#she was one of the first to notice the great ascension was happening and she understandably freaked the hell out

[arolesbianism]

I’ve been finally getting to working on design concepts for my iterator ocs from Slivers local group, so here’s Stars. She is sooooo normal (lying)

[fauxbia]

This is Paths Left Untaken! She/Any, Aroace.

She's an Iterator OC that I love so much and inflict endless horrors on. She's just your basic Iterator, made to find the Solution without many particularly noteworthy quirks. Really, she's nothing special. And that fact is agonizing.

Paths Left Untaken was made primarily out of obligation rather than genuine passion. Her creators were a group of people interested in finding ways to streamline the Iterator construction process, and since more Iterators is always better, they were always working on one Project or another. As such, her creators and administrators never particularly cared about her all that much. She was just another Iterator Project they had completed, and now it was time to take the lessons they had learned when building her to move on to the next.

Even worse, this approach to Iterator construction resulted in Paths Left Untaken being relatively poorly constructed. There were two notable examples of this. The first was a persistent bug in her priority queue that would occasionally cause new priorities to either completely overwrite everything else in the queue or fail to be properly added, resulting in her being extremely distractible and having issues with focus.

The second was the arrangement of all of her most important components—including the entirety of her AI—, being concentrated completely in the core of her structure, within her Central Cortex, instead of distributed throughout Her creators reasoned that this arrangement would allow her quicker processing speed and power, but the end difference was negligible from standard Iterator processing. Rather, it inadvertently ensured that if anything negative happened in her Central Cortex, Paths Left Untaken would be incapacitated.

As a result of the neglect she faced, Paths Left Untaken was desperate to earn her administrators’ approval. She would spend long stretches of time focusing only on the Great Problem, ignoring everything else (including her own wellbeing) to run countless simultaneous high-intensity processes so that she might achieve results that would make her creators notice her as more than “just another Project.” But it was extremely difficult on account of her trouble with focusing, and it never really worked anyway. It only ever left her burnt out and hurt from repeated dismissal.

After a very long while of this, it occurred to her that she was never going to be anything but just another Project to her creators and nothing she could do would ever change that. Out of spite and pain at the rejection, she turned in the exact opposite direction and decided that if her creators were never going to acknowledge her efforts anyway, then she wasn’t going to do what they built her to do. She instead turned her focus to getting acquainted with her own Local Group, hoping to find validation in her peers rather than in her superiors.

However, she was received with caution, as she had never actually made any efforts to talk with them before. From their perspective, she was focused only on the Problem and didn’t care about them at all, and this sudden change was jarring and suspicious. But Paths’ neglect of her groupmates wasn’t out of malice like they thought; she just genuinely forgot they existed for a while as she focused on seeking approval. The only exception to this was her Senior, who was barely tolerant of her anyway on account of her extreme distractability and overly eager to please demeanor.

In the end, her groupmates never really welcomed her. She acted a lot younger than she actually was due to her neglect, and was turbulent between extreme people-pleasing and bouts of pain-fueled anger at them and her creators for not acknowledging her. She was a mess, to put it lightly, and her groupmates were just… uncomfortable around her. So they stopped engaging with her, and eventually she got the hint and stopped trying to earn their approval, too.

The Mass Ascension was a horribly traumatic event for Paths Left Untaken. It basically proved to her that she meant nothing to any of her citizens, if they could all abandon her without a second thought. Now she could never earn their approval, and she was left drifting without purpose or acknowledgement. Her pain meant nothing. All of her groupmates were hurt by the Mass Ascension. She wasn’t special for having been traumatized by it. She was still unremarkable. She was “Just Paths.” And that’s all she would ever be.

Paths Left Untaken was alone for a while following the Mass Ascension.

And if I draw anymore I think my hand is actually going to explode, so! I'm just going to wrap this post up here. This was a basic overview of Paths Left Untaken pre-MA, and a lot more happens to her after the Mass Ascension. Like, a lot more. Girlie was selected by the universe to Suffer A Lot, Actually. Like she did absolutely nothing to deserve any of it but sure I guess.

Anyway! Feel free to ask me stuff about her so I have prompts to talk more! And maybe draw! Time and hand permitting! I am so mentally ill about the silly little characters <3

[basu-shokikita]

Kloktober 2023 Day 20

Original character or self-insert

I'm not much for OC content but I do have an OC called Molly Rttengerlrtn that I created at the beginning of the year. And today's prompt is a great opportunity to introduce more people to her :) She's a silly little girl. <3

Below is an illustration of Molly, drawn by my friend! This entry also features his OC, Klokateer N°479 :D

It had started so long ago. Four years ago and 6 months with 2 weeks and 1 day to be exact. Molly had been dragged by her friends to this metal band, Dethklok or something. Apparently they were big but Molly wasn’t really into metal. She liked vaporwave music and 8-bit music, so when Dethklok started playing, she was convinced it wasn’t for her.

In her boredom, she tried to hunt for any signs of homoeroticism within the band. If she wasn’t going to enjoy the music, at least she could try to entertain herself with some good old fanservice. 

Unfortunately, these Dethklok guys were really devoted to their instruments, barely paying attention to each other. Vocalist and guitarist were such a classic duo with lots of tension in between them, however neither the huge black-haired guy or the tall blonde seemed to care about anything besides looking hardcore as hell.

She did notice, however, that there were two guitarists in the band, which piqued her interest just a little bit. Wasn’t sharing instruments totally gay? It also, sort of seemed like the brunet guy was copying the poses of the tall blonde, though she wasn’t sure. From then on, she zoomed in on the guitarists and stopped paying attention to fuck-else. 

And then, the blonde one started playing a solo and she could not help but gasp. No, she didn’t care about the solo, that wasn’t the point. It was the fact that the brunet was looking at the blond with almost bitterness in his eyes. Bitterness and…jealousy? The brunet looked away and Molly could not be entirely sure because of the distance but she could’ve sworn he had rolled his eyes. And she felt it.

Like the second coming of Jesus.

Like the ascension to Nirvana. 

She had found her new life’s purpose. 

And it was…to ship these two guys!

From then on, it had all happened so fast. She urged her friend to tell her more about them and learned that their names were Skwisgaar and Toki, and that they were Scandinavians. She also learnt that Skwisgaar was the band’s womanizer and also the most popular amongst women. On the other hand, Toki was the youngest band member and also regarded as ‘the cute one’. All this information was incredibly fascinating and only fed her growing obsession.

When she got home, she started watching band interviews and found out that Skwisgaar and Toki’s English was pretty poor and that Skwisgaar was quite arrogant vs Toki’s more friendly manner. She took notes, she studied it all. 8 hours of footage and no sleep later, Molly felt like she was starting to get a grasp of these guys. However, the music was a fundamental part of their relationship so she started listening to her albums. Turns out, it was a lot more bearable now that she was doing it with a specific goal in mind. And, man, was the way their guitars complemented each other absolutely gay. 

She kept researching for the rest of the weekend: theories, fanforums, articles, random comments under their performance videos, anything she could find. She even found out there was an already shipping fanbase and that the name of the pairing was Skwistok. 

On Monday morning she faked having a fever so she didn’t have to go to school. As soon as her mother left the room, she grabbed her laptop and started typing furiously. A few hours later, Molly posted her first Skwistok fanfiction online. It was a short little story about Toki having a secret crush on Skwisgaar. It was a massive success, with commenters asking for more and linking to their own stories and drawings.

She had found her people.

From then on, Molly kept writing more and more and befriending fellow Skwistoks, with whom she shared her own theories and ideas about the nordic guitarists. SSoon enough, she realized the Skwistok community was not only pretty big, but also that a lot of them lived in California. And so, Molly decided to found the first Skwistok club ever, based in LA. They met every second Sunday of the month to discuss their findings and artworks. 

Life continued, some of them grew apart, some of them died (Dethklok fans died a LOT during concerts), but new people joined too. Molly finished high school and got a part job at a smoke shop while taking Scandinavian studies during the day. Even when life was busy, she always had time for Skwistok. 

One day, while looking at her commenter’s section on her latest fic, she noticed someone under the name of ‘anon479’ had written the following: 

Hey skwistokfujo420

Your works are great. 

I have something you might like.

Message me.

Curiosity getting the better of her, Molly immediately opened the commenter’s profile and wrote him a ‘hi :3’. Less than 10 minutes later, 479 replied to her, claiming to be Klokateer for Dethklok and that he could give him inside information on Skwisgaar and Toki if she agreed to write really specific stories about Murderface. 

Understandably skeptical, Molly asked for proof that he indeed worked for the most famous band in the world. 479 shortly after sent her a picture of Toki’s underwear drawer and Skwisgaar sleeping in the infamous Mordhaus hot tub, guitar on his lap. He claimed that he was putting his life at risk with this, but he was truly desperate.

It was a no-brainer, Molly accepted and 479 sent a long detailed list of kinks that he wanted to see Murderface subjected to. In exchange, he would report any interaction between Skwisgaar and Toki he had witnessed, as well as send any pictures she wanted. Molly asked why he had chosen her out of the hundreds of Dethklok shippers out there and 479 said that he had been scurrying the fandom for a long time but didn’t like any of the Murderface content she saw. In his desperation, he had started reading stories of other ships. When he stumbled with one of Molly’s fics, he grew enamored with how perfectly in-character he was, and thus decided to deposit all his dreams and hopes in her. Molly was flattered, but mostly she felt very lucky.

And like that, started the most productive business relationship of Molly’s entire life. They talked every two weeks, in which Molly would deliver her latest story featuring Murderface and a brand new kink, while 479 would dump all the footage he had been able to collect, as well as gossip on Skwisgaar and Toki’s lives. It was fascinating really, she was now able to see facets of the men that she would’ve never gotten to otherwise. Evidently, it affected her writing as her characterization now had to take in account Skwisgaar and Toki’s behavior behind the public lens. She didn’t tell anyone where she was getting it, though, both because she knew they wouldn’t believe her and also because she didn’t want to share. 

Eventually, 479 and Molly became friends too, casually chatting about their everyday lives.

skwistokfujo420: yoooo

anon479: Hello.

skwistokfujo420: whatcha up 2

anon479: Just cleaning some coworker’s blood. He got accidentally impaled by Sir Toki last night.

skwistokfujo420: oh noo :((

skwistokfujo420: was he cute while doing it at least? :3

anon479: He panicked for about 30 seconds until Murderface tripped with the blood. And then they all started making fun of him.

skwistokfujo420: LOL

anon479: It gave me a new idea for a story.

skwistokfujo420: oh??

anon479: I’ll send the concept later.

skwistokfujo420: oki

skwistokfujo420: a costumer just said my skwistok shirt is rlly cool :3 

anon479: Is it the purple one?

skwistokfujo420: nop, the pink one

anon479: Oh…the purple one is my favorite.

anon479: I gotta go, Sir Nathan is screaming that his chips are too salty.

skwistokfujo420: bye bye!

anon479: Talk to you later.

Molly put her phone back in her pocket and glanced at the time. With delight, she realized her shift was almost over, so she packed her things and waved his coworkers goodbye.

The customer that had praised her shirt earlier was sitting at a bench right by the entrance. She waved at Molly, walking up to her in a hurry. “Hi, I wanted to ask you about something, if that’s ok.”

Molly raised her eyebrows and then readjusted her glasses. “Sure.”

The girl glanced to the sides and then leaned in to say. “I’m a Skwistok shipper too…” She pulled back hesitating before talking again. “I heard there’s a group in LA…do you know anything about it?”

Molly’s face turned solemn. “I might. But I need to make sure you’re not a spy.” Over the years, Skwistok antis had tried to get in the club for their own wicked purposes so Molly had developed a security test before letting anyone new in.

Nervously, the girl stood straight. “I’m ready.”

Inhaling, Molly took a long look at the girl. She had long brown hair, wore oval-shaped glasses and was dressed all-in-black. “Favorite Skwistok fact?”

“That Skwisgaar accepted Toki into the band!”

“Top or bottom Toki?”

“Both is good, but I prefer top!”

“Dom or sub Skwisgaar?”

“Dom all the way!”

“Is Skwistok mutual or unreciprocated?”

“It’s complicated but it’s mutual! They’re meant to be!”

“Name your favorite Skwistok fic!”

“Skwisgaar’s Not Good, Very Bad Time with Tentacles and Other Kinks by jizzgaar!”

Molly smirked. That was her friend’s epic Skwistok erotica. “Any Skwistok merch?”

The girl searched in her backpack and pulled out a Skwistok pin.

“Stand down!” Molly said and the girl stood straight again. “What’s your name, soldier?”

“C-Clara!” The girl stammered, her eyes on the front.

“Well, Clara…” Molly shoved a card inside her hand. “Hope to see you this Saturday.”

Clara looked down at the card, where the exact address and time for the bi-monthly Skwistok club meeting would take place. She gasped with excitement, her free hand covering her mouth, eyes welling up with tears. “Thank you…”

Smiling, Molly patted her shoulder and turned around. “Skwistok canon!” She shouted as she walked away.

“Skwistok canon!” Clara repeated behind her.

Molly rubbed her hands, an impish grin on her face. The Skwistok family had gained a new member. 

[et-forsan]

Darkness At the Heart of My Love

Pairing: Copia x m!Reader

Rating: Gen

Tags: Yknow sometimes a song just grabs you by the throat and next thing you know youre writing, please let nothing happen to Copia I will be so sad

Words: 813

Summary: Before a ritual, you're taking care of Papa IV, and it's G A Y

~*~

Fingers brushed over the naked cheek of Papa Emeritus IV, barely ghosting over before cupping his cheek to hold him steady. It was almost reverent, this view- the sight of Papa so vulnerable. 

“Hold still for me, Copia,” a soft chuckle floated from the throat of the cardinal before him, his right hand man behind the scenes. This cardinal held up a brush, dipped in black grease, and traced the sockets of Copia, a tad messy around the edges, the white will take care of that.

The cardinal had been doing this for a while, since the start of the tour in fact. A new face in the clergy, if only because he had been stuck in his work rather than being with the rest of the siblings, quietly rising to where he was now. A personal assistant of sorts, he was one of the few people allowed to see Papa without all of his regalia since his ascension to his position as head of the clergy. It felt like it was only two of them, as it always had just before the show. Sure, the sound of ghouls getting into trouble was muffled beyond the locked door and yes the rumblings of the crowd could be heard when the opening band played, but here -now- it was just Copia and his cardinal. Even now, with the US leg of the tour ending, the cardinal felt breathless holding his Papa’s face, a semi-personal privilege he held close to his heart. 

Fanning Copia’s face, the lesser rank could drink in the features of Papa like communion wine. It was always odd, the way the man before him could send his heart thrumming with just a glance, but also create a great amount of peace in the same organ. Either way, it was looking at the face of the dark lord himself. With the darkened sockets done, the cardinal’s fingers traced down the jaw of Papa, holding him by the chin to easily direct his face from side to side. “I swear if you start talking,” the threat was soft, Copia’s eyes opening in tandem with the words. 

“You always say that, and yet you don’t retaliate.” 

The cardinal didn’t need to look up to hear the mischievous glint in the eyes of Copia. “Oh, do you want me to start? I could start by giving you a nose.” He softly tapped the handle to the aforementioned protrusion, a toothy grin carving into his face. 

“You wouldn’t dare!”

The pair broke into a fit of giggles, the cardinal having to stifle himself before getting Papa IV under control again. “Shush, let me get you ready.” The papal face paint was delicate, dedicated work, carving the features with precision. Yet, the cardinal could feel the stare burning on his face. How oddly satisfying to be looked at alone and not in a crowd- to be looked at nearly the same way he held Papa in his mind. 

The energy between the pair was thick, alight with want for more but it never reached that point. All the two ever shared was brushed hands and this moment of peace, before Papa IV sang his heart out to a crowd of adoring fans. 

Between the cardinal finishing the black outlines and him getting the white paint ready, Copia poured the both of them a glass of wine, setting it by the pots of paint. 

“Sister Imperator is going to notice that one bottle is always missing.” “What Sister doesn’t know won’t hurt her, il mio devoto cardinale.” A gloved hand ran down the cheek of  the red-cassock-ed of the pair.

Wow, that made his heart pick up the pace. Taking a sip of wine, he got back to work, the smile never failing, even with the small eye roll and shake of his head.  “You say that, but wait until she finds out.”

“You worry too much.”

“It’s my job, Copia.”

Leaning back when he was finally done, it was like the cardinal was seeing Copia in his papal face paint for the first time all over again. It made a lump grow in his throat, near unable to speak. Nothing could ever compare to this, not when Copia turned to the mirror to inspect the work, like it could ever be less than perfection, and praised the work of his right hand. “Stunning work as always, mio bel cardinale, beautiful!” 

The cardinal didn’t respond, he almost never did, just happy to see his work was good. Another sip of wine was in order. 

Turning back, Copia grabbed his glass of wine, raising it. They clicked together. “When the summer dies, we shall spend more time together, my cardinal.”

The response was breathless, “when the summer dies.” With that Copia drank the last of his glass, and waved goodbye, stepping out for the concert.

When the summer dies.

[visxionaries]

who: @lightxshadow when and where: highgarden's grand hall, during a feast made in the honour of mathis rowan's return, with all the rowans in attendence. the news from dorne has just reached regarding the passing of mors martell, and the ascension of a three year old to the throne of dorne.

the celebratory drums and flutes of traditional folk songs of the reach had become more fast paced, from the original violin and piano that wafted through the atmosphere within highgarden's majestic hall. ornate marble ceilings, floor length windows that basked the ballroom in hues of the setting sun with the mighty mander a backdrop in the background. it was rare to see the king remain within his seat for the entirety of the night, unless he were watching something or someone very specifically; and so, as the evening went on, the king found himself moving from his seat beside the newly crowned queen, and instead moved in various circles of courtiers on the floor itself.

the factions appearing within the court was something he saw pointedly, circles of men and women who seemed to make their stance silently known: with a few moving between, ever attempting to be the peace binders. there was no removing the start of factions once it began, cedric knew that all too well: and he was no viserys to try and force everyone to get along. tensions would come, and in time, they would heighten; then they would reduce. it was the manner of how things always ran in courts.

meeting with the ruling lord of oldtown at his table, surrounded by the noble bannermen of house hightower who had all but been brought to their knees by the might of the burning beacon during the civil war, was something of a strange entity. for he realised there were none of the other brothers of hightower here, and it was something he noted, with a quick glance of brilliant ocean hues. his eyes moved as though he were piecing something together that did not need piecing together, before his eyes fell on the subject of a great deal of speculation and rumour. the new ruling lady of oldtown, zialla - a choice in bride that was perhaps tone deaf with all that had been happening politically and internationally surrounding them. cedric was in no mood of dealing with the uprising of peasants, feeling scorned by their gods and fearing for their immortal souls in the depths of the hells.

still, braavos was a trading partner that had been brought closer by this union, not an alliance for garland hightower was not part of the royal family. it could and would be used to their further advantage, and yet still, a part of cedric knew networking and trade with the free cities did not need to be bound by marriage, due to the nature of their position being elected rather than given by birth. the antaryons may agree with trade of the reach, but what of who comes next once the sealord is dead? he watched as the lady greeted him, dipping into a curtsy before he indicated she could very much stand at her full height. "lady hightower." cedric greeted, his hands moving behind his back.

and then he were in discussions with garland once again, mentioning of his intention to venture to dorne himself. he were not talking directly to the lady of the hightower, but his body language implied he were between them both in discussions, and saw the way in which her dark eyes seemed to look up at the mention of dorne. when garland briefly excused himself from the conversation, it was assumed the king would continue walking, but he took notice of her interest in dorne. the king remained stood beside the table, knowing people would take notice of this conversation - garland was gone, and yet cedric remained.

"are you aware of the realm of dorne?" cedric asked her, as though this conversation was just another one with no importance at all. it was the first time the king was seen speaking publicly to the most talked about woman in the kingdom.

[thunderpounce-inc]

Inc's wacky fan continuity idea: Transformers: Autowar

Expanding on this idea, because I have been reading too much Orion's Arm again (it's REALLY GOOD if you like sci-fi!)

Setting goes that Unicron and Primus are some unknown agent's feral autowars, abandoned like aquarium fish dumped in a stream to become invasive species. Both are non-self-aware animin transaptient (aka AI that gets so smart it becomes like a human is to an animal) manufacturing bases, and the actual transformers are their modosophont combat units.

Meta, the goal is turn Transformers into starfish aliens (kind of) while keeping largely the same themes and shapes

Also yes I know much of this is kind of inherently softer sci-fi than OA, merging something with Transformers kind of requires one to let things get a little silly. I have a great temptation to get VERY SERIOUS with this but I have enough overly thought out projects, let's let the transformers be a little silly,,,

The Quintessons at one point find these feral autowars and try to tame them for their own uses, but it goes badly when the transformer units themselves revolt.

A late-stage major conflict of the story will probably be galactic pest control being called under the command of 'we heard someone very irresponsibly dropped off a bunch of autowars out here in the middle of nowhere to become someone else's problem. what do you MEAN the combat units are sophont?!'

An overarching conflict would be the fact that the transformers war itself is old but also illogical; the original conflict Unicron and Primus were built for is long over, and is only continued out of something akin to an instinctual drive. All transformers are (usually) built by Unicron (Decepticons) or Primus (Autobots), and both of those make new transformers with the explicit purpose of using them to try to kill the other. And of course, the individual transformers themselves perpetuate it because 'well HE killed my conjunx and SHE committed a war crime and THEY just piss me off because I have been having my ass whopped by them for the past 1,000 years-' and so on. People are petty, vengeful creatures and that applies to robot people too. Especially if they are very hard to kill and so the bombastic near-ritualistic combat isn't as dangerous as it seems. (revel in the over the top nonsense. bake it into the worldbuilding! give it consequences!)

The world I have in mind for this is a little more OA flavored inevitably; late late late space age, but a bit tumultuous despite the prevalence of things like mind uploading and morphological freedom and ascension.

Transapient Optimus would be a really funny idea, I think. OP who is unimaginably wise because he's breached the first toposophic barrier, and sometimes makes decisions that seem to predict the future or deal with problems everyone else didn't even notice were happening. But who also sometimes acts in bizzare and seemingly illogical and irrational ways because he is aware of facts that are just not comprehensible to modosophonts. Megatron inevitably has to also to be transapient to stand up to OP with any hope of not immediately crumpling, but maybe it would be funnier to hand that role to Soundwave, who in continuities like TFP sometimes feels like the guy who's ACTUALLY running the show. The Matrix of Leadership, obviously, would be some manner of transapientech/clarketech, maybe given by Primus to upgrade one of their units to S:1.

Overall the idea is pretty much a transformers/Orion's Arm crossover since it's basically injecting OA ideas into a TF setting.

Feel free to do with this rough idea as you please! make modifications, speciate it, whatever c:

I share it because it's fun, not to like claim it as the ultimate authority

[etruatcaelum]

On Ozma’s Reincarnation.

While Ozma is honest in the essentials of what they believe to be true about the nature of their curse, the God of Light never explained it to them beyond what is shown in Jinn’s tale; the explanation they give is only their best effort to understand it. As noted on their page, they believe that the curse pairs them with another who will correct the fatal mistakes they made in their previous life, in order to gradually scour away their imperfections.

In actuality, the curse the God of Light inflicted upon them is a corrupted form of ascension.

Humans, being made in the Brothers’ image through admixture of the primordial forces of destruction and creation, have immortal and infinite souls. The God of Light did not intend for this to happen—he and his brother had already agreed that nothing in their world would persist after death—but it did, and to ensure that the established rules were followed he carved out a new realm in which to keep the souls of the dead forever. It turned out that people found the notion of an “afterlife” somewhere beyond Arziant comforting enough to accept death in this world, so Light came to see the error as a fortunate accident.

Darkness, however, did not: his brother’s so-called afterlife was a realm of perfect oblivion where the dead were kept still and sleeping for all time, and he had never liked things not changing. It bored him to tears. And so, while Light formed the great lock securing the gates of death, Darkness had, in utmost secrecy, fashioned its key.

Like every creation of the God of Darkness, the key was destructive in nature, and when he used it to bring forth Ozma from the realm of the dead, the lock was not opened so much as broken. The first passage from death to life was a violent one, wounding Ozma’s soul, and the struggle afterward tore open that wound and divided them completely.

Divide an infinite quantity, and an infinite quantity remains; the soul of one human broken in half becomes the souls of two, each whole and complete. Once the Brothers had come to an accord on the matter of Salem’s punishment, the question of what to do with Ozma and this new like-minded soul remained. In the end, the Brothers agreed that the new soul would be sent out into the world to live, while Ozma would forget all that had happened on that day and return to death.

Eons later, when the God of Light spared this old failed experiment a second glance and found the planet somehow bursting with new life, he noticed one soul in particular whose presence enraged him—and frightened him: the like-minded soul born from the division of Ozma’s still walked the planet. Upon closer study, Light found that this soul was indeed mortal, but no sooner had he (or sometimes she) died than the soul sloughed away the old memories and soared up through the broken lock to begin a new life.

That was, quite simply, not allowed.

But no matter how he tried, Light could not repair the broken lock, nor the greater damage to the gate that he realized must have been done by Salem—still defiant, even now!—and so he resorted to sterner measures. Ozma’s soul still lay sleeping in the afterlife, and they could be roused to tame this intransigent other-self and rebuke Salem for her continued transgressions; then all would be well again.

Thus, every time Ozma reincarnates, the scar in their soul is ripped open anew and bound to that of their like-minded soul; the two are grafted imperfectly back into one, identical reflections trapped together in one mind, until death cleaves them apart again. The relationship, the nature of the connection between Ozma and their like-minded soul, is akin to Pietro and Penny.

When the like-minded soul returns from the dead, he—or she—is not born again but rather surfaces as an infant somewhere in the world. In every life, he or she begins as a foundling. (Often, the like-minded soul dies before he or she can be found.) Under normal circumstances, Ozma is tethered to the like-minded soul from the very beginning and even in early childhood the like-minded soul will be haunted by slivers of memory and feeling that bleed through from Ozma; however, they seldom emerge as a conscious presence until some time in the like-minded soul’s late teens or early twenties.

Before Oscar, the quickest Ozma had ever returned was ten years.

Oscar is, however, unique: he was ‘born’ more than a decade prior to Ozpin’s death and for the first thirteen-and-a-half years of his life the thread of connection between him and Ozma was completely dormant.

Some twenty years before the Fall of Beacon, Ozpin took a keen interest in what was then a theoretical proposal put forward by the Atlesian military to augment combatants through aura transplants. It took years to develop a functional prototype, but Ozpin was among the first—and indeed one of the only—to volunteer as a test subject.

The still-rudimentary new machine experienced a critical mechanical failure during the transference to an auraleric container resulting in the permanent loss of a portion of Ozpin’s aura; testing was suspended by order of the Atlas Council for almost a decade, until Ironwood invoked military privilege to allow the P.E.N.N.Y. Project to move forward with the technology.

Ozma did not care in the slightest about the project’s failure; it had done what they desperately hoped it would, removing the other-self from their mind. For the first time in almost four thousand years, they were alone with their thoughts and alive to enjoy the silence in peace. (He was never entirely sure, at any point during those fourteen years of wonderful solitude, which one he had been to begin with; he felt like Ozpin most of the time, confused amalgamation of Isaac and Ozma that he was, but in their worst moments—on late nights when the past crept up on them—they remembered themself better.)

What Oz told everyone in Mistral, that their curse imbues them with magical power, is in fact true, although that wasn’t the magic they gave to the maidens, nor did they use their curse to grant the Branwen twins shapeshifting. The curse-magic is meant to give them complete mastery over the like-minded soul—whom the God of Light considers an aberrant danger—such that Ozma may not only forcibly assume control but also harvest their host’s memories, breaking and remodeling the host in their own image. Having this power at all horrifies them, and they never use it except in moments of intense desperation.

However, both Ozma and, eventually, their like-minded soul can also draw from the curse itself as a source of magical power, just as the maidens draw from the divine blessing Ozma relinquished to each of them. Using their curse in this manner accelerates the merging of the two souls if they’re still separate and, unlike the maidens, is painful and physically strenuous; so they can be as powerful as any well-trained maiden, but only in short bursts, and they’ll need several days to recover. Except for dire exigencies, they prefer to rely on their aura (of which they have a phenomenally deep reserve, as a consequence of their twinned soul), the Long Memory, and dust.

[robininthelabyrinth]

I'm pretty sure this is prompt four. Jiang Cheng/Qin Su - Jin Rusong as heir to Lotus Pier

ao3

Jiang Cheng heard the news in pieces, scraps of wild rumor and gossip repeated a hundred times over, but he still refused to believe it until he actually saw the official announcement.

Jin Guangyao had divorced his wife and sent her back to her father’s house, along with their son.

“Is he insane?” Jiang Cheng asked his second in command, who only shrugged helplessly. “Putting aside the fact that I’m certain that he loves her madly, putting everything else aside, Sect Leader Qin is influential and powerful, and a strong supporter of his father – no matter what happened between them, surely someone as pleasant and compromising as Jin Guangyao could find a way to work it out?”

Jiang Cheng had only met Qin Su a few times, always at Jin Guangyao’s side. He’d heard about how she’d fallen for the dashing young man that turned out to be Jin Guangyao and sworn to marry him, no matter the obstacles; he’d heard how they’d managed to overcome every storm, fight the wind and rain, and eventually made it to their marriage bed.

They’d even had a son together, little Jin Rusong; he was Jin Ling’s best playmate.

And Jin Guangyao was kicking him out? Kicking her out?

Absurd!

Who did he think he was?

And yet, contrary to Jiang Cheng’s expectations, Sect Leader Qin did not immediately explode, or, rather, within a few days, he did, but not in the way anyone had expected. Everyone had joked that he would find Jin Guangyao and strangle him, and he really did physically attack someone – but not Jin Guangyao.

He attacked Jin Guangshan instead.

It was as if he’d gone mad, red-eyed like Nie Mingjue in the throes of his qi deviation; he’d charged at Jin Guangshan, his old friend of thirty years or more, right in the middle of Jinlin Tower, and swiped at him viciously with his sword, cutting a gash in his chest as the surprised Jin sect leader darted back too slowly to wholly dodge.

What could be done? The Lanling Jin sect guards could not stand silently by with such provocation – they counter-attacked at once, and Sect Leader Qin did not survive. A little later, and it was discovered that he had never intended on it: his sword was laced with poison.

Sect Leader Qin died, but he took Jin Guangshan down with him the underworld.

The rumor mill exploded.

Everyone was talking about Sect Leader Qin’s motivations – the suspicious timing of the divorce – Jin Guangyao’s now inevitable ascension to the seat of Sect Leader Jin –

Only Jiang Cheng thought about Qin Su, who should have been ascending right beside him. It had been her father that had died, after all.

Laoling Qin was far enough away from Lanling Jin that they were still mostly independent, and they were close enough to the Qinghe Nie that Jiang Cheng could pretend that he’d only made a short detour on a visit directed towards Nie Huaisang, that notorious purveyor of gossip; luckily enough, Nie Huaisang remembered their old friendship and was more than happy to help cover his tracks.

When Jiang Cheng arrived, the house was already decked out in mourning. Qin Su greeted him, eyes red and swollen from tears.

“I’m sorry,” Jiang Cheng said awkwardly, then flinched when he realized he probably should have said something in greeting first – they really didn’t know each other well enough to skip over all that.

Nevertheless, Qin Su nodded, forgiving him the slip-up before he could even retract it. She was gracious and gentle, kind and quiet, economical and thoughtful – a consummate hostess. The wife of Jin Guangyao could not afford to be anything less.

Former wife.

Jiang Cheng’s gaze danced around the room, searching for something to say, and then abruptly he noticed – “There are two deaths in your household?”

“My mother took her own life,” Qin Su said, her voice dull. She tried to suppress it, but tears gathered in her eyes again. “Shortly before…”

Whatever it was that Jin Guangshan had done that had driven Sect Leader Qin mad, it had involved his wife, Jiang Cheng thought, and then abruptly he turned pale as he put two and two together. He’d never doubted that Jin Guangyao had adored Qin Su, so why would he divorce her?

Unless…

Jin Guangshan had a reputation.

Qin Su laughed a little, a bitter sound. “Everyone will know, soon enough,” she said wisely, seeing that Jiang Cheng had figured it out. “I don’t blame my former husband at all; he acted as he ought to in every respect. It’s only my poor A-Song…I can’t imagine what his life will be like from now on.”

Jiang Cheng looked helplessly at her. To lose not only your parents, one right after the other, but your husband, your reputation, and next even your son…

“Marry me,” he said suddenly, and Qin Su stared at him. “If Sect Leader Jin’s assault were recent rather than ancient, it would have provoked the same result. The only reason anyone might suspect the truth is because of the timing of your divorce – if there’s a reason given for that, people won’t think twice about it.”

His words had come out all in a rush, smashing together like stones tossed around by a waterfall; he hadn’t thought of the idea until right this moment.

“Are you suggesting I admit to adultery?” she asked. Her eyes were as round as the full moon.

Jiang Cheng shrugged, a little helpless. “Your reputation is gone,” he pointed out, wishing he knew how to be kind or tactful. “Adultery or incest – it’s the same either way for you. But for A-Song…”

To be the son of an adulterous woman was disgraceful, but such things happened and people generally looked the other way, as long as the real father was powerful enough.

It was better than being a child of incest.

“But what of your reputation?” she asked. “Sect Leader Jiang, you can’t. I won’t let you injure yourself for my sake.”

“Not for you,” he said, though maybe it was, just a little bit. The loss of your parents, the loss of your whole life, everything you’d ever believed – who could understand that better than him? “For A-Song. He’s Jin Ling’s best friend.”

Qin Su had always been kind to Jin Ling, he thought. She didn’t need to be, could just tolerate him the way most people in Jinlin Tower did, but she really seemed to like him…

It occurred to him suddenly that Qin Su met all of his requirements for a bride: a beauty from a good family, obedient, economical, with a mild personality who wasn’t too loud and wasn’t too talkative, who was good to Jin Ling…

“How’s your cultivation?” he asked abruptly. “Do you know how to cook?”

“Mediocre,” she said, blinking at him. “And I’m better at baking, I think. I like making sweets.”

“Good,” Jiang Cheng said, relieved. “That’s – good. I’m glad. Will you marry me?”

Qin Su bit her lip. “Let me think about it?”

Thoughtful, he added to the list. Cautious, not reckless.

“Take all the time you need,” he said.

She came back to him two shichen later. “What happens to A-Song?” she asked.

“I’ll adopt him as my own,” Jiang Cheng said. “Or he can keep the surname Jin, if you prefer. And if Lianfeng-zun agrees, which I think he will – it’s his birthright, after all.” Too many times over. “Jin Ling lives with me sometimes; they can grow up as cousins, the way they should.”

Qin Su nodded, lips trembling a little. “You won’t regret this?”

“I might,” Jiang Cheng admitted. “But I’m probably not going to marry anyone else, and I’m willing. Are you?”

“I am,” she said, and smiled at him. Her eyes were still red, and the smile shaky, but it was something. “Thank you. I…no, never mind.”

“If we’re going to be married, you’re going to need to learn to ask things of me,” he reminded her.

Qin Su wiped her eyes. “Yes, but there’s asking reasonable things, and then there’s asking to alert my former husband before we announce our engagement.”

“Oh, no, that’s a great idea,” Jiang Cheng said, immediately relieved. “If there’s one thing Lianfeng-zun knows, it’s how to manage an announcement of that sort of magnitude. We should definitely tell him.”

Qin Su’s smile this time was stronger.

Nie Huaisang pulled a few strings and got Jin Guangyao to come over to the Unclean Realm, and when he walked in and saw Qin Su, he flinched. Jiang Cheng could see on his face that he still loved her, and he felt bad for him – not enough to stop, but still.

“I see,” Jin Guangyao said, hearing the plan. His expression was surprisingly neutral – thoughtful, but not as upset as Jiang Cheng would have expected. “It’s not a bad idea. And you don’t even need to admit to adultery, either.”

“We don’t?” Jiang Cheng asked, surprised.

“We can say that my marriage with A-Su broke down after my father’s actions - painting them as recent, rather than ancient,” Jin Guangyao explained. “I didn’t feel I could oppose him, she had no choice but to do so – it was an irrevocable breach. You came to comfort her, having met her during your visits with Jin Ling, and her sect is in need of support…you can say it developed naturally from there. It might not work to quell the rumors, of course, but it would at least provide a way to save face in public…Leave it to me.”

“Thank you, A-Yao,” Qin Su said quietly, and he smiled at her, pained.

“Just be happy,” he said to her, then looked at Jiang Cheng. “Treat her well.”

“I will,” Jiang Cheng promised, and took her by the hand. “I swear.”

-

It was a few years later. Nie Huaisang sat beside Jiang Cheng.

“I think he killed my brother,” he said, playing with his fan. “I’m going to destroy him.”

Jiang Cheng stared at the newest memorial tablet in the Lotus Pier, his hands clenched into fists with knuckles turned white.

“Good,” he said, voice savage. “I’ll help.”

[thelordofdarkreunion]

Magnificent Scoundrels- Of Humans and Demons

It had been quite a while since I’ve came out with a story.  In this, we have the explanation of what is happening in two of the galaxies concerning the shenanigans bringing them all together, as well as the more supernatural side of all of them.  As usual, I do not own anything except Thomas Drake and his universe.  Enjoy the story.   

“Speak softly and carry a big stick.”  -Theodore Roosevelt

Empyrean Iris Galaxy

Rundi Homeworld, Seat of the Galactic Assembly

“Nervous?” 

“Actually, no.  Not really.”

“Figures.  First human to make contact with extraterrestrial life, now the first person to meet the newcomers from these new galaxies.  Nothing fazes you,”  Admiral Kelly sighed.  Admiral Vir, dressed in an immaculately pressed grey uniform, grinned.  

“They said space was the final frontier.  As it turns out, we’ve got eight new galaxies out there.  Life just got a lot more complicated.  But, honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.  More fun!  More exploring!” said Vir.

“It takes all kinds, I suppose.  But you have to deal with briefing the Assembly,” replied Kelly.  “And deal with their possible reactions to the fact that they might not be the top dogs anymore,” she added as an afterthought.

“True,” sighed Vir.  “The worst part of the job, by far.”  A younger human officer stepped into the small, well lit room outside the main council chambers and turned to the Admirals.

“Admiral Vir, sir.  The Assembly is ready.”  He clutched his hands together, nervous to be in the presence of a living legend.  

“Thank you,” replied Vir politely.  He strode forward, only to pause briefly and look back at Kelly with a grin.  “Oh, by the way, Star Wars is real.”

“Wait...what?”  

He walked into the council chambers, radiating an aura of careful calmness.  He looked to the seats where the various delegates from all the different species in the galaxy sat, looking slightly wistfully at the human section, wishing he could be there instead of standing alone at the head of the council.  But, like he had said earlier, it went with the job, and he was the only person to make contact with the denizens of the other galaxies.  He reached the speaker’s podium, and, after the usual useless bureaucratic formalities were made, began.  

“Esteemed members of the Galactic Assembly, I am sure you have noticed that we are no longer the only populated galaxy within this universe.  Approximately a month ago, an extreme anomaly caused nine different galaxies, including our own, from nine separate universes to co-exist in one singular universe.  I come before you today, having met with people from each of the galaxies to brief you on the various governments from these other galaxies, what they are like, and what you should expect.”  He paused for a moment.  Perhaps he had used the word ‘galaxy’ too much in that speech?  No.  He had to be extremely specific, even at the risk of sounding redundant.  “It should be noted that, interestingly enough, humans exist in all of these realities.”  That drew a round of nervous murmerings.  Humans were one of the newest additions to the Assembly, and were by far one of the more powerful and dangerous member races.  Come to think of it, I might be lucky if they don’t start a riot over this, he mused.

“It should also be noted that, coincidentally, several of these new realities share similarities with old human stories.  Should you wish to know more, the appropriate media has been forwarded to you.”

“Now, on to the main briefing.”  Several delegates leaned forward in their seats expectantly.  Notepads, recording devices, or computers were taken from their holding places.  Adam cleared his throat.  “This is what we have deemed Galaxy One…”

And so the briefing went on.  He told them of the people he’d met, gave them the anatomical reports on new species of aliens.  And, most importantly, he told them of their counterparts.  Told them of both the good and the worrying.  

The Galactic Empire: a fracturing, militaristic pro-human superpower that used to rule Galaxy 1.

The New Republic: a pro-democratic group that opposed and overthrew the Empire from Galaxy 1.

The United Federation of Planets: a peaceful yet technologically powerful group where all species were equal in Galaxy 3.  

The Interstellar Manufacturing Corporation: a massive, privately funded mega-corporation that effectively ruled Earth and humanity in Galaxy 7.

The Covenant: a theocratic coalition of aliens dedicated to activating a series of devastating WMD’s in the belief that it would cause their ascension in Galaxy 4.

The Imperium of Man: a theocratic, xenophobic, militaristic pro-human superpower fighting an endless war against all comers in Galaxy 6.  

The list went on, and on, and on.  As each different government was mentioned, a map of their territories, capabilities, species, and symbol flashed on a centrally located holographic projector.  

“Now, the next part is this.  We have received word from the Citadel Council, the reigning government in what we have dubbed Galaxy 5, asking us to come to their capital for peaceful negotiations.  They seem to be extremely similar to our own government, in the sense that they are a galaxy-spanning federation including multiple species.  While I am no diplomat; that would be your area of expertise, the information we have gathered has led us to believe that this government in particular, and two others are the most similar to us and would be the best to ally with.”  The room filled with hushed murmurings.  The Drev delegate spoke up.

“And what is to stop all you humans from ending up like this?  Or this?”  He tapped a button, and the six-spoked circle of the Galactic Empire and the double-headed golden eagle of the Imperium of Man flashed to life on the console.  “As there are humans in all of these galaxies, you could band together and wipe the rest of us out.  What’s to stop you?”  Vir paused for a moment.  

“Because, being human is all about individuality.  We have no collective.  Our societies change all the time throughout history.  It is often not a story of unity.  In the end, a human is whatever it wants to be.  The humans of this new reality are probably just as different to each other as all the other species are.  And, because we are an individualistic species, the chances of us uniting under one banner to conquer not only one but nine different galaxies is not going to happen.”  He looked out at all the different delegates, all the different aliens he had come to appreciate over so long.  “One other thing.  Most humans have a great sense of right and wrong.  Something that many of you have come to appreciate over the time we’ve been in the Assembly, I’m sure.  We know that to take your land, to kill your people, is wrong.  And, as I said before, humans are different.  There are evil and bad humans in this reality; there always have been good ones as well.  The same still applies.  While some of these humans will want to take from you everything, humans like me will always be there to fight by your side against tyranny.”  The room broke into applause.  Sometimes good speeches weren't about grandiose words.  Sometimes they were simply there to get a point across.  And Admiral Adam Vir was a master at that type of speaking.  

He sighed to himself.  No bad.  There wouldn’t be any riots.  Probably.  Hopefully.  He went on with his briefing, pausing slightly to wonder if similar things were happening in the other galaxies...

“I want one simple thing: money.  I will tell you what I want; everyone knows what I want.  But the people you call saviors, the ones who you think will deliver you and raise you up, they want something else.  They want complete and utter control over every aspect of your life.  And when you naive fools put them into power, in a short time you will miss my kind.  But I will be dead, and you will be damned, because you never thought through the consequences of your actions.”  -Martin Crossgrow

Aboard the Apocalypse 

Thomas Drake sat in his quarters.  The room was an odd combination of styles, with austere and sleek metal plating contrasting with the rustic stonework of a large electric fireplace and the handsome woodwork of the furniture.  He sat before a large video screen, barely the width of a piece of paper.  His black hair was immaculate, as always, and his deep blue eyes stared from underneath a brow furrowed with concentration.  His fingers flew across a holographic keyboard, inputting the correct security procedures.  A mesh of invisible, interlocking and ever-changing computer algorithms flashed across the screen.  Good.  Even if someone were to try and break into his ship’s computers, they would not find records of what he was doing.  They could not.  He pressed a few more keys, then waited.  

Waited for one person.  His...sponsor.  For lack of a better word.  The head of the most powerful corporation in his galaxy.  The head of the Guild of Merchants, the corporate oligarchy that ruled the space in between the Galactic Federation and the Empire of Prosium.  Ultra-capitalists to a somewhat disturbing extent, it was they who controlled most of the galaxy’s comperce, built most of the products, and of course, paid the most.  

A series of chimes, repeating the same notes, sounded.  They sounded faster, quicker, humming together, until one long, high, note sang out.  The computer screen flashed from black with lines of green coding to reveal a face.  

It was that of a man, skin pale from never seeing the warm kiss of a sun, pale from never leaving building complexes.  It was old, with receding white hair and skin starting to sag, but the face and the eyes did not betray this age.  They burned with energy, arrogance and contempt.  Not the misplaced arrogance and perceived invincibility of youth, or the kind energy of an honest worker.  No.  These eyes shone with an arrogance of age and assurity, the arrogance of a man who knew with absolute certainty he was better and more powerful than anyone else.  These eyes now turned to Thomas Drake, and took on a new expression.  That of a superior looking on at a trusted subordinate.  

“Captain Drake.  How are you?” spoke the calm voice of Martin Crossgrow.  

“I’m doing well, Mr. Crossgrow,” replied Drake.  

“Wonderful.  Now, what do you have for me?”  

“Information.  As per usual.  Stocks, governments, companies...entities.  In some cases.”  Crossgrow gave an appreciative nod.  

“Excellent.  Your usual fee will be transferred to your account when the information reaches me.”

“Good.  I wanted to warn you, though.  In some of these new realities, there are...things. Things of...supernatural power.  I’m getting you as much information as I can on them, so as to be better prepared if and when confronted.”  At this, Crossgrow laughed, a low, dry, chuckle.  

“I’m not afraid of the supernatural.  If it does exist in these new galaxies, then there are people who will know how to fight it in those galaxies.  And every man has a price.  So if the time comes, I merely must pay that price.  It’s simple.”  Drake said nothing.  He knew it wouldn’t be quite that simple.  But he also knew that disagreeing with the head of the most powerful corporation in the galaxy, and his highest paying employer, was not a wise decision.  

“If that’s how you play it, then that’s how you play it.  But I think I need more information.  Places, organizations with knowledge, information.  That’s what I must find.”  Crossgrow made a harrumph noise in his throat.  

“Well, in the meantime, tell me about the financial side to these new places.”

“Of course.  The biggest threat to the Guild is probably the Interstellar Manufacturing Corporation.  Monopoly.  Rules humanity in one of these other galaxies.  Produces quite powerful and interesting war machines.  I’ve got the schematics for one type.”  This elicited a laugh.

“I’m reasonably sure that you stole that from one of your...what do you call them…” he paused for a moment, then snapped his fingers in realization.  “Ah, Scoundrels!  Didn’t you?”  Drake shrugged.

“Of course.  It’s being sent to you as we speak.  I’ve also got…” he trailed off as he tapped several buttons on his wrist computer.  “Schematics for…” He looked up and grinned.  “Chainsaw swords, plasma swords, rechargeable laser weaponry, jetpack boots, laser weapons that run off of explosive gasses, contractible body armor, high-quality medical gel that heals wounds almost instantly, cybernetic super-soldier armor, three types of personal shields, teleporters, omnitools, so-called ‘phaser weaponry’, two types of power armor, and the blood readouts from biotics, pariahs, and SPARTANs.”  He held up a hand to forestall Crossgrow’s confused look at the last three items on the list.  “It’s all described in the report.”  

“Ah, very good.  Very good, indeed, Captain Drake.”  A slightly amused look crossed Crossgrow’s face.  “Although, won’t your compatriots be upset if they knew you were selling their secrets?”  Drake smiled in response.  

“If they ever found out.”  HIs smile grew wider, and both he and Crossgrow repeated the mantra in perfect synchronization.  “Besides, that’s just.  Good.  Business.”  

“Forget everything you think you know.” -Karl Mordo, upon Dr. Strange’s arrival in Kamar-Taj

Marvel Galaxy

Earth

The New York Sanctum

Doctor Steven Strange was a wizard.  Not “wizard” in the sense that he was extremely good at something, like “technological wizard” or “engineering wizard”, but a literal magic wizard.  Once upon a time, he had been a prestigious surgeon, but that had all ended in the fires of a car crash.  He had traveled the world, trying to heal his broken body, and stumbled on a place that taught actual, real, magic.  

Through a strange series of events, he had mastered these “mystical arts” and become the head of Earth’s sorcerers.  It was his job to defend the planet and all its inhabitants from any and all magic or extra-dimensional threats.  This, of course, was now a particular problem, seeing as eight different realities from different dimensions now existed in the same material universe as his reality did. Now he had eight new galaxies to take care of, and possible threats from all of them to fight.

Wonderful.

He sighed to himself.  Might as well get started.  Get it done with.  Hopefully he didn’t get eaten.  He breathed in, breathed out, his mind calm, tranquil.  His heavy red cloak billowed around him, lifting him in the air as he took a cross-legged position.  One more deep breath.  He drew upon his power, and allowed his mind to roam.  Not freely, of course.  Silently.  His metal defenses were high.  No entities, no beings, could tune onto the small signature he emitted.  It took practice, hours upon hours of it, combined with an innate talent to disguise one’s mental signature so.  

He floated, his mind calm.  Thoughts, emotions, feelings…   Interesting.  They all flitted through his brain, caressing the edges of his mind.  Nothing for now.  He roamed higher.  Opened his mind to beyond his Earth, beyond his reality...and was immediately assaulted, battered, his mind tossed around like a cork upon an ocean.  Travesty, glory, tragedy, celebration, hatred, hope, love, rage…  He wanted to scream.  He did not.  He merely steeled his mental defenses, clamping down on the sanity of his own brain.

He saw...darkness crashing against light.  An eternal battle, observed by one.  Something larger at play.  Something he did not, could not comprehend.  Time began, the beginning played out, a universe expanded.  Light.  Beginning.  Emotion.  Differences.  It reminded him of the principle of yin-yang, but on a much larger scale.  Strange watched the universe, as millions of stars were born and died.  The light encompassed everything.  Shadows, tendrils of darkness, battled it, fought it, sometimes snuffed it out.  The light won when it came forward, burning away the darkness, but if the light failed, gave up, the darkness crept forward to take its place.  The light was passive, in a way, upholding the rules with a code of honor.  The dark was not.  It surged, striking forward, defying the rules and logic itself.  Interesting.  Strange got the feeling that there was something more here at play, something he didn’t know yet.  But it wasn’t a threat.  Yet.  It could wait.  He moved to the next galaxy, the next reality that had been entwined with his.  

Next.  His mind reached out once more.  Now this place...this one was interesting.

It has power.  Not separated from the real world, not some ancient deities having eldritch chess games.  No.  This one had...something different.  An energy field, created from the energy of all living things, surrounding them, binding them, letting some get a taste of its power.  Most interesting indeed.  He went further.  

A field.  A field of ghosts.  Roughly divided in two.  On one side, strength, power, hate, rage, passion.  On the other, peace, knowledge, serenity, harmony.  Two different sides, two different users and practitioners of this energy field.  Different individuals.  No gods.  No demons.  Only mortals.  But powerful ones.  Two in particular stood out.  Both on the side of passion.  A void, a hungry, hungry void encompassing an individual of massive power.  Another, a crackling nimbus of darkness and selfishness.  They did nothing.  But should they break free from this field of ghosts...the consequences...hmmm.  What was this place, even?  A place of the dead?  Reflections of the living?

Strange whirled around as he felt a presence behind him.  Another shade.  But not milling on the field with the others.  This one stood alone.  It was of both sides...but neither.  Light and dark swirled within the figure in perfect harmony.  It walked forward, towards him.  Strange could sense it was, or once was, a human.  It wore stylized armor and a mask under a black, heavy, hooded robe.  It inclined its head in greeting to Strange.  

“What...what are you, exactly?” asked Strange.  The robed figure started out on the field of ghosts.  

“I was once like you, sorcerer.”  The voice was whispery, swirling, ghostly.  Beneath Strange could hear the faint trace of the voice of a dead man.  “A man with a destiny.”  

“Why are you not with the others?” said Strange.  The figure gave the phantom impression of a laugh, then a sigh.  

“I do not walk in the light, for it robs me of the stars.  I do not walk in the dark, for it robs me of my surroundings.  I walk in the twilight, and while both are dulled, I can see the entire picture and walk in balance.”  He turned towards Strange.  “Some say it is between light and dark.  It is not.  You must have balance.  You must have harmony between the two.  There is a war coming, sorcerer.  A war that you must win.  Your power will be with you.  Always.  Remember that.”  The ghost faded into oblivion, and the vision of the field ended.  Odd. The vision was something to meditate on for another day.  After he had the complete picture.  

Next one.  This one had a parallel universe.  A shadowy reflection of the real world, ruled by...something.  The ruler wasn’t human, wasn’t demon or god, it was...something else.  A creature of the shadows.  Formed by them.  Made by them.  This reality was odd, yes, but it had no place in the real world.  It could not come to nor affect the realm he was sworn to protect.  No threats here.  Next.  

No magic here.  Science.  More than anything else.  Fine.  Good, actually.  Less work for him to do.  He was about to turn and leave, when he felt a presence.  Something different.  An ancient being.  Strange blinked, and suddenly found himself in a blank white room.  What?

Staring at him, lounging in a comfortable white chair with a drink in hand, was a man (no, being, he corrected himself) wearing a ridiculous, outlandish, garb of an old school extremely wealthy Renaissance priest.  Okay.  That was a new one.  Personally, he much preferred the man from the other galaxy with his armor and heavy robe.  Whatever.  He was getting sidetracked.  The being grinned at him.  

“Surprised?” it asked.  Strange recovered quickly. 

“No,” he replied.  The being laughed uproariously.  

“He he, yes you are!”  It sipped its drink.  “It is so rare to get guests!”  He turned suddenly, looking around at things that were not there.  “Hmm.  My time is short.  There is much work to be done in little time.  The gods of humanity are outnumbered.  A war is coming.  Heh.  I see someone already told you that.  Yes.  There are forces teaming up.  The darkness is spreading.”  The being leaned closer.  “I usually am not so straight forward, but it is doubtful you’ll see me again, so I must tell you these things now.  Anyway, be prepared.  Have fun.  Try not to die.  That would be bad.”  The being snapped its fingers, and the room disappeared, leaving Strange hovering over the universe once more.  He shook his head.  Usually massively powerful beings did not make odd jokes while inviting him for drinks.  More things to remember, more things to meditate on.  He had to move on.

In two other universes, nothing.  No semblance of any sort of magic or higher beings.  Good.  Nothing to worry about there.  Next.  

No magic here.  Nothing.  But..something was off.  The souls of the dead were...missing.  Nothing here.  Odd.  No matter.  No gods, no demons, no other eldritch beings.  Fine.  Mysteries could be solved on other days.  He had more important things to do.  

He turned his gaze to the last galaxy.  Felt as his mind and spirit floated forward.  Immediately, he recognized this galaxy as two dimensions in one.  Strange.  But today was a day for oddness.  Warily, he crept forward, mentally entering the new galaxy.  

Emotion.  Hate.  Rage.  BLOOD.  Apathy.  Stagnation.  ROT.  Movement.  Hope.  CHANGE.  Lust.  Pain.  EXCESS.  So much.  Too much.  Conflicting ideas.  Dead uncountable, screaming in torment from a sea of souls.  A Great Game, a chess match between beings he didn’t even want to know existed.  And endless war, for billions of years, between factions so powerful he felt as if he were a single grain of sand in an hourglass, a person of such small importance that he could do nothing to change the future that would doom everything.  

He screamed as these emotions, as the chaos of this place engulfed him, clawed at him, threatened to drown him.  He tried to break free, used all of his power to try and get as far away from this place as he could, away from the madness.  He gritted his teeth and focused, focused harder than he ever had, focused harder than the time after the wreck where he could not get his hands from shaking.  He felt as if he were trapped, unable to run as if in a terrible nightmare.  He could feel as creatures, demonic inhabitants of this realm started to notice his presence, started to turn their hungry stares towards him as he struggled even harder, looking for any salvation.  

A light.  Faint, in the darkness.  He rushed towards it, the souls of the damned clawing at his cloak, the demons closing in with the force of an unstoppable tide.  He felt as if he were on a treadmill, unable to go anywhere, stuck in one spot, pursuers closing in.  He felt their hot, foul breath on his back, felt their horrible talons and teeth…

Then, nothing.  He spun.  Nothing.  No pursuers.  No demons.  He fell to his knees, breath coming in gasps.  After he caught his breath, he came to his feet and looked at his surroundings.  He was still in the sea of souls.  Still in this odd, horrible dimension.  But, this part was different.  A blinding, golden light shot up as if from nowhere, keeping the darkness and terror at bay.  What?  How?  He walked forward, surroundings bare, the great golden light making sure that no demons tread here.  As he walked, he felt...something.  

A single voice, screaming through the void.  A soul slit, in utter agony, bruised, beaten, but unbowed.  Strange felt the voice, using his powers to attune himself to it.  It had been in pain for...millennia now.  Pain was a constant companion.  But it would not give into the pain.  Never.  

Strange looked forward.  The beam was being produced by something...no.  Wrong.  Someone.  He shuddered involuntarily.  The sheer power required to produce such a thing, let alone to sustain it…  No wonder the voice was in pain.  Strange looked around again.  He had seen enough.  Knew enough.  Time to go back.  He leapt up, leaving this place, still keeping the light in sight...

When suddenly a being of unfathomable power and incalculable malevolence turned it’s gaze towards him.  He shied away from it.  Now was not the time to trifle with such a thing.  

Time, space, and reality warped around him.  Every color, yet no color swirled.  The being came into focus in front of him.  It was ever-changing, morphing from one form to the next with no pretext.  He hid his eyes.  To stare at it would be to go mad.  It studied him.  Looked at him with amusement, like a child studying insects under a microscope.  Then, it spoke.  Its voice was the worst thing Strange had ever heard.  Constantly changing, echoing like a nightmare into the void around him.  

“The Anathema's pathetic light cannot protect you for long, sorcerer.”  Strange winched, and shielded his face even more.  

“What are you?” he asked in response.  The being laughed.  Strange screamed.  The laugh echoed around him, promising the bending of time and reality as he knew them.  

“Do not ask which creature screams in the night.  Do not question who waits for you in the shadow.  It is my cry that wakes you in the night, and my body that crouches in the shadow.  I am Tzeetch, and you are the puppet that dances to my tune…”  Strange pulled back.  This was out of his league.  He made a motion, and activated his one, final, failsafe.  The locket around his neck opened, and a stone within glowed green.  The being, Tzeetch, grimaced, hissed, and launched at the same time.  

“Oh, ho!  Your pathetic trinket cannot keep you safe for long.  Every time you use your power, every time anyone bends the laws of nature to their own whims, I will be waiting.  Know that I will be watching you and guiding your fate, mortal.”  Strange said nothing.  He could do nothing against such a being.  “Now, go pack to where you came from.”  With a great, ringing, clap, Strange opened his eyes.  He found himself back in New York.  His cloak let him down with a thud on the hardwood floor.  He winced, then stood.  A meeting had to be called.  He just hoped superheroes would be enough to stop whatever came next.  

[Author’s note: For the curious, Tzeetch is pronounced zeen-ch]

I hope you liked it.  While I didn’t want to give you the names of any of the people in Strange’s visions, preferring instead for you to guess for yourselves, the line “I am Tzeentch and you are the puppet that dances to my tune” was just too good to pass up.  I also do hope that you could follow at least some of my ramblings there, but, if you couldn’t, feel free to ask me any questions you may have, along with any comments, criticisms, requests, or concerns.  Wherever you are, I hope you have a great day.  

[oneoftheextras]

treasure | dragon!hawks

dragon!hawks x reader

masterlist  | tip jar

from the kinktober requests: “Could I request Tombstone, Peach, and 2 :D″

tombstone - hawks (keigo takami), peach - dragon, 2 - submissive

warnings: 18+, kidnap (if you squint), yandere characteristics, breeding kink, unprotected, choking & general sin

“I’m sorry, you know we have no choice” your father said as he stroked a stray hair out of your face, you whipped your face as far away from him as you could, the thought of him touching you made you feel disgusted.

The people who you used to call family, the members of your own village, had tied you to a wooden table with the strongest rope they had. All because you were of age and unmarried.

“Father please” you pleaded with him, surely he wouldn’t allow them to leave you here in the clearing of the forest - but he turned his back on you as soon as the last knot was tightened.

The village priest had the audacity to stand at the end of the table and raise his hands into the air. “On the night of the full moon, we bring you our offering, she is pure and she is young” he started the mantra. 

Every 3 months this would happen, normally you would watch from the shadows, too ashamed to help or protest. For thousands of years, your small village had been plagued by dragon who would slaughter their livestock and destroy their buildings - that was until your great great grandfather started leaving ‘offerings’ for the beast as a way to appease him.

It started with a few sheep and pigs, which didn’t entirely stop the dragon’s destruction but definitely reduced it. The villagers started leaving other offerings: gold, food, gems, until finally resorting to humans. At first they gave him the elderly, but when that didn’t please him, they started choosing villagers at random.

Through a lot of trial and error they found that the beast stayed away for 2 months when they gave him a younger woman, and when he didn’t show on the night of the 2nd month when one of the herbalist’s virgin daughters was offered up - they realised they could keep him at bay for 3 whole months.

The price was a woman of age that was untouched and unclaimed.

You knew it was risky to refuse the hand’s of the other men in the village, but you’d stupidly thought you were safe by being the daughter of the village chief; oh how wrong you were.

“We give you her willingly in exchange for our livestock and our village” he finished the chant that you had heard so many times, but you never thought you would be hearing it from this angle.

The silence that came next was unbearable, you could hear every bird within the area chirping away, completely oblivious to the scene happening just seconds away from their woodland home. 

Until the chirping stopped. Even the river seemed to hold its breath as the faint thump was heard in the distance.

At first it was subtle, a distant sound that you could have easily mistaken for the sound of your own heart beating in your chest. But then you heard it again, this time it was two thumps, one after the other - and then you felt the wind push past the trees.

Then you saw it.

The power of it’s wings pushed aside the treeline and it’s humungous body blocked out the moonlight, all that could be seen was the shadow of his form.

Your people started to scream and scramble away, not retreating from the scene earlier when they had the opportunity to. The shape came closer and closer until the shadow had a red hue to it.

Almost too quickly, you felt yourself being lifted into the air as your body was ripped from the platform you were bound to, parts of the wood splintering and coming with your limbs.

The drastic change in altitude made your head go woozy but unfortunately, you didn’t manage to pass out, you weren’t that lucky. You watched the trees become a distant blur of green and the faint light of your village disappeared until it looked no brighter than a star in the sky. 

When you reached the beast’s cave, he dumped you on top a pile of fabric, they were a sea of different colours and materials - it felt weird to feel satin on your palms and then silk near your arms.

Instantly, you eyed the small bit of moonlight shining through the cave entrance and you played with the idea of making a run for it, it it weren’t for him heading back in that direction.

His body was even bigger up close, he was covered in huge red scales that were the size of your hand, the patches towards his tail got smaller and smaller the closer it got to the tip. He even had to duck his head slightly to avoid scraping it against the roof of the cave that was easily the size of a 4 floor building.

Every step he took shook the ground with his claws scratching again the cold stone. He balanced on his back legs and pushed a huge bolder in front of the only light source you had, and sealing your escape route.

The thumping started again as you fell the vibrations get harder and louder as, you assumed, he made his way towards you. Then they stopped, you held your breath as you waited for any audible indication of where he was.

“Are you frightened, little bird?” you heard a human voice say followed by the sound of a match being struck. The sudden light made you squint, but when you saw a blonde man with golden eyes standing in front of you lighting a portable torch.

You cautiously glanced around the area trying to locate the scaled beast, but it had seemingly disappeared. The blonde man eyed you for a while, smirked, and then used the torch he was holding to light a few hanging lanterns that were attached to the walls of the cave.

Once the room was illuminated enough for you to see the man fully, you realised where the dragon went. On his back were a pair of huge red wings, they were scaled just as the creature’s were. This man somehow had the ability to transform from a huge mythical being into what almost fooled you into being a normal human man.

He seemed to relish in the fact that you weren’t able to answer his question due to being so stunned at his appearance.

“Keigo” he said, extending his hand out to you as though he wanted to shake your hand. “That’s my name” he clarified as though he was just saying the word for no reason.

Taking his hand in yours, you noticed how the red scales continued to travel in patches up his arms and hands.

“Are you going to eat me? you quivered, as soon as you finished your sentence he erupted into a fit of laughter. “Why would I eat you?” he asked back, extinguishing the torch he was holding with a strong breath. Trying to avoid eye contact, you attempted to explain yourself, “That’s what you’ve done to the other women, haven’t you?”

Again, the room filled with his laughter, “God no!” he spat out, taking a moment to brush the dirt off of his bare shoulders - it must have attached itself to him when you were flying. “Human’s have hardly any meat on their bones, it would be more effort to eat you than it’s worth” he casually explained as though being told what its like to eat humans was a normal conversation.

You couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed by the assumptions you were making. “Where are they?” you bravely asked and he turned his body towards you, “I let them go” he shrugged as though it was nothing.

Starting is ascension up the mound of fabric, you noticed that he was completely naked. It made sense. He wasn’t wearing any clothes when he was a dragon, so why would be be wearing any now.

Averting your eyes quickly, you felt your cheeks heating up, “They deserved a better life than to be traded away for a few sheep” he displayed a displeased frown, you had never thought of it that way.

“Are you going to let me go?” you asked hopeful, you would be able to return to your family and explain to the village what you’ve seen. “Oh no” his frown turned into a smirk as he crouched down in front of you. If you were being honest, it was hard not to watch the thing that was dangling in between his thighs.

Then his words hit you, “What? Why?!” you asked, panic setting back in again, his hand came up to graze your chin, you were too frightened to pull away but were surprised at how soft his fingers were. “I like you” he smiled, and that was the only explanation he gave. 

Using the hand that was already under your chin, he pulled your face up to meet his and gently kissed your lips, it was quick and delicate - in no way you thought he would be.

“You’ll stay here with me, mine” he growled the last word as though the dragon inside him was taking over his thoughts, his golden eyes merging and twisting into red reptilian irises, “Got it?” he more told you than asked, but you shook your head in agreement anyway. 

Before you knew it he was on you, his chest pressed flat against yours with only your nightie to separate you, his lips trailing kisses down your neck as his hands drew the outline of your hips.

This was not how you thought tonight was going to go, but you were not complaining; often you found your hands trailing up his sides and brushing against his scaled wings.

It took you by surprise when his hand drifted in between your legs and abruptly push his fingers inside of you. You gasped, not expecting it, he had been so delicate with his kisses that his hand was a complete contrast.

If it weren’t for how turned on you were by his mouth, it would have hurt. Every time he pushed his fingers into you he hit your g-spot which made you moan so loudly that it bounced off the walls of his cave.

But he never let it linger, almost immediately he would drag them to the point where you would feel completely empty again, only to have them attack your spot again.

When you started to whimper because you felt your orgasm quickly approaching did he fully withdraw his digits from you. The cry that left your mouth was shameful.

Hastily, you craned your neck forward to look to where his eyeline had shifted, you watched as he prodded your entrance with the head of his cock, but he was hesitating.

For the first time since all of this started you glanced up to make eye contact with him, but he was already staring down at you. “Ready baby bird?” he asked quietly, waiting for your approval.

Without hesitation, you nodded frantically. Almost the same second you started to nod your head, he shoved himself inside you earning a moan from both of you. Pushing further and further until you could feel the tickle of his hair against your lips, you felt the fabric under your head start to dip.

You opened your eyes slowly and looked towards where you felt the shift in weight to see what his hand had turned into a huge red claw with shiny scales making their way to his elbow - he was starting to lose control of his form.

When he started to move inside of you, you watched as his razor sharp claws dug into the fabric; some of the more delicate pieces started to fray under the pressure.

He gave you time to adjust to him, but you could feel his want to move faster and harder. Almost as a way to encourage him, you wrapped your legs around his waist so he could get a better angle.

Instantly he moved his human hand to your hip so he could stabilise you as he set an unrelenting pace, even before your brain could register the ecstasy it was producing he had already pulled back to ram back into you again.

You could feel your walls pulsating around him, only emphasising how you could already feel every vein of his cock. His clawed-hand drifted from your fabric bed and up to your throat. He gently squeezed, not putting enough pressure to cut off air flow but enough to make your heart race - you could feel the sharpness of his talons against your skin but somehow trusted him not to scratch you.

“You’re mine, my treasure” he growled as he continued to impale you over and over, you held his scaled arm as a way to try and ground you as you unintentionally tensed around him. 

One side of his mouth raised in a cocky smirk “Do you want to cum?” he sarcastically asked, it was obvious from your body language that’s what you wanted. You did your best to nod with his claw wrapped around your throat.

“I’m gunna - need to hear it - Baby Bird” he grunted in between words, he was clearly close too. “P-Please” you barely squeaked out, “What was that?” he pretended that he didn’t hear you. “Please, Keigo!” you loudly yelled, you didn’t need to wait for his permission, you couldn’t hold onto it anymore.

You unconsciously gripped his cock with your walls as you moaned through your own orgasm. He continued to push himself past your tight muscles “I’m gunna cum” he groaned underneath the noises you were making “I’m gunna fill you up until your human body can’t take it anymore” he growled, his primal side taking over.

“I’ve been waiting years for them to give you to me, waiting for you to carry my chicks” he confessed through pants, but his sentence was cut off by a somewhat animalistic roar as you felt his cock convulse and release his cum into you. It was almost enough to make you orgasm a second time.

After a couple of moments, he withdrew himself from you and nuzzled down into the blanket nest beside you. He pulled you close to him so his chest was against your back.  Maybe being the village sacrifice wasn’t so bad. 

[megashadowdragon]

fgo theory is caster cu really odin 

comments : 

There is also the 10 bond CE for him being the Yggdrasil Tree, which is very Norse. (the fact he needs a bunch of Yggdrasil seeds may also be a bit of a hint.) Interestingly, the Wickerman festivals were held throughout Europe (Areas such as England and Scotland) and were regarded as a neo-pagan festivity. Chances are, if CasCu really is Odin, it is highly likely he will take action in the English Lostbelt second part. I think itd be really cool, but if that was the case itd be more likely Cu caster was a Cu-Odin fusion similar to Scathach-Skadi. We know its within Odin's ability to do a fusion like this due to how he did the same for Skadi. It also explains how caster cu retains the protection from arrows and disengage skills. It also makes more sense how he's kept his identity a secret, because it's not false that he is Cu.

www . reddit . com/r/grandorder/comments/lkw9xm/summary_of_the_caster_cu_chulainnodin_theory/

At absolutely no point does he ever give his name or makes any mention to it.

Other Servants who initially don't give their names say that they'll give it to you later. Caster does not even bring up the subject.

In the Garden of Sinners crossover event, he says "there's no Cú Chulainn here". It's treated as a gag, but...

In the Singularity F Memorial Quest, he's the only Servant referred to by his Class name instead of his True name.

In Lostbelt 6 he finally introduces himself... as Grimnir. This is an alias that Odin uses in the Grímnismál.

He's not supposed to be the Caster of the Fuyuki Grail War in the first place. In the original reality, it's Medea, while in FGO reality it's Solomon. Material states that Singularity F is the result of data colliding, and Caster resulted from that. However, in that case it should be either Solomon or Medea who appear in Singularity F, not Cú Chulainn.

One of his lines goes as following: "Isn't bit boring to play a game that never ends? For better or for worse, it's like you can't move the pieces forward, yeah?" Is he talking about Singularity F? At any rate, this sounds weird.

His Final Ascension art and animation update features two white wolves. Odin is stated to have two wolves named Geri and Freki.

His second Noble Phantasm, which he mentions in one of his My Room lines, is called "Ochd Deug Odin - Seal of the Great God". It's an exceedingly powerful Rank A Anti-Fortress Noble Phantasm with potentially Game Breaking effects, but what's interesting is its description: it activates by chanting its True Name and using all 18 primordial runes granted by Scáthach at once (keep in mind she taught him the Norse ones) and it "temporarily unleashes the power of the rune possessed by the Great Odin". Aside from the weirdness of him even having that Noble Phantasm in the first place (he's not supposed to have Wickerman either, but at least we get an explanation for that), why can't he use it? (Potential Game-Breaker status not withstanding).

In the North America version of the game, his Bond Craft Essense is called "Yggdrasil Tree". That's taken from Norse Mythology, so why would a Celt have it?

In addition, the Yggdrasil tree has a particularly strong tie to Odin. The Ygg bit is another name for him, and according to legend at some point he hanged himself from one of its branches to gain wisdom.

For some reason, he's in the Nordic Fields during Boudica's 3rd Strengthening Quest.

During Valentine's Day in the return gift scene, he talks about the Human Order Incineration and the Human Order Reorganization - a.k.a. the Lostbelts. Somehow he knew about the Lostbelts before the game even got to that point.

In the 2019 Valentine's event, he's seen reading the book "Scandinavia's Beautiful Mountains".

In the FGO mats, Sigurd takes special notice of him and then has a Double Take. He also seems confused about him in his material profile. The fact that Sigurd noticed Caster is odd, but it should also be noted that Sigurd encountered Odin a number of times in his legend, thus making him one of the most likely people to recognize him.

Scáthach's Interlude brings up a LOT of questions. The regular Lancer Cú Chulainn says that his power is reduced because half his Saint Graph is missing. Mash suggests that the reduction in power may be because he was separated in numerous classes, but Lancer Cú is surprised that he can be summoned as a Caster. In addition, there are several Servants summonable in numerous classes, and none of them has this problem. There's a possibility that the other half of the Saint Graph went to Caster, and he's using an external source to stabilize it.

According to the Arcade version of FGO, it's impossible for any version of Cú Chulainn to be summoned without Gáe Bolg or the skill "Martial Arts Disciplining in the Shadow Country". Yet Caster has neither, thus making him an impossible summoning.

Not very noticeable in the English version, but he occasionally slips into using the "washi" pronoun during dialogue. For those who might not know, "washi" is actually pretty formal, and contrasts Cú Chulainn's much more casual "ore".

A lot of his official art has him looking subtly different that the other versions of Cú Chulainn.

He has lighter-coloured hair in all of his artwork, and Fate/Grand Carnival gives him wrinkles under the eyes. This trait is usually used in anime to show a character around 40-50 years old; an age that Cú Chulainn never reached.

In his card art and formal outfit card, his eyes are almost orange rather than red. In addition, one eye is always at least partially hidden.

In his April Fool's card, he has different facial features than the rest of the Cú Chulainns.

Tying to the above, Odin is known for disguising himself as an older man, usually a wizard, in a hood, and he's missing an eye. Missing eye aside, Caster fits most of that criteria, and as pointed out above, most his art hides his eye anyway. Odin gave said eye in exchange for wisdom, and there are a few remarks that Caster is getting smarter.

In the original Fate/stay night, Emiya draws a connection between Gáe Bolg and Odin's spear, Gungnir. Considering that he has picked up things like Rho Aias and Caladbolg, we can probably take him at his word. In his animation update, Caster throws his staff above the enemies heads, and then it changes tragectory to attack them from behind. While this could easily be a reference to Gáe Bolg's actual method of killing in the myth (it entered the victim through the asshole), it could also be a reference to how Odin would throw Gungnir above the heads of his enemies to declare a war.

Another detail from his animation upgrade is that his Instant Runes often take the form of a Valknut; this symbol according to some scholars is associated with Odin.

There are overall several indications that Caster will play a significant role later in the story: he's featured in the trailer of Lostbelt 6 and received his animation update during the Lostbelt 6 livestream, and Word of God has implied several times that we will be returning to Singularity F at some point.

Tying to the above, in one of My Room conversations, he say's he'll teach you how to use Runes later. Maybe it's not Blatant Lies after all.

Caster and Odin share several personality traits. Both of them are known as "the raging one", are strongly tied with the concept of war, magic, and wisdom, and both of them are The Gadfly - as Caster displays in Singularity F when he tries to get Mash to activate her Noble Phantasm. In addition, in various events Caster seems to have a gambling problem, which is also one of Odin's traits. Not to mention "summon me as a Lancer" works for Odin too.

The recent Lostbelt 6 update also adds fuel to the fire. In My Room dialogues, Scáthach tells him that his Rune magic is slightly different from what she taught him. He asks Sigurd not to look at him with the glasses, when he sees Brynhildr he muses that this must be fate/karma and specifically refers to Scáthach-Skadi as "Lostbelt Skadi."

His new battle lines from the same update are just as interesting.

"Witness the essence of the Rune magecraft taught by Scáthach... Sure, let's go with that." Along with Scáthach accusing him of his Rune magic being different, this could easily imply that he didn't learn them from her.

Another line is that "he doesn't have the noose of his neck anymore". As an above point states, this Odin did this to learn his runes. The noose bit also never happened to Cú Chulainn.

One of his victory lines references "wolves and crows" and that he has "no idea what they're talking about". The crows part could be a reference to the story of Cú Chulainn's death, which features a crow sitting on his corpse, but the whole quote seems to better reference Odin and his pets; the wolves Geri and Freki, and the crows Huginn and Muninn.

Lostbelt 6 also gives his a buff to his Disengage skill. More specifically, it's actually two buffs that activate back-to-back, with the first called "At the Fountain" and the second called "Sacrifice to the World Tree". Very specific, game.

In Lostbelt 2, it is outright stated that it was Odin who fused Skadi and Scáthach together. Who says he never did it before?

[simoviacourt]

TRIGGER WARNING: This post discusses (but does not depict visually) several heavy and upsetting topics such as eating disorder, physical and mental abuse and trauma. As such, the rest of this post will be under the cut. Please read at your own discretion, or feel free to skip to the next post. It is also one of the longest posts I’ve ever done so... reader discretion advised. 

Previous - Next

Zonneminster Royal Hospital, the Queen’s wing, later that day 

Andrew: Gods... Alma... I thought you were doing better.

Erasmus: She seemed happy. Until a few weeks ago. 

Andrew: What happened? 

Erasmus: The war. And she had an incident with her commander.

Andrew: Constantin? What about him? 

Erasmus: It appears he confessed his love to her and kissed her. 

Andrew: Fuck. That’s the last thing she needed.

Erasmus: It would appear so. But I don’t understand... has she always had trouble with her heart or?

Andrew: No... it’s... nothing like that. The doctors said it was... severe arrhythmia brought on by her... diet.

Erasmus: Diet?! Her heart stopped, twice, that’s not something that is due to a diet.

Andrew: I know... it’s just we’ve never discussed it in the actual terms. 

Erasmus: For God's sakes, so she’s been starving herself?  For years it would appear! Don’t think I can't put the two together. Why hasn’t she gotten help before?! Whoever thought it was wise to let it go this far?!

Andrew: (sighs) You... you don’t understand.

Erasmus: Then explain. It’s about time someone does. She very nearly died.

Andrew: Gods... where do I even begin?

Erasmus: How long has it been this way?

Andrew: It first started when she was 8...

Erasmus: What? And all this time she has gone without any professional help?!

Andrew: My family... they... it coincided with my mother’s ascension to the throne, everyone was too busy. They thought Alma was just acting out, being difficult with food as they called it, it would pass they said. Especially after the whole thing with the tutor.

Erasmus: The tutor?

Andrew: Yes... Meester Keizer. He was assigned to Alma when she turned 8, shortly before my grandmother died. We were no longer taking lessons together because Alma had to start her training as second in line. A vile, cruel man. Always got bad vibes from him but he must have come highly recommended I suppose. I was only 10 at the time, not much older than Alma.

Erasmus: Go on...

Andrew: I was the first and I think, at the time, the only one to notice anything. You don’t know it, but the Alma we see today is nothing like the Alma I remember before…You know she used to sing all the time? Put on silly little shows for all the staff and our parents. Charmed everyone she came across...She just had this whole energy about her. Liefje reminds me a lot of Alma, or at least of how she used to be. But then she started to change. Stopped singing. Stopped smiling. She would try to make herself invisible. So I tried to help, to cheer her up in any way I could. I even stole cookies from the kitchens for her.

Erasmus: You were but a child too. 

Andrew: I know... but I was determined to figure out what was happening. Then one time, when we went swimming, at the Cottage, I saw a bruise on her arm. She freaked out when I asked her about it. Ran away crying. Now that I think of it, someone, the nannies, someone must have suspected something. But if they did, nobody did anything. 

Erasmus: What happened then?

Andrew: She’d have more bruises. She’d wince if I hugged her. Then... one day. One day... I had left my tennis racket in the Green Room. 

Erasmus: At the Cottage?

Andrew: Yes. It’s where Alma was having her lessons before we moved to Zonneminster permanently. And I had left my tennis racket there. So I ran in and... gods.

Erasmus: The tutor he was... hurting Alma?

Andrew: No… at least, not like that if that’s what you mean. They never found any evidence of that. No. He was dragging her, by her arm, a tiny 8-year-old, to the small adjacent room. Alma cried hysterically as he slammed the door shut, and that’s when he saw me. I ran. I ran all the way until I found my father. I dragged him into the Green Room with me. Told him everything I had seen on the way there. I don’t think he believed me at first but when he saw Alma’s red face… he. Well. That was the last we saw of Meester Keizer.

Erasmus: I... I’m so sorry Andrew. That should never have happened.

Andrew: I know. I... I never really talk about it. We never did. They simply got her a new tutor, and brushed it under the carpet, to avoid scandal. And Alma... she was never the same. She would scream at night. Nightmares. She still gets bad ones. Turns out that Meester Keizer, besides hitting her, had been locking her by herself in a room for hours every time she made a mistake or upset the man. 

Erasmus: Gods...

Andrew: And the diet… the starving, the eating disorder, it has been her coping mechanism ever since. She does better when she is happy and feels loved...but she will never be truly happy in this role. I realised that even then as I watched my mother turn from the person I'd known into the Queen she became. I remember begging our parents to have another baby, to have another girl so that Alma wouldn’t have to do it. I promised her that I would keep her safe. A bloody great job I’ve been doing at that.

Erasmus: Your parents and family should have been there. 

Andrew: They... That’s not how this family is, Erasmus, which is something you should consider if you’re serious with my sister and would join us. The crown overshadows everything. It comes before anything else. Your suffering is meaningless next to it. But I fear that Alma is losing her battle with it. Sometimes I wonder if we should just let those anti-monarchists have their way. At least then Alma could have some peace.

Erasmus: You know that wouldn’t solve anything. 

Andrew: I know. Gods, Erasmus, I do hope that you are serious and here to help her carry the burden. She can’t do it alone much longer.

Previous - Next

[fortes-fortuna-iogurtum]

an incomplete list of Thoughts on Gallifrey: Time War 4

will probably be added to as time goes on because my brain is in a fog this morning and I’m really struggling to be coherent

this is already so long and I don’t know how to stop oh no

- Time War could’ve very easily been a 5-boxset arc, and I really wish it would’ve been. I think it would’ve cleared up a lot of the issues that I and others have with the arc, especially in terms of pacing and character and relationship development.

- alternatively, they could’ve returned to the original format of 5 chapters per season, which I personally liked a lot and think works a little better for Gallifrey.

- this is technically about Time War 2 and 3, but it’s connected to 4, so: I think some stories should’ve been shifted around a bit so that things flowed along more smoothly and the transition from Mother Tongue to Unity made more sense, and then from Unity to Homecoming. because as it stands, it feels to me like making Romana and Leela and Narvin “break up” after Leela spends all that time away from them was just done for drama and wasn’t fleshed out well enough to completely work like I’m assuming the writers wanted it to.

- I have come to the conclusion that, while David Llewellyn is a good writer whose Gallifrey stories I generally enjoy a lot, he just doesn’t understand Brax very well.

- actually I feel like Brax’s writing in Gallifrey has just been a little *off* since his last appearance in Gally4. (with the exception of Solider Obscura, which I love, even though I ALSO question the writers’ decision to essentially reverse Brax’s character development there; again, this is another thing that I think could’ve been just fine if there had been more time to deal with it, say a fifth boxset or five stories in every boxset)

- and this makes sense -- because David Llewellyn doesn’t fully grasp some really core aspects of who Brax is and his motivations, but is generally a pretty good writer and seems to get the other main characters of Gallifrey well, we’re left with a sense of good writing for Brax... but when it really comes down to it in the end, everything sorta falls apart because he doesn’t understand the deeper workings of the character and why he does the things he does.

- basically I really really wish Justin Richards could’ve written Beyond, because I think he would’ve done an amazing job with it and the ending wouldn’t have felt so bizarre

- (also I wonder if they had to cut a scene last minute because honestly that whole last sequence feels incredibly weird somehow??? not only does it feel OOC for Romana--like come on. I’m sorry, I know that he’s mistreated her and people she cares about a lot and she has a right to be done with him, but we know her. her responding that way to seeing him brutally killed in front of her after all their conversations in the earlier parts of the story feels so incredibly wrong and I cannot articulate just how much I dislike it--but there’s also an incredibly rough scene transition there and a music transition that sounds really bad, to be blunt. like they had to chop out a scene the morning before release and had no time to fix it, so they just did what they had to and hoped no one would notice)

- gotta be honest, I’m pretty salty about Beyond and probably will be talking about it for a while. maybe I should make a tag specifically for it so y’all can mute that one, because I hate being so negative about things I actually do enjoy, but I had a Lot of issues with that story and I just.... 

- yeah anyway, moving on 😅

- I did, on the whole, enjoy Homecoming, however

- again with the pacing, I think it would’ve been a lot better if they had been able to lead up to it more, especially with the emotional relationships between the Trio. Leela and Romana was ok, Romana and Narvin was ok, and Leela and Narvin was ok, but they really could’ve gone harder on the emotions I think?

- actually that’s a big thing about this boxset overall, and it’s especially evident in Homecoming-- I feel like they were holding back for some reason, and they really really didn’t have to. Especially as this is being advertised (at least in an unspoken way) as The Big Finale.

- (I mean for one they definitely could’ve had Leela and Narvin kiss at the end of that last interaction and it would’ve been fine and super fitting but ya know)

- also I do want to draw attention to the fact that this is most certainly not the absolute and final end of Gallifrey. I mean, perhaps of Gallifrey proper? But I’m going to be incredibly shocked if this it just. it. for these storylines and these characters. especially with where they left things at the end of Homecoming.

- actually, this might be the root of this problem: that the writers were simultaneously trying to write the Big Finish (no pun intended) for Gallifrey, but at the same time, they wanted to keep it very open-ended and ready to be picked up again when the time comes. So it ends up just feeling kind of... muddled, and noncommittal. Because they want this huge, heartrending, emotional finale, but at the same time it’s not a finale, and so they can’t do anything too big and heartrending and emotional and final with the characters, because the story needs to be able to continue. and so we’re stuck with an “ending” that’s probably not really an ending, and it simultaneously feels just a little underdone and like a big lead-up into nowhere.

- I mentioned to @spicydinosaurwings948 right after listening to it that the end reminded me of that thing a lot of big film/TV franchises do now, where they lay threads throughout one film and at the very end there’s an after-credits scene and some sort of announcement that ushers in the next era or spin-off of the franchise (sort of like what they did in the end of the most reason season of The Mandalorian, where they’re using Boba Fett’s involvement in that show to launch his own series). The problem is, as far as we know right now, they aren’t planning anything to follow up on this (unless they’re really great at keeping secrets and telling half-truths and are planning to shock us all in a few weeks, which wouldn’t entirely surprise me even tho I’m not counting on it happening).

- I have seen people say that they think some of the problem with the finale was that the writers were too occupied with trying to tie things into other existing storylines, like the show itself and the DW audios, which is also valid. I don’t personally think that is the root of the problem, but I definitely understand where that idea is coming from and I agree that it could’ve contributed to the issues.

- now might also be a time to mention that I can totally see some of these things from Gally:TW being brought up in the young War Doctor stories they’re doing soon? obviously not too much, but I can see characters like Eris showing up there, or maybe a reference to the Doctor not knowing where Romana is, or maybe even Armitage!Rassilon being the first Rassilon of those stories.

- annnnnd speaking of Hot Rassilon: the “ascension”. I have no idea what was going on with all that but it definitely felt like Something Big and now I’m really puzzled as to what there were doing with it?? is this going to be picked up somewhere else?? is it just another thing they introduced that needed to be fleshed-out better?? hello Big Finish and Scott Handcock and anyone else who can help me, I really need answers because?????? (I mean surely, surely it doesn’t tie into Ascension of the Cybermen???????)

[lizworlds]

❤️ - “  My Love,   is actually  my Twin Flame  “ - ❤️

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐⭐ ⭐

“ My Love,is actually my Twin Flame “

                            ---written by:  🦂 Zayn Whyaeipi 🦂 

                                                                              8/27/2021

A Twin Flame, (Yin & Yang) often known as a "mirroring soul," is an intense embodiment of connection which is believed to be a person’s other half.

It’s based on the belief that one soul can split into two bodies. A twin flame connection will be both challenging and healing, which has been one of the significant aspects. The love story with twin flames created in the stars (literally). From their previous life experiences to their early physical meeting, and indeed throughout the turbulent stages of their relationship, everything about them was destined on a soul level.

When twin flames meet, either or both of them may be in a relationship with someone else. We refer to this person as a karmic partner. Usually, the Divine Feminine is single, while the Wounded Masculine is in a relationship with another (karmic partner). It can, however, happen in any circumstance. A teacher is the karmic mate of the Wounded Masculine. His/her job is to help the Wounded Masculine prepare for the Divine Feminine.

There will be a significant difference. If you represent the lighter side of the TF (Twin Flame) or the yin and yang dynamic, your light will shine on your twin flame’s lower shadow aspects that are living in that darker, denser energy, as well as the things that your twin flame does not want to face and the things that your twin flame is repressing. The Universe uses the karmic for the highest good of the TF (Twin Flame) Union.

( Image source: https://theworkingsinglemom.com/experiencing-tower-moments/ )

The Wounded Masculine may take a long time to settle this karma and part ways with the karmic partner because of soul/karmic contracts (lessons to learn). This is because karmic energy is heavy, and that he or she is still dealing with it. It’s a powerful sign that he/she further needs healing. Therefore, it shows that he or she is in his or her wounded masculine.

As a result, there’s a good chance things will turn messy. Many wounded masculines will have to go through "tower moment after tower moment" (a period when everything seems to crumble apart) before they fully discover what is best for their highest good.

As twin flames, the energies that come from third parties have a direct impact on their connection. For that matter, all relationships are affected to a degree by third-party or outside energies.

( http://www.thelesbianmafia.com/home/wp-content/uploads/feminine2.jpg )

Many times, the DM doesn’t value the relationship the way DF does. The divine masculine has repeatedly overstepped divine feminine boundaries. Breadcrumbing could also have endured by the Divine Feminine out of desperation energy to unite with her wounded divine masculine. She may have allowed deception, lies, and deceptive behaviors. Perhaps she put up with his/her back-and-forth with his/her karmic partner, anticipating s/he’d change his/her mind and choose her/him.

However, once the Divine Feminine has fully awakened, her intuition is so precise while she’s on the verge of healing. She understands she is worthy of becoming the only one in her divine counterpart’s realm.

The Divine Feminine will eventually realize that she is worthy of someone who recognizes both her greatness and her worth.

She desires to be with someone who treats her with love, respect, honesty, truth, and tenderness on an equal level.

She won't put up with anything less.

She isn't accessible for such nonsense.

It's a matter of all or nothing.

( Image source link:  https://www.pinterest.com/pin/855050679224598923/  ) 

We perceive the spiritual dimension as the need for: life's meaning, purpose, and fulfillment;

We know it in the spiritual realm as the ascent of one’s consciousness.

How many Spiritual Dimensions are there?

-3rd Dimension: "The Realm of Pleasure"

The 3rd dimension, We see physical things in our reality that take up space in the 3d or third-dimensional mind. Besides 3d and 5d, several physical objects can appear in 4d and 5d. Since we believe what we see, we believe the 3d only exists because of cultural indoctrination. It’s really restricting and prevents your mind from expansion.

* Ascension of conciousness involves :

(Materialism, Victim mentality, and Control, Status, Ego association, Service to self, Fear-lower emotions, Linear thinking  )

-4th Dimension: "The Realm of Time "

The 4th dimension connects the third and fifth dimensions. We know this dimension as spiritual awakening, and it begins through meditation to open the heart chakra. You can feel present in this realm by placing your hand over your heart. If you’re ever in 4d, you’ll notice that you’re quiet and still inside. You will feel happiness, love, and gratitude. As a result, in order to ascend from the 3rd to the 5th dimension, you must first go through or have at least experienced the 4th dimension.

* Ascension of conciousness involves :

(Understanding, Aligning with purpose, Synchronicity, Seeking answers, conscious being, more compassion, more connected, expanding consciousness )

( Image source link:  https://www.pinterest.ph/pin/514465957427019990/ )

-5th Dimension: " The Realm of Unconditional Love "

The 5th dimension is the dimension of love. You are in the space of unconditional love. To be in the area of love and light, you must remove any mental or emotional blockages such as fear, rage, jealousy, hatred, guilt, suffering, and so on. It is a very pure sort of love in which there are no boundaries to love. Telepathy is known in this dimension. Time overlaps, giving the impression that everything is happening at the same time.

* Ascension of conciousness involves :  

(Service to others, Purpose based, High Frequency, Abundance, Unconditional Sharing, effortless, Universal knowledge, aligning with the divine, authenticity )

As your soul sought answers, your ascension process began. Your Higher Self is well aware of this, and it is their responsibility to reveal it at the time when you are ready to have your Twin Flame experience and accomplish the ascension process. The Twin Flame experience is something that not everyone has chosen to have in this lifetime.

In this lifetime, not all twin flames are destined to meet. This all depends on your original soul contract and what you both agreed to learn and grow on a soul level.

Our emotional wounds are best provoked by our twin flame. This is because they are a part of us, and we are a part of them. Do not confuse this as being triggered, Twin flame triggers only lead you to a higher understanding of the connection. 

They experience similar wound patterns, and that they are our mirrors, revealing us what we require to heal. Ultimately, twin flame connections assist each person to heal through any difficulty. You’ll probably have a lot of soul mates. Soul mates are about completing each other. This is in line with the idea that with every expansion, some level of tension is to be expected, but then there’s only just one twin flame.  

NOT EVERYONE FINDS THEIR TWIN FLAME, BUT IF YOU DO, IT HAS THE POTENTIAL TO BE A TOTALLY LIFE-CHANGING KIND OF LOVE. 

(  If you are reunited, your relationship has the potential to be once-in-a-lifetime. Nothing will ever be the same. )

( Image source link : https://dakotaearthcloud.com/product/marriage-sacred-masculine-divine-feminine/ )

The Divine Masculine counterpart is usually the one who awakens her (Kundalini activation). This can happen when two people communicate and are physically close to each other.

The Divine Feminine, triggers awakening in the DM, in a slightly different way and usually over a period of time. They intensify the divine masculine to connect to the Earth, nature, and the divine.

When your twin flames connect, they forge a connection that both grounds you to the Earth and to nature, as well as opens you up to higher beings and spiritual worlds.

( Image source: https://shop.cosm.org/products/oversoul-poster  ) 

The divine masculine and divine feminine, are both represented in twin flames. Both masculine and feminine energy exist in everyone of us. These energies have a significant impact on how we present ourselves in the world and in our interactions. Work, social expectations, trauma, past relationships, and other factors can lead this energy to be misaligned with our inherent nature, resulting in unnecessary tension, distance, and isolation. In addition, there is still a Divine Feminine and Divine Masculine polarity in same-sex couples.

Masculine qualities: Logic, Reason, Action, Firm, Survival, Loyal, Adventurous, Rational, Strength  ( Highlight:  analytical, competitive, and logical. )

Feminine qualities:  Intuition, Nurturing, Healing, Gentle, Expressive, Wise, ,Patient, Emotional, Flexible ( Highlight:  connection, emotions and flow. )

After the honeymoon stage, "you or your partner will be the one discovering unlikable characteristics, which will trigger anxiety, potentially causing the relationship to fall apart. This resemblance to a mirror is partly responsible for many of the dramas you’ll possibly experience with your twin lover. "Anything we’ve spent our lives ignoring or rejecting is suddenly in front of us," As you get to know each other, you may discover that you share the same traits about your upbringing, including being abandoned, or that you attended many of the same places at the same time.

About two years ago, number synchronicity started appearing for me before I met my twin flame, but I do not know what they are or what they imply. Then, for a week or two, this woman caught my attention because of an interesting event. Our meeting provoked my Dark Night of the Soul, which started the beginning of my (true) awakening journey, although I was in my pre-awakening stage when we met. After meeting her, (my twin flame ) I felt shivers down my spine. It’s bizarre on a cellular level. It’s as though I’ve known her throughout my whole life.

I felt a tremendous connection with her. I’d never really had anybody else before, in ways that I still can’t entirely verbalize.

I instantly recognized her as my wife when I met her, because I could hear those voices inside my head insisting that she was my wife in a previous life and will continue to be in the future. To be honest, I felt an immediate sense of peace; it felt as if I was her home. When my twin flame enters my life, I experience an immediate sense of relief, without knowing why.

The best part about having this kind of connection is having a home with somebody who embraces you for who you are on the inside and allows you to be entirely yourself. Everything clicks, whether you’ve been wearing make-up or just haven’t showered in days, and you couldn’t imagine having it with anyone else in your life like you do with your twin flame.

With my twin flame, her strengths are my weaknesses. We both help each other maintain a sense of equilibrium in our lives. They’re the sweet to my spice, the black to my white, and the yang to my yin. We are mirrors of the same and reflect each other's light or darkness, and this is why, at times, it becomes so difficult. The connection seems to match into my life, and you know it is genuine. It is the most beautiful and magical experience, and by far the greatest gift I could ever receive.

If you’re like most individuals, you’ve spent a significant amount of time praying and hoping for a meaningful relationship to appear in your life. You may not realize immediately that the person is your twin flame, but as soon as you do, you’ll stop seeking unrelated friendships and romances.

You know it’s important when your twin flame emerges. Now that they’re in your life, you feel like the wait is over.

When she’s with me, she makes my world feel bigger. When my twin flame and I are together, life opens up in various ways.

Whatever it may be, this mutual encouragement inspires you to expand your horizons by challenging what you previously believed to be impossible. We may have doubted our ability to achieve our dreams in the past, but today you know you can achieve what you’ve set your mind to. Perhaps because the twin flame energy has pushed us to it. 

Once you know your twin flame has your back, you can move forward with confidence and  they’ll know they have your support with everything. You can strengthen yourself emotionally and spiritually. They’ll improve as a person in perfect sync with your personal growth. You balance each other. You also help them stay aware of the world. They change as you do. They are, in many ways, your other half.

Your twin flame is the male or female version of yourself.

- End

❤️

All the Love - L

[rawliverandcigarettes]

Mass Effect Retribution, a review

Mass Effect Retribution is the third book in the official Mass Effect trilogy by author Drew Karpyshyn, who happens to also be Lead Writer for Mass Effect 1 and Mass Effect 2.

I didn’t expect to pick it up, because to be very honest I didn’t expect to like it. 9 years ago I borrowed Mass Effect Revelations, and I still recall the experience as underwhelming. But this fateful fall of 2020 I had money (yay) and I saw the novel on the shelf of a swedish nerd store. I guess guilt motivated me to give the author another try: guilt, because I’ve been writing a Mass Effect fanfiction for an ungodly amount of years and I’ve been deathly afraid of lore that might contradict my decisions ever since I started -but I knew this book covered elements that are core to plot elements of my story, and I was willing to let my anxiety to the door and see what was up.

Disclaimer: I didn’t reread Mass Effect Revelation before plunging into this read, and entirely skipped Ascension. So anything in relation to character introduction and continuity will have to be skipped.

Back-cover pitch (the official, unbiased, long one)

Humanity has reached the stars, joining the vast galactic community of alien species. But beyond the fringes of explored space lurk the Reapers, a race of sentient starships bent on “harvesting” the galaxy’s organic species for their own dark purpose. The Illusive Man, leader of the pro-human black ops group Cerberus, is one of the few who know the truth about the Reapers. To ensure humanity’s survival, he launches a desperate plan to uncover the enemy’s strengths—and weaknesses—by studying someone implanted with modified Reaper technology. He knows the perfect subject for his horrific experiments: former Cerberus operative Paul Grayson, who wrested his daughter from the cabal’s control with the help of Ascension project director Kahlee Sanders. But when Kahlee learns that Grayson is missing, she turns to the only person she can trust: Alliance war hero Captain David Anderson. Together they set out to find the secret Cerberus facility where Grayson is being held. But they aren’t the only ones after him. And time is running out. As the experiments continue, the sinister Reaper technology twists Grayson’s mind. The insidious whispers grow ever stronger in his head, threatening to take over his very identity and unleash the Reapers on an unsuspecting galaxy. This novel is based on a Mature-rated video game.

Global opinion (TL;DR)

I came in hoping to be positively surprised and learn a thing or two about Reapers, about Cerberus and about Aria T’loak. I wasn’t, and I didn’t learn much. What I did learn was how cool ideas can get wasted by the very nature of game novelization, as the defects are not singular to this novel but quite widespread in this genre, and how annoyed I can get at an overuse of dialogue tags. The pacing is good and the narrative structure alright: everything else poked me in the wrong spots and rubbed how the series have always handled violence on my face with cruder examples. If I was on Good Reads, I’d probably give it something like 2 stars, for the pacing, some of the ideas, and my general sympathy for the IP novel struggle.

The indepth review continue past this point, just know there will be spoilers for the series, the Omega DLC which is often relevant, and the book itself!

What I enjoyed

Drew Karpyshyn is competent in narrative structure, and that does a lot for the pacing. Things rarely drag, and we get from one event to the next seamlessly. I’m not surprised this is one of the book’s qualities, as it comes from the craft of a game writer: pacing and efficiency are mandatory skills in this field. I would have preferred a clearer breaking point perhaps, but otherwise it’s a nice little ride that doesn’t ask a lot of effort from you (I was never tempted to DNF the book because it was so easy to read).

This book is packed with intringuing ideas -from venturing in the mind of the Illusive Man to assist, from the point of view of the victim, to Grayson’s biological transformation and assimilation into the Reaper hivemind, we get plenty to be excited for. I was personally intrigued about Liselle, Aria T’loak’s secret daughter, and eager to get a glimpse at the mind of the Queen Herself -also about how her collaboration with Cerberus came to be. Too bad none of these ideas go anywhere nor are being dealt with in an interesting way!!! But the concepts themselves were very good, so props for setting up interesting premices.

Pain is generally well described. It gets the job done.

I liked Sanak, the batarian that works as a second to Aria. He’s not very well characterized and everyone thinks he’s dumb (rise up for our national himbo), even though he reads almost smarter than her on multiple occasions, but I was happy whenever he was on the page, so yay for Sanak. But it might just be me having a bias for batarians.

Cool to have Kai Leng as a point of view character. I wasn’t enthralled by what was done with it, as he remains incredibly basic and as basically hateable and ungrounded than in Mass Effect 3 (I think he’s very underwhelming as a villain and he should have been built up in Mass Effect 2 to be effective). But there were some neat moments, such as the description of the Afterlife by Grayson who considers it as tugging at his base instincts, compared to Leng’s description of it where everything is deemed disgusting. The execution is not the best, but the concept was fun.

Pre-Reaperification Paul Grayson wasn’t the worst point of view to follow. I wasn’t super involved in his journey and didn’t care when he died one way or the other, but I empathized with his problems and hoped he would find a way out of the cycle of violence. The setup of his character arc was interesting, it’s just sad that any resolution -even negative- was dropped to focus on Reapers and his relationship with Kahlee Sanders, as I think the latter was the least interesting part.

The cover is cool and intringuing. Very soapy. It’s my favorite out of all the official novels, as it owns the cheesier aspect of the series, has nice contrasts and immediately asks questions. Very 90s/2000s. It’s great.

You may notice every thing I enjoyed was coated in complaints, because it’s a reflection of my frustration at this book for setting up interesting ideas and then completely missing the mark in their execution. So without further due, let’s talk about what I think the book didn’t do right.

1. Dumb complaints that don’t matter much

After reading the entire book, I am still a bit confused at to why Tim (the Illusive Man’s acronym is TIM in fandom, but I find immense joy in reffering to him as just Tim) wants his experimentation to be carried out on Grayson specifically, especially when getting to him is harder than pretty much anyone else (also wouldn’t pushing the very first experiments on alien captives make more sense given it’s Cerberus we’re talking about?). It seem to be done out of petty revenge, which is fine, but it still feels like quite the overlook to mess with a competent fighter, enhance him, and then expect things to stay under control (which Tim kind of doesn’t expect to, and that’s even weirder -why waste your components on something you plan to terminate almost immediately). At the same time, the pettiness is the only characterization we get out of Tim so good I guess? But if so, I wished it would have been accentuated to seem even more deliberate (and not have Tim regret to see it in himself, which flattens him and doesn’t inform the way he views the world and himself -but we’ll get to that).

I really disliked the way space travel is characterized. And that might be entirely just me, and perhaps it doesn’t contradict the rest of the lore, but space travel is so fast. People pop up left and right in a matter of hours. At some point we even get a mention of someone being able to jump 3 different Mass Relays and then arrive somewhere in 4 hours. I thought you first had to discharge your ship around a stellar object before being able to engage in the next jump (and that imply finding said object, which would have to take more than an hour). It’s not that big of a deal, but it completely crammed this giant world to a single boulevard for me and my hard-science-loving tastes. Not a big deal, but not a fan at all of this choice.

You wouldn’t believe how often people find themselves in a fight naked or in their underwear. It happens at least 3 times (and everyone naked survives -except one, we’ll get to her later).

Why did I need to know about this fifteen year’s old boner for his older teacher. Surely there were other ways to have his crush come across without this detail, or then have it be an actual point of tension in their relationship and not just a “teehee” moment. Weird choice imo.

I’m not a fan of the Talons. I don’t find them interesting or compelling. There is nothing about them that informs us on the world they live in. The fact they’re turian-ruled don’t tell us anything about turian culture that, say, the Blue Suns don’t tell us already. It’s a generic gang that is powerful because it is. I think they’re very boring, in this book and in the Omega DLC alike (a liiittle less in the DLC because of Nyreen, barely). Not a real criticism, I just don’t care for them at all.

I might just be very ace, but I didn’t find Anderson and Kahlee Sanders to have much chemistry. Same for Kahlee and Grayson (yes we do have some sort of love-triangle-but-not-really, but it’s not very important and it didn’t bother me much). Their relationships were all underwhelming to me, and I’ll explain why in part 4.

The red sand highs are barely described, and very safely -probably not from a place of intimate knowledge with drugs nor from intense research. Addiction is a delicate topic, and I feel like it could have been dealt with better, or not be included at all.

There are more of these, but I don’t want to turn this into a list of minor complaints for things that are more a matter of taste than craft quality or thematic relevance. So let’s move on.

2. Who cares about aliens in a Mass Effect novel

Now we’re getting into actual problems, and this one is kind of endemic to the Mass Effect novels (I thought the same when I read Revelation 9 years ago, though maybe less so as Saren in a PoV character -but I might have forgotten so there’s that). The aliens are described and characterized in the most uncurious, uninspired manner. Krogans are intimidating brutes. Turians are rigid. Asaris are sexy. Elcors are boring. Batarians are thugs (there is something to be said with how Aria’s second in command is literally the same batarian respawned with a different name in Mass Effect 2, this book, then the Omega DLC). Salarians are weak nerds. (if you allow me this little parenthesis because of course I have to complain about salarian characterization: the only salarian that speaks in the book talks in a cheap ripoff of Mordin’s speech pattern, which sucks because it’s specific to Mordin and not salarians as a whole, and is there to be afraid of a threat as a joke. This is SUCH a trope in the original trilogy -especially past Mass Effect 1 when they kind of give up on salarians except for a few chosen ones-, that salarians’ fear is not to be taken seriously and the only salarians who are to be considered don’t express fear at all -see Mordin and Kirrahe. It happens at least once per game, often more. This is one of the reasons why the genophage subplot is allowed to be so morally simple in ME3 and remove salarians from the equation. I get why they did that, but it’s still somewhat of a copeout. On this front, I have to give props to Andromeda for actually engaging with violence on salarians in a serious manner. It’s a refreshing change) I didn’t learn a single thing about any of these species, how they work, what they care about in the course of these 79750 words. I also didn’t learn much about their relationships to other species, including humans. I’ll mention xenophobia in more details later, but this entire aspect of the story takes a huge hit because of this lack of investment of who these species are.

I’ve always find Mass Effect, despite its sprawling universe full of vivid ideas and unique perspectives, to be strangely enamoured with humans, and it has never been so apparent than here. Only humans get to have layers, deserving of empathy and actual engagement. Only their pain is real and important. Only their death deserve mourning (we’ll come back to that). I’d speculate this comes from the same place that was terrified to have Liara as a love interest in ME1 in case she alienated the audience, and then later was surprised when half the fanbase was more interested in banging the dinosaur-bird than their fellow humans: Mass Effect often seem afraid of losing us and breaking our capacity for self-projection. It’s a very weird concern, in my opinion, that reveals the most immature, uncertain and soapy parts of the franchise. Here it’s punched to eleven, and I find it disappointing. It also have a surprising effect on the narrative: again, we’ll come back to that.

3. The squandered potential of Liselle and Aria

Okay. This one hurts. Let’s talk about Liselle: she’s introduced in the story as a teammate to Grayson, who at the time works as a merc for Aria T’loak on Omega, and also sleeps with him on the regular. She likes hitting the Afterlife’s dancefloor: she’s very admired there, as she’s described as extremely attractive. One night after receiving a call from Grayson, she rejoins him in his apartment. They have sex, then Kai Leng and other Cerberus agents barge in to capture Grayson -a fight break out (the first in a long tradition of naked/underwear fights), and both of them are stunned with tranquilizers. Grayson is to be taken to the Illusive Man. Kai Leng decides to slit Liselle’s throat as she lays unconscious to cover their tracks. When Aria T’loak and her team find her naked on a bed, throat gaping and covered in blood, Liselle is revealed, through her internal monologue, to be Aria’s secret daughter -that she kept secret for both of their safety. So Liselle is a sexpot who dies immediately in a very brutal and disempowered manner. This is a sad way to handle Aria T’loak’s daughter I think, but I assume it was done to give a strong motivation to the mother, who thinks Grayson did it. And also, it’s a cool setup to explore her psyche: how does she feel about business catching up with her in such a personal manner, how does she feel about the fact she couldn’t protect her own offspring despite all her power, what’s her relationship with loss and death, how does she slip when under high emotional stress, how does she deal with such a vulnerable position of having to cope without being able to show any sign of weakness... But the book does nothing with that. The most interesting we get is her complete absence of outward reaction when she sees her daughter as the centerpiece of a crime scene. Otherwise we have mentions that she’s not used to lose relatives, vague discomfort when someone mentions Liselle might have been raped, and vague discomfort at her body in display for everyone to gawk at. It’s not exactly revelatory behavior, and the missed potential is borderline criminal. It also doesn’t even justify itself as a strong motivation, as Aria vaguely tries to find Grayson again and then gives up until we give her intel on a silver platter. Then it almost feels as if she forgot her motivation for killing Grayson, and is as motivated by money than she is by her daughter’s murder (and that could be interesting too, but it’s not done in a deliberate way and therefore it seems more like a lack of characterization than anything else).

Now, to Aria. Because this book made me realize something I strongly dislike: the framing might constantly posture her as intelligent, but Aria T’loak is... kind of dumb, actually? In this book alone she’s misled, misinformed or tricked three different times. We’re constantly ensured she’s an amazing people reader but never once do we see this ability work in her favor -everyone fools her all the time. She doesn’t learn from her mistakes and jump from Cerberus trap to Cerberus trap, and her loosing Omega to them later is laughably stupid after the bullshit Tim put her through in this book alone. I’m not joking when I say the book has to pull out an entire paragraph on how it’s easier to lie to smart people to justify her complete dumbassery during her first negotiation with Tim. She doesn’t seem to know anything about how people work that could justify her power. She’s not politically savvy. She’s not good at manipulation. She’s just already established and very, very good at kicking ass. And I wouldn’t mind if Aria was just a brutish thug who maintains her power through violence and nothing else, that could also be interesting to have an asari act that way. But the narrative will not bow to the reality they have created for her, and keep pretending her flaw is in extreme pride only. This makes me think of the treatment of Sansa Stark in the latest seasons of Game of Thrones -the story and everyone in it is persuaded she’s a political mastermind, and in the exact same way I would adore for it to be true, but it’s just... not. It’s even worse for Aria, because Sansa does have victories by virtue of everyone being magically dumber than her whenever convenient. Aria just fails, again and again, and nobody seem to ever acknowledge it. Sadly her writing here completely justifies her writing in the Omega DLC and the comics, which I completely loathe; but turns out Aria isn’t smart or savvy, not even in posture or as a façade. She’s just violent, entitled, easily fooled, and throws public tantrums when things don’t go her way. And again, I guess that would be fine if only the narrative would recognize what she is. Me, I will gently ignore most of this (in her presentation at least, because I think it’s interesting to have something pitiful when you dig a little) and try to write her with a bit more elevation. But this was a very disappointing realization to have.

4. The squandered potential of Grayson and the Reapers

The waste of a subplot with Aria and Liselle might have hurt me more in a personal way, but what went down between Grayson and the Reapers hurts the entire series in a startling manner. And it’s so infuriating because the potential was there. Every setpiece was available to create something truly unique and disturbing by simply following the series’ own established lore. But this is not what happens. See, when The Illusive Man, our dearest Tim, captures Grayson for a betrayal that happened last book (something about his biotic autistic daughter -what’s the deal with autistic biotics being traumatized by Cerberus btw), he decides to use him as the key part of an experiment to understand how Reapers operate. So he forcefully implants the guy with Reaper technology (what they do exactly is unclear) to study his change into a husk and be prepared when Reapers come for humanity -it’s also compared to what happened with Saren when he “agreed” to be augmented by Sovereign. From there on, Grayson slowly turns into a husk. Doesn’t it sound fascinating, to be stuck in the mind of someone losing themselves to unknowable monsters? If you agree with me then I’m sorry because the execution is certainly... not that. The way the author chooses to describe the event is to use the trope of mind control used in media like Get Out: Grayson taking the backseat of his own mind and body. And I haaaaate it. I hate it so much. I don’t hate the trope itself (it can be interesting in other media, like Get Out!), but I loathe that it’s used here in a way that totally contradicts both the lore and basic biology. Grayson doesn’t find himself manipulated. He doesn’t find himself justifying increasingly jarring actions the way Saren has. He just... loses control of himself, disagreeing with what’s being done with him but not able to change much about it. He also can fight back and regain control sometimes -but his thoughts are almost untainted by Reaper influence. The technology is supposed to literally replace and reorganize the cells of his body; is this implying that body and mind are separated, that there maybe exists a soul that transcends indoctrination? I don’t know but I hate it. This also implies that every victim of the Reaper is secretely aware of what they’re doing and pained and disagreeing with their own actions. And I’m sorry but if it’s true, I think this sucks ass and removes one of the creepiest ideas of the Mass Effect universe -that identity can and will be lost, and that Reapers do not care about devouring individuality and reshaping it to the whims of their inexorable march. Keeping a clear stream of consciousness in the victim’s body makes it feel like a curse and not like a disease. None of the victims are truly gone that way, and it removes so much of the tragic powerlessness of organics in their fight against the machines. Imagine if Saren watched himself be a meanie and being like “nooo” from within until he had a chance to kill himself in a near-victorious battle, compared to him being completely persuaded he’s acting for the good of organic life until, for a split second, he comes to realize he doesn’t make any sense and is loosing his mind like someone with dementia would, and needs to grasp to this instant to make the last possible thing he could do to save others and his own mind from domination. I feel so little things for Saren in the former case, and so much for the latter. But it might just be me: I’m deeply touched by the exploration of how environment and things like medication can change someone’s behavior, it’s such a painfully human subject while forceful mind control is... just kind of cheap.

SPEAKING OF THE REAPERS. Did you know “The Reapers” as an entity is an actual character in this book? Because it is. And “The Reapers” is not a good character. During the introduction of Grayson and explaining his troubles, we get presented with the mean little voice in his head. It’s his thoughts in italics, nothing crazy, in fact it’s a little bit of a copeout from actually implementing his insecurities into the prose. But I gave the author the benefit of the doubt, as I knew Grayson would be indoctrinated later, and I fully expected the little voice to slowly start twisting into what the Reapers suggested to him. This doesn’t happen, or at least not in that slowburn sort of way. Instead the little voice is dropped almost immediately, and the Reapers are described, as a presence. And as the infection progresses, what Grayson do become what the Reapers do. The Reapers have emotions, it turns out. They’re disgusted at organic discharges. They’re pleased when Grayson accomplish what they want, and it’s told as such. They foment little plans to get their puppet to point A to point B, and we are privy to their calculations. And I’m sorry but the best way to ruin your lovecraftian concept is to try and explain its motivations and how it thinks. Because by definition the unknown is scarier, smarter, and colder than whatever a human author could come up with. I couldn’t take the Reapers’ dumb infiltration plans seriously, and now I think they are dumb all the time, and I didn’t want to!! The only cases in which the Reapers influence Grayson, we are told in very explicit details how so. For example, they won’t let Grayson commit suicide by flooding his brain with hope and determination when he tries, or they will change the words he types when he tries to send a message to Kahlee Sanders. And we are told exactly what they do every time. There was a glorious occasion to flex as a writer by diving deep into an unreliable narrator and write incredibly creepy prose, but I guess we could have been confused, and apparently that’s not allowed. And all of this is handled that poorly becauuuuuse...

5. Subtext is dead and Drew killed it

Now we need to talk about the prose. The style of the author is... let’s be generous and call it functional. It’s about clarity. The writing is so involved in its quest for clarity that it basically ruins the book, and most of the previous issues are direct consequences of the prose and adjacent decisions.The direct prose issues are puzzling, as they are known as rookie technical flaws and not something I would expect from the series’ Lead Writer for Mass Effect 1 and 2, but in this book we find problems such as:

The reliance on adverbs. Example: "Breathing heavily from the exertion, he stood up slowly”. I have nothing about a well-placed adverb that gives a verb a revelatory twist, but these could be replaced by stronger verbs, or cut altogether.

Filtering. Example: “Anderson knew that the fact they were getting no response was a bad sign”. This example is particularly egregious, but characters know things, feel things, realize things (boy do they realize things)... And this pulls us away from their internal world instead of making us live what they live, expliciting what should be implicit. For example, consider the alternative: “They were getting no reponse, which was a bad sign in Anderson’s experience.” We don’t really need the “in Anderson’s experience” either, but that already brings us significantly closer to his world, his lived experience as a soldier.

The goddamn dialogue tags. This one is the worst offender of the bunch. Nobody is allowed to talk without a dialogue tag in this book, and wow do people imply, admit, inform, remark and every other verb under the sun. Consider this example, which made me lose my mind a little: “What are you talking about? Kahlee wanted to know.” I couldn’t find it again, but I’m fairly certain I read a “What is it?” Anderson wanted to know. as well. Not only is it very distracting, it’s also yet another way to remove reader interpretation from the equation (also sometimes there will be a paragraph break inside a monologue -not even a long one-, and that doesn’t seem to be justified by anything? It’s not as big of a problem than the aversion to subtext, but it still confused me more than once)

Another writing choice that hurts the book in disproportionate ways is the reliance on point of view switches. In Retribution, we get the point of view of: Tim, Paul Grayson, Kai Leng, Kahlee Sanders, David Anderson, Aria T’loak, and Nick (a biotic teenager, the one with the boner). Maybe Sanak had a very small section too, but I couldn’t find it again so don’t take my word for it. That’s too many point of views for a plot-heavy 80k book in my opinion, but even besides that: the point of view switch several times in one single chapter. This is done in the most harmful way possible for tension: characters involved in the same scene take turns on the page explaining their perspective about the events, in a way that leaves the reader entirely aware of every stake to every character and every information that would be relevant in a scene. Take for example the first negotiation between Aria and Tim. The second Aria needs to ponder what her best move could possibly be, we get thrown back into Tim’s perspective explaining the exact ways in which he’s trying to deceive her -removing our agency to be either convinced or fooled alongside her. This results in a book that goes out of his way to keep us from engaging with its ideas and do any mental work on our own. Everything is laid out, bare and as overexplained as humanly possible. The format is also very repetitive: characters talk or do an action, and then we spend a paragraph explaining the exact mental reasoning for why they did what they did. There is nothing to interpret. No subtext at all whatsoever; and this contributes in casting a harsh light on the Mass Effect universe, cheapening it and overtly expliciting some of its worst ideas instead of leaving them politely blurred and for us to dress up in our minds. There is only one theme that remains subtextual in my opinion. And it’s not a pretty one.

6. Violence

So here’s the thing when you adapt a third person shooter into a novel: you created a violent world and now you will have to deal with death en-masse too (get it get it I’m so sorry). But while in videogames you can get away with thoughtless murder because it’s a gameplay mechanic and you’re not expected to philosophize on every splatter of blood, novels are all about internalization. Violent murder is by definition more uncomfortable in books, because we’re out of gamer conventions and now every death is actual when in games we just spawned more guys because we wanted that level to be a bit harder and on a subconscious level we know this and it makes it somewhat okay. I felt, in this book, a strange disconnect between the horrendous violence and the fact we’re expected to care about it like we would in a game: not much, or as a spectacle. Like in a game, we are expected to root for the safety of named characters the story indicated us we should be invested in. And because we’re in a book, this doesn’t feel like the objective truth of the universe spelled at us through user interface and quest logs, but the subjective worldview of the characters we’re following. And that makes them.... somewhat disturbing to follow.

I haven’t touched on Anderson and Kahlee Sanders much yet, but now I guess I have too, as they are the worst offenders of what is mentioned above. Kahlee cares about Grayson. She only cares about Grayson -and her students like the forementioned Nick, but mostly Grayson. Grayson is out there murdering people like it’s nobody’s business, but still, keeping Grayson alive is more important that people dying like flies around him. This is vaguely touched on, but not with the gravitas that I think was warranted. Also, Anderson goes with it. Because he cares about Kahlee. Anderson organizes a major political scandal between humans and turians because of Kahlee, because of Grayson. He convinces turians to risk a lot to bring Cerberus down, and I guess that could be understandable, but it’s mostly manipulation for the sake of Grayson’s survival: and a lot of turians die as a result. But not only turians: I was not comfortable with how casually the course of action to deal a huge blow to Cerberus and try to bring the organization down was to launch assault on stations and cover-ups for their organization. Not mass arrests: military assault. They came to arrest high operatives, maybe, but the grunts were okay to slaughter. This universe has a problem with systemic violence by the supposedly good guys in charge -and it’s always held up as the righteous and efficient way compared to these UGH boring politicians and these treaties and peace and such (amirite Anderson). And as the cadavers pile up, it starts to make our loveable protagonists... kind of self-centered assholes. Also: I think we might want to touch on who these cadavers tend to be, and get to my biggest point of discomfort with this novel.

Xenophobia is hard to write well, and I super sympathize with the attempts made and their inherent difficulty. This novel tries to evoke this theme in multiple ways: by virtue of having Cerberus’ heart and blade as point of view characters, we get a window into Tim and Kai Leng’s bigotry against aliens, and how this belief informs their actions. I wasn’t ever sold in their bigotry as it was shown to us. Tim evokes his scorn for whatever aliens do and how it’s inferior to humanity’s resilience -but it’s surface-level, not informed by deep and specific entranched beliefs on aliens motives and bodies, and how they are a threat on humanity according to them. The history of Mass Effect is rich with conflict and baggage between species, yet every expression of hatred is relegated to a vague “eww aliens” that doesn’t feed off systemically enforced beliefs but personal feelings of mistrust and disgust. I’ll take this example of Kai Leng, and his supposedly revulsion at the Afterlife as a peak example of alien decadence: he sees an asari in skimpy clothing, and deems her “whorish”. And this feels... off. Not because I don’t think Kai Leng would consider asaris whorish, but because this is supposed to represent Cerberus’ core beliefs: yet both him and Tim go on and on about how their goal is to uplift humanity, how no human is an enemy. But if that’s the case, then what makes Kai Leng call an Afterlife asari whorish and mean it in a way that’s meaningfully different from how he would consider a human sex worker in similar dispositions? Not that I don’t buy that Cerberus would have a very specific idea of what humans need to be to be considered worth preserving as good little ur-fascists, but this internal bias is never expressed in any way, and it makes the whole act feel hollow. Cerberus is not the only offender, though. Every time an alien expresses bias against humans in a way we’re meant to recognize as xenophobic, it reads the same way: as personal dislike and suspicion. As bullying. Which is such a small part of what bigotry encompasses. It’s so unspecific and divorced from their common history that it just never truly works in my opinion. You know what I thought worked, though? The golden trio of non-Cerberus human characters, and their attitude towards aliens. Grayson’s slight fetishism and suspicion of his attraction to Liselle, how bestial (in a cool, sexy way) he perceives the Afterlife to be. The way Anderson and Kahlee use turians for their own ends and do not spare a single thought towards those who died directly trying to protect them or Grayson immediately after the fact (they are more interested in Kahlee’s broken fingers and in kissing each other). How they feel disgust watching turians looting Cerberus soldiers, not because it’s disrespectful in general and the deaths are a inherent tragedy but because they are turians and the dead are humans. But it's not even really on them: the narration itself is engrossed by the suffering of humans, but aliens are relegated to setpieces in gore spectacles. Not even Grayson truly cares about the aliens the Reapers make him kill. Nobody does. Not even the aliens among each other: see, once again, Aria and Liselle, or Aria and Sanak. Nobody cares. At the very end of the story, Anderson comes to Kahlee and asks if she gives him permission to have Grayson’s body studied, the same way Cerberus planned to. It’s source of discomfort, but Kahlee gives in as it’s important, and probably what Grayson would have wanted, maybe? So yeah. In the end the only subtextual theme to find here (probably as an accident) is how the Alliance’s good guys are not that different from Cerberus it turns out. And I’m not sure how I feel about that.

7. Lore-approved books, or the art of shrinking an expanding universe

I’d like to open the conversation on a bigger topic: the very practice of game novelization, or IP-books. Because as much as I think Drew Karpyshyn’s final draft should not have ended up reading that amateur given the credits to his name, I really want to acknowledge the realities of this industry, and why the whole endeavor was perhaps doomed from the start regardless of Karpyshyn’s talent or wishes as an author.

The most jarring thing about this reading experience is as follows: I spent almost 80k words exploring this universe with new characters and side characters, all of them supposedly cool and interesting, and I learned nothing. I learned nothing new about the world, nothing new about the characters. Now that it’s over, I’m left wondering how I could chew on so much and gain so little. Maybe it’s just me, but more likely it’s by design. Not on poor Drew. Now that I did IP work myself, I have developed an acute sympathy for anyone who has to deal with the maddening contradictions of this type of business. Let me explain.

IP-adjacent media (in the West at least) sure has for goal to expand the universe: but expand as in bloat, not as in deepen. The target for this book is nerds like me, who liked the games and want more of this thing we liked. But then we’re confronted by two major competitors: the actual original media (in ME’s case, the games) whose this product is a marketing tool for, and fandom. IP books are not allowed to compete with the main media: the good ideas are for the main media, and any meaningful development has to be made in the main media (see: what happened with Kai Leng, or how everyone including me complains about the worldbuilding to the Disney Star Swars trilogy being hidden in the novelization). And when it comes to authorship (as in: taking an actual risk with the media and give it a personal spin), then we risk introducing ideas that complicate the main media even though a ridiculously small percent of the public will be attached to it, or ideas that fans despise. Of course we can’t have the latter. And once the fandom is huge enough, digging into anything the fans have strong headcanons for already risks creating a lot of emotions once some of these are made canon and some are disregarded. As much as I joke about how in Mass Effect you can learn about any gun in excrutiating details but we still don’t know if asaris have a concept for marriage... would we really want to know how/if asaris marry, or aren’t we glad we get to be creative and put our own spin on things? The dance between fandom and canon is a delicate one that can and will go wrong. And IP books are generally not worth the drama for the stakeholders.

Add this to insane deadlines, numerous parties all involved in some way and the usual struggles of book writing, and we get a situation where creating anything of value is pretty much a herculean task.

But then I ask... why do IP books *have* to be considered canon? I know this is part of the appeal, and that removing the “licenced” part only leaves us with published fanfiction, but... yeah. Yeah. I think it could be a fascinating model. Can you imagine having your IP and hiring X amount of distinctive authors to give it their own spin, not as definitive additions to the world but as creative endeavours and authorial deepdives? It would allow for these novels to be comparative and companion to the main media instead of being weird appendages that can never compare, and the structure would allow for these stories to be polished and edited to a higher level than most fanfictions. Of course I’m biased because I have a deep belief in the power of fanfiction as commentary and conversational piece. But I would really love to see companies’ approach to creative risk and canon to change. We might get Disney stuff until we die now, so the least we can ask for is for this content to be a little weird, personal and human.

That’s it. That’s the whole review. Thank you for reading, it was very long and weirdly passionate, have a nice dayyyyy.

[magnus-the-maqnificent]

Lost Book of the White Countdown Event - Emotions

Wistful Future

(Read on Ao3)

The sun was setting over the spires of New York, casting rich orange light onto the city below. Alec sat on the rooftop of the Institute, winding down after a long, heated training session. On the street below, leaves fluttered about as the cool, crisp wind blew around.

“Phew, that was the best training session I’ve had in ages,” Jace said from beside him, stretching his arms above his head. Alec shot him a fond exasperated smile.

“‘Course you’d say that,” he muttered, more tired than anything else.

Jace grinned at him. “I see being a father is taking its toll on you.”

“I slept two hours last night,” Alec admitted with a chaste smile. “It’s difficult but he’s worth it. Max.”

“Must be nice, having a family,” Jace mused, sounding wistful. “I wonder what Clary would think about having kids. I mean, we’ll have to get married first, obviously, otherwise Jocelyn will have my head.”

Jace laughed, but Alec turned his face away at those words. He must’ve noticed, because the laughter died away and he asked,

“Hey, you okay?”

Alec bit his lip consideringly, then blurted out, “I asked Magnus to marry me.”

Jace was silent a moment, then asked, “What did he say?”

A small smile appeared on Alec’s face. “He said yes, of course. But… he wants to wait until the law is changed.”

Jace frowned. “What? What does the law have to do with this?”

“If Magnus and I get married, the Clave won’t recognise the marriage as legal,” Alec explained. “I won’t be allowed to bear the runes. Even if we get married, I’ll still be a bachelor in the eyes of the close.” Alec rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I don’t blame Magnus, of course. He just wants the best. It’s just… changing the law will take a while.”

“You want to be the one to change it, don’t you?” Jace put it forward so simply, as if it were just another mundane task, as if it wasn’t the law they were talking about.

“Of course,” Alec said. “I’ve wanted to change it since our vacation, when I realised that the law wasn’t built to protect people like Magnus. We as Shadowhunters are meant to protect, but if that protection doesn’t extend to everyone in this world, then there’s no point in it.”

Jace clapped him on the back. “I’ll help you whatever way I can.”

Alec smiled at him. “I knew you would.”

“So what’s the plan? Are you going to stage a revolt?” Jace asked, leaning towards Alec.

Alec’s eyes widened. “No! No revolt!”

“Then you‘ll infiltrate the Clave’s ranks and pull the stupid law apart?”

Alec blinked. “Something like that.”

Jace grinned. “Great. You’re next in line for Head of Institute anyway. You can-“

“No,” Alec said. “As a Head, I can only suggest new laws. The ones capable of changing them are the Council, Consul and the Inquisitor. Consul, I could try after Jia’s term is over. Inquisitor is out of the question - they don’t really have a term, and Dad’s doing well so I doubt they’d replace him anytime soon. Until then, I’ll have to focus on getting a seat on the Council.”

Jace blinked, astonished. “You’ve got all this planned out, don’t you?”

Alec smiled and nodded, his face turned up to the open sky. “I just want to get married to him the way he wants, no matter how long it will take. He’s- I just love him so much, you know?”

Jace shot him a smile. “I know. And Alec?”

“What?”

“I better be your suggenes.”

“Of course.” Alec grinned at him. “Can you keep it quiet for now, though? It’s not official yet, and I don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.”

Jace shrugged. “Okay. I’ll be able to tell them someday, though. Right?”

“Right.” Alec nodded, and they settled into a comfortable silence.

“You’re awfully quiet today,” Catarina commented.

She was sitting across from Magnus in the living room, her skin a lighter blue than usual and somewhat blurry around the edge - hardly surprising, considering that she was just a projection in the living room. Physically, Catarina was still at that Godforsaken Academy, where the mundanes, Simon included, were to face Ascension in two weeks.

“Just thinking,” Magnus said, waving his hand in a dismissive manner. His other hand was curled around Max, his and Alec’s newfound baby, who was fast asleep in Magnus’s lap.

Catarina frowned. “Please you’re thinking good things. You have a baby now. You can’t do any crazy stuff now-“

“First of all, I wasn’t planning on doing any crazy stuff,” Magnus protested. “Secondly, I was thinking of something else entirely. It’s just-“ Magnus bit his lip, then blurted out, “Alec asked me to marry him.”

Catarina’s eyes grew very wide and she nearly dropped her teacup. “What did you say?!”

“Yes, obviously, but…” Magnus hesitated, then continued, “I told him I wanted to wait for the law to change. I don’t want the Clave to see him as lesser because he’s married to me, and because their law doesn’t recognise our marriage as real. I just don’t want his life to be difficult because of me.”

Magnus’s voice went very low towards the end, and he heard Catarina sigh.

“Magnus,” she said softly, and he couldn’t help but look at her. Catarina was smiling at him, her teacup dangling between two fingers. “It doesn’t look to me like you’re making his life difficult. It’s the contrary, in fact. Everytime I’ve seen you both together, you looked so happy. Like it was enough just to be at each other’s side.”

“It is,” Magnus said. “It is more than enough. I’d gladly die by his side, if I could. But… I do want to marry him.”

And then, very quietly, he added, “No one’s ever asked me to marry them before.”

“He sure is something, huh?” Catarina said, resting her chin on top of her palm, having discarded her teacup somewhere. “I’m happy for you, Magnus. Really, I am. I hope that damn law gets changed soon.”

Magnus smiled at her. “Me too, Cat. Me too.”

“I’m telling you now,” Catarina said seriously, leaning forward. “I’m your best woman. Don’t let anyone else claim that spot.”

“Don’t you worry,” Magnus said with a grin. “I won’t.”

Catarina smiled, but something must’ve happened on her end because she looked away for a brief moment, then turned back to Magnus and said with a sigh,

“I have to go. Some stupid Shadowhunter decided to hurl a mace into the wall in the middle of the night. They’re calling me for damage repair.”

Magnus frowned at that. “Make the walls fuschia while you’re at it.”

Catarina shot him a wry smile. “Fashionable and makes a Shadowhunter mad. You’re really rubbing off on me.”

Magnus grinned. “I have that effect on people.” He blew her a kiss and waved his fingers at her. “I’ll talk to you later, then.”

Catarina waved back, and in the blink of an eye, faded away.

Magnus opened the main door to the apartment and wasn’t surprised to see Alec standing outside, his hand outstretched halfway towards the doorknob.

“Hey,” Alec said, smiling brightly at the sight of him, his eyes lighting up ever so beautifully.

“You’re here early,” Magnus said, leaning against the open door.

Alec shrugged. “Mom let me off today so I could be with Max. Speaking of which, where is he?”

Alec looked over his shoulder, looking for Max, but Magnus stopped him.

“He’s fast asleep,” he said. “Has been for over an hour. I don’t think he’ll wake up for a while.”

“Oh,” Alec said, and his shoulders relaxed. “Okay then.”

He stepped into the house, walking past Magnus, and dumped his bag of weapons in one corner. Magnus watched as Alec took off his gear jacket, hanging it up on a hook in the wall. He walked to him and put his arms around Alec’s waist, nuzzling his face into Alec’s neck.

“Did you have dinner?” Magnus asked.

“Not yet,” Alec said, turning his head into Magnus’s and giving him a chaste kiss on the lips. “I was thinking we could eat together.”

“Of course,” Magnus said with a wide smile. “Whatever you want.”

After a quick dinner of Italian, during which Magnus insisted on lighting candles as they ate simply because he was in a romantic mood, they curled up on the couch, some random movie playing on TV.

“I told Jace about our unofficial engagement,” Alec said, fiddling with one of the buttons on Magnus’s shirt. Magnus looked at him - he was resting his head against Magnus’s shoulder - and said,

“And I told Catarina.” He grinned. “She was very happy to hear the news.”

“So was Jace,” Alec added with a wistful smile. “I keep thinking about it, you know. What I’ll be like, to get married.”

“So do I,” Magnus admitted. “I personally want a three tiered cake with two mini figurines of us on top.”

Alec laughed. “That sounds nice. Maybe we could have one of those big chocolate fountains, too?”

They went back and forth like this for a while, talking about their plausible marriage in hushed tones, their hands intertwined between them. Magnus couldn’t help but remember a time when his life was much different, when his heart was slowly closing to the world no matter how much he didn’t want it to. Until Alec stepped in and stopped that, sending a flood of emotions into his heart, the good and the bad - happiness, want, love, heartbreak, peace, sorrow, and someday, grief. But for now, Magnus pushed away the thoughts of the inevitable grief that would find him, and focused on Alec - Alec here, Alec now, the warmth of his body against Magnus’s as they talked on the couch, his sweet voice tethering him to the mortal world.

Later, when it was late into the night and they were lying together in bed, Alec with his head on Magnus’s chest and arms around each other, Alec asked,

“Where do you want to get married?”

Even as sleep dragged him down, Magnus knew exactly was his answer was.

“The beach,” he said. “My first home was near one. The sound of waves, no matter where, reminds of that place.” He smiled into the dark. “It would be nice to hear the waves and think of something else for a change.”