#pyre text post

[pyrepalaver]

yeah sorry we exiled your boyfriend. yeah he's losing hope pretty rapidly. yeah he--oh he just turned into a demon. yeah he's going mad trapped in an unbearable and unending hellscape. yeah and no level of penitence will absolve him of his minor wrongdoing. yeah super super sorry. his horns do look super cool at least.

[baiobey]

games about progressive fantasy afflictions are always going to own my disabled ass sooooo bad. especially when you can do very extreme things for the sake of improving your condition. especially when you can still be a hero. we need to make more of these

[isabelpsaroslunnen]

My best friend and I are both Star Wars fans, and we have an ongoing amicable debate about the merits of A New Hope vs Return of the Jedi.

We tend to agree that ANH is the smoother of the two films in terms of executing its vision and general craft. It doesn't have the unevenness of, say, the somewhat bloated Jabba's Palace sequence or the weird pacing and structure of some aspects of the Battle of Endor sequence. ROTJ, on the other hand, is (in our view) the more ambitious film, and when it does manage to fulfill those ambitions, it's better than almost anything in ANH. The characters are more nuanced, their dynamics are more intense and complex, the great scenes are just, by and large, richer and more evocative. When ROTJ is bad, it's worse than ANH, and when it's good, it's better.

The debate for us is not about whether those things are true, but whether the consistent quality of ANH or the more ambitious and (sometimes) powerful quality of ROTJ is "better." At the end of the day, the distinction is not incredibly important and both of us love both films. But it is interesting, to us, to think about the merits of execution vs ambition in storytelling and craft.

I was thinking about this, of course, because I read The Thief and then The Queen of Attolia in rapid succession, and I feel like there is something of that ANH-ROTJ dynamic between them. The Thief is the smoother, more precisely crafted book, IMO, but The Queen of Attolia is doing so much more.

There's so much development of the characters (especially my favorite, Attolia/Irene), so much more intrigue and just substance, so many wild twists and turns along the way, and the last quarter was both gripping and just swept me off my feet. I loved The Thief, but there's nothing in it that I felt as strongly about as I feel about ... I don't know, 2/3 of QoA.

But I also have some gripes with QoA that I don't really with TT—I think the use of secrets, whodunnit-style semi-unreliability, and unexpected revelations, was structured better or at least more smoothly in TT. There were points in QoA where the "aha! actually, the whole time..." revelations started to feel repetitive to me, and certainly points where I would have preferred to see more onstage development, or at least more hints coming earlier, and less shocking twists.

That said, the escalation of intrigue, the deeper characterization, Eugenides's recovery, the glimpses of young(er) Irene along with her development and fantastic maneuvering, and basically everything Helen chooses to be, made it not only worth the price of admission, but feel like the richer and more substantial work of the two. It's not as "clean" as TT, much as ROTJ is not as clean as ANH, but it does realize many of its ambitions in a more powerful way.

[mercurywaters]

any update on fuel? even just an acknowledgment that it’s on hiatus would be nice! hope all’s well

hi!!! FTP is not on hiatus, writing has just been super slow lately because I’ve got a lot going at the moment 😭

all is well, it’s just been a hectic few months with work and life!!! I hate giving out concrete dates since I almost never meet my own deadlines, but chapter three shouldn’t be much longer. I know that waiting for updates sucks, so I really appreciate the patience and continued interest 💗💗💗

[grandwretch]

I love when I'm high and talking to myself on here and then it gets 1k notes and people are in the tags like "this is hard to read" like yeah bud you weren't supposed to read it idk what happened either

[crittercay]

I played Fareha in a level 20, 15 years later reunion one shot tonight, and she met her end, fighting tooth and nail against her people's original enemy, an ancient red dracolich, whose name her people took for their own as a trophy. Her two party members got downed, stabilized and abducted, and a sad few of our NPC allies died fighting for us. It was never a fight to win, it was a mandate from heaven, it was the mitigation of damage.

But damn, if there was ever a way for her to go, that was it, even if she didn't get to die old, frail and cranky with her wife.

Rest easy for now, big girl; take a seat in the shade. You did what you needed to do, the horn is secured with Haar, and the kids and teachers escaped. You stayed true to the oath until the very, bitter, bloodbit end.

Leave it to the new kids now.

[maniculum]

Bestiaryposting Results: Lumchagg

Another one that's immediately recognizable if you spot its most-known characteristic, but I had to keep this one in because I thought it was entertaining that the author was clearly working from two different sources and, rather than try and reconcile the two, apparently just copied two slightly-different accounts and left them like that.

If you're not sure what I'm talking about, you can find an explanation and previous posts at https://maniculum.tumblr.com/bestiaryposting. The entry that people are working from this time can be found here:

And here's the one that folks will be drawing this week, if you want to get in on it:

Anyway, art below the cut:

@silverhart-makes-art (link to post here) noted the apparent existence of a larval stage in the second half of the entry, and drew a creature that's part Australian firehawk and part moth. I think this design is extremely cool, and does a good job extrapolating from the ideas of a bird that makes its own funeral pyre and apparently starts life as a larva.

@sweetlyfez (link to post here) went kind of a flamingo direction with this one, noting that a purple bird might acquire that coloration from its diet the same way flamingos do, which is cool. I also like the idea that its pyre/container is a silver censer, which is oddly accurate to medieval depictions -- I've definitely seen a couple of medieval images of this bird where its "nest" looks a lot like a fancy bowl. (Also thank you for including alt text.)

@kaerran (link to post here) makes note of a bit of a camera quality issue, but has what I think is a really clever idea. They've chosen to make their Lumchagg quite small, so that their "container" could in fact be the contents of a spice rack. A convenient solution for the modern Lumchagg with a high tolerance for plastic fumes. (Also thank you for including alt text.)

@ectocs (link to post here) has plotted out the lifecycle of a bird-thing that genuinely looks more like a dinosaur than anything, which I like a lot. That is a cool-looking bird. I also like the facial expressions a lot -- maybe it's just my imagination, but that blobby little worm stage seems quite pleased with itself. I strongly recommend clicking on the linked post to see a number of additional doodles and notes from the design process, which are very interesting in my opinion.

@cheapsweets (link to post here) has done this drawing in a nice dark purple ink, which is both pleasant and appropriate. The bird looks very cool, and I find the worm quite charming. I also appreciate the detail put into the pyre/nest/whatever here. It's good. I like it.

@pomrania (link to post here) notes that the medieval definition of "bird" is quite flexible, and of course worm and wyrm were more or less interchangeable... so this is a dragon. Entirely fair, I can't argue with that. It's pretty cute, too.

@coolest-capybara (link to post here) also gives us a life-cycle drawing, complete with a pupa, which I think is a nice and appropriate touch. They note the ambiguity of the term purple in pre-modern sources, so their Lumchagg has a more general colorful & iridescent look. I really like the parrot-worm-thing in the middle of the tree there.

To the Aberdeen Bestiary:

Yep, that's a bird. Presumably the trees are meant to represent frankincense and myrrh, both of which I believe are made from tree resin. Very good Stylized Trees, naturally. The bird, which kind of just looks like a hawk, also seems to be resting on an invisible perch, presumably because the artist wasn't sure what to do with the legs of a bird in flight.

There's also a second illustration:

That absolutely does not help identification, but I think a majority of participants clocked that this is the phoenix.

A few people noted that they hadn't known that phoenices (phoenixes? you know what, it doesn't matter, there's only one of them at a time anyway) were supposed to be purple. Others commented on the odd note about Arabia and the color purple, speculating as to what purple pigment was being referred to. I am excited to tell you that these two things are linked: the famous Tyrian Purple dye was originally used by... [drum roll]... the Phoenicians.

I actually had to delete a word from the entry before posting, because the original reads:

The phoenix is a bird of Arabia, so called either because its colouring is Phoenician purple, or because there is only one of its kind in the whole world.

The other part of the etymological explanation there is later explained by the assertion (the basis of which I do not know) :

The Arabs call a solitary man phoenix.

Also to be clear, there's not exactly a broad pre-modern consensus about phoenix coloration. Everyone seems to agree that it's brightly colored, but what colors vary widely. (However, it should be noted that "red" and "purple" are both popular options, and moreover that those colors are not always differentiated in older texts.)

It's tempting to say that the frankincense & myrrh is here probably just acting as a Christian resurrection metaphor because the authors are monks, but it is in fact the case that multiple medieval descriptions of the phoenix have it making use of valuable plants, including those. In the Old English Wonders of the East, it builds its nest from cinnamon. Herodotus (who says the phoenix is red and gold) mentions the phoenix using myrrh, but not as a nest or funeral pyre -- each new phoenix embalms the body of the previous phoenix in myrrh to be interred at the Temple of the Sun. Pliny (purple and gold, with a blue tail) has the nest made from cinnamon, incense, and perfumes, and when the little worm grows large enough it carries the nest, along with the remains of its predecessor, to said temple. Neither Herodotus nor Pliny mention the fire thing, interestingly, so I suspect it might have come in later. The Wonders of the East does mention the fire, but it has no opinion on the coloration.

I can feel myself falling into a rabbit hole, so I'm just going to cut this one off here.

[popatochisssp]

Hi!! If the Papyri are knights what are the Sanses? Also you should totally make an AU of this, you beautiful brain

You have no idea, none of you have any idea how absolutely insane I went about this goofy little one-off AU concept

...Some of you have an idea. And some of you maybe know me well enough to have just guessed I would go off the rails the way I have lol

Anyway, this is the first, but absolutely not the last of The Court AU:

Sans (Undertale): The court jester, in possession of a quick wit and a cutting sense of humor and with no desire to let either go to waste. He’s much beloved at court and prides himself on his ability to make even the stuffiest of courtiers chuckle with his jokes and pranks—and his jester’s privilege makes him nigh untouchable to those who somehow aren’t amused by him. It’s a good life…

Papyrus (Undertale): A proud knight of the kingdom and a member of the Royal Guard! Er…well…eventually, he will be. The Captain won’t make him a full member of the Guard until he’s proven his valor through a series of knightly quests…but she won’t tell him what the quests are, so he travels the kingdom as a knight-errant, helping those in need and solving problems that may or may not have needed solving! You’re welcome, good citizens!

Sky (Underswap Sans): A squire, or knight-in-training, attendant to the Captain of the Guard until he properly earns his own knighthood. …Frankly, he’s already capable and qualified to be a knight now, but he’s aware that the Captain has some reservations regarding his health and is hesitating to just give him the job because of it. He fully intends to prove himself to her in the line of active duty, and someday be recognized as a fully-fledged knight of the realm.

Paps (Underswap Papyrus): The court archivist, most at home amidst shelves of tomes and records and far away from the social obligations of the court itself. He tracks and preserves all kind of documents, from agricultural reports to genealogies to romantic poetry, and is on call to locate specific texts for any nobles or otherwise literate folks seeking to reference them. It gets a bit musty sometimes but he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Jasper (Underfell Sans): A mercenary, traveling the kingdom in search of people to sell his sword to for a bit of coin—and then traveling in search of satisfying ways to spend that coin. He does occasionally venture outside the kingdom for both of these things, but he has quite a few connections to well-paying opportunities within the borders, so as much as he avoids putting down roots, he tends not to stray too far from ‘home.’

Pyre (Underfell Papyrus): A knight in the Royal Guard, touted as a black knight for the scorched and stained armor he wears—a marker of the many deadly, heroic feats he’s conquered. No quest is too dangerous, no enemy too great for him to overcome, and he bravely takes on what lesser knights fear to risk. He’s quite accomplished dealing with dragons, and wildfires, and even mages, who always seem to cast fireballs and…well, perhaps that’s the reason his armor is so blackened…

Mal (Swapfell Sans): Personal guard to the Empress herself, nominally part of the Royal Guard as well but far from the front-lines of battle as his duty to her highness’ safety comes first and foremost. He’s involved in a lot of the structuring and scheduling of patrols for the lower ranking guardsmen, and his opinion is often sought in matters of state and military, but his primary concern is accompanying the Empress wherever she goes, or standing post just outside the door. Only on rare occasions does anyone else fill his role, and that’s just the way he likes it.

Rus (Swapfell Papyrus): He’s a nobleman who used his wealth and free time to pursue a passion in painting. His passion paid off in the form of a bit of notoriety for his work and several offers of patronage from other nobility seeking portraits and frescoes and the like done in his hand. …Or as he sees it, rich people paying him to do what he loves instead of some sort of actual job. As long as he can comfortably afford his paints, he’s happy.

Slate (Horrortale Sans): He’s a stableman at the queen’s castle, looking after the horses and hunting dogs kept there. He isn’t as quick as he used to be, and his memory hasn’t been the same since his head injury, but he was graciously employed elsewhere rather than dismissed and it’s…fine. Well enough, at least. It’s dirty and often thankless work, but he is fond of the animals, and much prefers their company to anyone else.

Papy (Horrortale Papyrus): He’s a medic in service to the knights of the Royal Guard. He actually used to be among their number…sort of…but there were some changes, in his life, and his eye-sight isn’t really what it used to be anyway, and… Well! He spent some time learning from the court physician and got very interested in ways to treat illness and injury. He’s not as skilled and knowledgeable as a full-fledged healer but he’s happily on hand for minor training accidents and sicknesses or injuries in those coming back from patrols. He loves to be able to help!

Ash (Undergloom Sans): A musician who plays his trusty horn for the court during all the feasts and festivals. He’s only one player of many but enough of a talent to be selected for the job and pleased that his music should entertain the king and queen and all their noble guests. It’s not the most glorious of positions but he’s happy enough doing it and lives well for his station.

Yrus (Undergloom Papyrus): Head cook in the castle kitchens, a station he worked up to from the bottom as a lowly kitchen boy. He has a lot of experience making meals for the royal couple and for all the nobles that regularly attend court gatherings and he knows how to give the people what they want. There are several other cooks and kitchen attendants that work with him but it’s his job to make decisions and keep everything running smoothly, which keeps him busy but happily so.

Brick (Horrorfell Sans): He sticks exclusively to the royal court these days, not as a hired sword but as a wealthy and rakish duke of the kingdom. His brother gave him the title and it’d be stupid not to take advantage of the perks—though he does have to earn them. He’s less a hired sword now and more a hired axe, performing the duty of the royal executioner whenever he’s called upon to do so. No need to wear a hood, everyone knows who he is and what he does to enemies of the crown.

King (Horrorfell Papyrus): The king of the castle, in a very literal sense. Some may call him a usurper or a traitor to the crown to have seized the throne for himself without proper claim… and for those people he arranges a meeting between their necks and his brother’s blade. He seized the throne because he’s loyal to the crown and the queen he deposed was wearing it quite poorly. If he could, he would’ve stepped down by now and given way to the true queen, but the people have been through enough upheaval—so he will remain as their king, as long as is necessary.

Merc (Horrorswap Sans): A cursed king who lives an austere, lonely life in a desolate castle by the sea. He fled from his true realm in disgrace and now awaits an end to his curse or his shame—whichever comes first—in the ruins of a fallen kingdom as degraded as he is. He doesn’t expect to be found, or saved from the curse that his own choices wrought upon him, and just tries to bear his fate with the grace expected of him.

Ell (Horrorswap Papyrus): Prince-errant of his kingdom, meant to be ruling his people but instead gallivanting off across the countryside in search of his missing brother. He wants to find him and know he’s well about as much as he doesn’t want to go back and be the ruler of a kingdom, for which he was never properly trained and is wholly unprepared! Maybe in his search and his hardships, he can find the strength and maturity to do what the kingdom needs him to do…but he’s not there yet, and finding his brother is his priority.

Pitch (Horrorswapfell Sans): Every knight in the Royal Guard is hand-picked and trained by him. He held a high office among the guardsmen once, but a severe injury put him out of commission and without his sight, he was no longer fighting fit, as they say. Still, his strength and his skill didn’t abandon him and while he could be a liability on the battlefield, he’s nothing less than a powerful asset when it comes to training the knights up to his own exacting standards. Only the best make it through his gauntlet.

Nemo (Horrorswapfell Papyrus): He walks the wall of the castle at night, standing guard for any threats to the kingdom that might otherwise go unseen. He takes his duty very seriously and refuses to let any night pass without a watchman on duty, even in foul weather or nights of great feasts and festivals. His vigilance has protected the kingdom from many a threat and he feels certain that his job is of much higher importance than any frivolous pastimes he absorbed himself in before.

Sunny (Gastertale Sans): A courtier of…mysterious origin. He’s often at court, making conversation and telling colorful stories to anyone whose ear he can snatch—and he manages to snatch quite a few—but no one can manage to figure out quite where he came from or what he ought to be doing. Mostly, he entertains himself and others with various leisurely pursuits, games, hunts, dances, songs, and as such he’s a well-liked person at court…wherever he came from.

Aster (Gastertale Papyrus): Another man of mystery who appeared at court on the heels of his brother, though far less flamboyantly. He’s obviously a learned man, well-educated and well-spoken, and though he wasn’t as warmly embraced by the courtiers at large, he was eventually welcomed into the king’s confidence as a royal advisor. The backing of the king being what it is, he’s accepted and respected as probably some sort of nobleman, regardless of his unclear origin, and continues to advise the king on matters of state.

Spectr (Transcendtale Sans): A wanderer, uprooted from his life and former kingdom and left to walk the land in search of meaning. Some say his kingdom was destroyed but for a small handful of survivors. Some say he turned to dark magic and sold his soul for the chance. to take revenge on the one who desolated his home. Some say he’s ageless, bones turned to cold iron and chest empty of breath to contain the power he now holds. …They’re all right. But his quest is long over, and all that’s left to do now is wander.

PapAIrus (Transcendtale Papyrus): He’s a proud knight of the kingdom! He may not have been in the Royal Guard when he was tragically cut down before his time, but he did come back from death as a ghostly semblance of himself at the same time everyone else did—and when your Captain is no longer worried that you might get yourself killed in battle because you already did, promotions are in order! So, he now serves his phantom kingdom as a phantom knight, valiantly and eagerly, but of course, taking time every now and then to visit his (mostly) living family member, to keep him from brooding too hard.

Xanth (Ascendswap Sans): It’s…slightly unclear what he does. He’s seemed strange for a time, a bit touched, but the queen seems to hold him in high esteem and never fails to consult him (among others) before any major decisions are made. Sometimes he’ll appear in unusual places with cryptic messages, or look into peoples’ eyes and divine their intentions (should they be ill ones), and for all this, though he holds no specific title, he’s at least informally called the court mystic. There are rumors that his strangeness and that of those closest to him is because he made contact and some sort of bargain with the faefolk…but those are surely just rumors.

Piper (Ascendswap Papyrus): The royal falconer, primary trainer, keeper, and handler of all the hawks and falcons owned by the queen. It wasn’t a job he was born into, but one he sought out of the blue one day, and he earned his way by demonstrating a remarkable affinity for the birds even prior to any training. By now he’s a figure of great respect for the command he has over the flighted beasts, and he happily demonstrates it during the queen’s feasts and king’s hunts.

Carmine (Underfell Fruition Sans): He’s earned his way at court with talent, performing dazzling displays of bullets and other magic for nobles and royals alike. He’s a standout from other such entertainers in that his well of magic never seems to run dry and he can keep showing off his juggling and his light shows and his dancing bullets from sun-up to sun-down without ever tiring. He doesn’t talk much about his life before coming to court, but he’s happy now so it’s just as well.

Tank (Underfell Fruition Papyrus): He was trained from a very young age to be a soldier, a paladin meant to fight in a holy war and raised to believe his greatest purpose was to die on the battlefield and bring glory to the cause. That all…never happened. He was freed from the grip of the zealots and reunited with the brother he hadn’t seen in ages, but then left at odds for what to do now—a warrior with no war to fight. Eventually he becomes apprenticed to a carpenter in town in the hopes of learning a trade to live on, and…he’s starting to be content.

Vi (Swapfell Fruition Sans): Spymaster to the crown, head of a small network of covert informants, assassins, thieves and the rest of their ilk. It was a career he…inherited…but also one he carried out diligently, carefully, and above all, secretly. At least, until his brother married and he left to join him in his new kingdom, where he serves much the same function at court—with the added responsibility of wrangling and occasionally nominally filling in for the crown prince. All according to plan.

Hunter (Swapfell Fruition Papyrus): He was in the same family business as his brother, but when he caught the eye of a visiting monarch and won an invitation to their kingdom, to marry, well… how could he refuse? And when, after an unsuspicious amount of time, his spouse is found dead under mysterious—but not too mysterious—circumstances, and no one from the proper line of succession seems to be coming to take their place… He really has no choice but to go from the prince consort to the crown prince, for the sake of his late spouse’s people. He’s far from a proper or responsible prince, and certainly has some kind of reputation, but he’s pleased enough with how everything’s going.

Kohl (Descendtale Sans): He minds the royal dungeons. It’s not what he started out doing, but somewhere along the way he lost the humor for anything else, and it’s as good a job as any. Not too many strangers make it into the kingdom these days, but plenty have foul intentions and it is something he takes some pride in, keeping watch over those ill-meaning outsiders and making sure they stay put, where they belong. He’s not the kindest of dungeon-keepers, but quite frankly, since when was ‘kindness’ part of that job description?

Bram (Descendtale Papyrus): His brother keeps the dungeon and he keeps the grounds. While a groundskeeper isn’t anything close to what he thought he’d want to be, a lot has happened—to him personally and to the kingdom as a whole—and well, he’s providing a very valuable service with his work, humble though it may be. Anyone with skin would have a horrid time pruning back all the wicked, cursed thorns that keep trying to consume the realm, and unchecked, they could probably run wild in less than a fortnight, where would they all be if he let that happen?

[rontra]

Tell us about they/them lesbian Cinder with text to back it 👀

askfbhs okay but this post is like 2000 words long

statement one: doing a reading of a text, and then using that analysis to draw a particular conclusion for one's own enjoyment, is largely disconnected from the authorial intents that created said text. it's common for a piece of text to be able to be read in many ways, and for those readings to be able to used as supports for a multitude of conclusions. by no means should this post be framed as a comment on what "the canon text Means", because that is fundamentally not what we're trading in. we're not "proving" anything

statement two: cinder's character is complex, deftly written, and can be mined for a lot of meaning, much like all of rwby. there's a lot going on at all times in this show, and many parts remain to some degree an open question since the story hasn't finished yet. you can draw dozens of readings from almost everything in this work. by the same hand, some parts of this post were necessarily abbreviated for time lmao

statement three: cinder's relationship with gender SPECIFICALLY is genuinely textually interesting no matter where you go with it in the end, so if nothing else, at least enjoy Thinking About It... 😌

the core idea here is actually really simple hahaha. we'll take a scenic route though, to affix that idea into a more complete picture. a Pattern if you will

cinder is very strongly characterized by two linked ideas: the fear of being powerless, and the annihilation of the previous self that was powerless. the outward face of cinder's identity is very unstable because of the latter; a lot of conscious effort is expended trying to erase the cinder fall that once existed--the one that was at other people's complete mercy (and received nothing of the sort). cinder is always in "survival mode", trying to achieve some sense of personal safety and to avoid being perceived as weak and vulnerable. that terror and hunger nipping at cinder's heels is what leads into salem's claws--into a new grip of abuse, of course--because salem promises to solve it and give all the power cinder could want and more. yeah?

the most easy-to-track manifestation of those twin drives is, of course, where they intersect with a major piece of rwby's own thematic language: weapons! in rwby's language, weapons are closely tied to their wielder's identity--"They're an extension of ourselves! They're a part of us!", famously! (v1e2)

(...which also gives us very funny little unrelated nuggets like the eternally faceless and repressed "i was the machine, just following orders" winter having weapons whose names--if they even have any--we don't know. but that's a knowing smile for another day)

cinder was trained by rhodes to wield two swords, an idea that's later combined with archery into what we consider "cinder's weapon", Midnight. in the flashbacks of v3e7, Midnight is in its earliest and most ordinary form. this Midnight is made of normal weapon stuff like metal lmao and cinder uses it very effectively in taking down amber. HOWEVER, as soon as cinder lays hands on half of amber's power, this version of Midnight is thrown aside and destroyed: the pyre that destroys Midnight is used to demonstrate cinder's power and intimidate the Fang. after this—for the duration of the beacon arc—cinder instead uses glass to form a replica of Midnight. this "imitation Midnight" lasts until cinder is maimed by ruby atop beacon tower (and presumably medevac'ed by one of salem's other guys LMAO)

after 1) suffering this defeat, and 2) obtaining the rest of amber's power, cinder flat out stops using Midnight. beyond this point, cinder solely relies on magic to create an ever-changing roster of weapons as needed. with the completion of Autumn's power, so too is the killing of Midnight completed: as far as cinder is concerned, the "self" that was connected to Midnight no longer exists. the part of cinder's story and identity that was in Midnight has been buried and no one will ever know about it again. preferably everyone would just act like none of it ever existed and cinder has Always been powerful (and did NOT just get rent asunder by a teenager! please and thank you!)

the incremental deaths of Midnight really show the crutch that power is to make cinder feel safer and more confident, and the urge to destroy the past/the version of cinder who was not as powerful. once cinder has the maiden power, Midnight is unnecessary. it's also interesting to see that many of these magic-made weapons are visibly fractured, fragile, and expendable, which i'm sure in the Weapon Symbolism Show doesn't mean anything its fine 😭😂

anyway in this new era of relying completely on magic we start to observe another quirky aspect: rather than drawing on personal identity, cinder will frequently imitate other characters who were in some way "powerful" (or at least "impactful"). see: floating array and miló. cinder imitates people who left an impression of strength or skill; in endlessly chasing "power", cinder is nabbing pieces of what makes other people powerful and cobbling them together, to cover the "flaw" (heavy quotes) that is cinder's own identity.

without you, i am nothing.

still, what does cinder keep falling back on, like a habit you can't shake? the original! and when cinder defies salem's orders in v8, what do we finally see again, for just a brief moment? hey, i thought you were dead! for as much as cinder wants to pretend the past is dead and buried, it sure seems to be Haunting us: right there underneath the paint, as soon as cinder stops thinking about copying someone else, or is defiant of salem's control and has to rely on Just Cinder (god forbid!), there it is again.

"okay, that's fine," you might be saying, a few million words into this gigantic post, "but what does any of that have to do with cinder fall's gender". listen to me. this was all setting up very important context for the funniest thing about cinder fall.

like, anyone that's even half-awake while watching rwby will notice the huge differences between how cinder acts and looks in the beacon arc VS how cinder has acted and looked Since Then. beacon arc cinder is smooth and in control and mature and dangerous. and of course, she's feminine. i've seen people outright call this incarnation of cinder a femme fatale! and i guess i can see why; she has mystery, beauty, a little bit of seduction to sway people. she plays manipulative games. and of course, she's dangerous. cinder in the beacon arc is exceedingly threatening because of how good she is at being the underdog; when she has to use cunning instead of brute force and scheme her way uphill in both directions, she kills it! literally!

--hey that was a lot of she/her all of a sudden. hmm. let's talk about women (audience cheers) NO I MEAN. evil women (audience cheers louder)

cinder's life is strongly marked by two women in particular: the madame and salem. both of them exert an immense amount of power over cinder; when we talk about situations where cinder has been powerless, these two people are the ones that spring to mind. in cinder's world, which is very coldly divided into people who Have Power and people who Do Not Have Power, both madame and salem very much Have Power. they have maybe the Most Power It's Possible To Have, by cinder's math. this also makes them Very Important figures for our examination, because what they are will reflect back onto cinder's malleable self.

madame and salem are both feminine, both older, both powerful; examine these two and suddenly you start seeing the pieces being stolen. the mature shade of red the madame wears. salem's levelheaded control paired with her distance and mystique—(trying not to say "and her cleavage")... v8e6 even places explicit focus on the sound of the madame's high heels as a herald of incoming danger.

their bearing, their ways of navigating the world, the way they dress. their… oh my god… their gender presentation!!!

the thing about cinder fall is that the mimicry of power does not stop at weapons. this is a Pattern that extends BEYOND merely "doing the floating array trick". the entirety of beacon arc cinder, including gender presentation, is mimicry. because in cinder's mind at this point, the most powerful thing a person can be is a mysterious older femme.

to cinder, ideas traditionally associated with femininity, specifically the femininity of adult women, are explicit markers of power and threat; and these things can be picked up and worn and imitated. these things can be performed. but there's never a sense that cinder owns these things or is particularly attached to them (i mean, beyond cinder's conception of Power). furthermore, cinder doesn't fully understand how these two women operate, and (being far younger) lacks the experience to fully embody them.

(--the way cinder handles emerald in particular is very revealing of this disconnect, as the dynamic shown as early as v2 is a clear attempt to wrangle her the way salem does her own minions; but cinder fails to understand and execute the crucial part, which is tapping into what emerald actually wants. because cinder, living in their own "survival mode" priority list, can't understand or relate to what emerald wants from them. the attempts made to replicate salem's affectations only push emerald away and strain her loyalty.)

but goddamn if cinder doesn't think power is stored in the gender!

it's interesting, then, that after the beacon arc blows up and a huge L is handed to Femme Cinder, they gradually drift further and further away from this; the illusion has broken. in lockstep with their drift from salem—cinder's exile, then intentionally testing the ice to see how far salem will let them stray—the further they go, the more they assert themselves, the further they also stray away from those "markers of power" associated with salem and madame. in the era of the blink-and-youll-miss-it flash of cinder's own identity, of Midnight, we also witness the ever-increasing straying from the performance of femininity that the beacon arc cinder clung to. huh!

so, let's see, we have a very intentional and consistent streak of cinder attempting to annihilate their own identity and replace it with something else (something strong) (something no one can hurt); this theme is visible both in their armory and wardrobe. cinder is terrified of who they'll be without these masks, because that person has been victimized, betrayed, and abused by every person who had power over them. the solution cinder has in their mind is to Become So Powerful that no one can do that to them ever again, no matter what they have to do or sacrifice to get there. and a lot of that conflict is slathered in this layer of Gender Stuff! this is INTERESTING!!!! no matter what people take from this post i at least hope you can find this aspect interesting, especially if you hadn't really thought about cinder's mimicry before...

anyway the very Gendered tension in their character comes bearing down twice as hard when considering that madame verbally invokes ideas about "being ladylike" while she's abusing them, reinforcing this mental link between Being Ladylike = Having Power, Not Being Ladylike = Not Having Power (= being crushed under the (high) heel of those that Do). cinder's femininity is ungenuine at best and coerced at worst; in my opinion, that much has been gestured at pretty overtly

from here, you can draw whatever conclusions from it that you please; e.g. would cinder LIKE to claim femininity for themselves in a genuine way, or would they not? do they feel attached to it, or not? in the Midnight glimmers of cinder's own real human self—the one they try so desperately at every turn to kill and bury, by directly coöpting pieces of other people they think are powerful—what do you see there? that's a conclusion for you to draw, of course…

you've no doubt twigged by the pronoun heehoos happening in this post that i'm quite fond of they/them cinder lol. i like my non biney lesbian struggler (the lesbian part Specifically i don't have a whole post locked and loaded for, that's just because im a lesbian and i like it<3). i rotate the disconnect between cinder and their identity and their performance in my mind and go "huh! your gender is Lesbian. congrats sweet prince" well anyway i think salem shoulda been cool FOR ONCE and offered to give them top surgery when she was gluing them back together after beaconSJHBHBNSDHB

of course, there's a myriad of ways to take this and make it serve whatever gender and pronouns headcanons you like, so i'm not saying it definitely means exactly what i personally like. like i said at the start, i'm not interested in "proving" anything or whatever. i'm just observing that it's interesting, and then im applying it to beef up headcanons i personally like... so you do as you will, too 😌

but to me, no matter what final conclusion is drawn, gender is a performance and cinder fall is trapped on the stage! goodluck up there!

[ladyannemarie5]

So... Remember my old post of WarLord!Geralt searching for the bard and discovering that Jaskier is Radovid's consort in Redania?

You can see it here

Well, I couldn't stop thinking about that and here's just part of what I've come up with so far. 

Caution: Lots and lots of text. Almost 2k words.

-----

Geralt's first formal order as Warlord of the North is to search the continent for the bard Jaskier.

Five years have passed since Geralt last saw Jaskier. Five years since the mountain disaster and the day Geralt made the bard believe that the greatest blessing of his life would be to get rid of him.

Since then, Geralt has found his surprise child, resolved his issues with Yennefer and formed a new empire under his and the other witchers' command. And there hasn't been a single moment when he hasn't regretted pushing his bard away. 

That is why, as soon as political things settle down and his mainly non-human subjects begin to form real households, the new warlord sends all available people to search for the man who made him White Wolf.

He knows from Yen, that Jaskier became the Sandpiper, so he has the witchers approach the smuggling network to help the refugees get to his new realm and also to gather as much information as they can about the poet's whereabouts. 

They hear rumors and whispers about the famous bard Jaskier singing in taverns and famous courts, but every time they reach the last place where he was seen, it turns out that the bard has already departed. It also seems that 20 years at the side of a witcher have made him very good at running away from them without a trace. 

Geralt grows more desperate by the day. He wants to apologize to Jaskier, he wants to tell him how sorry he is and how much he wants him to come back to him, because he is finally ready to stop running away from his feelings. He needs Jaskier by his side, either as his lover or simply as his friend. He just needs to know that the poet is safe and sound.

That's why his heartbeat stops for a moment when new information arrives from the bard. It turns out that Nilfgaard beat him to it and captured Jaskier months ago. 

Geralt moves all his people to search for the place where the bard is being held prisoner until they finally find the small fort where their sources say he is. Geralt himself leads the attack.

Everyone is really confused when they break through the entrances and discover that there is no one alive there. There are only remnants that there was once a small army operating in the place but they fled some time ago. 

Unfortunately, there are also remnants of torture in one of the fort's dungeons. Geralt feels an immense urge to vomit as he enters the place and the smell of Jaskier's blood reaches his nostrils. His eyes sting with tears of anger and sadness when he finds a piece of blue silk in one of the corners. His anger and grief increase when they find a funeral pyre on the outskirts of the site. Jaskier is gone forever.

Shortly thereafter, the University of Oxenfurt issues a statement mourning the death of its greatest teacher and legend, the bard Jaskier. Apparently, a Redanian convoy was on a reconnaissance mission when they found a fort with remnants of Nilfgaard troops. Upon entering they discovered that the soldiers had already left but had left the body of a man in one of the dungeons. One of the men, apparently a fan of the bard, recognized his belongings and alerted his superiors to the man's identity. Jaskier's body was burned by the Redanians due to the advanced state of decomposition. All that remained was a broken elven lute that was given to the university as proof of the poet's death.  

Geralt demands that the lute be given to him. Eskel and Lambert are required to hold it when the dean refuses to give the instrument to the witcher on the grounds that Jaskier himself had left them to them in his will. The document firmly states that all of the bard's possessions were to pass to the university to dispose of as they see fit. 

Geralt cries for the first time in years when he finds out. Officially, he has nothing left of his bard. 

The Sandpiper network continues to operate as usual, at least for a while since the discovery of the fort, until something incredible happens: Redania enacts a new law saying that all elves, dwarves and other non-humans would no longer be persecuted, and could even choose to be legal citizens of Redania. 

Years pass since then. Ciri, Yen, Triss and his brother witchers remain by his side and life on the continent continues almost unchanged as the White Wolf finishes consolidating himself as a monarch of a strong and prosperous territory. The hope that Jaskier will one day appear alive and singing about the Warlord every day fades. They hadn't seen the body and when Yen wanted to use a tracking spell with the lute just to make sure, it led to nothing.

And then politics suffers another attack: King Vizimir of Redania is murdered. Yen says that rumors point to his own brother, Prince Radovid, being the one who murdered him, as he was crowned that very night at the side of his lover, a random nobleman named Julian. Geralt does not doubt it. Humans are cruel and ambitious.

The obligatory mourning passes slowly, one day all the kingdoms (except Nilfgaard) are summoned to celebrate the new king and his consort. To the surprise of everyone in Kaer Morhen, the White Wolf and his entourage are invited to the celebrations. Yen and Triss say that it would be rude not to go, as Redania fully recognizes their kingdom unlike other territories, so it would be beneficial for Geralt to attend and seal ties with a kingdom as powerful as Redania. 

Geralt wants nothing more than to stay in Kaer Morhen and continue to evade the outside world. Jaskier is no longer in it so there is nothing interesting out there. But he knows it's inevitable that he will attend the Redania celebrations, and Yen is right, it's a great opportunity. So he and his entourage leave for the kingdom. 

They are greeted in a grand manner, just like any other monarch and his entourage. Redania has shown that he wants to form ties with Kaer Morhen, so Geralt decides that he will do his best to make it all go well. It seems that King Radovid himself and his consort will welcome them once they have settled in properly. 

Geralt feels all the air leave his lungs, his head feels heavy and in turmoil, and he thinks he will burn Redania to the ground for such an offense. Next to King Radovid, stands a man with blue eyes and brown hair. A man resembling Jaskier stands right there, his arm resting on the king's arm. 

He introduces himself as Julian Alfred Pankratz, formerly Viscount of Lettenhove, now royal consort to King Radovid.

Yen cannot help but advance to him with a murderous look. He magically probes him and in an icy voice lets them all know that he really is Jaskier, the bard dead years ago. Julian replies that it's really good to see everyone once again. 

The welcome feast begins. Geralt can't take his eyes off Jaskier. The king and his consort act like any normal couple, both conversing with each other, together and very intimate. Geralt feels his stomach churn. 

At some point in the night, Julian manages to sneak into Geralt's room. He silently asks the Witcher to verify that no one is listening and that there are no traces of magic around. Geralt confirms that they are alone. 

Geralt has many questions, but he can't say any. Not with the man he thought was dead in front of him. But he finally gets something out of his mouth, asking for explanations. 

Julian tells the witcher that after the mountain he traveled for a while by himself, but seeing the injustices to the elves and other non-humans made him want to do something. With his contacts in the RSS he became the Sandpiper. He would go back and forth from Oxenfurt to other places on the continent to recruit new people into the network. During his stays in Oxenfurt and thanks to Philippa and Dijkstra, he met Prince Radovid. 

Geralt's heart breaks when he hears from the bard how lonely and desperate he felt until Radovid came into his life.

"By the time I realized it, I was lost and hopelessly in love with Radovid," he tells Geralt. 

The warlord can't help but mention that the bard fell in love with a king-killer. Julian jumps to his consort's defense and tells Geralt everything. 

Philippa and Dijkstra want to take Redania to war against Nilfgaard, they assassinated Queen Hedwig to make Vizimir give in to their advice, however, the king didn't. The two councilors then went to harass Jaskier, threatening his job as the Sandpiper to tell them the location of Geralt and Ciri, so they could use it as political leverage against Nilfgaard. Of course the bard refused. 

So Jaskier was kidnapped and tortured by Nilfgaard to find out the location of Geralt and Ciri. Radovid, madly in love and worried about Jaskier, set out to look for him everywhere, until he was finally found dying in the fort. Philippa and her magic saved him. 

Radovid, concerned for the bard's safety, proposed to him to fake his death in order to drive away all those who were looking for him, including the man who despised him on a mountain. Jaskier accepted on the condition that he stop pursuing the elves. 

As the announcement of Jaskier's death shook the entire continent, he and the prince planned to leave the castle and travel together, away from the intrigues of the court. Vizimir, happy for his brother, immediately agreed to let them both leave as long as they accepted his help and communicated constantly. The night of their departure, Vizimir was assassinated. 

Geralt is shaken when Jaskier tells him that Philippa and Dijkstra killed Vizimir so they could manipulate Radovid and take Redania to war. The new king is stalling as long as possible, but there is no denying the influence of both advisors on the king's decisions. Geralt snarls when he learns that the sorceress and spymaster are threatening the former bard's life to make Radovid do as they command. 

Jaskier knows that Geralt hates him, that he is not complying with the one thing he has asked of him, but he needs him to get Dijkstra and Philippa out of the picture so he can save Redania and his lover from going to war. And so he lets the witcher know. 

------

And well, that's it. At least until now. 

I want to clarify that anyone who wants to write this has my absolute permission to do so, just tell me so I can read it because I definitely don't think I'll write it myself. If you want to comment on something, another idea, another point, an insult, change something to this. etc., you are welcome to do so. I don't usually reply much but I really do read everything posted on Tumblr. 

Thanks if you read all this verbal vomit and apologies once again for the huge amount of words.

[pyrepalaver]

i think volfred would, on very rare occasion, do something incredibly silly but in a way that no one would believe. like one day he's alone with the reader and just fucking dabs and the reader can't say anything because no one would believe it.

[mania-sama]

rule #33 - pyre

Rule #33 - Pyre - Fish in a Birdcage

Jujutsu Kaisen Pairing - Gojo Satoru & Nanami Kento, Fushiguro Megumi & Fushiguro Tsumiki & Gojo Satoru Tags - veteran! gojo, gojo has ptsd, parental! gojo, no curses au, ptsd, heavy angst, implied/referenced child abuse, russian ballet references, gojo adopted the fushiguros, flashbacks Summary - Gojo Satoru, a young, decorated veteran, is petrified of fireworks. Word Count - 2,721 Cross-posted from Archive of Our Own Whumptober 2023 - Day 31: PTSD See my full Whumptober 2023 Challenge on Tumblr or Ao3

Festivals are, generally speaking, the worst times of the year.

Gojo isn’t a killjoy. He enjoys the colors decorating the streets and adorning the yukatas, kimonos, or whichever traditional clothes are being worn in accordance with the celebration just like everybody else. Venders add extra spices and seasonings to their food, the prices are lowered, and the overall atmosphere buzzes with childish joy.

And, despite his best attempt to keep up his indifferent exterior, young Megumi’s eyes light up when Gojo informs him of the special occasion. Toji’s children love festivals like the rest of civilian Japan. Excitement is rare to see in a child like Megumi, so he always arranges for someone to take him and Tsumiki out to experience the fun in Tokyo.

Instead of spending time with Toji’s little goblins that he’s doing his damn best to raise into decent human beings, he sits in the tiniest closet in his penthouse with thick sound-proof headphones to maximize the noise-canceling effect. He brings a weighted blanket to drape over his body so he won’t have to feel any reverberations, either. It has the added use of making him feel secure and grounded.

It isn’t the principle of missing out on the festival, it’s having to answer Tsumiki’s imploring question, “Why can’t you take us to the festival?” with a flippant laugh and a lie. He wants nothing more than to lie on the grass or stand in the streets and watch the dazzling fireworks with them.  But as soon as the first fireworks explode, followed by smaller pops and shattered lights, he thinks that the dirt and grass shards are hiding landmines, or that snipers are blowing off his comrades' heads from the broken-glass buildings. The streets are empty save for the scared civilians holding automatic rifles and enemy soldiers with orders to leave no one alive.

Gojo can’t go to festivals. He can’t listen to the sound of fireworks in his own home without diving under his kitchen table and plugging his nose to hide his panting breaths. Experience has taught him to stay in his closet and keep his headphones and blanket on, no matter how his heart breaks as the children’s faces pull into resignation when he denies them yet another festival.

He is normally a very observant person. He’d been so ever since he was a child, but having been trained to be a soldier since he could walk, it didn’t really mean much regarding innate ability. In any case, he kept good track of the days, months, and years. He prefers to ignore schedules entirely and operate solely on a feel-good basis, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t perfectly aware of the exact time it is at any given moment. It’s a system of behavior he can’t rewrite, unfortunately.

Except in the odd case — when he was without food and water in the Gobi desert, when he mourned the death of his best friend, or when both of his children ran a hundred and three-degree fevers for an illness he doesn’t know the name of. Time stops operating in his mind. He loses where he is, and all he can focus on is nursing Megumi and Tsumiki back to health.

Gojo shouldn’t have run out of the house to buy medicine and stockpile their favorite foods. He knows he shouldn’t have. Logic would reason that he would call or text a friend to bring him what he needs and pay them back later. But Satoru isn’t a Gojo for nothing.

He is the youngest decorated veteran of the last century. He doesn’t rely on other people, because he is the strongest. He only calls for help from his friends for the sake of the children, not for himself. Children should always be put before him.

The best officer of the Japanese military can certainly handle an emergency supply run in a safe environment for two sick children. The store isn’t even that far away. He’s in a rush, yes, but it’s simple work. He’s accomplished much more in half the time.

He notices the people in bright yukatas but he doesn’t pay them any mind. Whatever event is going on, he doesn’t care for. He can view it from the balcony of his penthouse if it's something really important. He runs into the store, nearly breaks his card in his hurry to pay, and walks out with the image of his — Toji’s — children quickening his strides. Pushing past the gathered crowds of dressed-up people, Gojo picks up on a faint whisper of excitement. It causes his step to falter, only for a second. He doesn’t even fully stop.

An even fainter whizzing sound fills the vast space between him and the children. The sky explodes in shattered lights.

It’s a festival. He knows this. But when he looks around, where his feet are carrying him behind the closest building on autopilot, when crouches to the ground and covers his mouth and plugs his nose, he isn’t exactly sure. He’s not sure that the thick concrete support beam is ready to crumble as a part of the dilapidated city from bombs, guns, and missiles. He’s not sure that those gasps out there are from the spray of civilians and soldiers falling to automatic rifles and suicide bombers.

He holds the paper bags in his hands, shaking, feeling a medicine bottle between his fingers. It’s for Megumi and Tsumiki. This he knows. He should know. Yet the guns keep firing, and he is the commander of his unit. He needs to be out there, guiding his men through the kill zone of a Middle Eastern conflict Japan isn’t officially a part of. But then, where is his gun? Where are any of his weapons?

He focuses on the ground and the paper bags holding chips and medicine. Chips and medicine. His hands are trembling. A Gojo’s hands don’t shake. He’s been trained to hold a gun since he could grab objects, and he learned how to perfectly weave in and out of a sniper’s scope by the time he was ten years old. This is no different. It shouldn’t be any different.

He closes his eyes as the guns tear into his men. Why can’t he get back out there? The palm of his hand presses against his teeth, and his back hunches in on itself. He’s crumbling to the ground, even though he is Gojo Satoru, the strongest of Japan, the best of his MOS. The chips in the bag crumble in his hands, and people are dying . His rifle has been lost, somewhere in the river he crossed to get into the kill zone, probably. His knives were sticking out of the poor children he had to kill, for there were bombs strapped to their chests and weapons too big for their hands. His other handguns were given to his unit as they had lost theirs to the river as well. 

He is Gojo Satoru. He doesn’t need a weapon to survive.

Yet. His knees are on the ground and the medicine for his sick and injured soldiers isn’t getting to their proper place in time. He clutches a hand to his hair and wills himself to move, but the pops have him put in place. Panting breaths escape out of his shaking hands, and his heart pounds so hard he fears it’ll break his chest. Fear. He’ll admit it. He’s afraid. But he can’t be afraid. He hasn’t been afraid since his mother and father beat all of the fear out of him and introduced him to the kill zone at the ripe age of twelve. He knows conflict. He knows guns. He doesn’t know fear.

But fear knows him.

Closer, much closer than his dying unit, he hears the soft pull of a stringed instrument. It's an odd mixture of a guitar and violin, and its sound is stunted in fragmented half-seconds. He’s never heard this in the military before. His unit has had talent with instruments, but this is something else entirely.

Another instrument is introduced, a piano, he thinks. It’s high-pitched, laying oddly yet beautifully over the original instrument. The song is unmistakable now. Tchaikovsky’s The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy from The Nutcracker. He doesn’t know the play intimately, but he has seen one or two ballets in local performances.

He settles against the concrete beam and listens to the music. It plays over the crowd, though he can’t afford to stop listening for them at all. If they grow quiet, then they’re all dead, or they’ve moved out of the area without him. Either way, Gojo’s escape is going to be messy and long. But he’s Gojo Satoru. If he can get off the ground and stop weeping and running and shaking like—

The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy fades out, and Coda plays next. It’s a little more intense, but it runs in and through his ears. It’s so unfamiliar with the kill zone. He’s never heard ballet music in desolated cities. If he hears music, it’s usually the local music in whichever country he’s in or when he’s at base with a mixture of United States military, allied infantry, and Japanese Special Force soldiers, playing music with those languages in it. In general, they usually have words, whether he can understand them or not notwithstanding.

But this, this is new.

He doesn’t know how or why someone would be playing Tchiakolvsky at this time. It doesn’t make sense, and he dares to pry open his eyes. His paper bags are clenched in his hands, but the contents have spilled out onto the ground. Medicine for his soldiers, chips for food. Not practical, but they make do with what they have. He’s eaten bugs for breakfast, lunch, and dinner before.

Not on the battlefield, but as training when he was a child. If he had to survive off of nothing but the land, he could do it.

The Gobi desert doesn’t have anything but sand and poisonous animals. So much for that invaluable lesson.

The ground beneath him is concrete, and he dares to look up. Outside gathered is a mass of people in bright yukatas . The Russian ballet has come to an end, and Gojo hears the beginnings of Swan Lake . It’s a comfortable tune, but it will turn intense inevitably. Oddly, he doesn’t find it as disconcerting as it’s supposed to make the listener feel. Satoru imagines the black swan, but the dancer turns away from him, hiding her dark makeup.

He stares at the crowd for a long time. It’s unfamiliar to the kill zone. None of them are little children with bombs on their chests or adults shooting at him with weapons they don’t know how to handle. Somewhere in the distance, in the buildings, someone must be aiming for the crowd, to ruin the festival. He’s seen it happen before.

Swan Lake continues, coming close to an end, and a voice accompanies the next song. “You’re in Tokyo, Japan. It’s 20XX. You’re safe.”

Gojo doesn’t startle at the voice, but he does turn towards it, and he can’t quite comprehend what he’s looking at.

At one moment, he’s looking at one of his men, and he needs to grab him and bring him down behind the concrete pillar to protect him until they can make a move to safety. At the next, he’s looking at a tall man with Tchaikovsky playing from his phone. He’s looking at Nanami. Nanami in uniform, with a gun instead of a phone. Nanami in a pale blue yukata .

“My name is Nanami Kento. You’re in Tokyo, Japan. It’s 20XX,” he says, his voice relaxed. “You’re safe.”

Satoru stares at his friend numbly.

“The fireworks will make another round soon. Let’s go back to your penthouse,” Nanami continues. He doesn’t make any moves, though, and a new song from a ballet he doesn’t know filters through the speakers of Nanami’s phone. He thinks. Gojo isn’t sure.

Nanami repeats his early statement. My name is Nanami Kento. Not an enemy soldier, though they did fight together at one time. You’re in Tokyo, Japan. That explains the yukatas and flashing billboards. It’s 20XX. When was Toji killed in battle? When was Geto? You’re safe.

My name is Nanami Kento. You’re in Tokyo, Japan. It’s 20XX. You’re safe.

Russian ballets don’t play in the kill zone.

Satoru turns away from Nanami and shakily collects the medicine and chips that had slipped out of his paper bags, along with the sunglasses that had slipped off his face. He struggles to remember why he has them in the first place. It most certainly has something to do with Toji and children, but he isn’t quite sure how those two add together. Toji is most certainly dead. He knows this with certainty. Children die around him left and right.

Unless it’s about Toji’s children. Gojo looks at Nanami, and as one of his only surviving friends from the battlefield, he says shakily, “I promised to take care of Toji’s kids.”

Nanami doesn’t reply to him directly, yet Satoru takes it as an affirmative. “We need to go back to your penthouse before the fireworks start again.”

The Russian ballets don’t stop playing even as they push through the crowd with Gojo’s hands covering his ears. He can barely hear it over the sounds of the crowd and his blocked eardrums, but it’s there nonetheless. He focuses on what he can sense close to him — the paper bags, Nanami’s back, the safe ground beneath his feet, and the violins and pianos. 

They make it to the apartment, and Nanami stops in front of the gated back entry. “I don’t live here,” he states simply. That means Gojo lives here. If Satoru has the key, then he lives here.

It’s in his pocket, and he unlocks the gate. They walk in and go in the elevator, not the stairs. Stairs. Too many houses, too many stairs and floors to clear.

“My name is…” Nanami drones on to completion. “You’re safe.”

You’re safe.

The elevator dings, and he doesn’t flinch. The ballet filters through the cracks of his fingers, and the paper bags feel heavy in his hands. He’s carried deadweight bodies a hundred times heavier than the feather-light weight of the paper bags, yet he struggles anyway.

They stand in front of the door to his penthouse. Gojo unlocks it, but Nanami waves a hand for him to stop. “Wait here,” he says, and Satoru complies. He’s Gojo Satoru. He doesn’t comply with anyone but himself. He’s the strongest, the best officer of his MOS.

He does anyway, because inside this penthouse —

“We’re going to play the quiet game. Whoever wins gets to go on a spa day with Satoru.”

— are his children, and they are the most important children in the whole world. His children. His children.

Megumi and Tsumiki.

They’re lying on the couches in the living room. Nanami guides Gojo past them, but he manages to spare them a glance, and he sees Tsumiki’s red-colored face peering worriedly at him. He wants to say something to them, but now they’re being fired at and there’s no more time for any words other than directions to take cover.

His hands are still covering his ears when the pop is followed by so many more. But Nanami has him in the closet, and his sound-proof headphones are on, and the weighted blanket is covering him head-to-toe.

He doesn’t technically hear any more of the gunshot-fireworks. He sits in his closet like he’s hiding from an Iraqi unit outnumbering him fifteen to one and figuring out the best way to take them down and make it back to his unit alive. The medicine and chips have been taken from him, and he squeezes his weighted blanket between his palms.

The light bulb burns overhead. His jackets and small winter coats hang beside him like bodies.

He’s the best officer the Japanese military had ever seen, who retired after his third four-year contract ended.

Gojo Satoru, the strongest of his MOS, who trained for combat since he could walk and enlisted illegally at sixteen, can’t take his kids out to a goddamn fireworks festival by himself.

Gojo Satoru hunches and sobs into his blanket.

[a-world-in-grey]

Well, since you said it's okay :)

Nox verse crossover! Specifically, Sola and Nox being summoned to Dissidia sometime before the entire Marilith incident.

Sola was not happy to be dragged into some weird fighting tournament, so she is more than happy to derail the entire thing to talk to her New Brother. Now if only he would stay still! Please stop running away, Brother, she has Questions!

Sola also has Questions for her Papa, once she gets back to Insomnia. Starting with how many ooops babies did you have, Papa? She wants to know if there are More Siblings out there.

(Yes, Regis, how many kids do you have running around? says Clarus while Glaring at his King. They saw the entire thing through Crystal-vision.)

Absolutely okay to keep sending in asks! Can't promise I'll get to them right away given it's finals season atm, but the asks are fun!

Putting this under a cut because I got clocked in the head with a bat by the damn plot bunnies while writing this and it got stupidly long.

Not gonna lie, this is great - Sola would lose her entire mind because brother? New brother?

New brother who has definitely not been taking care of himself properly, sit down so Sola can feed you, Pyre damn it all.

Meanwhile Nox is more than a little surprised to come face to face with a girl who looks so much like mom but with Ardyn's hair and magic and Cor's scowl. His new sister - who claims him as a brother despite giving his surname as Izunia, only blinking once at the name of Niflheim's Chancellor before she promptly calls him her little brother - fights a lot like Cor as well, which is how Nox learns that Sola's been apprenticed to Cor since she was ten, after she foiled an assassination attempt on their younger brother, Noctis.

(Nox has to swallow around a lump in his throat at how easily Sola accepts him as family, calling Noctis their little brother instead of just hers.)

Actually though, Sola has a blast while she's in Dissidia. How could she not? She got a new brother - who is definitely a Little Brother, she doesn't care that he can kick her ass with both hands behind his back, his personal care habits are atrocious and she will do her duty as Older Sister and remind him to eat Pyre damn it - got to cut loose and fight a bunch of people and creatures, and didn't have to deal with the snobs on Papa's Council.

Best vacation ever.

Sola comes back from Dissidia grinning ear to ear - she convinced Nox to exchange numbers, and even if he's bad at remembering to text or call her, Sola will remember if it means badgering her newest brother into taking care of himself better - and cheerfully asks Papa if she's got any other siblings hanging about. Regis chokes on his spit, Clarus looks like he'd also like to know the answer to that question, while Cor looks like he can't decide if his birthday's come early or he wants to preemptively break out the alcohol.

So yeah, this is great. Maybe even better than original Sola and Nox and Noctis get pulled into Dissidia while Sola is pregnant, because teenaged Sola is having so much fun.

But.

Consider.

Little!Nox 'verse.

Specifically the version where @secret-engima dropped Nox and Noctis on Materia's side and Ardyn on Spiritus' side, with Sola joining Ardyn in this case. Post-Marilith because otherwise Nox would be like, three and Noctis eight and even I'm not that mean.

So instead Noctis is ten (Materia did try to call for champions that weren't literal children and had at least some combat experience. Normally Noctis wouldn't count, but he's since got the same soul as Nox, things got kinda mixed up. Not that that excuse will save Materia from Sola and Ardyn's wrath). Nox is five, and Sola is seventeen and newly outed as a Kingsglaive to the media, and newly realized by the Galahdians as being a half-feral Sky-born instead of just a short-tempered magical teenager.

Sola arrives at the tower before Ardyn and learns from one of the less-asshole villains who may have done this whole dog-and-chocobo show before that she’s to fight her counterpart. Which makes her immediately suspicious because she doesn’t have a mortal enemy like these people. Well, most of these people. Apparently one of them is fighting his sister-in-law and former comrade while another is fighting his own son, and if Sola goes off that pattern that means her counterpart is-

Oh Pyre no.

At which point Ardyn arrives in all of his furious-terrified-where-the-fuck-is-my-nephew Scourge-magic-faced glory. Which neatly derails Sola’s impending Rage as she stares at the man that looks (and feels, and Sola never realized how lonely she was until she met another with her magic) more like her than her own father and brother and it feels like she’s been sucker punched. Because that’s the missing Chancellor of Niflheim putting the fear of him into the other champions through the sheer strength of his magic that Sola’s doesn’t have a snowball’s chance on Ifrit’s Pyre of matching.

And yet-

“Uncle?” Ardyn’s not sure how he hears it past the sheer terror and rage pounding in his ears, past the red and gold shards of magic swirling about him in a physical manifestation of come-near-me-and-die, but somehow the soft word gets his attention from where he’s seething at Spiritus. Or maybe it’s just the barest brush of hesitant-surprise-hope that has him turning to the young woman looking at him with wide blue eyes framed by achingly familiar red hair.

He remembers hearing about the Regis of this alternate world (and hadn’t that been a shock on top of everything else) having a daughter older than Noctis. He’d simply been too busy caring for Nox to look more into it. Now he wishes he had.

Noctis may look almost exactly like Somnus, but clearly his older sister takes after Ardyn.

“Niece.” He greets. He cannot muster up the effort for even his most insincere smile right now, not when he doesn’t know where Nox is.

Sola steps fearlessly into the magic swirling around him like a storm, shards of red and gold shattering harmlessly against her skin-

Is she, is she hugging him?

She is. Even though she’s old enough to know who he is, her arms are circling his torso in an encompassing hold that is nonetheless so gentle that he could break out of it with a single step.

Ardyn… doesn’t. It… feels nice. His niece is warm, her magic (so like his, he never thought anyone would ever inherit his magic) contained such that only hints of it brush up against his, and yet Ardyn can feel clearly how his niece has no fear or disdain of him.

Ardyn isn’t sure what to make of that. He awkwardly pats her shoulder.

“Who did they take?” His niece asks. “Your counterpart.”

Ardyn’s hand involuntarily tightens on Sola’s shoulder. She doesn’t flinch. Ardyn wavers on whether to tell her, because he’s been trying to keep Nox secret and he can’t do that if anyone from the royal family knows.

But this is Sola, whose reputation for being so fiercely protective of her younger brother managed to reach even the furthest reaches of the Lucian outlands. And Sola’s magic is radiating her honest desire to help him, simply because he’s family.

Ardyn prays he’s making the right choice. “My nephew.”

From where she’s clutching him like Nox does with his stuffed chocobo, Sola stills, before looking up at him with shocked blue eyes. Underneath the worry and fear for the others taken with them, hope and affection blooms. “I have another brother?”

“Nox.” Ardyn hesitates, then adds. “He’s five.”

It’s like flipping a switch. Sola’s delight is buried under a wave of protective fury that doesn’t touch him, and she bares her teeth in a snarl. “They summoned. My five year old brother?”

Ardyn hasn’t seen this kind of fury since the mother coeurl chased off a voretooth pack that had gotten too close to Nox and her other cubs. He’s darkly eager to see how much violence his niece will dish out. If he deigns to leave her anything to kill, that is. “Most likely.”

Sola whirls on Spiritus, seething. “Where are my brothers?”

.

Meanwhile, Noctis is Absolutely Not Panicking.

He’s ten now, and if Sola was able to protect him from assassins without panicking at ten then Noctis can protect his baby brother without panicking, especially because he’s got so many people looking out for him. He’s a big kid now after all.

(Noctis doesn't know that Sola very much did panic when she saved him from that assassin seven years back. That the whole incident was one blur of Kill The Threat By Any Means Possible of panicked Sky-born instincts.)

Noctis is trying so very hard to be brave for Nox, but then they’re attacked and Noctis sees the attack coming for them and he knows he can’t get his sword up in time and he wants his sister-

And then there’s magic ripping through the air, familiar-but-not even as Sola appears out of nowhere to scoop the both of them up in her arms and raise the strongest barrier she can around them, her magic quivering in relief and protective fury, reassuring them that she’s got them, they’re safe and Uncle is just outside taking care of everything, they’re safe.

Noctis bursts into tears. Nox follows in short order. Sola holds them both, rumbling low in her throat like how she used to soothe Noctis after a nightmare, and keeping her shield as opaque as she can because like Pyre she’s letting either of the kids see the absolute carnage happening on the other side. Bad enough they can hear it. Sola would rather be tearing someone apart, but someone needs to protect her brothers and Uncle is so much stronger than her. So she sits on her cranky Sword instincts and goes about comforting her brothers.

When Ardyn finally knocks on her shield, the screaming has finally stopped, and both her brothers have cried themselves to sleep. Sola’s still making that rumbling sound in her chest, a self-soothing technique she hasn't used in longer than she can remember.

In a mirror of last time, Ardyn fearlessly steps past Sola’s bristling magic and hugs her, long arms wrapping around her and the boys with ease. He doesn’t say anything - he’s never gotten the hang of comforting words, even after two years of caring for Nox - but cautiously wrapping his magic around Sola and the boys has all three of them relaxing in his arms. At which point Sola dissolves into tears, silently sobbing into Ardyn’s shoulder in an effort not to wake Nox or Noctis, but Astrals, she was so scared and they nearly didn’t make it in time and Sola doesn’t want to have to contemplate living without her brothers. And Ardyn doesn’t know how to comfort, but he can just sit there and hold his niblings while his niece cries.

.

Sola and Ardyn only met hours before, but looking at how they act with each other no one is able to tell. Because those two get along like a house on fire.

(What is this overkill you speak of? We only know keeping nephews/little brothers safe. With extreme prejudice.)

Sola is monstrously protective of her newest brother and uncle. Nox’s Sick Day has Sola and the rest of the mages capable of healing and Ice Elemancy tending to Nox around the clock, struggling to keep his temperature down, Sola once more making her rumbling approximation of a purr to try and comfort both her family and herself. Which prompts Y’shtola to actually purr whenever it’s her turn to watch over Nox because the rumbling/purring helps Nox sleep through it all.

The reveal of Ardyn’s scars sends Sola into a towering fury that she makes sure to keep away from Uncle and her brothers, and Mors is lucky he’s already dead because Sola would gut him and leave him to bleed out on the floor.

(Ardyn is surprised by Sola’s fury and grief on his behalf. He’s not surprised by the love she has for Nox, but for him? It’s been millennia since he’s received that kind of immediate and unconditional care from anyone, much less family.)

So when Sola later sits by him that night after Nox and Noctis are fast asleep, burrowing under his arm for a half-hug Ardyn can easily escape from, Ardyn doesn’t expect the soft, “You’re safe? Wherever you are?”

Ardyn looks down at his niece’s red hair in surprise, wondering what’s prompted this inquiry. But it’s easy enough to answer. “Yes.” As safe as one can be living in the outlands, which is safe enough with Axis and his family helping and Ardyn being the most powerful being on the planet short of an Astral.

Fingers tighten their grip on his coat. “…will you call?”

“Call?”

“After we go home.” Sola clarifies. “I want to know you’re both okay.”

Ardyn stills. Because she can’t mean what he thinks she means. “You won’t try to take Nox?” Not that Ardyn would let anyone take his nephew.

“You don’t trust Papa.” Sola says. Which, yes, but Ardyn didn’t expect Sola to pick up on that when he’s been keeping a lid on the vitriol he feels for most of his family, for Nox and Noctis’ sakes. “Nox is my baby brother, but he’s your nephew too, and he loves you.” A quiet sniffle. “I’ll miss you.”

“I will call.” Ardyn promises, resting a hand on Sola’s hair. “Both of us will.” He’s gotten a lot better at managing time, he can absolutely make a reminder on his phone to call his favorite niece once a week. If not, Titus can remind him.

[memory-of-deross]

He struts in with his notebook in hand, rewriting our histories with his pen!

dividers by @/cafekitsune.

General.

✦ This is an askblog focusing on musing the Novelist’s various costumes, often all taking place in their own separate verses, however certain ones may (heavily) reference my own AU found at @immortalpheus due to being connected to it. Canon (ToR and or AoM) is yet to be included in such cast at the moment, however it may be added as a portrayal later on. Because of this though, the blog will be heavily headcanon based and may not include aspects or change things around depending how I may want to write them.

✦ It will be more text reply oriented, though doodles may be added for fun here and there.

✦ Activity will very much be on and off due to the Mun’s life. (Sam/Victor, they/them pronouns)

✦ Characters (crossover, OC, etc) are free to interact! General questions will just be answered in the “main verse” unless specified otherwise.

✦ Sensitive topics or themes such as cults, death, murder, manipulation, sacrificing, suicide, and more may be present with certain portrayals or answers in the blog. Should these topic arise graphically, there will be a warning ahead of time. However, under no circumstances will sexual NSFW be present in the blog - flirting or suggestiveness (if not taken too far) is fine, but otherwise, ehh… this isn’t the place.

✦ Racism, homophobia, transphobia, misogyny, etc is not welcome in this blog and especially its asks. Generally, while I will try to entertain asks the best I can, that will only be within reason and anything containing these or otherwise things that I just might not feel comfortable answering will be deleted and or ignored.

✦ Alice DeRoss will be portrayed as Orpheus’s sister in this blog as well as the Little Girl in most costumes as his daughter! Please refrain from sending any asks referring to any ships regarding these two.

✦ Muses that may require further context that doesn’t have any in-game or other information (such as fan-made costumes) will have their respective posts as basics.

Muses.

When sending an ask, please send their accompanying emoji or specify who is being referred to due to how many muses are present on the blog. Asks that remain untapped or unspecified will have a random Orpheus answer. Besides them on this list, their main tags can be found for ease.

❄️ Hollow. ~ ❄️ (borealis of eden. hollow)

♠️ Highroller. ~ ♠️ (the rigged cards of life. highroller)

♾️ The Immortal (may be referred to Immortalpheus or Immorphy; can be found at the corresponding blog as well). ~ ♾️ (venomous cycles of ouroboros. immortalpheus)

📽️ Screenwriter. ~ 📽️ (starlit script gleaming. screenwriter)

🔎 Scholastic. ~ 🔎 (tended pyres of knowledge. scholastic)

🗝️ Homesick. ~ 🗝️ (sea bound folds of the heart. homesick)

🎭 Orfeo (can be portrayed either during the events of Orfeo’s Game or the “aftermath”, in which he has woken up). ~ 🎭 (tragedys gaze. orfeo)

🪶 Omen (fan-made Season 17 Essence 3 / Man in Red based costume). ~ 🪶 (forewarned feathers and quill. omen)

🩸 Evil Thoughts. ~ 🩸 (blood of the naive. evil thoughts)

Tba — may be added in the future, currently unavailable.

🪽Prophet (Fantasy Series & Halloween lore based).

🧧Folk Writer.

🪞 Duke Raven.

🖋️ ToR/AoM or base Orpheus.

✦ Thank you for reading! Enjoy the lives that unfold, another chapter written!

[randomnameless]

Do you agree that anyone that uses death of the author as argument shouldn't be arguing about a text? Because according to them all interpretations are valid so why argue against other people's interpretations?

Mmh...

I guess it's part of the duality of fandom life - people want to talk about the game are very involved in it, but they also create fun headcanons to explore said game's lore/setting/characters.

So in way, participating in fandom and even writing fanfiction, or saying stupid things like "hc : Nabateans attach a great importance to golden trinkets" is, in a way, pushing your own interpretation over the game's.

But at one point, it depends on what you want to argue about.

Argue about headcanon? Uh... it's like arguing about what topping you prefer on your ice cream. It's your ice cream, your tastes, so you can prefer chocolate cookies or peanuts and it's, you know, not open to discussion as in "talking with you made me realise peanuts are was tastier than chocolate chip cookies".

I like to talk and discuss and see other people's headcanons because it's fun and when some of ours match we can nerd about pointless things like warm rocks or nabatean laying eggs, but you won't see me being an ass and tell them "uh your headcanon sucks, you should put blue cheese on your ice cream".

Now, arguing about canon?

FE16 (and Fe Fodlan in general) is a game where the devs forgot to hire a continuity game and thought letting the world "vague" would make it look "deeper and richer" than it is. 10k years of lore, after all. And we have at least 2 unreliable narrators, that are Lords so who are protagonists and usually should be believed... expect that the game shows us they're full of nonsense regarding various topics.

But, unlike headcanon, canon isn't subjective, it's the same game (well... depending on the audio, it's not) everyone played, some people were kind enough to create a website where every line (+ dub!) is available, so it's not a question of interpretation as much as going to read and check the datamine website and the hundreds of YT videos, were people recorded their PT.

Was Burnie surrounded by flames, effectively preventing her escape from her pyre, or not?

Does Cyril mention to Mercedes how he only ate every couple of days before coming to the monastery (so under House Goneril's good care and in the Almyran army) or not?

Those things can be easily checked, and there's no interpretation.

If you don't like canon, you can churn out headcanon and have fun developing them, maybe finding people who like them and expend them themselves!

But for various reasons (is it because fanfiction has a bad rep since the 2000s for being something, idk, teenage girls write? or because it's not seen as very serious (tm) as a redshit post?) some people in the Fodlan fandom don't really want to confess they don't like the canon, and prefer the headcanon/fanfiction version of the game portrayed through a certain fic that, in turn, influenced how canon is perceived by some devoted fans.

(and let's not forget the lolcalisation that, too, didn't like the base game and edited it for ~ reasons ~)

And imo, Death of the author, in those fandom circles, is a roundabout way to say "the canon is not conclusive so i interpret the situation as this, but it's totes not my headcanon nor a fanfiction bcs i'm no gross fangirl, it's still canon, but my interpretation of the canon"

Tldr : Arguing about headcanon is as pointless and fruitless as starting a shipwar, and in the 2020s apparently it's too shameful to confess liking/writing fanfictions, so instead you like and write "your own interpretations of canon or how it should be" instead, using various theories like "Death of the Author" to validate your creative process, bcs fanfics gross'n'bad'n'only for lonely teenager girls, i guess.

[videogamedogbracket]

Bracket (Round One)

First off, big thanks to Challonge for making this bracket so easy to generate! (Also, yes, I'm sorry about the tiny text.)

We'll be starting off Round One with the matchups furthest to the left, which will be split into four groups. Group One is going up at the same time as this post, and the next groups will be posted in order once the previous one is finished.

Here are the Round One matchups:

Group One

Angelo (Final Fantasy VIII) vs. Toby (The Great Ace Attorney)

Rush (Megaman) vs. Flippy (Toontown Online)

Lesser Dog (Undertale) vs. Spot (Nintendogs)

Riley (Call of Duty) vs. Blanca (Shadow Hearts: Covenant)

Sergeant O'Fera (Cuphead) vs. K.K. Slider (Animal Crossing)

Dribble (WarioWare) vs. Barkley (Cassette Beasts)

Gab (Zero Time Dilemma) vs. Randy (Wobbledogs)

Group Two

Dr. Potan (THE DOG Island) vs. Ai (Puyo Puyo Tetris)

Colonel Ruff (Brawl Stars) vs. Mame (Yakuza)

Repede (Tales of Vesperia) vs. Aesop (The Flame in the Flood)

Umbra (Final Fantasy XV) vs. Pepita (Trauma Center: New Blood)

DD (Metal Gear Solid V) vs. Fondue (Rhythm Thief)

Polterpup (Luigi's Mansion) vs. Flash (Jetpack Joyride)

Ren (DRAMAtical Murder) vs. Rusty (Rusty's Real Deal Baseball)

Group Three

Annoying Dog (Undertale) vs. Boomer (Far Cry 5)

Hewie (Haunting Ground) vs. Isabelle (Animal Crossing)

Moonless (Fear & Hunger) vs. Elena (Spiritfarer)

Pryna (Final Fantasy XV) vs. Amaterasu (Okami)

Koromaru (Persona 3) vs. Dogamy and Dogaressa (Undertale)

Pickle (Papa's Pancakeria) vs. Digby (Animal Crossing)

Ppodae (Lobotomy Corporation) vs. PaRappa (PaRappa The Rapper)

Group Four

Missile (Ghost Trick) vs. Hot Dog (Skylanders)

Boney (Mother 3) vs. Pizza (Chicory: A Colorful Tale)

Taroumaru (Genshin Impact) vs. Brown (Rule of Rose)

Satty (Breath of the Wild) vs. Interceptor (Final Fantasy VI)

Rukey (Pyre) vs. Sam (Sam and Max)

Koroku (Suikoden III) vs. Rex (Fallout: New Vegas)

Lord Arcanine (Pokémon Legends Arceus) vs. White Beast (Guardian Tales)

I don't have much else to say that isn't self-explanatory, but I will make one thing clear about this tournament. Propaganda for your faves is allowed, and even encouraged, but any rude or disparaging comment about another participant will result in an instant block. Please just be civil and uplift your favorite without tearing down anyone else's, okay?

Happy voting!