriel gives Elain a diamond ring to wear around her neck.

If a ghost’s ashes are destroyed or scattered, they die. Elain doesn’t want this to happen to Azriel, who has made himself an enemy of heaven. Azriel only tells her that his ashes are safe, and if their hiding place is ever destroyed or if they are cast away, he has no will to exist any more anyways.

His ashes are contained within that diamond ring, imbued in the stone itself.

Elain doesn’t know why the gods hate Azriel so much, he is warm and kind to her (though admittedly cold to others). Azriel accompanies Elain obediently on many adventures, though every mystery they solve they run afoul of one heavenly official after another.

Elain starts to realize there is a rot in the heavens. So many gods with so many horrible secrets.

Elain and Azriel invade the home of a particularly evil ghost- the Green Demon. Tamlin. After Elain’s fall from grace he went mad, his obsessive feelings towards her turning from admiration to hatred. It was Tamlin who commissioned all those statues of Elain in humiliating and degrading positions. Tamlin is a cannibalistic evil ghost, though lower than Azriel in power.

He quickly takes possession of the body of a man with a small child and refuses to leave, so Azriel cannot even kill him without Elain being angry.

Realizing something is rotten in the heavens, Elain makes her base a rundown cabin barely standing. She lives there with Tamlin as her prisoner and Azriel as her constant companion. That child becomes a noose around Tamlin’s throat- endlessly obedient and loving towards his “father” (whose body Tamlin cannot leave or else Az will kill him). Bit by bit, Tamlin’s cruelty starts to fade (though he’s never really nice per-se, it’s just that he likes the kid).

On her journey she is joined by Nuala and Cerridwen- two low level gods in the service of Lucien and Cassian, who hate one another as much as their masters do. Their masters also hate Elain with a burning passion, so Nuala and Cerridwen help her in secret.

Out of courtesy, Elain pretends that she doesn’t know Nuala and Cerridwen are only Cassian and Lucien in another form, trying to atone themselves for abandoning her so long ago.

As Elain, Azriel, Cassian, and Lucien go on adventure after adventure the crimes of the heavens are unearthed one after another- from a god who killed humans to hide his own crimes to another who worked black magics to steal the good fortune of a man about to ascend to a god and attached it to his unwitting brother, leaving the man’s family to be raped and murdered while his brother enjoyed the divinity that should never have been his, to another god who tortured a mortal to death just for fun.

They start to realize too that Amarantha- who vanished from the world when Elain refused to release her curse- has been close by all along.

For the Demonic Kiln that forges Ghost Kings- that imbued Azriel with so much power- was born of a horrific tragedy 2,000 years ago in which Amarantha’s entire kingdom fell around her.

A tragedy which Amarantha turned into an opportunity- she raided the heavens, slaughtered all of her fellow gods and changed her form.

And as new gods rose, she placed herself upon the throne with this new face--

as Helion.

Elain, Azriel, Cassian, Lucien, and all of their new friends must work together to destroy Helion, find the true King of Heaven, and restore balance to the world before Amarantha plunges it all into chaos and destroys everything Elain loves.

The only one powerful enough to stop Amarantha is Elain, but with her luck sealed away and her powers still stifled by the Cursed Collar, it is up to the Demonic Realm to save the Heavens above before the mortal world is destroyed.

Azriel already died for Elain once. To see her smile freely once again, he’d die a million deaths more. No matter the hardships, this boy who has followed his princess for 800 years will follow her to the ends of the earth and beyond.

And their growing love might just be enough to tip the tides of war in their favor. King Azriel will always find a way to his Elain. Not even a two thousand year old Demonic-King of Heaven can stand in their way.

#Anonymous #tgcf #heaven official's blessing #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #ok so i mainly described the flashback books #but the main books are episodic within the arcs #still extremely extremely good and they build to form a narrative #but you can summarize it as 'gods suck and often do bad things too'#my writing #LATER THIS WEEKEND I WILL DO THE UNTAMED AS TOG CHARACTERS FOR THE OTHER ASK ANON

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taekooktimeline · 4 years

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Could you please summarize the different stages they went through with the time frames including how they felt about each other at the time and what they’d told each other, and what the nature of their relationship was if you don’t mind?? (and also like big steps/milestones in their relationship like confessions, first kiss, first whatever). It just all seems kinda... muddled (which obviously it’s complicated by nature but if you could please help out i’d really appreciate it!! ty💗)

Sara & Kayla give different recaps. Sara will just do a minimal scheme while Kayla includes events. This is quite lengthy. Warning: It’s all opinion!

Sara:

— 2011-2013: Just (best) friends. Slow buildup of crushes.

— 2014: Just Friends. Boundary pushing coming specially from Tae.

— 2015: Still just friends, but they are basically “courting” each other and recognize they have a mutual attraction or - at the very least - curiosity. Possible kiss. There are moments of high tension.

—- 2016: They start an affair around May. Tae “breaks up” with Jk in August due to the unfavorable circumstances (they weren’t actual boyfriends). Jk seems upset but there is no direct confrontation. They are on good terms (meaning they don’t stop being friends). They start to mess around again during BS&T promotions until the end of Nov, which is when they stop again. BH starts cutting them out of content.

—- 2017: Tae regrets it & makes efforts to win Jk back (romantically). They both had started to hang out with friends outside of BTS which caused additional friction. Tae confesses to Jk at the start of March which is probably the first time there was an actual love confession between them. They start a serious relationship.

— 2018: Jk falls into a slump at the very beginning of the year (probs having to do with fame, identity, restrictions, etc) which causes Tae to suffer as well. (The group as a whole was also having a hard time but we are focusing on TK). This can be considered a crisis but they resolved it and came out stronger out of it, both as individuals and as a couple. As a group too !

— 2019: closeting intensifies even more but funnily enough they drop big lgbtq hints. They mature as a couple. By the end of the year(?) they start living in different apartments when they aren’t promoting which causes them to spend less time together.

— 2020: they keep being stable as a couple. Tae goes through some struggles but they are ok. Closeting reaches its peak, their first contract expires & they stage a talk to be able to change the narrative & interact more freely in front of cameras while still being closeted. (Disclaimer: I personally don’t think they have had any type of official engagement, just that they wear couple rings to show commitment like koreans typically do).

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Kayla: reminder that this is entirely opinion on the timeline of their relationship. This is a quick summary. The timeline goes into further detail. Again, you’re free to believe as you like.

2011- predebut; friends as evidenced by Tae saying in an interview he noticed Jk first + Jk bought Tae a shirt for him while in America; Jk has also said Tae brought him out of his shell

213- debut; close friends; possible attraction but not recognized yet; this can be deduced based on them singing to one another in Rookie Kings in ep 7, Tae saying “you’re beautiful” to Jk and not the girl in the “Beautiful” MV + when the members go over the VHope kiss in episode 8, Jk seems very uneasy and uncomfortable about it (prior to the kiss talk, Taekook were affectionate, linking hands and hugging, mimicking one another)

2014; close friends who have noticed the attraction each feels and begin pushing boundaries to see how the other will respond; an example would be festa 2014, when Tae says touching thighs is for pervs but then is fine with Jk doing so moments later; Tae is visibly aroused by Jk dancing in two different moments this year (April during “boy in luv” and Sept 16 when he bites his lips and gets heavy lidded); in April when BTS act out a skit of Jk falling in love, TK pretend to lean in for a kiss and neither expresses discomfort. Milestone - realizing the other doesn’t react negatively to flirting / boundary testing

2015: close friends continuing to push boundaries; suspicions by us (theorizing) of a first kiss due to Tae drawing attention to his lips in two selecas in January + Jk recommending a gay song “Memo”, in which he changed the lyrics to say he wants “one more”; 123 theory first comes into play as well as Jk starting to send messages through songs - in May he recommends a song by Eels and highlights “can’t help falling in love” + in the same month Tae and Hobi cover “hug me” and then Jk uploads a song “eat” which has the line about wanting to hug someone. In December he covers “paper hearts” and shortens the lyrics from the original by 3 seconds so “when there’s cameras and I can’t reach you” is at 1:23. He also releases “fools” half an hour before Tae’s birthday. It’s an LGBTQ song. He’s called Tae a fool before in a fan sign. In addition, there is a lot of sexual tension in 2015 - Notably, festa. In June, Tae suggestively plays with a mic and Jk puts a mic in his mouth. When BTS appear on Yaman, TK are the only ones to interlock hands + appear to share looks of complicity when the interviewer asks if the members ever touched each other. During tension escalator, both exhibit a lack of boundaries and show comfort in being in each other’s space in a way the other members don’t feel (see an in-depth analysis of the moment by BL expert Pam here - https://youtu.be/mu8K1KBcn_0). They’re still playful with dubsmash and a secret handshake. They also begin to be more aware of cameras. They’re visibly separated in November during the HHYH concert making and when a camera pans to them in December, Tae stops leaning his head on Jk’s shoulder. Milestone - in our opinion, a possible first kiss happened this year, but they remained close friends testing boundaries

2016- FWB; we believe this is when they began to be intimate, though they didn’t label it. They’re flirty in Jan when they discuss Jk being an adult / turning 20. There are suspicions Jan 26 is an anniversary due to Tae uploading “how am I supposed to live without you” on this day and jk responding the same day with “nothing like us”. They’re generally affectionate in clips, such as summer package in Dubai. Jk is distracted in BV1 til Tae shows up. Jimin claps at a heart with their name in it + TK cuddle one morning without barriers or displays of uncomfortableness. We believe the dynamics changed between BV1 and SMART based on the tension in SMART. Tae is shy and Jk looks like he won at life; both bump arms and share shy and happy glances. Taekook is also coined this year! Due to external stressors, and shakiness/uncertainty in what their relationship really is, in our opinion TK remain close friends but end it come autumn 2016. They may have reunited briefly, based on continuing to display affection and attraction to one another, but proceeded to end things again by the end of the year. Milestone - in our opinion, this is the year they became intimate; FWB/not a serious relationship

2017- they become an official couple this year. In the beginning of the year they display jealousy towards one another, and Tae is very extra in his actions to Jk (ex - GDA awards in Jan). We believe Tae was trying to win Jk back. By March 2017 they appear to reunite and enter a renewed honeymoon period, as can be seen by the private convo vlive in April, ILY signs in Chile, suspicious kissing sounds in Tae’s Brazil vlive and festa footsie + suggestive actions at that event. They are still battling through the rollercoaster of 2016, which is why in BV2 we see them be sweet (“you’re mine” “do you want to live here with me?” To jk singing “nothing like us” in the direction of Tae’s room while seeming to be melancholy). Jk sings “nothing like us” in an interview and Tae gets shy. They display general closeness, like in the Run ep filmed in Nov when Jk eats food that has fallen from Tae’s mouth. They’re overall touchy in American interviews and hold hands after the AMAs when they don’t believe cameras are on them. They also do their handshake on MAMA and don’t have space between them during the show. Milestone - became an official couple

2018- all appears fine with them as a couple, though both struggle with disbandment talks as individuals and as a group. This year is when we see the cheek kisses and “am I your friend?”, as well as “look at me, just me” from Jk to Tae in a run episode. Namsan private date on 1/26. Tae also tells Jk his eyes are always on him and he loves him during his birthday message to him. “Taekook best unit” is said by Tae at a fan sign, further proof of them supporting their “ship”. They display consideration and support to each other, like in Run ep 52, when Jk offers to trade cards with Tae so Tae doesn’t have to go to the sauna with his skin condition, or when Jk comforts Tae about his mullet at a fan sign. They also flash the ILY sign to each to each other at the BBMAS + BV3 happens when Jk is visibly excited to room with Tae (dropping hints / members congratulate) and is distracted til he shows up. Concert nape kiss. Milestone - solid, secure couple

2019- TK continue to appear close without issues or breaks. They’re flirty and affectionate at fan signs. Jk gestures twice to Tae as his life partner in the Japanese bbq interview, while Tae flicks his chin and they play footsie. They display traditional marriage threads while at a concert in Busan and Tae says Busan has his heart. They give themselves away as roommates in the May vlive with Jin and Jimin. Tae mentions the LGBTQ movie “call me by your name” twice. Jk says “I’m still me” from the LGBTQ movie “Love, Simon” at Festa. Jk awards Tae the “I thought you’d be beyond my imagination” award. They’re flirty in the “Home” performance and affectionate during MAMA. Weverse comment in November has been debunked. Jk doesn’t acknowledge Tae’s birthday online but gives him an airport nape kiss that day. ILY signs during the NYE vlive. Milestone - to me, it’s possible they talked about the future together since Jk confidently referred to Tae twice as his life partner in the Japanese bbq interview and Tae responded by flicking his chin affectionately when “family” was brought up + marriage threads + matching hanboks

2020: all seems fine, in fact, dynamics may have shifted to truly indicate some sort of promise as TK have gotten bolder - they both wear rings on their left ring finger at the Grammys, along with matching outfits, and Jk breaks the lineup to stand by Tae (again, rumored anniversary as this happened Jan 26); general closeness and affection can be seen in American interviews, dancing together on Fallon and during CNS (with JK flashing the ILY sign); they wear matching outfits during BBC Live; Jk continues to wear Tae’s rings throughout the year. Milestone- i believe they’ve made some sort of deeper promise to each other, hence why Jk wears the rings and their actions are generally loud.

Final reminder this is all opinion / theory. You’re entitled to believe as you like. This is our stance.

#taekooktimeline #asks #discussions

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tactyl-ymon · 4 years

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DnD session recap - Service and Struggle

I’d been trying to write this recap since mid december because god there’s just so many emotions in game at the moment and it’s very draining to write about. We got a new barbarian and lost one of the rogues as they had to move interstate

We open with a lone figure paddling through an otherwise still ocean as the moonlight silhouettes a large country that wasn't there a month ago. The figure, drawn forward by a feeling in their gut that this is where they're supposed to be, makes landfall and begins lumbering through the forest as fast as her turtle like legs will allow. It is hours of running peppered with the occasional break to curse whoever thought making towns so far apart was a good idea before our new friend sees the telltale signs of town gates, a place called Merigan it seems. As the guards size up the towering tortle laden with weapons, they shakily ask the barbarian her name and what business she has. Donna Tello Tortellini introduces herself and says she's just looking for a place to sleep for the night, the guards look warily at her large frame and then mention if she's got coin there's a tavern nearby that probably had a room, otherwise there's a stable a few streets away if they promised not to cause a ruckus, the last group they had let camp there were just a constant bother to the guards and town in general whenever they came through.

Donna Tello asks about the group and it being another in a long line of slow nights the guards escort her towards the tavern, surely nobody could be that much of a nuisance? The guards tell her all about the wicked group that calls themselves Tactyl Y'mon, about the time they had pretended to be ghoulish monsters attacking the town gates and the time they'd arrived with a lively boulder that was very protective over a busted old cart that they wouldn't let anyone get near and the time they had managed to save several townsfolk including the town leaders wife and then tossed his house after staying there the night and got several of the guards drunk, stole one of their pants and jumped through a familys roof before screaming and jumping through their window. As Donna Tello thanks the guards for the hopefully tall tales and mentions she'll definitely try to avoid the group if she can, she enters the tavern for the night and to think about where she might find some decent coin to help her explorations.

It's just before dawn the following day as Eridol is startled awake by the telltale whines of his dog signaling that he needs to go out before the very not telltale sound of his dog screaming about how he needs to pee. Which is enough to slip Eridol's already shoddy grasp on reality with everything that's happened the last few days, this has to be a dream … or insanity, who cares, best to just throw away the whole suitcase of emotions at this point and take his suddenly very talkative dog for a walk. The important questions are asked on their jaunt through the keep, “Could you always talk and were just shy?” “If this were fake, you'd tell me right Pickle?” “Where do you enjoy pats the most?” It's around here that Eridol gets a very familiar reality check in the shape of a golden dragonborn standing just outside the gates of the keep talking to one of the guards, former friend and one time follower of the god of murder, Drackuss.

With nowhere to run, no weapons to defend himself and no backup Eridol is faced with doing the one thing he swore he would never do, have an emotional conversation with someone who shattered his trust. But Eridol still has his last trump card to get out of the conversation. Freeze up and become unresponsive. Whether Drackuss actually notices or not is irrelevant, the former paladin barrels through what amounts to an apology for how he acted when he tried to brutally disembowel one of their companions before going on a one man murder quest across the country, but how Eridol was part of stopping him doing awful things and he owes the small cleric for that. Eridol breaks and shouts that as far as he is concerned nobody owed him anything, whatever help Eridol gave was balancing a ledger or trying to make up for his own failings. Repayment for all the times that Drackuss had saves the party from otherwise lethal blows. Repayment for Eridol being too far in his own head to notice anything was wrong. Repayment for one of the earliest memories Eridol has of the dragonborn spending days in a rundown church trying to save sick children from a plague. That version of Drackuss deserved a second chance to make his own path but Eridol didn't have to be a part of it and that if Drackuss actually cared what Eridol thought they wouldn't even be having this conversation.

Several familiar shapes creep into the periphery during the silence that follows. The remaining members of Tactyl Y'mon, Whisky, Veiraen, Septima and Emmi wander up from the keep as Core, the groups sometimes government contact and Sukaren, a very imposing blue dragonborn who had been in charge of the front lines to the entry portals to the country march up from behind Drackuss. Core begins by formally thanking the group for everything they had done to shift the country back into the prime material plane and that word had gotten around that the group was at least partially responsible for the shift, people were calling us champions and the like and that there would be some exhibition matches being held in the main city and the group was invited to participate in two back to back. That one would offer a much larger challenge, but if the group could come out victorious in both they'd receive a significant reward for the show.

Core also goes on to mention that there seems to have been some unforeseen fallout from the whole fabric of reality shifting back into place thing. Hundreds of criminals seemingly disappeared in an instant at the time of the shift back to the material plane. Murderers, cultists, thieves all set to wither in the dark for the rest of their lives gone in an instant with no evidence of what happened and with the official business out of the way, Core suggests walking to the nearest town to spend the rest of the day drinking all of that away like the semi-functional alcoholic sponge he is, the group not ever really needing a reason to drink but having just so many they could choose from decide to go with him. Drackuss shrugs, mentioning that he did what he needed to and that Sukaren and him were heading back to Principium to continue training.

As the two lumbering lizards retreat back to their training regiment, half of the group wanders into the keep to put on pants leaving Core and Emmi standing outside in awkward silence as the last moments of dawn fade away. With nobody else around, Core once again mentions that Emmi’s mother, Sharona really wants to talk to her as soon as possible. That she has so much to apologise for and that she had a plan to find out what happened to Emmi’s father all those years ago. That if Emmi was willing, Sharona would be waiting outside of Principium on a ship for the next week. The silence that follows is almost deafening as she considers the chance in front of her. Inside the keep, Veiraen approaches Eridol and asks if he really meant what he said about Drackuss, that everything he’d done was just rebalancing a ledger and whether that extended to how he thought about the rest of the group. Eridol still not quite over everything that happened outside quietly says that he doesn’t know, that he genuinely cares about everyone and is so afraid of losing people he cares about again. Eridol realises what he said and stiffens before taking a breath and apologising. Everyone deserved better than he could offer, but that he would be a better friend if Veiraen would give him another chance. Veiraen agrees before asking if he could stab Eridol again for funsies and the status quo of bickering siblings is restored like nothing happened.

Several hours and jugs of grain alcohol later, the group find themselves in a tavern inside Merigan and are alternating between loudly trying to guess what they’d face in the fight pits with Core and how to best announce their awesomeness to the waiting crowd, it’s around the third shout of ‘We’re Tactyl Y’mon, we could fight a swan” that the shouts get the attention of the large tortle barbarian who had been sitting at the bar who with the fading memories of the guards saying to avoid the group, she gets up and introduces herself, saying that she had overheard the group was going to be in some upcoming exhibition matches at the main city’s amphitheatre and that she was a decent fighter and was looking to gather some gold for her travels if the group thinks they could use the extra set of hands in the fights. This is basically all the group needs to hear before collectively welcoming her to the rag tag family and then several rounds later getting around to asking her name. With introductions out of the way and a new friend made, the group staggers slowly back to the keep, singing songs the whole way.

In the coming days, the group train half heartedly before making their way to the capital city of Principium. They enter the familiar halls of the arena that the exhibition matches are held in to raucous applause and quickly take a win in the first fight, much to the joy of the crowd watching. A quick break later and they re-enter for the second match. Whatever the group was expecting is blown out of the air as from the other side of the arena enters faces very familiar to the group. Core, Sukaren, Drackuss, Rorstaad the council member, an old lizardfolk monk ally and a lumbering form of a hill giant with a grudge against the party’s cleric all appear across from them and against the superior combatants and the well oiled teamwork of their opponents Tactyl Y'mon quickly begin to fall. Eridol and Emmi fall within seconds, Veiraen temporarily falls shortly after but by the time he gets his footing again there isn’t anything that can be done. It is only 20 seconds after the fight begins that it ends. Sukaren spits that their time is worth more than mopping up such disappointing fodder. The crowd watching all of this sits deathly quiet, no cheers, no boos, no movement as Tactyl Y’mon quietly leaves the arena, thoroughly defeated by their betters.

Minutes later in the waiting room of the fight pit, Tactyl Y’mon sit and lick their proverbial and literal wounds as Core and Sukaren enter and as Core splits off to speak with Emmi, Sukaren attends to everyone else in what amounts to a “I am both mad and disappointed in all of you” conversation she goes over how this proved to her that the group is not worthy of the champions/defenders of the realm status that the commonfolk believed about them. They were nothing but mercenaries who had bumblefucked their way to success, idiots with no real skills or teamwork, just lucky that they hadn’t faced a serious threat. Sukaren dared any one of them to prove her wrong, to say something that would justify how poorly they just performed. We leave the session with Core and Emmi having a whispered conversation about what’s really important and Emmi rushes out of the room in between all the shouting, making her way to a ship docked nearby, wordlessly hugging her mother before helping her pull up the anchor and pointing the ship towards the setting sun over the ocean.

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calamity-bean · 4 years

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Filles du Roi resources

I’ve been reading a bit about filles du roi this morning, because I wanted to know a bit more beyond what we see of them in Barkskins, and although I’m still working my way through these resources, I wanted to share some of the helpful sources I’ve found so far!

Daughters of a King and Founders of a Nation: One of the first things I noticed as I started searching for info is that a lot of the sources are in French. (Who’d have thought!) So I was very glad to find this thesis, as it synthesizes a lot of info from these sources that I can’t access and/or can’t read. I’m still reading through this but finding it very interesting.

The Filles du Roi Project: Though I was initially looking for more general info, I was surprised at how much is known about the ~800 actual specific young women who participated in this program. The Filles du Roi Project compiles biographical profiles on these women, their husbands, what ship they arrived on, etc., and, down in the Resources section, links to other genealogical resources as well.

Daughters of the King List: This is a more compact resource just listing the names of known filles. A good, quick resource if you just need realistic period-accurate French names for a fic or something like that.

Some notes about things that have been interesting to me so far:

— As seen in Barkskins, convents did indeed open their doors to house and care for these women upon their arrival. Notable hosts include the Ursuline nuns of Quebec city, led by Marie de l’Incarnation, and the Congrégation de Notre Dame in Montreal, led by Marguerite Bourgeoys, who may have coined the term filles du roi.

— Most of these young women hailed from urban areas rather than rural... which seems to have sometimes been a little irksome to the officials of New France, who requested more rural girls who would be better suited to the work and lifestyle required by the colony. Most — about half, by my calculations based on the data in Runyan’s thesis — came from the regions of Île-de-France and Normandy, with Paris and Rouen being main centers of recruitment, notably including the Salpêtrière orphan hospital in Paris.

— However, most is not all! The filles included women from all over France and even a handful from outside the country. I was particularly intrigued to learn of Espérance Du Rosaire, who was born in Brazil. People and documents from the time referred to her as a “moor” and a “savage” ( :/ ); I don’t love even quoting someone calling her a savage, but I included it to show that this young woman was clearly othered by her contemporaries, suggesting that not all filles were of the pure European French stock that, say, Trepagny was clearly looking for in a wife. Espérance’s exact parentage appears unknown; it’s speculated that she had been adopted by a French family.

— I LOVE knowing exact little details about artifacts and objects and how much things cost. According to the Filles du Roi Project, the trousseaux provided to a filles might include: “a coiffe, bonnet, taffeta handkerchief, pair of stockings, pair of gloves, ribbon, four shoelaces, white thread, 100 needles, 1,000 pins, a comb, pair of scissors, two knives and two livres in cash.”

— Dowries might be bestowed in addition, but this appears to have varied WILDLY. Depending on their own pedigree (most filles were not of high birth, but some were) and on whom they married, some women received 50 livres; others 100; a few as much as 200 or even more. But many appear to have received no dowry whatsoever. The profession of the woman’s father could be a significant factor in what they would receive, which puts me in mind of how, when the girls in the show first meet their prospective husbands, much is made of their fathers’ holdings. Dowries also appear to have been more likely if the girl was from Paris.

— Some of us have previously discussed Barkskin’s exact time period a bit; unlike the 1690s setting of the novel, we've been told the show takes place in the 1670s, and I for one had been leaning toward the latter part of the decade so that the HBC (inc. 1670, first post est. 1668) would have had time to become well established and to have begun looking especially to Orkney for recruits. This is a little out of step, though, with the fact that the final contingent of filles du roi came to New France in only 1673. (The first contingent was in 1663.) That’s earlier than I had imagined for the show, but it’s whatever, really; I think historical fiction is within its rights to be a bit vague about these things, so I’m content to look at the show’s setting as kind of the general 70s rather than a specific year.

Anyway... I hope this is of interest to anyone, Barkskins fans or otherwise! It’s very intense, imo, to think of what these young women — teens and early twenties, often, and seemingly quite alone in the world — must have been thinking and feeling as they made this journey and staked their futures on unknown, faraway men in an unknown, faraway place. I’m gonna keep reading up on it all and thinking about how it informs my understanding/headcanons of Delphine and Melissande.

#barkskins #delphine langois #melissande #filles du roi #barkskins meta #yes i know links make posts not show up in tags #but i want to actually share these resources so whatever! and it would be wrong not to source #op

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theoriginalladya · 4 years

Note

Everything under "General" for Caleb and Kaidan. :)

from this list

ROFL So, I’ve got you hooked on them too??? ;)

Okay, let’s see here ...

1. Who initiated the relationship, and how did it go?

Flip a coin. Technically, you could say Kaidan ‘initiated’ it because he was tasked with bringing Caleb’s belongings off the SSV London to him at the hospital on Arcturus when the ship docked a couple months after Akuze. On the other hand, Caleb is the one who insists on buying him a drink after they leave the hospital and he is heading to catch a shuttle back to Earth to Rio for ICT. So, yeah, six-and-one-half-dozen-of-the-other. They stay in contact after that, but not very often, until they end up on the SR1 together.

As for how it went? There wasn’t a whole lot of time for much to happen: just enough to get a round of drinks and for Caleb to toast to Kaidan’s health, down it and rush off to catch his flight. (okay, maybe they have a FEW minutes to chat :P ) Pretty unremarkable, actually. Like I said, they do stay in touch, run into each other a couple of times in the intervening years, and little by little they get to know one another better. By the time they get to the SR1, they have a decent understanding of the other; grounds to call one another ‘friends’ and not just ‘acquaintances’.

Now, if you’re talking a more personal relationship? That happens once the war starts. Post Clone-Incident, Kaidan stops by the apartment to pick up something he left behind, he and Caleb have a beer together, talk, and “stuff” happens. By “stuff” I mean Caleb let’s Kaidan know he’s interested, Kaidan lets Caleb know he’s interested and .. well ... yeah. There ya go. :P

2. Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like?

answered here

3. What was their first kiss like?

Let’s see if this answers the question:

He forces himself to step closer until only a few inches separate them. Cautiously, he searches Kaidan’s face, finds nothing but encouragement and support. He hesitates one last time, running a hand through his hair. “Kaidan, I –.”

The smile widens, perhaps a hint of smugness in it but nothing ill-intentioned, as he replies, “Your call, Shepard. We’ll do this however you want or not at all.”

Your call. The suggestion leaves Caleb shuddering, his eyes closing tight. He knows. By all that’s holy, he KNOWS. “Stay,” he rasps, pleadingly. It’s all he can manage.

Warmth tickles along his cheek as Kaidan trails his fingers along his jaw. Caleb cannot stop himself from leaning toward the touch. “You’re sure?” Kaidan breathes.

“Yes.”

In less than a heartbeat, Kaidan closes the distance, his lips covering Caleb’s. His touch is slow but sure, gentle but firm, and Caleb’s chest tightens. Awkwardly, he wraps an arm around his shoulders, tugging him closer, unable or unwilling to release him. Time losing meaning until Kaidan breaks the kiss. Both of them, Caleb notices immediately, have trouble catching their breath, and in Kaidan’s eyes he sees curiosity as he waits …

4. Were they each other’s first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)?

The only ‘first’ involved for them is that falling in love with Kaidan is the first time that Caleb realizes he is bisexual. Now, love as a teenager is far different from love as an adult, and what he feels for Kaidan is far more than anything he’s ever felt before, so in a sense Kaidan is his ‘first’ real love, but he did care for Ciara and Moira, too, in his own way, and he wouldn’t cheapen that. Basically, they are each other’s ‘only’ from the moment they decide to pursue a relationship. How does that sound?

5. What’s their height difference? Age difference?

Hmm ... They are about the same height I think, whatever difference there is, it’s minimal and Caleb certainly doesn’t care about it. Neither does Kaidan.

As for age difference? Technically it’s three years, according to Caleb’s records (despite the 2 years he was ‘dead’). However, Caleb doesn’t know how old he really is. It could be a wider gap, it could be a narrower one. He doesn’t know for sure ... (yet .....) :P

6. What’s their relationship with each other’s families?

Okay, very briefly, Caleb gets the chance to meet Kaidan’s parents post ME1. They’re back in Vancouver, following up with Command after the Battle of the Citadel. Caleb is told that Ashley’s name has been placed on the memorial to the fallen, so he goes to pay his respects (and also meets Abby Williams who will play into the future stories). Sometime later, Kaidan shows up and he’s with his parents. They go out for drinks and a chat and spend a bit of time together. That’s the only time Caleb meets Kaidan’s dad until ... SEE THIS POST. Caleb gets along very well with Kaidan’s mom, too.

Now, as for Kaidan, since Caleb has no real ‘family’ to speak of, we’ll refer to the Reds, Coats and Abby Williams as they are the closest thing to family he has. (Honestly, if you ask Caleb, he’d say his family consists of Kaidan, the kids, Kaidan’s parents, Coats, Abby and the Reds in that order). For the most part, Kaidan likes the former Reds. There are a couple of exceptions, but SPOILER, so not going to say just yet. He adores the kids as well. Coats ... I’m not sure of yet because he and Kaidan started chatting at me earlier this evening. I have to see where that goes first. Abby, Kaidan adores as much as he did Ashley.

7. Who takes the lead in social situations?

Depends on the situation and who is involved. I’d say it’s about an even 50/50 split.

8. Who gets jealous easier?

LOL OMG I laughed at this one for a good three minutes solid, don’t ask me why.

I have to say I /think/ it’s Kaidan. Caleb ... just has no reason to be jealous? By the time they get together, the way they get together, he trusts Kaidan with all that he is - and that’s saying A LOT. Trust is a big deal for Caleb, and when he gives it to Kaidan, it’s like tossing the key out the window because he just doesn’t need it anymore, that’s how secure he feels with him. Kaidan, on the other hand, there is a little jealousy at least. Definitely with Coats, possibly with Abby, too. That I need to play with a bit more. I do know that any jealousy of Abby comes from the fact that she is there for Caleb in ME2 timeline events when Kaidan isn’t. As for Coats, it deals with the fact that he and Shepard have been best friends for so damned long.

#Ship Questions #ladya's OCs #Caleb Shepard #Kaidan Alenko #mshenko #Brothers in Arms #omg these two! lol #thank you so much!!!#swaps55

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space-------kid · 5 years

Text

linger.

Anime/Manga: Kimetsu no Yaiba Pairing: Genya/fem!Reader Additional characters: mentions of Sanemi and the rest of the Shinazugawa family Warning: Is Genya being adorably shy and flustered considered as one? Additional tag: Modern day AU, adult!Genya and Reader (you’re both 20-something *wink* *wonk*) A/N: I should be working on my Garou/fem!Reader story + acad stuff but this one just won’t leave me be (and it’s been stuck in my head for days aaaaAAAAAHHHH)! It’s another dream-based fic - and it was really cute (to me, anyway *chuckles* *shrugs*)! Pls enjoy--

Summary:

She was always singing that one song from a particular band whenever he passes by. Maybe it was just coincidence; Genya really didn’t know. But two things were for certain: He would never stop tossing any spare change he had in his pocket on her guitar case, nor would he cease passing by this street she chose to play at.

Man, if only he was brave enough to ask for your name (and hopefully your number).

Alternatively,

You beat Genya to his goals, and he was more than shocked. Also exceedingly pleased (and flustered).

“but i'm in so deep you know i'm such a fool for you you've got me wrapped around your finger do you have to let it linger? do you have to, do you have to, do you have to let it linger?”

linger/the cranberries

“But I'm in so deep You know I'm such a fool for you You've got me wrapped around your finger Do you have to let it linger? Do you have to, do you have to, do you have to let it linger?”

Of course you were singing it again.

Every single afternoon he would pass by Wisteria Avenue, Genya would find you standing in your little corner in front of a fountain, guitar in hand and its case on the pavement on your feet, a charming smile on your face while you serenade the passing crowd with your sweet, lilting voice. If he would be honest with himself, Genya would say that you were just one of the faces he had to ignore as he pushed his way past people, some street singer who was just trying to make a name for herself and wasn’t worth that much time listening to. But then he had to go and actually took just a little time to hear what made the crowd drop notes and coins in your guitar case, only to get absolutely floored by your talent he once so callously dismissed.

It was shame for inwardly and thoughtlessly thinking a little low of you that made Genya shove a hand in his pockets and toss whatever amount of money he had in them, but more so out of awe at how lovely your voice were (you were also very good at playing your guitar, but could you blame him for being enthralled with your singing?).

Guess he was really lucky that the fastest way to reach the apartment complex he lived in with Sanemi was Wisteria Avenue, huh?

Because finally, after a long day at work and being annoyed by the throng of people he had to share the streets with, Genya found one good reason not to lose his temper whenever he had to reduce the speed of his usually swift pace because of slow walkers or - the most annoying of them all - couples getting all mushy together and walking as if they were traipsing on the surface of the moon.

Genya wasn’t a fan of girl songs, but he made an exception for that one song you usually played and sang whenever he passed by - it was that song called “Linger” by The Cranberries (he listened to the lyrics and honest to god Googled what you were singing because he had no idea at the time). He wouldn’t go as far as to searching the internet what the song meant, but judging from what he heard he thought that it was about this one girl who fell in love with some jackass who wouldn’t even take her and their relationship seriously.

What a jerk.

But the way you sang it was just-

Damn, he couldn’t even find a proper word to describe it. Was it nice? Was that the influence you had over the lyrics? That you make it sound so playful and innocent at the same time, as if it wasn’t about a hopeless girl and a dipshit who won’t take love seriously?

Genya’s head hurt with how much he had thought about it, so he simply settled with listening to you sing and show his appreciation by giving you any spare change he could fish out from his pockets.

---

Okay, this was increasingly becoming too dodgy to be considered an occurring coincidences.

It was as if you were actively seeking him out from the hustle and bustle of people passing Wisteria Avenue, but Genya could swear that you would start playing “Linger” once you saw him so you would already be singing the chorus by the time he made it in front of you.

Every afternoon the scenario would always be the same. And every afternoon he would be left feeling really shy and utterly flustered because you would smile sweetly at him while you sing - most especially on every chorus - and tilt your head to the side like an adorably cute puppy as thanks while he awkwardly searched his pockets for spare change to toss in your guitar case.

“And I'm in so deep You know I'm such a fool for you You've got me wrapped around your finger Do you have to let it linger? Do you have to, do you have to, do you have to let it linger?”

Oh, dear merciful god above. Why did you have to be so cute, so pretty, and so angelic while you sing? Why did your voice have to be so fucking beautiful it sent pleasant shivers down Genya’s spine whenever you made eye contact with him as your lips formed the words of the song?

And why did it always have to be THAT song with him?

You made Genya feel as if he’s the lovestruck, hopeless girl in the song, goddamn it!

(Not that he saw you as the jerkface in the song, though, Please don’t get him wrong.)

Face bright red he could almost hear his younger siblings calling him a tomato, Genya hurriedly grabbed some coins and three crumpled notes, pulled them out of his pockets, and nearly hurled them in your guitar case in his hasty attempt to leave before you could finish the song and before he could say anything stupid.

Oh, god. Why hadn’t he outgrown this stupid nervousness around girls that he had developed when he hit puberty? He was in his twenty-something now, a freaking adult! Why, god, why?

“Thank you~!”

Fuck on a fucking stick. Even your normal speaking voice was too darn cute! Impossibly so!

Genya only managed an awkwardly shy wave before he practically ran through the oncoming mass of pedestrians to cross the street and increase the distance between the two of you.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow he won’t chicken out and ask your name. Maybe even get your number.

Right.

Maybe Sanemi could give him some tips on how to approach a girl.

(Genya ditched the plan in getting his older brother’s help. Stupid ‘Nemi for laughing at him when he figured out judging from how red Genya’s face went before he could get a word in.)

---

It’s official. Some of your usual listeners have already established that you would only sing “Linger” whenever that tall, muscular, mohawked guy with a scar on his face came within your field of vision.

An elderly couple would look on knowingly as the young man seemed to shrink gingerly under your appreciative stare, his face red and filled with wonder and nervousness as he watched and listened to your performance. They had been on that awkward stage once, the elderly couple, and could instantly recognize something blooming between two people when they see one.

A group of teenage girls, although intimidated by the height and facial features of the mohawked guy, couldn’t stop muffling their adoring giggles at how cute he looked as he watched you like a shy puppy. Disappointed ‘aawww’s would slip past their lips whenever mohawk guy hurriedly left the scene, sometimes not bothering to finish your song. The two of you have no idea that they have already began shipping the two of you. Hard.

The rest of your listeners weren’t surprised at all that you would not play that one song whenever mohawk guy was absent for the day.

None of them intervened between you and mohawk guy, however. But, man, they just wished that he would soon act on whatever his obvious intentions were. They knew for sure that he was getting - or already had - a crush on you.

Might as well act on it, right? Before someone else could snag you-

---

Alright. This afternoon, he would finally do it.

Genya couldn’t believe how much he was stressing out with regards to asking your name (and number, fingers crossed). It was just simple, right? All he had to do was to be polite, be nice and most certainly not creepy nor intimidating towards you, and compliment you for your wonderful performances and ask for your name (and number!). What’s so difficult about it?

Feeling uncharacteristically confident, Genya breezed past the crowd and smiled when he reached Wisteria Avenue. He immediately headed to your spot, only to stop on his tracks when he realized something.

You weren’t playing his song.

You were singing a different one.

Genya’s brows furrowed with worry. Didn’t you see him approaching? Were you taking song requests now?

He stopped behind the small crowd of your usual listeners, looking rather expectant. He unconsciously pursed and bit his lips when you looked at him and smiled, his face turning beet red faster than he could say ‘fuck’. Genya was unaware of the looks he had been receiving from the people as his attention remained focused at you and his not-song you were singing.

Why weren’t you singing “Linger”? Did you change your playlist? Were you getting tired of it?

Genya breathed a sigh of relief, mentally kicking himself for worrying too much and being a paranoid when you finished the song and began strumming the familiar introductory chords to The Cranberries’ song.

Compliment her when she’s done, ask her name, and don’t forget her number, too, Genya told himself repeatedly as he watched you, trying to maintain his brain functions when you kept on looking and smiling at him while you sang. He couldn’t help but feel as if only the two of you existed in the avenue, the rest of the people reduced to nothing but cardboard cutouts that separated him from you. But he kept his ground, never wanting to disrupt your performance.

Compliment her when she’s done, ask her name, and don’t forget her number, too.

Compliment her.

Ask her name.

Get her number-

“Excuse me, what’s your name?”

Genya had to snap himself back to awareness when he heard your question. He looked around, trying to find who made you stop halfway from singing to ask for their name, eyes widening in surprise when he saw the rest of the audience - all of them - were looking at him.

He looked at you, dazed, and dumbly pointed a finger at himself to make sure if his hunch was right.

You chuckled sweetly (Oh, mercy, mercy, god above!) at him and nodded your head.

“Yeah, you, sweetheart. What’s your name?”

If it was possible, Genya’s heart would be out of his chest right now with how fast and hard it was beating at the moment. You just called him sweetheart for fuck’s sake-

“G-Genya,” he helplessly blurted out, face torn between despair and joy. He planned to ask you your name, not for you to ask his!

With a grateful nod of your head, you repeated where you cut yourself off.

“And I'm in so deep You know I'm such a fool for you, Genya~ You've got me wrapped around your finger Do you have to let it linger? Do you have to, do you have to, do you have to let it linger?”

For the love of all that was blessed and holy. Did you just insert his name seamlessly in the lyrics?

What the fuck kind of a power move was that?!

“You know I'm such a fool for you You've got me wrapped around your finger, Genya~ Do you have to let it linger? Do you have to, do you have to, do you have to let it linger?”

That’s it. There’s possibly no way he’s not gonna be able to get your name and number now.

And Genya was so glad that he did. Not only did you let him have your name and number, he even lucked out when he snagged a date with you.

(Sanemi could only gape in disbelief at how his shy and nervous little brother managed to ask a girl out. Well, shit. Looked like he got to catch up.)

fin

#genya x reader #shinazugawa genya x reader #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #kny

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akitania · 5 years

Audio

in the staightforward fashion we’ve come to expect from FATT, the first appearance of a song that doesn’t have “touchpaper” in the name is in the scene with touchpaper.

for @atamajakki!

Austin: Clementine Kesh, it is the morning after Cymbidium’s wake, and your face is lit by the sun as a servant pulls open the curtains in your bedroom. Before you can even protest, a tray is placed on your lap, and the steam that rises from it carries the smell of a posh and hearty morning breakfast to your nose.

As you gain your bearings and look down, you see that the tray also holds a silver platter, on which a pair of envelopes rest, both embellished with metallic trim and sealed with your mother’s official emblem. Each envelope also features a trio of very simple ideograms, symbols that convey complex meaning despite their plainness.

On the first envelope there is a fist, the reverse side of a coin, and a shipwreck, which you would wager means that it carries a mission about retrieving some sort of secret information about the destruction of Past. The other, which features icons of an iron gate, the flame of a candle, and the simple curve of a hill, is certainly about protecting some vulnerable people on their way somewhere, but — and maybe this speaks to a deficiency of knowledge — you aren’t really sure who exactly on Partizan qualifies as “vulnerable people.”

Which envelope do you take?

Jack: I think Clem leans forward and takes the second envelope.

[Music: BRIDEWELL. CANDLEFLAME. BARROW. by Jack de Quidt]

Austin: As you pick it up, the servant takes away the platter with the other letter, and when you open the envelope that you chose, first the seal and then the metallic trim begin to burn very slowly, almost like a fuse, and as it does, the sizzling of the fire coalesces into bright, clear sound. It’s as if it’s a record that is destroying itself as it plays.

And the sound it makes is the sound of your mother’s voice.

“Do you know the Church of the Resin Heart, Clementine? They also go by the Friends of Gur Sevraq or the Disciples of Logos, but whatever you call them, they are a small and devout sect, which traces its lineage back to the founding of Progressive Asterism.

And they say that this month marks the thousandth year since the prophet Logos Kantel first arrived on Partizan and brought life to this world. As part of their millennial celebration, the church’s leader, the aforementioned Sevraq, will lead pilgrimage across the Prophet’s Path from its barren western wastes to its tropical eastern coast, where they will take a ship to the Isles of Logos for the final ritual.

We have good intelligence that this pilgrimage is being targeted by a house of Stel Orion. The Disciples have recently added a pair of Hollows to their armory, and will provide additional ground security, but two machines and a few rifles cannot protect a caravan of hundreds from a determined Stel. However minority the progressives are in Stel Kesh, their freedom to pursue their beliefs is paramount to the accord of Divinity, and this particular congregation’s historical significance grants it serious import, all to say nothing of Gur Sevraq’s particular value. They say he does miracles, you know.

You will secure their safety, and you will do it without being identified. We cannot send you as open escort. Your presence, if discovered and tied to Kesh, will further Apostolosian hostilities in the region. But if you can protect the pilgrimage until it reaches the sea, you will be doing the Principality a great service. And if you find that you cannot protect it, you must do this at least: Extract Gur Sevraq from the fray, and bring them to a secure location here, in Cruciat.

If you have any further questions, try to answer them yourself. If, and only if, you cannot, I’ll be in the north gallery.”

And just like that, the rest of the envelope goes up in smoke. Like flashpaper.

#friends at the table #partizan #partizan spoilers #my transcripts #i continue to struggle with identifying proper nouns

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gunnerpalace · 4 years

Note

Hi! Same anon as the previous one. Tbh, I agree wholeheartedly with you. Y'see I do ask rhetorically,too but i could really accept and understand how and why ppl can be oblivious to IchiRuki, and somehow felt that the 'canon' should suffice, even the most excruciating of all is the fact a number found the ending even acceptable (ships aside, too). Again, I could respect that. But it's my greatest bane when ppl ask 'why' and not be clear they are asking rhetorically because I literally will

provide you an actual answer. And I get it, it’s the reason why ppl find shipping wars toxic and silly. But then again, as human, conflicts are always part of us (partly because as social psych explains so, we are gravitated to the negative for that allows us to change and survive), and the reason why “logical fallacies” are coined in the first place. Human will always debate, and argue about something; the only thing we could change is how we approach the opposing views.

Again, I dont condone any way, shape or form of abuse and harm. In some certain extent, I could perhaps understand it’s much harder for some IH to approach the actual argument being there’s either too much noise, and trapped in their own island between sea of salt. Thus becoming too acquianted w/ few IH who shared the same thought until it became their views as the only truth (see, that’s why its important to have debates! it is what keep us grounded and fair! Just like you said)

Who am I to speak though? I never ever challenged anyone anyways. And as you said, you just have to understand things in every way you could possibly think of–endless ‘whys’. Which is where I agree in your reply the most–this silly fandom wars is just the black mirror to every truth that lies beneath human psyche–the dark and the grimy. Heck, being a psych major is like staring at dark hole–at times, good, but most just plain confusing, revolting even or just heartbreaking.

Sorry it’s been long, but for the final of this ask: let me tell how glad I was with IchiRuki fandom I found in tumblr. It was the saltiest I’ve ever been (im not generally a fandom person anyways) but it’s the himalayan salt–expensive and actually nutritive it really deepened my desire to become wiser in general. And you for your wonderful essays, critiques and whatnot. I definitively would love to talk with you more not only about IchiRuki but the wonders and nightmare that us humans! Kudos!

I have sitting in my drafts a post spelling out my thoughts on “canon” (and thus, the people who cling to it) in that as a concept it privileges:

officiality over quality when it comes to validity (thus violating Sturgeon’s law)

corporations (intellectual property rights holders) over fans, and thus capitalists over proletarians

hierarchical dominance over mutualist networking within fandom

curative fandom over transformative fandom

genre over literary content

plot over characters

events over emotions

It is notable that (1) generally degrades art as a whole, (2) generally advances the capitalist agenda, and (3–7) generally advances the dominance of men over women (as the genders tend to be instructed by society to view these as A. dichotomies rather than spectrums, and B. to ascribe gender to them and make them polarities). These form the sides of a mutually reinforcing power structure (in the typical “Iron Triangle” fashion) designed to preserve and maintain the status quo.

Who really benefits from say, the policing of what is or is not “canon” in Star Wars? Disney, first and foremost. And then whomever (almost certainly male) decides to dedicate their time to memorizing the minutiae of whatever that corporation has decided is “legitimate.”

One can imagine a universe in which fan fic is recognized by companies for what it is: free advertising. (Much like fan art already is.) Instead, it is specifically targeted by demonetization efforts in a way that fan art isn’t. Why? Because it demonstrates that corporate control and “official” sanction has no bearing on quality, and it is thus viewed as undermining the official products.

In the same way, by demonstrating that most “canonical” works are frankly shit, it undermines the investiture of fans in focusing on details that are ultimately errata (the events, the plot, the genre), which is the core function of curative fandom and the reason for its hierarchical structure. The people who “know the most” are at the top, but what they “know” is basically useless garbage. And those people so-engaged are, of course, usually male.

To “destroy” the basis of their credibility, and indeed the very purpose of their community, is naturally viewed by them as an attack.

(This is not to say that efforts to tear down internal consistency within established cultural properties are good unto themselves, or even desirable. For example, efforts to redefine properties such as Star Wars, Star Trek, Doctor Who, and Ghostbusters, for the sake of a identity-politics agenda have largely A. failed as art, B. failed as entertainment, C. failed to attract the supposedly intended audience, and D. failed to advance the agenda in question. Trying to repurpose extant media in the name of culture wars is essentially always doomed to failure unless it is done deftly and gradually.)

(At the same time, this also shows what I was talking about last time, with regard to people seeing whatever they want to see. You will see people complain that Star Trek and Doctor Who didn’t “used to be so political,” which is obviously nonsense. These shows were always political. What changed was how their politics were presented. For example, Star Trek has, since TNG, always shown a nominally socialist or outright communist future, but was beloved by plenty of conservatives because they could [somehow] ignore that aspect of it.)

Of course, almost no one is seriously suggesting that one side of the spectrums outlined above be destroyed, rather merely that a new balance be struck upon the spectrum. But, as we have seen time and again in society, any threat to the status quo, whether that be 20% of Hugo Awards going to non-white male authors or the top income tax rate in America being increased by a measly 5.3% (from 28.7% to 34%… when the all-time high was 94% and for over 50 years it was above 50%) is a threat. This is why, for example, Republicans are out there branding AOC as a “socialist” when her policies are really no different at all from a 1960 Democrat who believed in FDR’s New Deal. (Which they, of course, have also demonized as “socialism.”)

(As an aside, all this ignores the fact that most of the “literary canon” of Western civilization, or at least English literature… is Biblical or historical fan fic.)

And this is when I finally get to my point.

Those people out there who denigrate and mock shippers and shipping, the people who hurl “it reads like fan fiction” as an insult, and so on, are the people who benefit from and enjoy the extant power structure. You will see the same thing with self-identified “gamers” complaining about “fake girl gamers.” Admitting that the hobby has a lot of women in it, and a lot of “casuals,” and is indeed increasingly dominated by “non-traditional demographics” is an affront to the constructed identity of being a “gamer.” They are “losing control.” And they don’t like it.

This exact same sort of population is what the “fanbase” of Bleach has been largely reduced down to through a slow boiling off of any actual quality. Of course they’re dismissive of people who are looking for anything of substance: their identity, their “personal relationship” with the franchise, is founded on a superficial appreciation of it: things happening, flashy attacks, eye-catching character designs, fights, etc.

(What this really boils down to, at heart, is that society at large has generally told men that emotions are bad, romance and relationships of all kinds are gross, and that thinking and reflecting on things is stupid. So of course they not only don’t care about such things, but actively sneer at them as “girly” or “feminine,” which is again defined by society at large as strictly inferior. And this gender divide and misogyny is of course promulgated and reinforced by the powers that be, the capitalists, to facilitate class divisions just like say racism generally is.)

(The latest trick of these corporate overlords has been the weaponization of “woke” culture to continue to play the people off one another all the time. “If you don’t like this [poorly written, dimensionless Mary Sue] Strong Female Character, then you are a racist misogynist!” They are always only ever playing both sides for profit, not advancing an actual ideological position. It is worth noting that there was a push by IH some years ago to define IR as “anti-feminist” for critiquing Orihime for essentially the exact same reasons [admittedly, not for profit, but still as critical cover].)

Which makes it very curious, therefore, that the most ardent IH supporters tend to be women. (Though there are more than a few men, they seem to tend to support it because it is “canon” and to attack it is to attack “canon” and thus trigger all of the above, rather than out of any real investment.) I think there are a number of reasons for this (which I have detailed before) and at any rate it is not particularly surprising; 53% of white women voted for Trump, after all.

What we are really seeing in fandom, are again the exact same dynamics that we see at larger and larger scales, for the exact same reasons. The stakes are smaller, but the perception of the power struggle is exactly the same.

Of course, the people who are involved in these things rarely think to interrogate themselves as to the true dimensions and root causes of their motivations. People rarely do that in general.

Putting all that aside, I’m glad that you have found a place you enjoy and feel comfortable, and thank you for the kind words, although I am not of the opinion that there is anything poignant about the non-fiction I write. It is, as I keep trying to emphasize, all there to be seen. One just has to open their eyes. So, it’s hard for me to accept appreciation of it.

Anyway, don’t feel shy about coming off of anon rather than continuing to send asks. We don’t really bite.

#Asks

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alvaar-aldaviir · 4 years

Text

Wondrous Tails: Listening to Music / Polyamory Discussion

This is going to be my last official prompt entry for the Wondrous Tails of FFXIV event. It's been an absolute blast, and I suppose no better way then to cap it off on a dual prompt my bingo board just gave me. With my Bard. And the weird road he's taken to get here.

Time Frame: Post Canon (years after Shadowbringers) Very minimal spoilers.

Notes: All characters are aged up. Mentioned possible poly relationship between my WoL and the twins. No, there won't be incest, ship what you like but I still don't think it fits the twins' personalities.

Also I have no idea how I keep writing from Alisaie's perspective but it keeps happening and I'm not even going to argue at this point.

Her brother was hopeless in matters of love. It was something Alisaie had long known about him, especially after having to endure the misplaced affections of several of his numerous crushes in the Studium. But watching him around Alvaar was borderline painful by proxy at times.

She’d thought it odd, the way he had immediately excused himself from the lavish hall of the Canopy as soon as Alvaar had taken up his harp and the amused snort the Bard made as he left. Yet another inside joke between them it seemed, and again one she hadn’t the faintest what it meant.

Having heard Alvaar’s music many times before she knew it wasn’t that he was terrible. In fact, his cheeky quip of being a ‘Bard of Bards’ sounded fairly accurate as she’d seldom met anyone rivaling the pull and sway of that skilled tenor and accompanying harp. Music hadn’t been any form of her specialty or interest in her studies, but she knew enough to tell when someone was good. Hells any random passerby who stopped in could tell that he was exceptional. A fair few had even found a seat and ordered food and drink to enjoy while they waited out yet another of Gridania’s torrential downpours.

Perhaps it was given his long years as a Bard of battle, raising voice and lyre to inspire and weave bolstering magic with his allies, which lent a persuasive pull to his songs. There was a... sincerity, she supposed. Buried deep in every tune ringing off strings and lyrics resonating in his voice. Age old stories and memories wrapped up in each song and if she closed her eyes it was almost as if she could see them herself.

Far off battles for ancient kingdoms. The journey and trials of heroes. The giddiness of a wild flight through open skies. The sorrow and determination of a Queen of ice.

And though there was no trace of Bardsong in his movements, no telltale hum of potent resonance as he wove supportive spells, she could vaguely read a subtle shift of aether. Not enough to invoke anything, but there nonetheless, shifting about him as if charmed by his song.

It explained a great deal she supposed, if his regular singing could tune and prime surrounding aether. Several of his clever tricks and impressive feats in their adventures made more sense if that were the case.

But even if she enjoyed his songs, it wasn’t in her nature to sit idle while the sun was still up. Rising to her feet after an hour she made for the door. A bit of rain didn’t mean she couldn’t explore the indoor market space or perhaps brush up a few skills in one of the practice yards.

It was just as she was clearing the door that a familiar shock of white caught her periphery, surprised to find her twin on the porch still, seated against the corner of the building and sketchbook on his lap. For a moment she pondered leaving him be before discarding the notion. What was the fun of that? Much more interesting to find if he would be too absorbed in his work to notice her approach when she doubled back to try the south exit and creep up over his shoulder that way.

“From memory, dear brother?” she asked abruptly as she studied his half-finished drawing, smirking as Alphinaud startled and almost dropped his charcoal stick. And even if he quickly and quite huffily clapped the book closed, they both knew the damage was done.

“Invasive as ever, dear sister,” he returned flatly.

“You know Alvaar would likely hold still for a portrait if you asked,” she commented lightly, leaning against the corner wall, and crossing her arms over her chest with a smug air.

“It’s just practice,” he murmured. “Nothing I would need him specifically for.”

“Mmm. So why, if I may ask, are you seated out here, in less than ideal conditions, sketching pictures of a man who’s been sitting fairly still and inside with better lighting?” she inquired.

“I like the peace and quiet actually, and ordinarily the privacy, but it seems rather lacking in it today,” he clipped back.

“Funny, I can still hear Alvaar just fine from here. Almost uncannily so...”

At that he merely shook his head and stared out over the lake the Roost overlooked, expression pensive and clearly not in the mood for their usual banter.

“... You should tell him you love him,” Alisaie stated after a moment, glancing down to meet his surprised stare. “Oh please... I’m your twin. I know you’ve been enamored with him longer than I have whether you want to admit it or not.”

A soft noise left his throat, trying for words and clearly meaning to protest before breathing out a heavy sigh and his shoulders slumping in defeat. It was probably one of the most miserable looks she’d seen on him in some time, and the notion of it grated on her nerves far more than she liked.

“And to what end?” he asked quietly. “I’ve no interest in hazarding the bonds we’ve built and driving a wedge between you and I, Alisaie. He seems quite taken with you, so I’ve no wish to jeopardize that for my own self-interest.”

“We’re casual. There’s nothing there for you to jeopardize,” the Red Mage answered simply.

“But you wish there were,” he returned promptly, meeting her gaze with a moment of resigned and knowing maturity.

It was enough to still her reflexive scoff and the lie that wanted to spring from her tongue. Damn it. Even after all these years he still had those moments of being infuriatingly mature. “... I do,” she answered.

“Then I’m not about to hazard that,” he stated firmly.

Sighing deeply, she lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose a moment. “Alphinaud... just because we’re minutes apart does not make me a child needing to be coddled from the world. Don’t sacrifice your own happiness because you believe mine more deserving. I’m a grown woman, I will be able to handle whatever he may choose.”

Silence filled the space between them, only accented by the hiss of rain and distant hum of harp and voice. Brow knitting in irritation as her brother continued to stay mired in his thoughts with no sign of changing his mind, she blew out a slow sigh for patience.

“Who’s to say he picks either of us anyway? .... Who’s to say he won’t pick us both?” she tosses out flippantly.

“Begging your pardon?!” Alphinaud blustered, staring at her in stupefied surprise.

Giving a one-armed shrug she gestured vaguely with her other hand. “I’m just saying that historically, things tend to work out where Alvaar is concerned. You never quite know how they will until they do, but neither will you find out just sitting around being miserable. And I’m not about to thank you for martyring your own feelings on my behalf, Alphinaud. You’re my brother. My twin. The one constant I can count on if no one else. If the world threatening to end several times hasn’t managed to change that, what makes you think the Warrior of Light could either?”

Glancing at him and the sincere surprise and sentiment in his eyes she looked away with a huff, resettling her stance to ease some of the embarrassment she was feeling.

“Do you mean that?” he asked softly.

“Of course I do and you know it. ... Besides, we’ve shared everything else most of our lives. If we could manage to handle sharing Angelo growing up, I think we could manage this too,” she reasoned casually.

“A dog is a far cry from a mutual boyfriend, Alisaie,” Alphinaud mumbled, face staining a bit red even just speaking of it.

“Well it would certainly make a more sensible reason for sharing the same house now wouldn’t it?” she teased, flashing him a grin at the inside joke.

Blinking at her in puzzlement for a moment, he finally gave a soft chuckle when it clicked. “You still remember that? Gods that was... over a decade ago now I think,” he mused tapping at his chin with a knuckle in thought.

“Of course. And I’m still just as intent on spiting that old bat now as I was then,” Alisaie confirmed.

She could still remember with perfect clarity the words Alphinaud had thrown back at their first instructor. An overly prim and proper Roegadyn woman who had picked and pried at them during and after lessons for always being together. ‘What will you do when you’re grown and married?’ she’d challenged them one day, haughty toned and dismissive as she’d stared down at them. ‘We’ll all live in the same house together of course!’ he’d shot back angrily, as if it were the most obvious solution in the world. Because at the time, and to them, it was.

If they weren’t meant to be together, two sides of a coin, why be born twins at all?

Giving an amused snort at the memory she pushed herself upright fully and stretched. “Maybe we can get another dog too. That would be nice.”

“You’re serious?” Alphinaud asked, tone still wary with disbelief.

“Sure. If you pay for it, I may even let you name it this time.”

“Not about the dog, Alisaie,” he sighed, ruffling his hair in exasperation. “You know what I meant.”

“I meant what I said Alphinaud. If you can be fine with whatever outcome happens, I can be fine with it to. If he picks you, or me, neither of us, or even both of us. It won’t change anything between us,” she answered firmly. “But if you don’t tell him because you’re worried about me, I’ll never let you hear the end of it.”

Sitting back against the wall, the Scholar made a slight face at the threat before he looked thoughtful instead of withdrawn. “I’ll... consider it.”

That was progress of some form at least she supposed, and that would have to do for now.

“Very well! But note I do demand payment for my invaluable advice,” she intoned haughtily, drawing herself up grandly before striding away. “Finish up that portrait and leave it in my inn room before sundown and I’ll waive my travel expenses too. If you need me, I’ll be in the markets.”

She didn’t need to look back to know the put-upon expression he’d be making. Just as she knew that half-finished picture of the Bard would be complete and on her bedside table when she retired to it.

“Hey Ali!” Alvaar greeted her cheerily, face flushed from liquor and a slight slur on his words. He was sitting at a table when she arrived back to the Roost during sunset, leaned heavily against the furniture and various bottles littering around him.

“What did you do?” she asked flatly, hands settling on her hips as she surveyed the scene disapprovingly.

“Nothin! Just... playin and singin and need booze fer my throat,” he chirped, smiling brightly.

“And about drunk off your arse. Come on, let’s get you to bed, it’s getting late.” Stepping closer she moved to help him up but stopped when he pressed a hand to her arm and held fast.

“Nah... ahm good. Dun worry bout me,” he soothed, smiling warmly. “Help will be along soon. Always does when I stop playin.”

Raising a brow at him, she sighed and opted to humor him. While she could certainly haul him to bed with the wiry strength she’d gained with her growth spurt and years of Red Mage training, trying to force Alvaar into anything when he didn’t want to was a recipe for failure. And bruises, as she’d learned once before on accident.

Grabbing up the empty bottles she took them to the counter for disposal, perking up at Alvaar’s next enthusiastic greeting while the proprietress made off with the bottles.

“Hey Alphi!”

Turning to watch her brother finally make his appearance from the stairs, she stayed put at the bar and waited. Noting the way Alvaar brightened in that quiet way of his, nodding and answering whatever questions Alphinaud had for him. The way her twin’s expression softened with a lovesick fondness even as he fretted over the Bard gently while Alvaar leaned into him for support instead of the table.

A few years ago, she’d spotted the easy trust between them. How they could speak without words almost as well as Alphinaud and she could. The confidence in each other and way they both eased when together. It had been an alien feeling, vexing in a way she couldn’t describe. Half worried she was losing her brother, and half convinced the flame of a crush she’d held for Alvaar was already a lost cause.

In some way she still worried, but if the many years fighting side by side against the threats of Source and Shards alike hadn’t diminished any of the bonds between them and only managed to strengthen them instead, she told herself there was little reason to pay it much mind.

“Ah, that’s a sight I haven’t seen in some time,” the Elezen woman behind the counter remarked softly, drawing Alisaie’s attention for a moment. She was an almost plain woman, with cropped ashen brown hair and simple dress, but the air of gentle confidence and friendliness was refreshing in a city that tended to huff at outsiders.

“A few years ago it would be almost weekly they would be here, Alvaar entertaining my patrons until he could barely stand, and young Alphinaud finally swooping in to see him off to bed like clockwork,” she mused aloud as if to no one in particular. “Alvaar used to get so sad when he played late into the night after he went to Ishgard. It was as if the sound of a broken heart was on those strings. It’s so nice that his music has its joy again.”

Blinking at her quietly for a moment, she looked back at the pair with a small nod. “Yea, it is,” she murmured.

“And they’ve grown up so much over the years too. Why, I remember when Alphinaud was still almost elbow height! And he used to boss our poor Bard around all the time and Taelis would get so furious with him he’d stomp out at all hours of the day. Of course, at the time Alvaar barely said a word so it was definitely on his behalf… It took Alvaar so long to come out of his shell from when he first arrived here, a fresh young Adventurer looking to help people. Oh, but then there was that nasty rumor in Ul’dah that had them both taking refuge here years ago… and then a few months after that Miss Y’shtola was recovering in one of our suites. They must have been sitting out here together until almost dawn waiting for her to wake up. They’ve been through here so much I almost can’t remember all the tales I’ve heard accompanying each visit...” she mused aloud, voice cheerful as she spoke of days long past.

There were a few beats of pointed silence that stretched between them, both watching silently as Alphinaud gathered Alvaar’s things for him and pressed the Bards harp into his hands so it could be dismissed dutifully.

“They love each other very much I think,” the proprietress mused aloud. “You can see it plain as day in how they look at each other.”

Feeling her heart sink at the ease of that statement and the truth in it, Alisaie looked away, starting to move before the woman spoke again.

“I wonder what adventures he must share with you, Alisaie, for him to look at you so lovingly as well.”

Turning abruptly to stare at her in surprise, she tried for words a moment and only managed a flustered, “W-how?”

Smiling at her kindly the woman raised a finger up with a gesture of confident intuition. “A Mother knows many things. She can always tell when one of her children is so genuinely in love.” Looking back at the pair fondly she continued. “I have always dearly wished for the happiness of the many adventurers and aspiring heroes who have found their way through these doors. So please, I ask you and Alphinaud both to take care of one of my dearest sons, as I know he will take care of you.”

Studying the gentle and proud demeanor of the woman in puzzlement, she was interrupted from whatever she might have said in reply by a loud cry of, “Ali!”

Looking over she noted her brother’s quiet amusement as Alvaar waved at her energetically in his liquor fueled excitement.

“Come on time for bed! I’m not going without you I told Alphi so!” Alvaar announced loudly, shifting his stance needlessly given the Scholar was mostly holding him up at this point anyway.

“Yes, I’m coming,” she called, casting a glance at the proprietress who still smiled at her fondly. Unable to think of anything to say she offered a nod, quickly making tracks as Alvaar whined her name again. Sweeping up under Alvaar’s other arm, she helped Alphinaud to carry his weight towards the suites. “Come on you, that’s enough yelling. Let’s get you to bed,” she chided.

“Okay!” the Bard chirped overly loud again. “Goodnight Mother Miounne!”

“Goodnight Alvaar! Pleasant dreams!” Miounne called fondly, watching the three make their way off to the stairs.

“Yes, you’ve all made Mother very proud indeed,” she murmured to herself fondly.

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