#she could have just been a trans shapeshifter

[noirineverysense]

yes yes gay knights and nimona is trans but the soundtrack fucks thats the important part

[nexus-nebulae]

thinking about when i had such intense phantom limbs as a kid i told my math teacher about it

[quitealotofsodapop]

Nobody bays an eye at the fact that MK's mom is a very much male presenting person. They live in a world where shape-shifting is the norm, and there is literally a famous story about a kingdom with a river that can make anyone, no matter the gender, pregnant. Its not an impossible thing to imagine for them, especially since they suspect MK to be a demon at that point anyway, which means his mom is guaranteed to be one too. No, the biggest surprise in regards to Wukong's pregnancy comes more from who Wukong is rather than any sort of gender he presents as, but it's rather easily explained away. After all, there's no reason for Wukong to hide the fact that Stone Monkey pregnancies are often fatal and result in many complications, so as the stronger and more durable between himself and his mate as well as the one with mor most layers of immortality, it's simple logic that he'd be the one to bear their young.

At least, that's how Wukong describes it later. What he neglected to realize is that just because the specifics of Stone Monkey pregnancies have become somewhat common knowledge amongst the celestials, the mortals do not share in that knowledge and hus rather blase attitude in regards to potentially dying in childbirth does little to ease DBK, Pigsy, Tang, or Sandy's concern. PIF is a little more understanding of Wukong's position, having gone through similar complications with Redson's birth, and actually applauds his willingness and bravery in bringing more children into the world, even whilst almost losing his life to bring his eldest into the world.

prev post.

That and they don't want to assume anything in case MK's mom is a trans person. Wukong is fine with both Mama/Baba titles, and if he carried the kid it only makes sense to him to be "Mom" to them.

In a world of demons, trans people, shapeshifting, and rivers that make your pregnant, you just grow up knowing that sometimes a dude gets pregnant.

Regular Stone Monkey pregnancies aren't anymore fatal than say wild monkey statistics, but the Stone Egg method is super dangerous. Stone Monkeys basically donate so much of their life energy to the world around them that there's very little left over for themselves. The "Boulder" atop FFM is even described as spreading orchids and mushrooms into the earth around it.

PIF admires and envies Wukong a little for his success, despite the terror surrounding little Xiaotian's arrival. She wonders if DBK hadn't been imprisoned, if they could have had such luck.

Wukong very simply explains to the Noodle Gang that he's like the healthiest demon around, and his mate is slightly more fragile than him (literally born in the anaerobic enviroment of the moon = no immune system), so he takes over for baby-incubating. The gnag are super intrigued!

Tang: "So when did you decide to have MK?" Wukong, laughing: "Oh, that was a happy accident! A happy, kinda-scary, 14 year accident." Noodle Gang: (*all nod on understanding/awkwardness*) MK: "Yeah, thats why I grew up being told never to bury myself under a mountain." Noodle Gang: "...wut?" Tang:, JTTW brain activating: "Wait. Did you say 14 years!? As in during the Journey!?!"

Wukong pretty much pulls out corkboard of crayon drawings (like in "The Plan Man") to explain the process and how Macaque accidentally left Wukong "rock pregnant" under Five Finger Mountain - a collage crafted specifically back when MK had first asked about the "Birds and the Bees". The Noodle Shop Gang are horrified - and so is MK for having to re-live it.

Everyone comes away from that specifc lunchtime knowing a little too much about the reproductive habits of Stone Monkeys.

Hilariously I can imagine a situation like with the Eclipse Twins in the TMKATI au (both monkeys got el-pregante with either twin) happening here.

But with the current day. Remember how I pointed out that out of all the Nodelets, one shadow planet was missing? >:3

Once the LBD situation is dealt with at the end of S3;

Guanyin: (*gently grabs Macaque by the scruff of the neck*) Guanyin: "How long were you going to run around getting into danger without telling him [Wukong] you were expecting as well?!" Macaque, honestly confused: "Pardon???" Wukong: (*GASP!*) "Hypocrite!" Macaque: "In my defence, I didn't know that could happen."

MK barfs just *a little* at the announcement (MK: "I TOLD you they were being gross!").

Que the last Lunar Nodelet; Ziqi being made. This time via a very nervous Macaque.

Shadow monkey is on 24 hour lockdown pretty much to watch out for health complications, a reasonable punishment for his little disappearing act. Complications arise only because Mac was away from FFM for an appointment with Lao Tzu when a certain Scroll got found...

[ladyevol]

A few headcanons from witchtrials that I might make canon at some point + a sketch of what cub looks like in his demon form:

-All demons can shapeshift and take both a more demonic form or a more humanoid form.

-Like angels, the less human a demon's true form is, the more powerful they are

-Cub, while a demon now, was actually a witch back when he was alive. After his death, he was reborn as a demon.

-Cleo became a witch after making a pact with Etho that granted her eternal life and stop aging, however, that didn't make her immune to diseases or anything that could hurt her

-Cleo and Etho are exes. Cleo really hates Etho at this point in the story

-I think Etho is the demon prince of violence

-Cub is a trans man. He was a trans man when he was alive, he is still a trans man now

-Bdubs is a witch of the sun and has gathered a bit of a following in Hermitown with some people believing him to be an angel sent there to bless their city hence why their farms are better than other towns (they don't know it is Bdubs though)

-Jellie is Scar and Cub's daughter and the first of her kind since no other Chaos Witch has been known to have lived for as long as Scar. She is 3/4 demon, making her a cambion rather than a witch.

-Jellie can shapeshift and uses her ability to stay as a car most of the time. She doesn't like being in her human form or true form for long

-Jellie's true form looks like her human form, but with tiny horns, cat ears, and tail that splits into two (inspired by bakenekos)

-Jellie has the natural ability to hide herself and other demons like Scar has, however, her range is much smaller. Scar can hide demons across the entire city. She can only do it in a block.

-That is how Cub remains hidden during the trials. He just brings his daughter everywhere

[svwhssftr]

i don t know where it was but wherever it is just imagine some kid like 7-8 yrs old who;s only ever written in the latin alphabet trying to write with korean letters from google transltae. copying them off the computer screen. to accompany some drawnings. i Really wish i knew where that notebook is. i need to find my old shitty drawings accompnanied byt he worst korean you’ll ever read. because i used fucking google translate

i'm imagining the drawn characters. the painstakingly drawn shapes.

i did the exact same thing except with badly drawn kaitou joker and badly drawn kaitou joker in japanese

rambling abt my singular oc below

did. did you know. i was obsessed with kaitou joker as a kid. specifically akai tsubasa. i would watch it on korea cartoon network. except i wouldn't get what they were saying bc i wasn't too good at korean back then. but i loved the show. and i made my first oc for it.

she was like a self insert mary sue thing and i tried to stick to the naming scheme of the show (silver heart, diamond queen, spade king etc.) when i named her, except i didn't really get that these were cards and i thought it was a color + what they are thing for some reason? so she was silver white shapeshifter. which is also my main url. SilVer WHite ShapeShifTeR. svwhssftr. she was tsubasa's sister or something and she had similar phoenix powers except it might have been ice and she had silvery white wings. (it would have been just silver, but silver heart was already a thing so i thought i couldn't do that for some reason). she had long black hair with silver highlights and something freaky going on with her left eye... and the right eye was yellow and the left blue... and uhhhh... and she is now kai! (her name was kaishka before bc i liked kai but i needed a girl name even though kai could have been a girl name) that's who she has become!! a guy for some reason(???? i'm still a girl though?? idk why???) grew sharp teeth (ahemm. fell! sans. ahemmm. this was his influence). and he is still my singular oc. unless you count actual aus of him. but like... those are still him

thank you for coming to my ted talk

(theoretically he's trans, but i never considered him that way despite abruptly deciding to make him a dude. probably didn't know what trans was as a 10 year old. for some reason i thought guys were just cooler? very sexist of me i know (i am a female) kai didn't retain much of kaishka's personality either she was cool as a cucumber and he is. not)

[cassied03]

Okay so to the two people who said they would listen/read my ideas, this is for you two before i go to sleep and expand on a later date.

•So for galra keith I would definitely think that he had a lot more galra traits then the show gave him.

• For example his nails were typically stronger and grew in a curved shape

• For another example, his hair was naturally a dark/deep purple but his first foster family after his dads death dyed it black thinking keith had dyed it young to the purple color

• Speaking of purple, i would also think that his eyes were a deep dull purple/plum color

• moving to the scene where Krolia suggests the name Yorak, i personally think that Keiths dad would have included that in his name after she left earth

• so Keiths full name is "Keith Yorak Kogane"

•In terms of galra, he'd probably be seen as a late bloomer to the blade of marmora because he hasn't grown in his ears or tail, not knowing that his tail was surgically removed by one of his foster familys (theres a very rare chance of a human being born with a tail, and I think the tail wouldn't have grown much because the human body has evolved to not need a tail and half his biology was against the tail)

Now onto the good stuff, ergo the trans stuff

• i'd say he's transmasc who's known since he was a young boy, but that could also be me projecting, who knows

• my big thing was what about periods? because i know that everyones is different, i'd say his started at 15 give or take a few years, but before he ended up leaving earth

• With his period, because Galra most likely dont have anything quite as similar (based on cats, i suppose. With cats all their internal bleeding is reabsorbed), his periods would probably be very light as half his body (might/) will absorb the blood and the other half will shed it out.

• I'd say for the same reason he uses cloth pads, simply for the reuse ability and his light flow would have made it easy to clean

• i also head cannon that him growing out a mullet is the result of him shaving his hair at some point, and regaining enough confidence to grow his hair out while knowing that he could easily cut his hair if he felt dysphoric

• with the chest situation, it can go two ways. with the episode when keith and lance are going to the pool, Keith is shirtless, so that is a point to small-chested keith

• but we could also just, ignore that and pretend that he was in a compression shirt that was meant for trans people to swim in. because if there was shorts with them then im sure there was something for compression (ignoring how the alteans could shapeshift)

•One of my biggest head cannon when it comes to trans!keith, is that only Shiro knows, and that if they're ever overheard talking about it (like shiro lecturing keith about working out in a binder or something), everyone just completely misunderstands the conversation

Keith: Shiro it's fine (Shiro just said he can't work out safely in his binder)

Shiro: No it's not keith, you can't keep doing this. You know why. We're in space, you can't avoid the consequences anymore than you could on earth. (Shiro is talking about Keiths ribs, and how if Keith breaks a rib or something akin to that, then there is nothing in space that can help him as opposed to earth where at the very least he could have fixed his ribs)

Lance or Coran overhearing and thinking that it's just about keiths little pick pocketing habit (another head cannon): Huh, i didn't know Keiths been a pick pocketer when he was on earth.

Anyways, thats all i can come up with right this second, if i feel like i'm able to i'll expand on a couple of my head cannons / thoughts

[mephiles-the-jester]

i drew her in a silly trans dress,,,,also circuit lore dump approaching since i submitted her to @sonic-fankid-showdown and havent talked abt her enough,,,

ok so,,,,circuit is a metal sonic/chaos sonic fankid so im starting there because its not the most common of pairs,, essentially they met when nine found a way to build a portal out of the shatterverse to explore sonic's dimension, and allied with eggman temporally since he was the first person nine found,figuring he'd be as easy to con as the chaos council. nine brought chaos sonic with him as a bodyguard and that was when metal sonic got to become accustomed to and annoyed with the new sonic copy since metal cant sass him back. in his infiltration of the empire,nine also may have tampered with metal sonic when he researched the empire's database and realised how useful a fully functional/independent neo metal sonic could be,and after some fallout between metal sonic and eggman, metal took chaos sonic and nine for her own goals,,,and she fr just wins and even gets her own tails little brother,,,,,also that annoying new robot sonic,

by some miracle and a bit of shared romantic deforestation for her new robotic kingdom,,,metal sonic and chaos sonic found themselves being able to stand each other and got together soon after because why not,,they do understand each other best and i imagine that they can be cute together sometimes,

on her own, circuit is pretty chill,and while shes usually quiet,,she enjoys being silently compassionate and tags along with her friend group.her name is an acronym for "Constructed Individual Revered and Cared for Unconditionally In Tenderness" in a moment of emotional weakness from metal sonic and chaos sonic when they first saw her crawling around,,and circuit seems to have been positively influenced by her having such proud and loving parents,and can be fiercely protective of her family if she perceives there too be a threat to their lives,,which includes nine or the other fankid metal secretly takes care of

circuit comes in when neo metal sonic learned that sonic and shadow were having a kid,,and feeling a bit envious of sonic still,utilizing her shapeshifting liquid metal,neo metal created a way to make a robot that can grow just like an organic being from baby to adult,using randomly selected traits from her and chaos sonic to influence how itd be built and develop. (the pg visual is that she built a slot machine or smth to determine if the baby would get vent freckles or quill patterns,,,,)

circuit was fully constructed into a baby robot the same day mordred hatched,,and metal sonic soon forgot about it completely with how obsessed she became with her new kid,and it took two weeks for her to even leave her castle to brag about it to sonic,

anyway,,with some shared babysitters as they grew up together,circuit and mordred formed their own rivalry,and as they both grew into formidable fighters in their own right,their fights have only gotten more intense and violent,,even if they can casually hang out sometimes. circuit on her own doesnt quite understand or control her need to beat mordred into a pulp,and it can only be blamed on mordred being sonics kid and circuit being genetically programmed with a mission to destroy sonic,,and in this case,his son.

[sapphsorrows]

Opinion on Blair White? (I personally think she’s iconic)

I have such mixed feelings about him because I've been watching him since 2017.

He definitely contributed to me thinking that there were actually "true trans" people out there, and it was only until this year that I realized no, no one is trans, and at the end of the day there is no difference between Blaire and the "cringe" trans people on tiktok that he criticizes. Blaire categorizes someone who is "truly trans" as (1) someone who was "trans from a young age" (whatever that means) and (2) someone who has medicalized.

That is a very low bar. Basically anyone can say they believed something at an early age. It's an unfalsifiable claim. Also, LOTS of people he dunks on have medicalized and would therefore be "truly trans." Even fucking Chris Chan has medicalized, even if he just used estrogen cream and gave himself a self-inflicted taint wound, trying to create an "unclit," as he called it. Most of the trans people he has "debated" have also medicalized.

I think there is a great sadness to Blaire. He's talked about how he was sexually assaulted, and it seems to be he has a lot of internalized homophobia, especially around the fact that he is a very feminine gay man. I feel like he transitioned (1) to escape the trauma and (2) to escape his own homophobia. I'm really glad he seems to have found a partner who loves him for him, though, but like... I wish he could realize he could have done that without trying to be a woman, something he will literally never be.

I do still watch his videos occasionally and in many ways I love his energy BUT I wish he could be sassy and feminine... without appropriating womanhood. And I know he says "I'm a male/I'm a man" all the time but we all know which restroom he uses and buddy it is not the men's.

I definitely feel like he's trying to control the narrative of trans. Trans, at this point, is a sinking ship. LGBT acceptance is going down specifically because of trans cray. He's willing to sacrifice the (mostly) mentally ill trans people on tiktok in order to prop himself up as "one of the good ones". He claims to be gender critical... but still claims to be a transwoman. He wants to have his cake and eat it too.

Being trans is literally his career. He is a millionaire because he is trans. He was able to pay for all his surgeries because he is a well-known trans figure who rakes in a ton of youtube money. If the whole industry goes down, he won't have a job, and he won't be able to continue having surgery and taking hormones. The end of trans would be the end of Blaire.

Sorry this is so long, like I said I have a lot of feelings.

(PS: I find his interview with Shapeshifter SO fascinating. Here is Shapeshifter, dressed as femme as Blaire White, saying that he went through the whole process of being trans, even to the point where he cut his penis off, and he says "I am a man, I was never a woman, I was never trans." Blaire still has his penis and insists that he is "truly trans.")

[friend-of-a-cat]

I've been debating on whether or not I may be agender (or something similar) for the past two weeks or so, and I'm legitimately so confused about the entire thing. I feel like it's breaking my brain, because, on one hand, it feels somewhat right, but on the other, I also don't give a shit if people see me as a woman? And I'm fine with being a woman I think, but I also think I just generally don't give a shit about gender, so I don't know if that just makes me gender indifferent or if it means something else.

Ultimately, I know that if I want to take up the agender label that's totally up to me if I feel it fits, but it's just... confusing. I don't know if my indifference to gender stems from something like my asexuality and sex aversion or my upbringing (my mum didn't necessarily raise my brother and I as 'genders', we just did whatever and dressed however and liked whatever) or a general dislike and rejection of gender stereotypes or something else. But also... I don't know. I feel like I also have a kind of blockage to the idea of me being agender from living my life as a woman up until this point. Like, I feel conditioned to it, if that makes sense. I feel biased. Though I also think, at least right now upon writing this, that if I could have picked a gender earlier in life, and I wasn't conditioned by society to be a one already, I would have picked none if I had've known that was an option? But I'd also just go along with anything. Like, if I were born male I think I would have just cruised by in life as a guy and not really cared (except for the fact that I also would be thinking the same things I'm thinking right now I guess lol). I've realised that I don't really feel connected to 'woman' as a gender (I mean, I relate to being a woman, but also not), or even really the concept of gender, because I think it's kind of stupid and pointless to me. I mean, in saying this, I am still attracted to guys romantically, and that has to do with gender, so...?? I don't know. Like, I know that you can still be a woman and not be feminine and shit, but like... I've never related to people of my gender. I mean, I like feminine things and I like masculine things and I like gender-neutral things but I also don't think we should label things as 'feminine' or 'masculine' or 'gender neutral' or whatever because who cares?? I mean, some people do. Lots of people do. People do feel a strong connection to gender, and I think that's great, and I'm happy it exists because it makes people happy, but like... I don't think I've ever thought to myself "I'm glad I'm a woman". But I'm also not NOT glad to be a woman. I just haven't really felt a connection or a 'pull' to any gender, really. I mean, kind of. But not really. I'm relatively indifferent to the concept as a whole. In saying this, I've related way more to guys throughout my life, and many of my friends have been guys because I've just... had more fun and related to them more? Though this wasn't entirely because they were guys - it's just because of the people they were. But I also don't exactly feel like I'm a guy, either. And I don't exactly feel like I relate to being nonbinary. The concept of calling myself trans also doesn't fit. Some days I do feel like it would be really cool to just... be able to shapeshift and try out different things just for fun and to see how I'd feel? Like try out a different sex and gender and appearance and see. I like the way I look, though. And I'm fine with using she/her because I don't know what other pronouns I'd use?? Like I've been referred to as such my whole life and I don't really care but also right now I'm kind of like ehhhh. But I don't know if I'd want to go by they/he/whatnot. I know there are tons of other options but ehhh. If my pronouns were 'none' I think that'd be cool. Maybe. Maybe it would be less complicated. Dude, I don't know. It's 2:28 a.m. and I'm confused and I don't know if this makes any sense. I also feel like I'm flipping between feeling like this and then also not. I think just needed to ramble a bit to some strangers on the internet to get my thoughts in order lol.

I guess another reason I made this post is... does anyone else feel the same way? I mean, obviously people do, but yeah. I also know a lot of ace people (and aros, as well) experience a kind of disconnect with gender as a whole or their body - not that I personally feel disconnected from mine, per se (though if I didn't have fucking boobs and a reproductive system that'd be swell, but it also just is what it is, you know? I don't really see that as dysphoria, it's more like they're annoying and useless to me lol). I don't know if this is that - a disconnect from gender due to my asexuality. Like... for the people who do 'feel' gender... how? How do you 'feel' it? What is it meant to 'feel' like? I think I might need some helping sorting out my thoughts. Or not. I don't know.

Anyway, I think, first and foremost before any label, I'm just me, and that's okay. Even though I love that we have more terms to express ourselves in such ways now, it's still limiting. I'm ace and I love that the term exists because it's felt empowering to me (also pretty lonely, too, but... you know). Like... I'm ace. I'm ace and it feels so good to say it. Demiromantic fits me the best in that department at the moment, too. I don't know if agender fits me or not yet. This has been stewing for two weeks though and I don't know what exactly set me on this line of thought. I've decided I'm going to sit on it for a while and think - and by 'sit and think' I really mean probably forget about it because gender is something I rarely think about in any context (besides when I'm angry at people for being discriminatory). Though, the reason why I didn't realise I was ace until a few years ago when I discovered what it is is because I never thought about sexual attraction because... I never felt it, so... I could use that logic here, too. But it's sadly not that simple to me right now lol. It's hard to express stuff like this. As in, stuff you DON'T feel. I know it doesn't have to be hard, but I'm finding it hard lol, and I don't really know how to go about it. And again, I keep changing my mind on my thoughts and feelings because the whole prospect is daunting to me.

Anyway, thanks for coming to my TED Talk. As per usual, thoughts and discussions are welcome. I kind of feel like I'm oversharing my life, so I'm so sorry lol. Also this is a long post lmao. But it was kind of nice to put this into words.

It's also kind of funny that this crisis is happening in pride month. I fully came to terms with the fact I was ace last pride month and actually told people then lmao (I did know a year or two earlier but didn't tell anyone about it besides my mum briefly and vaguely lol). Anyway, happy pride?? Lol.

[leagueofuselessness]

Hey! thanks for stopping by our blog. :3

Nice to meet you! the mortal flesh sack you see before you with the purple hair... their name's Taylor, but we tend to go by many different names...

Here's some things you should know about us!

-Level 27 Dragon Shapeshifter.

-Trans in whatever way makes all of us faggots.

-pretty fem presenting most of the time and prefer she/her but we're very chill abt it.

-we like to skateboard, longboard, and roller blade!

-PC Gamer (primarily FPS/RTS/Survival but also some MMORPG/Simulation games as well)

-Furry

-Traditional Artist (pencil/pen/marker)

-Roleplay enthusiast

-Stoner / Psychedelics user

-Therian/Non-human

-Writer

and a lot of other more specific things :)

The tags that we primarily use are "#it'sa me" for selfies and "#my art" for drawing, as well as "#photography" :3

To explain to you the best way we can how the system operates. My (1st person) perception of the body is a sort of host. The many bits and pieces that make up all of me just reside within this shell (2nd person). We can control it with a series of inputs, not unlike that of a controller of a sort. but it is not just one single unified mind inside of this shell. The little bits and pieces that make up our personality are separable into different entities that sit behind the one "fronting" and talk at them like a council, attempting to sway their choices in the actions the body takes and the words it speaks.... But these entities, they also contain characterizations of other paths this host could have taken, had we made different choices or had we stayed existing geologically elsewhere. Even as far as being an entirely different breed of being, feelings of parts that aren’t there anymore and extensions of myself that we feel we should have….

The headspace that our system usually fronts with in Marisse's, however Natasha has become quite a big part of our life now and she makes us so happy. We feel her when we're treated like a puppy and given scritches and told that we're a good girl.

We can feel her really start to paw at the "controller" during these times and try and make decisions for me... and a lot of the times, we let her :)

Marisse the water dragoness - 🌊

Strong and wide momma dragon with a daredevil streak, unable to keep herself from the dangerous and the thrilling for too long before she gets herself tangled in another adventure! Competitive, stubborn, and self-driven!

Her two girlfriends are Bessie the cow and Tori the giraffe, and they live in an apartment with their adoptive son tempest the Clydesdale.

Natasha the Husky - 🐾

Voluptuous and sultry purple husky with a lavender underbelly and a black collar from which a purple bell hangs. She is overtly flirty with anyone she deems worth her time and slurps up attention with an incessantly wagging curl of tail floof.

Edit 5/5/24:

We feel comfortable enough in ourselves enough to express this through changing the pronouns on our pinned, even though I don't neccessarily use them each and every time I refer to myself in real life.

We shouldn't have to. who is anyone to define how when and where we decide to express our plurality? What we DO know is we feel comfortable about sharing that with you.

Edit 8/27/24

We've been doing some thinking, and we've updated some of the text here on our pinned~

[a-random-person-on-the-interent]

CALLING ALL PEOPLE WHO DISLIKE THE LOST CITIES AND THINK THEY'RE SHIT

we need to make like a discord or something to talk about it, or like write essays which I think I'm planning on doing, because the lost cities is shit, I feel very strongly about this as a disabled person, and you might ask why would me being disabled have anything to do with it, EUGENICS and the Talentless and even how disabled people are treated by the narrative. Because didn't Keefe descripe feeling talentless people as being hollow and not quite complete, WHICH IS WHAT DISABLED PEOPLE (or at least people with Autism like myself) HAVE BEEN CALLED FOR YEARS. I really want a charcter to have been born with a disability (ADHD, ASD, EDS, down syndrome, Dyslexia, dysgraphia, ect) or for the series to recognize that being talentless is having a disability or even the series to recongize mental health conditions (PTSD, BPD, Depression Schizoprenia, delusions) like Sophie has all the symptoms for PTSD, and one could argue she's dyslexic with her not being able to read runes. Also back to the eugenics talk, eugenics in history have been useally used on disabled people, like myself. There are no LGBTQ characters which can be fine, I'd like some but it's not a big problem expect... EUGENICS. the elves soiciety is based on Eugenics meaning that if someone was gay or lesbian or aroace, they probably would be scorned if not it being banned to be gay or lesbian. What about trans people? well the lost cities seem to function on that they are perfect the way they're born, and if one is not born perfect (Like the talentless) you are socially exiled. The susicde rates must be massive there, but I doubt anyone will talk about them because they'll be shamed.

Let's not even get into Exile cause that is just Touture, and I'm not kidding solitary confine meant is torture, fintans cell tourture, I'm not saying it isn't effective cause it is. but the elves claim to be morally superior to humans than do that. Memory breaks would also count as tourture as you are breaking someones mind till they are practically dead. And we saw how that effected Aladin. What about the white room tourture they had Vesperia be in for centuries. there politcal system is fucked too, Cause a friendship is just as important as a romantic relationship so if they wanted them to be completey unbiased the councliers shouldn't be allowed to have friends or family, and that doesn't stop the heart from from falling in love with someone and giving them special treatment.

I think anyone with half a brain could tell you that feeding carniverous animals strickly vegan diet is bad, so let's move on to the education system and I'm 90% sure that elves are just lying about how much they helped humans, like I'm 100% sure that Mr. Forkle only thinks he inspired Loki, cause if you know any myths about him you'd know they are not similar at all well maybe aside from the shapeshifting like didn't at one point they say they helped them discover electicity, like eceletricity was ORGINALLY discovered in 600 BCE they at that time were probbaly still living among humans, like I'm sorry but you guys probbaly didn't help with anything and might've actually prolonged the process because you thought you knew better. and y'know what they probbaly haven't even gotten to the center of the earth yet which is 2,9000 KM down, but back to education, it's so heavily bias, that all the other speices that aren't elves are like what the fuck is this, this isn't how it happened, so my best guess is that it's full of misinformation. Y'know what I should make a skit of, "If I was in the lost cities"

[cyborg-hydra-girl-thing]

warframe is so fuckin trans

just

ough i love it so much

like even very early before we had the second dream and the operator it was kind of a not so subtle secret that we weren’t really the frames, we were just piloting them, with Alad V and Tyl Regor both commenting on how the warframe’s were just machines and empty shells, and also unpiloted wild frames are like feral animals, valkyr’s lore and a couple quests highlight this

so like even playing the game there’s this kind of meta level disconnect between you playing as the frames and just *swapping entire bodies* to fit the task at hand

where even the skin you wore was just a tool to do what you sought

and then we get the second dream and aw tits were actually an immortal space demon child

and oh no our spacemom(lotus), is actually a shapeshifter who took the shape of Margulis, who was the original mother to the tenno, and accidentally fell in love with these traumatized magic void children and donned the title of the lotus after the fall of the orokin at the hands of the tenno

and at the end of the new war when you get the opportunity to choose who space mom is like she is all of them, she is Natah/Margulis/Lotus and she will always be and has always been Natah/Margulis/Lotus and each one of those people has endured such trauma that that choice brought me to tears, i sobbed on my couch for over an hour just staring at the choices and thinking about

margulis was the orokin who took in and took care of the tenno. she protected them as best she could from the terrors of the orokin, and they ended up maiming her (on accident(i can’t actually remember how she died off the top of my head but)

and Natah, a mimic, the best mimic, daughter of Hunhow was sent to the original system ahead of the sentient invasion to weaken the orokin before they invaded, and donned Margulis’ skin

at some point the warframe’s are developed, a strain of the helminth virus injected into people mutating and twisting them into monsters

some kept their intellect, but it’s implied that a large number of the warframe’s were feral and uncontrollable

and the tenno, these ageless 12 year olds who’re the only survivors of a warp ship catastrophe and touched by the Void who made a deal with the Man In The Wall to save them and also give them magic powers, are able to connect with the warframes on a level nobody else can, and through transference can drive the warframe’s like external exosuits

perfect for ending this war with the sentients

and immortal child soldiers are perfect for a war spanning the solar system (at least? i know the sentients went to the Tau galaxy (system?) to terraform it ahead of the orokin)

and then the children murder their masters at the victory ceremony (after which they might have been executed? i can’t recall, i need to go reread the lore lol) and then Margulis -> Lotus hides them in Lua in the Void in a forever waking dream, still piloting their frames and as the Lotus, works as their mission advisor and probably securing missions to strategically weaken the corpus or grineer war machines

[zizz-asdf-re-r-o-u]

nu carnival gender analysis/headcanons that are supported by ~evidence~

ok i had this sitting in my drafts for the longest time and i finally sharing it now. tada~

Disclaimer: I have not watched every event or intimacy room per usual blah blah please correct me if i'm wrong about lore. Also I'm focusing solely on hard facts we see in dialogue/text and connecting the dots. If anyone has further info on characters that I don't have info for, lemme know!

Aster: This has been written about by several people by now. At this point if you don't think it, whatever. Strapons for life. Hopefully someone does trans Aster fanart one day pleaaase.

Blade: In Rusted Nation, the researcher says Blade’s design “does not have the functions for sex”, which means he either didn’t have any reproductive organs or he had a penis that didn’t function that way it does present-day. But because Blade can have sex now with a very human-like penis & stores (flavored) cum, that makes me wonder if Blade was eventually upgraded (especially considering the noble that funded the researcher) with a penis. So many trans allegories here, especially since we know he can still be disassembled today. Also, Blade wearing dresses repeatedly.

Kuya: (My genderfluid ass just gets the VibesTM, although that is not canon-based evidence.) However, he also has campy drag queen mannerisms, and in Fancy Capricio English, some of the suitors refer to Kuya as princess with she/her pronouns. It's possible that in Mandarin/Japanese, the pronouns would be gender neutral, but in English they went there. In the Forest Night rooms, he also refers to himself as the shogun/general's wife a few times. Although in Neon Carnival+OG SSR, Kuya refers to Eiden as mother to his (future/fake) kits. In a way, Kuya really reminds me of how Juno Steel from Penumbra Podcast has all the genderfuckery simultaneously in this way. Also, while I don't think we've seen kuya shapeshift like Aster & Morvay does, he is also magical, has at least transformed from fox to human, magically creates clothes, and illusions are his specialty so naturally he should be able to shapeshift.

Also, nail polish has no gender, but Blade and Kuya repeatedly wear nail polish even in their base SR units. Heels are useless to consider since most of them wear heels.

The Astral Duo moon spirits: each of them are referred to by "they/them". Again, it's possible the original Mandarin/Japanese would be already gender neutral, but in English, that's what they used. There's a number of other spirits/yokai that don't have specified genders so I'll include them all in here too.

Bonus: Morvay is an incubus and in mythology, incubus can shapeshift, so naturally if he wanted to, he could probably transform into a girl to get some dick.

All the other guys absolutely could be trans esp in Klein where gender & sexuality does not operate the same way our world does, but I have not played the events or read the rooms with as much canon text evidence. If you have come across supporting evidence and have more guys to add on, please let me know!

[artharakka]

im very interested in your dnd oc Rhiam, i think its really cool and rarely done to have a trans character actually transition during the course of the game, was it always your intention for her to be trans or did this evolve naturally in the campaign? also i love her design especially the colour pallete with the earthy tones and rich blue accent colours <3

Hi! And thank you because ough I also love Rhiam so much even if (and because) she's my own character 🧡

Rhiam is one of those characters that just starts to live a life of its own, you know? I can plan things for her but some things just feel right or wrong. Because at the beginning I was thinking that "now for a change I'll make a dude character, just a regular humble lad". I think I even said something like that out loud to our DM haha, so it was not planned from the start.

What I did plan quite from the beginning was that Rhiam, coming from the huble countryside, was determined to start a new and less dull life in the city. She wanted to become a proper mage and actually do something with her magic. I think her original plan was to try to become a performer (though she noticed that performing magic tricks to strangers rather than your own siblings is slightly more daunting). So while I didn't know everything about her, I did know that she desired to be something else than a farmer boy. And I knew that she desired to have earrings and jewelry and beautiful outfits. Then at some point we thought with our DM that hmm maybe there's something else besides just not wanting to be a farmer, maybe she desires not to be a boy as well. But yeah, we have also tought that it's funky that it happened gradually and during game like this. I think we got to have conversations and themes we wouldn't have had if I had just made her trans from the start (not that there wouldn't have been anything wrong with that but yeah, this was interesting!) Especially since our group really likes to take time to dwell in little moments and details (for real, our average game session spans over a weekend and lasts mmm around 18-24h in total? with pauses of course) Her final transformation (heh) also happened in a neat transitioning phase as they are currently in a mountain pass between two countries.

Oh and speaking of transformation, I also gave Rhiam alter self spell that she used to try what it would be like to be a girl/woman. And since I have actually made short poems for her every verbal component spell, I used lines that referred to our D&D world's shapeshifting god of the forests Iija Iki-Mettä and asked aid from her. And eventually Iija invited Rhiam to her sacred pond and transed her gender more permanently than what Rhiam alone could do. So I'm now multiclassing her as druid. Another thing I said I wouldn't do since I wanted to try some other class than druid for a change. "This time I will do a man guy boy who is not a druid" I said. "Congrats lil buddy that's the worst anyone's ever done it" I say to myself now (and wouldn't have it any other way <3).

[nat-1-whump]

🌈 Pride fantasy prompts

Pride writing ideas no. 1

(Little to no angst or whump here, I wanted to focus on happier stories this time around.)

Mages use transformation spells as a magical method of gender-affirming surgery. One mage who specializes in such magic travels across the land, helping anyone from tiny fairies to gigantic dragons be their true selves. Nothing brings them more joy than giving their client a mirror after the spell is done and watching their face light up. And when someone needs that spell, the mage will find a way to do it, no matter who or what they have to challenge in order to do so.

Asexual succubi and incubi find non-sexual ways to seduce their targets. A character hears a noise in the middle of the night and goes to the kitchen to find a demon-like creature baking them a cake that reads, "Come to the darkest pits of the underworld, please? 🥺" With the layers upon layers of chocolate fudge, how could anyone resist?

A gay mage learns a teleportation spell to bring their crush on a date without anyone else seeing, because they are worried about what people will think. However, the spell backfires and ends up teleporting them to the wrong place. As they work together to find their way home, the two overcome challenges for each other and realize that their love really does conquer all.

A trans character finds out that they're trans by accessing some sort of magic that only another gender is supposed to be able to access. For example, a transfem sailor thinks she's a cis guy until she is the only one on the ship who can see an island that is magically hidden from everyone except women. She had always felt a bit "off" but kind of pushed it to the side, attributing it to literally anything except being trans. The island beckons to her and confirms the feelings she had ignored for years. (I thought there was an island like that in the Odyssey but I can't find anything about it so I may be wrong.)

When a gay couple adopts a child, they weren't expecting to bring home a dragon egg. But, that won't stop them from being the best adoptive parents anyone could have. They spend nights deep in the library, set on learning everything they need to raise their dragon child. (Or, alternatively, a dragon couple ends up adopting a human or otherwise non-dragon child.)

Due to their association with rainbows, magic, and self-expression, unicorn derbies become widely celebrated events during pride festivals. A particularly clever unicorn escapes right before the derby, and magical shenanigans ensue.

While others their age are asking their crushes to dances and peeking at raunchy magazines, an aroace teen is busy training swordfighting with a dragon that they keep hidden a little bit away from their house. Their parents find some evidence of their teen sneaking out and assume it's with some romantic partner. When their teen reluctantly agrees to introduce them, they weren't expecting to come face to face with a gigantic reptile. They said they wanted their teen to be with whoever makes them happy... But this is awkward.

Immortal characters who've been around for centuries don't necessarily understand the newer labels and identities, but they're excited that their children are able to express themselves in ways they weren't able to a few hundred years ago. They do their best to support their kid's identity... Possibly to the point of embarrassing their kid with their enthusiasm. They mean well though.

A genderfluid character who can shapeshift uses their ability to transition on the spot whenever and however they feel like it. They kind of take this ability for granted, until their non-shapeshifter friend wants to transition and can't just do so by snapping their fingers. This shapeshifter does their best to help their friend find clothes and hairstyles that might have the same effect. They end up having to be a bit creative with what they have, but it's a lot more fun than either expected.

To represent the strength of their relationship, a gay swordsmith forges a sword as a surprise present (or proposal, like a ring but cooler) for their beloved. They decide to gather gemstones from the place they first met (or some other place that is significant to them), but getting the gemstone proves to be a difficult quest. They end up asking for their partner's help, all while keeping it a secret why they need it. When they finally get the gemstone and forge the sword, the colorful pieces in the hilt tell a story of their journey together.

Elves and other androgynous creatures completely demolish outdated standards of what each gender is "supposed to" look like. Some people are frustrated with how hard it is to assume an elf's gender, but lots of trans and nonbinary people are inspired by the magical genderfuckery. (I know I am, lol. Legolas was my first gender envy.)

(Feel free to add on!)

[withthewerewolves]

The "Make-Everything-Worse-and-Not-Let-Them-Talk-About-It-For-Even-Longer" AU

Because of who I am as a person, this AU was inevitable. (Sorry guys, I do only have the one kink and I gotta insert it into everything.) (Though to be fair, it turned out to be a much smaller part of the story than intended.)

So, a Nimona mpreg AU. Don’t worry about the how, it could be omegaverse, Ballister could be trans (probably this one), all the residents of the kingdom could be hermaphrodites and that’s perfectly normal, whatever floats your personal boat. 

The important thing is, not long after losing his arm, Ballister realizes he’s pregnant. (As for the arm, I think this would be mostly movie-verse, but with some comic aspects mixed in. The whole thing with the sword and the Queen and Bal’s arm happened like in the movie.) He gets away, gets the bleeding stopped, recovers from the shock, etc, and starts making his prosthetic, maybe thinking about how to prove his innocence. But before he’s done, he starts having Symptoms. Ones that are Distinct enough from arm-chopping symptoms that he has to Think about them. 

It doesn’t take him long to figure it out. He’s pretty smart, and has to be fairly familiar with biology to save himself from blood loss and build a robotic prosthetic. At first, he’s thinking mostly ’This is the worst time in my entire life for this to be happening’, but eventually his practical mind takes a break and his emotional mind gets to loudly trumpet a couple of facts. 

A) The baby is his and Ambrosius’s. It’s something they’d talked about, sometimes, alone together in the dark of their bedroom, when a future seemed not just possible but assured. He remembers the way Ambrosius’s hand had trembled in his, the way his heart had wanted to burst with love and longing. Ambrosius may think he’s a murderer, may have cut off his arm, but Ballister will still love their child with every beat of his black heart. 

And B) The Institute will not let him keep this baby. If he proves his innocence, if he goes back, the Director will send him straight to the medical center to terminate the pregnancy. It’s happened before. Knights are all on birth control as a matter of policy, and have to either retire or ask for a leave of absence before having a baby. It made sense to Ballister, back when it was explained. They were the shield between the kingdom and the darkness. No one could be out of commission unexpectedly. But some years ago, a knight had become pregnant, either on purpose or because of a failure in the birth control, and she had been offered a choice: end the pregnancy or end her career as a knight. If Ballister had thought about it, he would’ve said he’d make the same choice she did, that being a knight was his calling. But when this thought first occurs to him, while digging around the back of the cupboards for the naan bread he knows is in there, he has to sink to the floor and put his head between his knees. 

That’s the moment his belief in the Institute suffers its first crack. 

The second won’t come for a couple of years, when his beautiful healthy baby turns into a butterfly right before his eyes. 

He definitely panics. His whole life for the last few years has been about Nimona and taking care of Nimona and keeping Nimona safe, and now she can shapeshift? That’s going to complicate so many things, upend an already delicate balance. 

The Institute would kill her in a second, just for existing. Ambrosius might kill her without even thinking about it. Anyone in the kingdom might kill her, if they decide she’s a monster. 

He does a couple of noninvasive tests, trying to figure out what’s going on. He doesn’t find anything conclusive, and the next time he sets Nimona on the worktable and pulls out a needle, she bursts into tears. She won’t let him comfort her until he puts the needle away. What am I even doing? he thinks. What does it matter why she can shift? She’s his daughter. He sets aside his experiments. But he doesn't give up.

He’s broken into the Institute before, for parts for his arm he couldn’t get anywhere else, but he doesn’t get caught until he breaks into the labs. He curses at himself the entire time he’s running away, he should have known the scientists don’t care about normal working hours. He fiddles with his prosthetic in the middle of the night all the time. 

He goes back later, after the fuss has died down. He had to leave his apartment and his job, with his face all over the news, dredging up the mess of the knighting ceremony and restarting the hunt for his head. (How did he get an apartment and a job when he was the most notorious killer in the city, you ask? He shaved his facial hair and nobody recognized him. He accidentally ran into Todd in the street once and Todd was an asshole about it. And didn’t recognize him.) He doesn’t watch the interview with Ambrosius. 

Ambrosius has grown out his hair. 

This time, Ballister brings tranq shots, and leaves all the techs and guards slumped over on the floor while he rifles through their files. 

He finds what he’s looking for. He finds a whole lot more than he was expecting. He sits in the darkened lab until the first guard starts to wake, thinking about what he found. He steals all the files, deleting them as he goes. He doesn’t tell anyone. He doesn’t tell you, either. 

He never trusts another word the Director or the Institute says. 

For a while, he helps Nimona learn to control her shifts. First to shift into what she wants (they break into a zoo after hours and she shifts into every single one of them. (Where does a giant enclosed city get zoo animals, you ask? Don’t worry about it, that’s where.) Bal hasn’t laughed that hard in a long time), then to suppress shifts if there’s anyone else around. Not shifting leaves her drained and sullen. He makes her practice all the time, even when it’s just the two of them in the little abandoned tower near the Wall they move into. 

She’s maybe five or six when Ballister gives up on that. She shifts, and he scolds her. She throws a tantrum, and of course that involves more shifting. He checks that the blankets are still over the windows, that there’s no way anyone can see in. 

“Nimona, honey, shifting is dangerous,” he pleads. They’ve been lucky so far, but she’s just a kid, and she’s bound to lose control someday, unless he locks her up in the tower all the time. 

“But - I - have to!” she screams, little gorilla fists hitting the floor, then talons scrabbling at it. 

“Sometimes there are things you can’t do,” he says, carefully not thinking about himself, “No matter how much you want to.”

“But - it - hurtsssss!” she shrieks out of the beak of some sort of large bird. 

Ballister frowns. “It hurts?” he asks, “The shifting?” 

Nimona must sense the change in his tone, because she’s a human again, her big eyes blurred with tears, her face still red with anger. “Not shifting,” she says on a sob. 

A horrible little ball starts to grow in Ballister’s throat. “It hurts when you don’t shift?” he rasps out. 

Nimona screws up her face, calmer now that he’s listening to her, but her breath still hitching. “It doesn’t hurt hurt,” she says. “It feels - bad. Not like scraping my knee, or the dreams. Not like eating pineapple. But bad.” (She has absolutely horrid nightmares. She screams until his desperate efforts finally wake her, and then she sobs herself back to sleep in his arms. He has his suspicions about where the dreams come from, and he’s working on a sleep drug that’s safe for her. She’s also allergic to pineapple, it makes her sick to her stomach. He doesn’t think about where he learned how to monitor allergies.) 

Ballister sits on the ground next to her and opens his arms. She crawls into them and rests her head on his chest. He presses his face into her long red hair. The color had baffled him when she was born, nothing like any of the portraits at Ambrosius’s house or his memories of his parents. She turns into a snake and coils herself around his shoulders. 

“Ok,” he says. 

She hisses an inquisitive sound into his ear. 

“Ok,” he says again. “Shift all you want inside the tower. If you need to shift somewhere else, tell me and I’ll help you get somewhere safe.” 

The snake turns into a dog, wriggling in his arms and licking his face frantically. 

“Alright, alright,” he laughs. “The rules about keeping our mouths to ourselves still apply.” To punctuate this point, he grabs her and presses loud kisses wherever he can reach. She turns into a squirrel and scampers out of his reach, laughing along. 

He thinks, I’ll keep her safe, even if I have to tear down the whole kingdom to do it. 

~O~

Ambrosius doesn’t know any of this. From his perspective, Bal killed the Queen and ran off after Ambrosius chopped off his arm. No one knows anything about him. Ambrosius tries to remind himself that no one had found a body either, but that comfort is colder and colder as the years wear on. He doesn’t know what to do, what to think. He’s basically a robot for weeks after the knighting ceremony. They don’t let him help with the search, and he doesn’t argue. He isn’t sure if he wants them to find Ballister or not, but they never do. 

Then, years later, Ballister breaks into the Institute labs. The security cameras have a good picture of him, when Ambrosius manages to hack into them (he doesn’t want to see the look on the Director’s face if he asks to see the tape). Ballister looks older, more than just a few years should account for. He’s dressed in all black, with a cape swirling around him as he flees the scene of his crime. His hair is longer. His beard is gone. His face is set in furious concentration. 

He’s alive. 

And his right arm is made of wires and cables rather than flesh. 

A reporter asks him about it, while he’s out on Institute business. He gets out something about how Ballister should come in so he can face justice, but he’s heard what the other knights are saying. Would there be justice, or a quiet murder after an ‘escape attempt’? He tries to tell himself that he and the Director could ensure a fair trial. All he really wants is to know why Bal did it. Was killing the Queen his plan all along? Was any of their friendship or courtship real? 

Then Ballister breaks in again. This time he leaves a trail of unconscious scientists and knights in his wake. The Director confirms that he’s stolen some data, but no one knows how much, or to what purpose. 

There are more break-ins, at Institute labs and storehouses across the kingdom. Sometimes Ballister takes data, sometimes medical supplies, sometimes lab supplies. There’s always destruction. People die. The Director tells him that the death of one of the scientists will set their defense research back ten years. 

At first, the Director tries to keep him out of it, either out of respect for his prior relationship with Ballister, or not trusting him to do the right thing. Then Ballister robs a bank, and the people clamor for the descendant of Gloreth to protect them. 

The first time he sees Ballister face to face, they’re locking swords while another lab burns behind them. Ballister wins. Ambrosius doesn’t know if he held back, but Ballister sure didn’t. Ambrosius has never seen Ballister that angry. Was this the face hiding behind Ballister’s earnest smile all along? 

The next time they meet, Ballister is like stone, unstoppable, impenetrable, and cold. He barely speaks. He takes down every single knight the Institute sends, and only Ambrosius even slows him down. 

Rinse, repeat. 

Before Ambrosius knows it, it’s been fifteen years since he was knighted. It isn’t anything like he thought it would be. Everyone acts like his whole job is to be Ballister’s nemesis. He hardly ever gets to help people directly, like he used to. None of the other knights talk to him. The Director only calls him to her office to lecture him on his duties and how he’s failing at them. His skin care routine now involves covering the bags under his eyes from lack of sleep, and he keeps his hair long even though it’s against regulation because washing it is the only pleasant sensation in his life sometimes. All his happy memories are tainted by Ballister’s betrayal. 

Then Ambrosius meets Ballister’s new sidekick. 

The first time she shows up, Ballister clearly didn’t invite her. Ambrosius nearly catches them because Ballister is distracted by yelling at a pink-haired teenager in some sort of chainmail tunic. 

It hurts, a little, because he’s clearly worried about her. He used to worry about Ambrosius like that, when Ambrosius fought the other trainees who were cruel to Ballister. 

Then the kid turns into a dragon. 

Is this who Ballister would rather care about? Rather spend his time with? This is the life he chose over Ambrosius? 

The destruction is worse than usual. Civilians are too close. A little kid nearly gets crushed, but she picks up a sword and fends the dragon off all by herself. Ambrosius feels another stab of fury for Ballister. The Queen wanted to accept more common children into the Institute, but because of his actions, that little girl will never have the chance to become a knight. 

The Director calls Ambrosius to her office, and for the first time in years, she doesn’t yell at him. She takes him down into the Institute archives, where the really old scrolls are. She shows him a picture of the dragon, the same dragon, fighting Gloreth. While he’s wrestling with the idea of a thousand year old monster, she sends the rest of the guards away, and tells him something else. 

“The files about it must have been among the first he destroyed,” the Director says, her voice hard. “He didn’t want us to know what he had taken. If I hadn’t been read into the project, we might have no idea what we’re up against.” 

“Ballister took the monster…from the Institute?” Ambrosius asks. His mind has gone fuzzy. 

“It doesn’t die,” the Director says, taking him by the shoulders and shaking lightly. He can’t remember the last time someone touched him. “When she realized she couldn’t kill it, Gloreth sealed it away. We’ve been trying to destroy it for a thousand years, and Blackheart has Let. It. Out.” 

If Ambrosius could remember feeling warm, he might go cold. “But…if he’s had it all these years, why hasn’t he used it against us before now?” Maybe Ballister doesn’t know what it is. Maybe it had pretended to be that teenaged girl it had first appeared to be. You saw it shapeshift, he thinks, You saw Ballister see it shapeshift. Did he look surprised to you? 

The Director shakes her head. “We couldn’t destroy it, but we could keep it small. He’s probably been biding his time all these years, waiting for it to grow up enough to be really dangerous.” 

Something about that sentence seems off to Ambrosius, but before he can think about it too much, the Director catches his eyes and holds them. “It is imperative for the safety of the kingdom that we contain the monster. It cannot be allowed to hurt anyone else.” 

Ambrosius has never tried to talk to Ballister directly before. He’s played that first fight over and over again in his mind. Ballister had frozen, at first. So had Ambrosius, if he’s honest with himself. He’d wanted to beg Ballister to come back, to promise that they could fix it. He must not have phrased it well. Ballister had been so angry, and eventually Ambrosius had given up on words. But this time is different, he tells himself. Ballister must see that this is bigger than petty theft and vandalism. He didn't want the monster there. Maybe he knows it's dangerous. Maybe he regrets taking it. Maybe he needs help getting rid of it. 

He's still skulking around the outer ring looking for black capes (being a full time nemesis leaves a lot of time for skulking), when the call comes in. He's only too glad to abandon his original idea for the more elegant plan of waiting until all the other knights are moaning on the floor or evacuating the burning manufactory and he and Ballister have locked swords to lean in and hiss "Nachos?" 

Ballister looks at him like he's lost his mind. Then his monster crashes through the manufactory roof with a hunk of machinery in her claws, Ballister disarms (Ambrosius mentally winces, but he's used to it by now) him in three easy moves. There's a cascading crash as the monster (presumably) drops her prize. When the debris settles, both of them are gone. 

Ambrosius goes to the Antlered Serpent as soon as he's done debriefing with the Director. She's furious. The scientists have been working around the clock to produce something to stop the monster, and yet the knights, especially Ambrosius, failed to so much as slow it down. She tells Ambrosius that if he can’t recapture it cleanly he’ll have to start the containment process in the field. She describes enough of the process that he promises to catch it next time just so he can get out of her office before he vomits. He knows it’s a monster, but what if it tries to look like a person again? Can he do that to someone? (Can he even do it to a monster?)

He has to talk to Ballister. 

He sits in the Antlered Serpent all night, trying desperately to stay awake. He drinks coffee until he’s shaking. He doesn’t order any nachos. Thousands of possible conversations swim through his thoughts, but none of the opening words are right. The sun starts to rise. He thinks maybe he would wait forever rather than go back to the Institute, but the owner kicks him out when they close. 

What’s he supposed to do now? 

Only his knight training stops him from falling over when an arm snakes out of an alley and drags him in as he passes. He twists, slamming the assailant against the alley wall, but they dart out of his hold. His sword is drawn before he recognizes the facial hair peeking out of the shadow of the cloak’s hood. 

“Ballister?” 

Ballister’s expression doesn’t change, but he nods to a set of shabby folding chairs set next to a dumpster. There’s a take out container on one of them. “I didn’t want this conversation to be overheard,” he says, voice hard. 

Ambrosius hesitates for a moment, but it’s too late to back out. It’s been too late for a very long time. The sound of his sword sliding back into its scabbard scares a flock of birds off a nearby roof. He sits in the empty chair, his armor sounding like destruction in the silence of the early morning. Ballister huffs, just like he used to do when Todd said something annoying, and hands Ambrosius the take out container. While Ballister is settling into the other chair (no less noisily, Ambrosius thinks smugly), he opens it. 

“Nachos?” he asks, a little incredulous. 

“Don’t worry, there’s no olives,” Ballister sneers, “It’s not poisoned either.” 

Ambrosius is pretty sure that if Ballister was going to kill him, he’d have done it years ago. His stomach chooses that moment to remember that he’s had nothing but coffee all day. He eats a nacho. It tastes like better times. He flips the lid closed again. 

“It’s about your sidekick,” he says. 

“My daughter. I thought it might be,” Ballister says. His jaw is clenched tight. 

“Your what?” Ambrosius asks, thrown. 

“My daughter,” Ballister says. His eyes narrow. Ambrosius has a flash of how Ballister’s eyes used to look, wide and gentle and kind. He wonders if the warmth in them was only ever in his head. “If you can’t call her that, we have nothing to talk about.” 

Before Ballister can get up, Ambrosius says, “Your daughter then. Ballister.” He has to stop. The single nacho feels like worms in his stomach. Ballister’s daughter. Gloreth. That thing made Ballister see it as his daughter? 

Ballister doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t leave either. 

Once Ambrosius has pulled himself together, he manages, “They want me to kill her.” 

“You tried to kill her today,” Ballister says, voice cold. “Is killing children what heroes do these days?” 

Maybe if he’d slept sometime in the last 36 hours he could have stopped himself. Maybe if he hadn’t just sat through the Director explaining in exquisite detail what heroes are expected to do to monsters, he could have stayed silent. Maybe if Ballister wasn’t sitting here looking both like a stranger and like the man he’d once thought he’d see across the breakfast table every morning, he could have kept his words in the back of his throat where they belong. 

But all those things are true. So he says, “How would you know? You never even tried to be a hero.” 

He half expects Ballister to fly off the handle, but instead Ballister pins him with that icy stare, mouth tight. There are wrinkles around it that weren’t there 15 years ago. He wonders if they’re smile lines or frown lines. 

“The Institute was never going to let me be a hero,” he says, as if it’s a fact of life. As if it was carved into the stone of the Wall. As if he’s raged about it, cried about it, examined it from every angle, and finally accepted it. Fire is hot, water is wet, there are monsters at the gates, and Ballister was never going to be allowed to be a hero. 

It makes Ambrosius want to punch him. Who had accepted him into the Institute in the first place? Who had spent hours lecturing him on noble social etiquette even when he continued to make mistakes? Who had excitedly selected his second favorite sword to gift to the new trainee? “You can’t blame the Institute for how your life turned out! You made the choice to kill the Queen!” 

Ballister is on his feet so quickly the chair falls backward with a crash. “You really believe that? After everything, after all this time, you really think I killed the Queen?” 

Ambrosius stands too, the nachos scattering at his feet. His exhausted brain is sharpening with adrenaline, but everything seems to be moving a little too fast, as if his eyes are on a half second delay and his mind is trying to compensate. “I was standing right next to you Bal, I saw you kill her.” 

“Don’t call me that,” Ballister snarls. “And if I recall correctly, you weren’t standing right next to me. I very distinctly remember a sword’s length of distance, specifically, between your hand and my arm.” 

Ballister has never said anything about his arm. In all this time, all those meetings over flashing blades, he’s never thrown this at Ambrosius. Maybe he knew it would land true. Maybe all those fights were Ballister playing with his food. 

Ambrosius can’t stop himself. He looks at Ballister’s metal arm. He can’t look away from it. It’s oddly beautiful, with the pre-dawn light glinting off of it. Each finger is individually articulated, all the joints perfect and sanded smooth, at odds with the scuffed and scratched metal of the forearm. He wants to examine every inch of it. He wants to smash it to pieces. He wants to have never touched anything sharper than a butter knife. 

“I’m so…sorry.” He doesn’t mean to say that either. His mouth and his eyes have both betrayed him. Well, they’re in good company. “For your arm.” 

He doesn’t realize Ballister is moving until his back hits the other side of the alley. Dimly, he registers that he should be afraid. Ballister was always the better fighter, but Ambrosius was no slouch, he could defend himself. But with his current state of distraction and sleep deprivation, he doesn’t stand a chance. The fear never comes. 

Ballister is pressed against him, closer than he’s been in more than a decade. Their armor clinks softly where it rubs together. His face is so close that Ambrosius can make out every wrinkle, every gray hair. It hurts like a kick to the gut that he didn’t get to see them grow in. Time stops for just a second, just long enough for something in Ambrosius, something he’d thought long since starved to death, to wake up and roar its desperation. It’s all he can do not to reach out and pull Ballister closer. 

Ballister wouldn’t be receptive. He’s lost his icy calm, the way he hasn’t since that first fight. With his face twisted in fury, he somehow looks younger, just the way Ambrosius remembers him. 

“I don’t care about the arm!” he yells. It seems to echo between them, no place for the sound to escape to. “After all this time, that’s all you have to say? That you’re sorry about my arm?” 

“I am sorry!” Ambrosius yells back. He doesn’t mean to be yelling, they’re close enough that he could whisper, but the words come out at a yell anyway. “I hurt you, and I did it without even thinking! You! It shouldn’t matter what you’d done! I thought I’d killed you!” He’s going to cry. He hasn’t cried in years, and he’s going to break that streak in front of this man. Well. Better Ballister than anyone else, he supposes. 

Ballister makes a sound, like a roar of rage stifled by a sob. “You should have known me,” he says, quieter but raw, like it hurts his throat on the way out. “You should have known I wouldn’t do something like that.” 

Ambrosius barely processes the words, because Bal (and it is Bal now) slumps forward and buries his face in Ambroius’s shoulder, and Ambrosius’s arms come up on instinct (oh how he wishes he didn’t have instincts) to wrap around him, draw him as close as he can get.

His lungs are too tight. It’s been so long since anyone touched him, and it’s Bal, his best friend, the man he loves (still, he has never been able to deny in the privacy of his own mind that he loves him still), the person he has missed like a limb. Maybe they both left a part of themselves on that arena floor. 

Bal’s hair is as soft as ever when Ambrosius curls into him. The gray glints in the weak sunlight like silver threads. Bal’s breath puffs warm, wet, and ragged against his throat. Somehow the flesh hand ended up wrapped tight around his upper arm, the metal one tangled in his hair. He thinks he might explode. All this time he’s been a keg of blasting powder, and he hadn’t even known Bal is a match. 

Then the words trickle in. “Ballister,” he says, slowly enough to let the thought finish forming. “Are you saying you didn’t kill the Queen?” 

Bal goes completely still. Then he slowly withdraws his hand from Ambrosius’s hair, so careful not to snag any of the strands. He pulls back. His eyes are red but the fury has drained out of him. He looks as tired as Ambrosius feels, worn down to the bones. 

“No, Ambrosius. I didn’t.” 

It’s been so long since anyone has used his first name, he’d nearly forgotten what it sounded like. Ballister was always the only one who did. He used to love the way it sounded on Bal’s tongue, the way his accent hugged the last syllable. It doesn’t sound like it used to, but it hurts all the same. Not as much as everything else, though. 

Early on, he’d doubted. It hadn’t made any sense. Ballister loved the Queen, maybe not quite like a mother or quite like a goddess, but something like the two combined. Or he’d seemed to. He’d seemed excited to be a knight, open and affectionate to Ambrosius, kind to the street kids who sometimes came up to him on patrol. A years-long plot of deceit and infiltration culminating in assassination didn’t seem his style. And yet, the Queen was dead. His image of Ballister could never fit what he’d done, but he’d seen him do it. Therefore, it was his image that was incorrect. 

Wasn’t it? 

But he’d never managed to come up with a motive. 

Ballister holds his gaze, but his eyes are full of resignation. He doesn’t expect Ambrosius to believe him. 

Does Ambrosius believe him?

It would be insane to take the word of a man who has spent the last fifteen years terrorizing the populace, defying the Institute, and trampling the peace and order and safety that the Institute provides. It would be insane to take the word of a man he hasn’t spoken to in a decade and a half. It would be insane to take the word of a villain. 

But Gloreth help him, Ambrosius does believe him. 

His legs abruptly decide not to hold his weight, and he slides down the wall to sit on the ground. “But - why?” It’s not the question he wants to ask. He doesn’t know what question he wants to ask. Gloreth, if he accepts this as true, what does it push out of alignment? What parts of his worldview does he have to sacrifice to make room for Ballister being innocent? (If he’s innocent then Ambrosius cut off his arm for nothing.) 

“I don’t know why,” Ballister says. He hasn’t moved, and probably Ambrosius should feel vulnerable crouching at his feet. If it were anyone else, probably he would. 

“You don’t know why?” Ambrosius snaps. “It’s been fifteen years, and you didn’t investigate?” 

He doesn’t look away from the patch of concrete between Ballister’s boots, but he can hear the frown in his voice. “Of course I investigated. I know who, and I know how. But she didn’t exactly leave records of her thought process.” 

That snaps him out of it. The back of his head bounces off the wall, but the pain is nothing to the need to see Ballister’s face. “You have records? Proof? You could clear your name?” 

He’s seen Ballister frown plenty in the last fifteen years. Some were furious, some were intent, some spoke to a kind of focus that Ambrosius had to forget about until after Ballsiter had inevitably won the duel and Ambrosius was alone in his dorm. This frown isn’t what he’s used to seeing. It looks confused, unsure, lost like Ballister had been when he’d first started training. 

“What use would that be?” 

“Bal,” he coughs, the name sticking in his throat. He’s been saying it a lot, enjoying how it feels in his mouth, even if it hurts on the way up his throat. “Ballister. If we can prove your innocence, you can come back. Be a knight again, a hero.” Be with me, he doesn’t say. 

Ballister takes a long, slow breath. It whistles through his nose. He always did get sinus problems in the spring, Ambrosius thinks wildly. Ballister blows the breath out through his mouth, just as slow. Then he says, “I should have known this conversation was a mistake.” 

Ambrosius flinches like he’s been slapped. “What?” His legs are a little steadier now, so he pushes himself to his feet. Ballister steps back, putting distance between them. 

“I will never go back to the Institute,” he says. 

Ambrosius waits a minute for him to go on, but he doesn’t. “Why not?” It seems like a reasonable question. Bal had been happy training to be a knight, hadn’t he? He’d been the best of all of them. The last fifteen years have certainly proven that. 

Ballister scrubs his hands over his face. “I don’t know if I have the energy to take you through it all,” he says, and his voice sounds like he honestly is just tired, rather than trying to keep secrets. 

“Can you…give me the quick version?” Gloreth, anything. This has made no sense since the moment that sword turned green, and Ambrosius hadn’t even known how much he needed to understand until it had his chest in a vice. 

Ballister’s laugh sounds strangled, not at all like the restrained chuckle he used to have. Ambrosius thinks he might like it, under other circumstances. “I’m not sure there is a quick version.” But he rights his folding chair and sits down, motioning to the other one. Ambrosius takes it. “Might as well start with the proof,” he says, fishing his phone out of his pocket. Ambrosius’s armor doesn’t let him access his pockets. He’s a little jealous. 

When Ballister passes over the device with a video queued, he has to stop himself from grabbing it like a starving person might grab bread. Instead he takes it carefully and presses play. 

“Where did you get this?” he asks quietly when it’s over. He doesn’t know what he’s feeling. He’s feeling a lot of things, or nothing. All the emotions are crowding together and preventing any from getting through, like commuters boarding the subway. 

“From the squire,” Ballister says, taking the phone back. “I needed to know what had happened, even if I already knew it wouldn’t change anything.” 

“Why wouldn’t it change anything?” It’s hard to get the words out. He’s feeling things now. He’s feeling that Ballister could have come back to him right at the start and he’d chosen not to. 

Ballister looks at him for a long time, or at least it feels like it. A thousand years, maybe. Or fifteen. Then he seems to come to a decision, breathes deep again, and says, “Because I already knew I was pregnant.” 

The words don’t make sense, like a bad translation from another language, and then they slot into place. “You were - you -” It’s hard to get his head between his knees with the armor on, but he manages. The roaring in his ears doesn’t stop, but the edges of his vision start to fade back in. 

“Yeah,” Ballister says, “That’s how I took it, too.” 

“What happened?” he chokes out. He wishes he could take the words back. He really doesn’t want to know. He can’t bear not knowing. 

Ballister shrugs. “You tried to kill her.” 

A wave of horror swamps him, like a thunderstorm rolling over the Wall. He gags on the single nacho, on having hurt his family again. Why does he keep doing that? He shouldn’t be allowed to have family. If he keeps this up, he won’t. 

"She’s our daughter?" Oh, this is going to come back to haunt him. If he has nightmares about killing their kid before he even met her, will they replace some of the old nightmares about cutting off Ballister’s arm? Or will it be cumulative? 

Ballister makes a noise, but Ambrosius can't look up to see what his face is doing. The nachos are spread out beneath his feet like disposable toy soldiers. There aren't any olives. 

“She’s my daughter,” he says, firmly. “Genetics be damned.” 

Is that worse? To discover he has a child, fifteen years too late to be of any use to anyone, and then be immediately denied any claim on her? By the man he still loves, the man he had wanted to raise children with back when he saw the world with rose-tinted glasses rather than bleak fluorescent clarity? 

He knows this isn’t really a defense, but he says it anyway. “If I contributed half her DNA-” Oh Gloreth, if he contributed half her DNA then she’s a descendant of Gloreth too. Is that why Bal never told anyone about her? He could almost forgive that. 

But no, Ballister immediately shakes his head. “You didn’t.” 

Ambrosius shoots him an incredulous glance over one arm. “Come on, I know you didn’t cheat on me.” 

Ballister makes a noise again, this one more like a strangled laugh. There was a time when Ambrosius had known all Bal's noises, when they were as familiar and comforting as birdsong outside his window. He wants to hoard them, catalog every single one, compare them to the old sounds. He keeps his head between his knees. “You can believe regicide but not that I’d cheat on you?” 

“Well, did you?” Ambrosius hasn’t. Not for all these years, even though their relationship was clearly over and his parents have given up on him contributing to the bloodline the usual way and started talking about surrogates. Probably they’ll want to raise their hypothetical grandchild, since he’ll be too busy losing sword fights with Ballister. 

There’s a pause. “No,” Ballister says, sullen. Then, “She doesn’t have any of my DNA either. That doesn’t make me any less her father.” 

Ambrosius isn’t going to argue that, but he does say, “Where did she come from, then?” Parts of his conversation with the Director creep back into his thoughts. She’d said the Institute had her. Oh no, what if some action of Ambrosius’s (the searches? He could have pretended to search the city and led the knights in the wrong direction but he hadn’t. But how was he to know which direction was wrong?) had caused Ballister to lose the baby and then he’d snuck back into the Institute for something (to talk to Ambrosius?) and found baby Nimona there and in his grief, decided to raise her as his own? 

No, that’s a soap opera. Also, why would the Institute have a baby sitting around? 

Ballister sighs, long and noisy. “I thought she was ours, biologically I mean. She didn’t look like either of us, but what do I care about the chances of someone who looks like me and someone who looks like you producing a red haired, light skinned baby? She’s my daughter, and I was too busy trying not to get caught while keeping her fed and dry to worry much about her looks.” He pulls in another long, noisy breath. Ambrosius thinks he could sit up, but maybe this conversation is better had without eye contact. 

“Then, she started shifting.” There’s a rough sound, like Ballister is rubbing his flesh hand through his facial hair. “I knew what the Institute, what you, would think about her, the life she’d have to lead to stay safe, to keep her secret. I’d have done anything to spare her that. But she is who she is, and I wouldn’t change her.” His voice is laced with fondness. It’s as familiar as the ache in his muscles after a hard day training, and the pain of it feels good in the same way. He’s glad Ballister hasn’t been alone. “I don’t know why I was so sure the Institute would have information on people like her. I’d never been allowed in the labs. But if they did know anything, that’s where it would be. So I broke in-”

“I saw the security tape,” Ambrosius blurts out. 

Silence. Then, “Oh?” 

“From the first break in,” Ambrosius clarifies. “You looked-” his voice cracks. He coughs. “I didn’t know, before that, that you had survived.” He used to have the most vivid waking nightmares, about Ballister’s corpse rotting in some back alley or forgotten basement, unidentifiable except for the missing right arm bones. He’d been afraid both that his love did give them some psychic connection and those visions were because Ballister was dead, and that they didn’t and he’d grow old and die without ever knowing. His mother taught him some grounding exercises, and he’d stopped letting the visions take over. Ballister was alive. He had to be. And then he saw the security tape. Ballister was alive! But he was as lost to Ambrosius as he ever had been. 

He wants to demand to know why Bal never tried to talk to him back then, but he knows the answer. Would he have believed him? He’d never stopped believing, deep down in the very bottom of his heart, that Bal wouldn’t do something like that, but that was exactly why he could never give it any weight. It had been made very clear to him that he couldn’t trust his own judgment. If he was asked to choose between the love of his life, who he may have never known at all, and the life that was still shiny around the edges, what would he have done? He doesn’t know, so he stays quiet. 

Ballister is quiet for long enough that he thinks about raising his head to look, then says, “You didn’t kill me,” in the quiet, low, rumbling voice that he always thought no one ever heard but him. Maybe he uses it with Nimona. 

With a cough, Ballister says, “We’re getting off topic.” 

“I see what you mean about there not being a quick version,” Ambrosius says. His neck hurts, so he sits up. The roaring in his ears doesn’t come back, but one look at Ballister is too much for his heart. He looks resolutely at the wall across the alley. 

“This is the important part, probably,” Ballister says. 

“You did find her in the Institute, didn’t you?” He remembers the Director telling him just the day before that Ballister had stolen the shapeshi - Nimona - from the Institute. That doesn’t fit what Ballister is telling him. Who does he believe? He forces himself to be skeptical. This whole mess happened because he’d blindly believed too many people, and gone into a tailspin when they conflicted. 

“Yeah,” Ballister says, biting off the words like he could crush them between his molars. He sighs. “It turns out they had a lot of information on her.” 

Did the files talk about what you had to do (what they did) to contain someone like Nimona? Was Ballister forced to read about the uncaring, impersonal torture of his infant daughter? Ambrosius doesn’t let himself think about it. He sort of understands why Ballister might blow up a lab or two after that. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Ambrosius sees Ballister working his jaw to contain his anger, just like he had when Todd and the others went after him and he knew he couldn’t do anything about it. His voice is low and defeated when he says, “I don’t know why the Director did it. This can’t have been her plan. Maybe she hadn’t come up with the sword idea yet. Maybe they needed an expendable test subject. Maybe she thought the pregnancy would kill me. They’d done it before with that result. Maybe she intended to use Nimona for some purpose and she switched my sword so I’d be in a convenient dungeon. Maybe the scientists acted alone. Probably I’ll never know. It isn’t important in the long run.”

Isn’t important? How could Ballister look at the event that changed his life, stripped his hopes and dreams away, left him alone and injured and pregnant and on the run, that took him from Ambrosius, and say it isn’t important? 

Ballister huffs a little laugh, just like he used to, nearly silent so no one but Ambrosius could hear. “I guess I can confirm one of my suspicions. That medical exam a few weeks before the knighting ceremony. It wasn’t…weirdly invasive for the rest of you, was it?” 

Ambrosius curls his hands, wishing the gloves weren’t there so he could dig his nails into the meat of his palms. He wants to hurt something, even if it’s only himself. “No.” 

Ballister nods grimly. “That’s when they did it, then.” 

Why? Why would anyone do that? He never liked that he couldn’t come up with a motive for Ballister. Is there a motive for the Director in this turn of events? 

“She’s been leaning pretty hard on you being a commoner and reaching above your station and putting us all in danger,” he says, slowly. Is that a motive? It’s absurd. She saw how hard Bal worked just like the rest of them. She knew how good he was. Would she really do any of this? Would Ballister do what she said he’d done? Ballister had proof for the sword being switched. Did he have proof for this too? “You deleted all the files about Nimona.” 

“I stole them,” Ballister corrects. “And then I tracked down every scientist who had ever been a part of her project, and I killed them. I destroyed the labs, anywhere there might be evidence, anywhere they might try to hold her. I’ll keep doing it.” 

So Ballister really had killed those scientists. Some of the deaths attributed to him couldn’t have been part of the original project, they were barely out of the Academy. Had they been collateral? Did they know something? Did Ballister care? 

“Why are you telling me this?” It scrapes in his throat, catching on every day that Ballister hadn’t told him this. “What do you want me to do?” 

For the first time in his retelling, Ballister catches his eyes and holds them. “Because you tried to kill her today.” His eyes slip away, never letting anything tether him to Ambrosius for long. “And I thought that if you knew, knew that she was just a kid, you might not kill her next time.” He looks up at the slowly lightening sky. Has this whole conversation fit in the space it takes the sun to clear the walls? It feels like this conversation has stretched forever, back to the beginning of time. Like this conversation has been happening in the background for their entire lives, just waiting for this alley, these rusted chairs, this dawn. “Stupid of me, I suppose.” 

“Of course I’m not going to kill her!” Ambrosius bursts out. “I’ve been clinging to hope all night that you might have some way for me to not have to kill her!” He has, hasn’t he. That’s what this whole thing with the nachos was about. He knew he couldn’t do it and he wanted an excuse. But there isn’t an excuse, not really. It’s the same question he’s been asking for fifteen fucking years. 

What will he choose; Ballister, with all the moral uncertainty and broken trust that comes with him? Or his duty, and all the moral uncertainty and broken trust that comes with the Institute? He’d thought, once, that he could have both. Now he knows for sure that he can’t, that they’re opposing chess players and he can only wear one color. A knight can only have one king. 

If he chooses his duty, this legacy that will crush him under its weight, he’ll have to admit that he’s a coward. 

If he chooses Ballister, the man he loves, the teenager he never got to raise, he’ll have to admit that he made the wrong choice fifteen years ago. 

Ambrosius Goldenloin is a lot of things, but he isn’t a coward, and he isn’t afraid to admit to his mistakes. 

He asks, again, “What do you want me to do?”