#she's got a little overlap with most of the companions

[kudzuoath]

Been rotating the Phylactery that Temperance absorbed -- became? in my brain. It really does make her something of the inverse of the Dark Urge and plays into the unrelenting/unreasonable paladin trope. As well as the RAW blurb about Scourge Aasimar.

If she were a player character the player would have to make saves to avoid attacking Mizora or Raphael on sight. And she would absolutely leave the party of an evil Tav/Durge. Probably via being killed by attacking said party.

I low key based the Phylactery and how it affects her off of Justice and Anders in Dragon Age 2. The souls don't have (heh) temperance. They Will Right Wrongs and Smite the Wicked. Oath of vengeance even says 'you have sacrificed even your own purity' so it's just. To me. A very neat exploration of a loss of agency and identity.

I also think the more the phylactery 'takes over' the more it takes of Temperance's actual self. She's but one soul against many. And while embracing the powers of the phylactery can grant incredible strength, the cost is her identity. She wont die -- she'll simply be one small voice amid hundreds. Her body becoming a guardian of faith rather than a person.

Something I think Temperance was more or less waiting for, pre-game. All the people in her life were dead, hated her, abandoned or betrayed her. Or in the lone case of Shepherd, would be endangered by her presence. What was left for her outside of vengeance? Once she found Eldrey and had her answers, and her justice... there would have been nothing left. And she knew that going in.

[bloodyjuls-blog]

WHAT IF I LOSE YOU (part 3)

(I will fight to not lose you) - Alexia Putellas

There was a moment in my life where I wanted to give up, where everything was beyond me and what can you expect from a girl who grew up in Sutton running around with a soccer ball and who is now a super star? Life has never been easy, when you reach your teenage years and your social life overlaps with training, match day, recovery days? The only thing left was to do everything from home, from parties to drinking. Everything was easier without my parents at home, to be honest I grew up having everything, a big house, money, freedom and what I loved most after alcohol.... Football. When you become a professional nobody tells you the responsibilities and the exposure you bring with that and even if they say that women's soccer lacks attraction then they should have it checked because the pressure I felt playing for arsenal or city was very high and brought with it the expectation of the Barcelona soccer club to bring a star, to speak on and off the pitch. My younger days I remember with the talks with my parents for not being good enough to be in a professional league, which then when I achieved it would break me little by little because alcohol never left me, the faithful companion of my adventures.... Everything became a problem, I drank until the wee hours and made sure I got enough rest to perform the minimum in my club. Then my sister brings us the news of her pregnancy and I don't deny it, I always wanted to be a mother but there was a moment when my world came crashing down and I rejected the idea.

Flashback

It was the decisive league match for arsenal. We were facing Chelsea for the FA cup and the pressure from above forced us to win. But things always go wrong, that day I think I had one of the worst games of my life. I missed a lot of chances, I was always out of position and the worst thing is that my family was watching me from the stands.

At the dinner with my family, my father very disappointed tells me: "daughter I do not understand you, they tell us to come to see you and you play a shitty game" to which I a little upset I tell him: "if you are not interested then do not come, this is soccer" at the end of dinner the mood is lowered but my father there is something that does not fit, since I tried the first shot of vodka has made me bad faces. While I approach to take Ruppert, already 5 years old, my father takes him away from me and tells me: "I don't understand how they can want you in a club if you are an alcoholic, and much less I am going to allow you to take care of your nephews being in the conditions you are, do you think I didn't notice your flash of whiskey you had in your backpack or that you are going back home drunk, if something happens to you don't even bother to call me because I am not going to come and save your ass, you understand? " My tears were falling from my eyes, he had hurt me in a way I never thought he could. After all he was my father and I was his not so favorite daughter.

End of the Flashback

Alexia pov

"Hello, Ana. Do you know where y/n is?" I ask through the line in a worried voice. "No Ale, the only thing I know is that she had been drinking and left driving the car, I guess I'm guessing she's already in her apartment" Ana replied calmly. "Fuck this can't be" exclaimed Ale as she tried to call you back. "Ah I know who to call, maybe she has information" she thought calmer.

"Hi Leah how are you? It's Alexia" said Alexia calmly "Hi Alexia, well to what do I owe your call?" Answered Leah quizzically "I was wondering if you know anything about y/n, she called me a while ago and left me a little worried" you could tell from Alexia's voice that something wasn't right. "Ale the truth I don't know where y/n/n could have gone, what I do tell you is to please take care of her, and help with the alcohol issue she is not having a good time, and I am worried that something might happen to her" said a little more concerted Leah. "Of course, come on I'll leave you, I have another call coming in."

She answers the other call....

"Hello, is this Ms. Alexia Putellas?" A calm voice asks on the other line. "Who is calling?" answers a curious Alexia. "Ma'am this is the receptionist at Egarsat hospital speaking, I was speaking to inform you that Miss y/n y/l has been involved in an accident and you are listed as the emergency contact" Alexia at that moment felt tears fall from her eyes "yes this is her, tell me how is she? Tell me how is she?" says Alexia desperately "Ma'am the only thing I can tell you is that if you can, please go to the hospital as soon as possible, the emergency reception will tell you where to go" "thank you" says Alexia with an agitated voice.

Note: sorry I know had passed a couple of month but I'm near to graduate and that makes me full time persone and busy schedule. Love you all loads

[atinylittlepain]

I'm Your Venus - Chapter 2

Robin Buckley x f!reader/f!oc

Robin really likes candy, and the new girl in town.

series masterlist

warnings | 18+ era-typical homophobia, angst, a little heated moment-ish

a/n | I'm considering this and Rad Times At the Roller Rink to be sort of companion pieces to each other. Same universe, different threads that sometimes overlap in lovely ways. I'm excited to see how they both unfold :)

Robin has a not-date tonight. It’s a date, but if anyone asks, it’s not a date. But, really, it’s a date, right? Steve had told her to wait at least two days before calling the girl from the roller rink. But why the hell would she listen to Steve when he was asking people out in parking lots? 

So, she called her the day after the lollipop incident that had made her head spin. They had ended up talking on the phone late into the night after Robin shyly admitted to seeing what she had checked out from Family Video, reveling in their shared love for movies that are classics because they’re weird, and movies that are weird because they’re classics. She had invited Robin over to watch Young Frankenstein with her, and Robin did her best not to shout her “yes” into the phone, probably still verging on the edge of dopey when she said goodnight and hung up.

Her shift today at Family Video felt neverending, Steve wouldn’t stop trying to give her tips for tonight. She had tuned most of him out, to be honest, mostly due to the anxious thoughts swirling in her head. She was worried she had misinterpreted the situation. This girl was new to town, maybe she was just looking for friends to hang out with. Robin knew that her mistaking the situation could lead to more than just an awkward encounter. If the wrong person found out about her, it could ruin her whole life. But, then her mind would go back to that night at the roller rink. Just friends don’t do stuff like that. 

She concluded to herself that she’d play it safe, try to feel out the situation, all the while hoping and praying she was right in calling this a date.

She rode her bike over to her house in the dripping orange haze of the evening. Robin was still working on getting that driver’s license before heading to college in the fall. It looked like any other house in the suburban sprawl of Hawkins, but what Robin didn’t expect was for a decked-out punk chick to swing open the front door before she could even knock.

“Oh! Sorry about that, you must be Robin! My sister told me you were coming over. Let me grab her for you, I was just heading out.” Before Robin can say anything, punk chick is stomping over to the stairs and calling up.

“Duckie! Your girl is here!” She turns around, shooting Robin a slanted smile. Robin panics a little.

“I’m n-not her girl– I mean, I’m her girl– I’m her friend– her girl who’s a friend.” Punk chick’s eyes soften and she goes to speak, but before she can, “duckie” is coming down the stairs.

“Thanks, sis. Have fun on your date tonight.” She squeezes her shoulder as she hops down the last few steps, turning to grin at Robin.

“Don't wait up, duck. Mom and dad said they wouldn’t be home till late, another schmoozy business dinner, so you two have the house to yourselves.” The punk chick turns back to Robin, giving her a wide smile before stepping out the front door.

“Nice to meet you, Robin. Have a good night ladies!” Robin’s brain is still stuck on the whole parents not home, house to yourselves part. But she’s snapped out of it when “duckie” tangles her hand with hers, leading her down the hall. 

“Hey, Robin. S’good to see you. Follow me, I’ve got the TV set up in the basement.”

“Y-your sister seems cool.” She laughs at that, turning back to glance at Robin on the basement stairs.

“Yeah, she looks tougher than she is. Very hard exterior, but she’s actually just a big gooey softy. But don’t tell her I said that.” Robin puffs out a laugh, taking in the very cozy set-up in the basement. 

There are still towers of boxes here and there, but the television is set up across from a worn-looking loveseat that’s been draped with blankets. 

“We’re still sorta unpacking, I hope this is ok. But I did make popcorn!” She motions to the coffee table where a huge salad bowl of popcorn is sitting. Robin smiles.

“N-no, it’s totally perfect. Thanks for having me over.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure there’s no one else in Hawkins who’s cool enough to watch Young Frankenstein with, so thanks for coming.” She called me cool, she called me cool, she called me cool.

“Here, I already put the tape in. Let’s get comfy and we can start watching,” Robin didn’t realize a couch could be such a minefield. She settles on one side, gluing her thigh along the armrest to keep as much distance between them. The girl furrows her brow at her as she sits down on the other side.

“I don’t bite, Robin. It gets kinda chilly down here, why don’t we share a blanket?” Robin bites her lip, mumbling “ok” before shifting away from the safety of the armrest until they’re both dipping into the middle of the loveseat, settling underneath a blanket together. Their arms are brushing and Robin thinks she’s having tiny aneurysms with every bit of contact.

She reaches up behind Robin to flip the lights off as the opening credits roll. Robin’s trying not to be a creep, but she can’t help thinking that her hair smells really nice.

They make it through the first thirty minutes of the movie, laughing and commenting on all the best parts. Robin lets herself get comfortable with her, and talking to her feels just as easy as it did on the phone the day before.

And then, Robin feels her hand brush the side of her thigh. She chants in her mind just friendly, just an accident, just two friends, don’t be weird. But when she brings her hand to rest on Robin’s thigh, even giving her a little squeeze, Robin loses her cool. She jumps, scooting away with a gasp.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry. I thought– I thought you were– god I’m an idiot.” She flips on the light, and Robin can see the worry in her face, as well as the fear.

“Wait, no! I-I am– I am– you know– I mean, I like– I’m into–”

“Girls?” Robin swallows, watching the girl’s face crack into a small smile. She sighs.

“It’s just, I don’t exactly share that information with a whole lot of people. I mean, it’s Hawkins, you know? Not exactly a lesbian loving community. Um, but I just– I didn’t know if you were– you know– a-and I didn’t want to, like, freak you out because I’ve never really done this sort of thing before– I mean, like I said, Hawkins, not a huge dating pool for people like me– like us, I guess– and–” She cuts Robin’s ramble off by taking one of her hands in hers.

“Hey, Robin, it’s all good. I guess I’m a little more forward than I should be, but I’m from New York and you can be a little more– out there, you know? I just, kinda, got the vibe from you. But, I didn’t mean to scare you by like, coming on to you. I’m really sorry.” Robin squeezes her hand, offering her a crooked smile.

“So, I give off a vibe?” She giggles before tilting her head at Robin.

“Robs, I saw the “Future is Female” pin on your jean jacket that night. Plus, no straight girl would’ve gotten so cute and flustered over my antics.” Robin huffs a laugh at that, fluttering her gaze down to their entwined hands. The girl dips her head to meet her downturned gaze.

“Are we ok?” Robin nods, letting out a sigh.

“Can I ask you a question?” She nods, sitting back a bit but keeping their hands entangled.

“Where does the name “duckie” come from?” She laughs at that.

“Ah, yeah. That’s just what my sister calls me. I swear we’re not like Pretty in Pink megafans or anything. She’s been calling me that since we were little, I think because I’d follow her around like a little duckling. Our parents work a lot, so she really took care of me a lot of the time. Duck, duckie, duckster. I answer to any and all forms. It kinda took with all my old friends too, just because they heard her calling me that so often. You can call me that too, if you want.” She leans her head back against the couch, smiling lightly at Robin.

“Can I ask you a question now?” Robin nods, scooting a little closer, turning to face her on the couch.

“So, you said you’ve never done this sort of thing before. Is this your first date?” Robin swallows hard.

“Is this a date?” She grins at Robin.

“Yeah, I’d like it to be one, at least.” Robin feels her cheeks smarting she smiles so hard.

“Can I ask you another question?” Robin murmurs a blushing “mmhmm.”

“Have you ever been kissed, Robin?” She snorts.

“Well, if you count Tommy Williams in the sixth grade, then yes. Although I’m pretty sure that’s what made me realize that dude’s probably weren’t it for me.” She rubs nervously at the back of her neck before Duckie grabs her wrist with her other hand, now holding both of their hands in her lap.

“Well, I think you deserve a better first kiss, Robs.” Robin is furiously blushing now, keeping her eyes fixed on their woven hands.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Could I maybe be the one to knock Tommy out of the park?” White noise. That’s all Robin has rushing in her ears. Part of her thinks this can’t possibly be real, that any minute now she’s going to wake up from this very good dream. But when she glances up at Duckie, her smile is so bright that this can’t possibly be fake. She clears her throat, but her voice still comes out a bit hoarse.

“I-I’d really like that, um, yes, please.” Duckie giggles, gently untangling one of her hands from Robin’s to let her palm cup the arc of her cheek. And then she’s leaning in and Robin feels like the sun is about to explode and then their noses brush and she’s dipped into the sweetest, simplest kiss. Duckie leans back, just slightly, letting her forehead rest against Robin’s.

“One more question, Robs. Can I give you your second kiss too?” Robin can’t help the laugh that bubbles up out of her.

“Second, third, fourth, fifth, one hundred and twenty seventh, you–” Duckie cuts her off, already swooping in and meeting her again in a kiss that feels altogether more confident, more heady. Robin tentatively brings her hand to rest at the nape of her neck, curling her fingers into the hair there. Duckie sighs into the kiss and Robin feels her heart seize up. 

And then Duckie’s bringing both her hands to Robin’s waist, guiding her until she’s kneeling on the couch, leaning in for more. She murmurs, “c’mere,” pulling Robin until she’s straddling her thighs and suddenly, Robin is shy all over again. She breathlessly pulls away, nervously glancing at her hands, not sure where to put them. Duckie gazes up at her, seemingly reading her mind as she takes hold of Robin’s hands and lays two fluttering kisses on each line of knuckles before guiding her palms to her shoulders.

“This ok, Robs?” She’s got a half smile quirking up one side of her mouth, searching Robin’s face. Robin breathes out a laugh.

“Yeah, it’s more than ok. I just– I think you know a little more than I do. About all this.” Duckie’s smile softens, leaning up to plant a chaste kiss to the corner of Robin’s mouth. She melts a little into her hands kneading at the swell of her hips.

“Don’t worry, you’re fucking perfect, babe. We can take it however slow or fast you want to, yeah?” Robin resists the urge to preen at the word “babe,” instead nodding, letting her hand trail from Duckie’s shoulder up to the curve of her jaw, her thumb idly sweeping across her bottom lip. Duckie grins before kissing the pad of Robin’s thumb.

When they meet back in a kiss, it’s Robin who dips in first this time, and a streak of boldness moves her to swipe her tongue across Duckie’s lips. They lick into each other, hands coaxing impossibly closer, kisses punctuated by gasping breaths and the clicks of spit. 

The rest of the evening is spent in a lazy tangle of making out, only being interrupted when the sound of the garage opening rumbles through the basement. Duckie sighs, rubbing her fingers up and down Robin’s spine.

“That would be my parents, but they’ll probably just go upstairs and conk out, if you wanna stay a little longer?” Robin exhales through a small smile.

“I should really probably get home. B-but I really wanna see you again, if that’s ok with you?” Duckie grins, slowly sitting up from underneath Robin who slides back on the couch.

“Uh, yeah it’s ok with me. More than ok, Robs.” She swoops in to land a kiss on Robin’s cheek. Robin huffs a laugh.

“Ok, well, um, rad. I’ll call you?”

“I’ll answer.”

Duckie walks her to the front door, pulling her in for one more peck before saying goodnight.

Robin’s legs wobble as she bikes home that night, but when she finally gets in bed, she’s certain that it wasn’t a dream. Her girl is very, very real. And for the record, that not-date, was definitely a date.

[futurequibblerjournalist]

How does Aurora feel about the rest of the Snape and Barty gang(s)?

This is,,, a good question lemme just make a little list here. Honestly I think there's a good handful she just does not have opinions on because she doesn't really interact with them but yeah vjfnbjgb

Severus: Whether friends or partners Aurora considers Severus someone she can trust. He understands her like no other and he doesn't try to change her but rather embraces everything that most people usually find odd about her. She finds comfort in his presence and I believe his death would be one of the ones if not the one that hit her the hardest in a canon-compliant universe.

Edmund Junior: They have a bit of a complicated relationship. Theoretically, they should get along, though Edmund's (very literal) fear of women makes him not want to interact with her for a good amount of years. They're both very intelligent and there's a bit of overlap with their interests but once again Edmund is not interested in having a proper friendship with Aurora. She struggles a bit to understand this, but she generally takes a step back from him. There's a part of her that considers him a bit odd ngl. Also in a scenario where Aurora and Severus date he is especially nasty to her which makes her just downright avoid him.

Bruce Junior: They get along well enough. Aurora would probably not consider herself active friends with Bruce but more acquaintances over many years. They got along better when they were younger but Aurora does not get along with Bruce's girlfriend (who's the same girl he ends up marrying and having kids with) since she is one of the girls who most persistently makes fun of Aurora and that really put a wedge in between what little friendship they had.

Wilhelm: Oh boy, oh boy. Aurora considers Wilhelm to be her best friend. Her closest companion in the whole wide world, the one she can tell everything. She blindly trusts his every word with little thought because she assumes that of course he's got her best interest in mind. That's her best friend of course. They became friends in their fourth year when Aurora was slowly starting to open up more and Wilhelm was a fresh transfer who previously attended Durmstrang. Charity had hijacked him and brought him into their carriage and was very eager to be his friend. I do also think Aurora might have had a bit of a crush on him at first but not in a way she could ever make sense of and eventually it just faded into a devoted friendship. If asked by Wilhelm, Aurora would probably jump off of a bridge. Or at the very she would strongly consider it. She pushes his bad sides to the back of her mind which is extremely easy because she so rarely sees it due to the mask he presents to everyone. She is heartbroken and altered to her core when she finds out that she's been nothing but a joke to him for years and she genuinely struggles to move on for the rest of her life.

Charity: Charity has tried to be Aurora's friend since they first met on the train as young children. Aurora was very shy and quiet at the time and it took a good few years before a proper friendship blossomed but Aurora will always appreciate how Charity never once stopped offering her friendship even when Aurora was less receptive to it. The two are close, though Charity is quite a personality and a loud person in general and there are many things about her that Aurora does not understand and she finds she needs breaks from her sometimes. Charity is also a big help when it comes to Aurora trying to "be more normal". She wants her to try new things and have experiences like everyone else her age but she's also more than willing to try and tailor them to better fit Aurora and her needs. If asked Aurora would call Charity one of her best friends as well as her best girl friend (thought the latter is partially also because Aurora doesn't have a lot of girl friends).

Igor: She really struggles to figure out what she thinks of him. Wilhelm tells her all the time how he's a horrible, inconsiderate and violent brute with a pea for a brain while Charity gushes over him like he's a mix of a supermodel and the second coming of Christ. In general, she considers him odd. Most conversations she has with him are her asking him if he can quiet down or shut up but in the way a teacher would speak to a toddler.

Evan: She appreciates him for being able to keep Barty somewhat in control. She does not realise that at least half of the bullshit Barty gets into was Evan's idea/was otherwise influenced by Evan. After the rumour about Evan and Barty hooking up in the broom closet became public she quietly admired the way he handled the situation and the fact that he stood by his sexuality.

Barty: She genuinely wonders if there's something wrong with him. She's impressed by his grades and she has been convinced to tutor him a few times but she genuinely cannot wrap her head around him as a person and she struggles to keep up with him. She is likely to avoid him. She was visibly uncomfortable with him as Moody when they danced together and I would not be surprised if it was because she could recognise part of him but not understand where she recognised him from.

Pandora: Pandora has tried to talk to Aurora a few times in the common room but it never makes it past sparse conversation unless the topic falls on Astronomy. It has a few times. I feel like they'd get along if either of them tried more to initiate a friendship.

Xenophilius: That is Pandora's boyfriend and the kid that always smells like the equivalent of wizard weed. She frequently wonders how the hell he's a Malfoy.

Regulus: She is aware that he is from an important wizard family but the closest connection she's got to the Black family is that her uncle played quidditch against Regulus's aunt while they were at Hogwarts. She also considers his brother a rude and abrasive person and thus can appreciate that he is not that way. She always acknowledges that he is a talented quidditch player.

Dorcas: She doesn't have a whole lot of thoughts about her. Like with Regulus, she can acknowledge that she's good at quidditch. She considers her really pretty and I would not be surprised if she tried to replicate the way Dorcas does her makeup (or asked Charity to help her do so)

This was fun to do so I hope it scratched the itch you were looking for jvnfgjbngjbng

[fallout-lou-begas]

I think you're doing God's work by shining attention on the less popular humanoid companions. I adore Cass and Raul, and it makes me sad how many people brush them off because they're hard to recruit or not #GayRep

The Cass Sweep was about my love for Cass above all else. Spite turned it into what it was as the tournament attracted the attention of people who don't even care about Fallout, but even if the tournament was run by someone with nothing but positive feelings for Cass, I still would have rallied for her the same way because it was about shining attention on her. I even had a whole thing written up for my predicted grand finals about why i think she is worth it and why she should genuinely earn her vote over (who I thought would be) Arcade and Nick Valentine. The Mean Old Cowpoke Solidarity between Cass and Raul was just icing on the cake, I was amazed that Raul beat both gay companions back to back lmao.

I have absolutely nothing against Arcade and Veronica to be clear, and we joke about the sweep being homophobic (straight's rights!), but it does make me glad that these characters who are less popular than Arcade and Veronica, partly because they're so much less immediately relatable, got such a genuinely appreciative push in those silly little polls. The discourse over Cass' sexuality only makes it more interesting, really, because then it's like "explicit gay representation" versus "has a weird gay thing going on," and where the tide is turning on what people are appreciating now.

Because there's something I've been noticing (especially in my own curated social circle but also larger out) where I feel like we're moving past and away from a fixation on representation as the ultimate metric of a media or artwork's value, or at least stances on this issue are becoming more polarized. I think of everyone around me watching Succession, The Sopranos, Columbo, Breaking Bad, Better Caul Saul, etc., basically just a lot of these shows that aren't really providing "representation" but are providing these incredibly deep, complex, and smart stories and characters that people can relate to and chew on in more ways than just sharing identities with the characters (especially since, for example, The Sopranos is VERY MUCH a show about gender and sexuality). Part of this is just because the state of representation-forward media is, like, paint-by-numbers YA novels made for BookTok first, cartoons made for literal children, agonizingly twee television shows, or mainstream movies too afraid to let their gay characters be more than two out of three of explicit, interesting, and authentic. For the really good shit you just have to find independent artists telling independent stories because the way media is made at a major and mainstream level, what kind of gay representation is allowed is still just really limited. Especially for queer representation, this has an overlap with how much explicit sexual content is allowed in media, because we are in a post-Everyone is Beautiful and No One is Horny world, and people are more wanting for fucking and sucking on screen, especially when your sexual identity is inseparable from who you want to fuck and/or suck.

This has gone waaaay off track from your original question, maybe. But to quote the prolific gay filmmaker Gregg Araki: “Just because a movie [or a book, or a TV show, or a character, etc.] is gay or independent doesn’t make it good. I’d rather go see fuckin’ Coneheads than go see most of them.”

[kirnet]

HIIIIII HIIIIIIIII I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS ABOUT MY BELOVED WONDERFUL AMAZING EPIPHANY FROM YOUR BRAIN!!!!!!

Gen: 2 3 7 11, Story specific : 2 (eyes emoji) 3 8 11 (!), Romance: 7

HIIII BESTIE HIIII (this got very long lol)

Do the other companions have special comments or reactions upon recruiting your Tav?

Astarion: We only have room for one self-obsessed Baldurian in this camp, and I was here first.

Shadowheart: Keeping Epiphany around will make healing much, much easier.

Wyll: Don't you think Epiphany looks familiar? I swear I have seen her face before...

Karlach: Little blueberry's got spunk! Never seen a wizard take a hit like that before.

Lae'zel: She may be talented in the arcane, but if she asks me to carry her pack again, we leave her for the ghaik.

Gale: Good taste, my friend, to bring another wizard along! Though, some of her spellcasting seems a bit amateur... Ah! But we all have some relearning to do after the tadpole.

and if you talk to Piff right after: If Waterdeep wants to compare tomes, by all means. I know mine is bigger.

Does your Tav have any comments or advice when you recruit other companions?

She totally drools over Karlach with Shadowheart lol. She also is a little cagey when recruiting Wyll and warns the player to keep an eye on him. She's never met him, but her siblings and family all have on a few occasions, and all she knows is the rumors surrounding his disappearance from Baldur's Gate.

She also immediately hates Astarion. Starts grilling him about his past first thing.

Do they have their own personal quest that spans the course of the game? Can it take different branching paths depending on the choices the Player Character makes?

Her quest would overlap with Raphael! I'm not sure exactly how it would branch... I think it would be kind of similar to Gale's where there's the pursuit of power? You could either walk her own path, kill Raphael, and have her be more of a wizened adventurer, OR you can push her to sell her soul to Raph and get an insane power up in battle, thus repeating the same path that her grandmother took.

Are there any moments in the game that trigger unique dialogue for your character? (Like Gale’s anecdote about the barfight after you save the goblin prisoner)

hrmm... If you take her at any points when Raphael shows up she'd for sure have unique exchanges with him. Same with taking her to Devil's Fee. She'd probably throw out bits and pieces in the tiefling camp and Baldur's Gate, but I can't think of any specific moments. Most of them center around her adventures or with her noble past.

How do they advise the player character on Raphael?

At the beginning: Dancing with a devil is a good way for your toes to get smashed and your soul ripped from your chest. Listen to Raphael, absorb everything he says, and sniff out his weaknesses. Play along, for now, but don't trust a damn thing he says.

Post Act 2: The only thing greater than Raphael's power is his ego. Making deals with Astarion, tempting Mol... I hope you have been paying attention, my friend, because I intend to make him pay.

Act 3 Sharess Caress, if you encourage her to gain more power: Perhaps... Perhaps it is worth it. How much is a soul, anyway? (laughs harshly) A collection of hours, of memories? The world is ending, dear friend, and I have no use for soul without the city it belongs to.

Act 3 Sharess Caress, if you encourage her to keep her soul: Ha! Dear Grandfather thinks us mice? Then we will burrow like one. The Orphic Hammer is your decision, but I intend to enter the hells and burn that over-decorated monstrosity to the ground.

How do they react to Astarion biting the Player Character?

Disgust. Full disgust. She gives you a judgey look every morning that he feeds. Eventually she asks for a blood sample to see if there's any effect of consistent vampire feeding.

Do they have comments on who the Player Character chooses to spend the night with?

Astarion: (sigh) Of course you did.

Shadowheart: You and Shadowheart, heh? Treat her right, not that she'll need my help if you don't.

Wyll: I saw you speaking with Wyll last night. Looking to become the next Lord/Lady Ravengard, are we?

Karlach: You can't touch her? No matter, there are ways around that. Mage hand is only a cantrip!

Lae'zel: You are braver than me, my friend. Now, lead on! I enjoy watching you limp.

Gale: So, how was his tome?

Epiphany: How was last night, love? Still feeling sparks? (She laughs, and then cuts it off, her face replaced with a look of dawning horror). Dear gods, did I just giggle? Ugh. Go away. I don't want to talk to you.

Minthara: As morally bankrupt as you might be, I can't fault you for that decision.

What do they say if the PC tries to force them to go up on stage with Dribbles the Clown?

Haha! (waving with a large gorgeous smile) Have you heard of the Diamond Shield of Baldur's Gate? Pray she doesn't hear of you after this.

(That's her grandmother's common title, as she invented the globe of invulnerability spell and is a hot shot noble in the city. A very threatening woman with a threatening reputation)

What questions can Zethino ask the PC about Tav in the Love Test?

'We strive to do our utmost - to prove ourselves worthy. Tell me - of what is Epiphany most proud?' 1. Her family 2. Her intellect (correct!) 3. Her compassion

'Fear sits in the soul of all - to tame it, we must name it. Epiphany - what is her greatest fear?' 1. Facing Raphael 2. Failing to protect Baldur's Gate 3. Proving that her family's instinct to hide her was the correct one. (correct!)

A decade from now, what will she be doing? What will be her legacy? 1. The most respected wizard in all the planes, the Shield of Baldur's Gate. (correct!) 2. The esteemed Lady Hawkmour, beloved by her city. (correct!) 3. Raphael's cunning grandaughter.

[namixart]

Crossing lines, hand in hand, ch. 6

Read on AO3!

Cloud had started to track every kind of smile Aerith had. There was the mischievous little smirk she always had when she was teasing him, the gentle curve of her lips when she was being reassuring, the excited grin when something pleasantly surprised her… The list went on and on, and Cloud was just self-aware enough to recognise that it was, maybe, just a little strange for him to keep track of that. But Aerith smiled often and brightly, and he had given up pretending he was immune to it, even if just in his head.

Their visit to Cosmo Canyon had brought to light a whole new smile.

In the morning after their chat by the Cosmo Candle, there seemed to be a new energy to Aerith, after a day of subdued anxiety and sadness. If Cloud thought about it too hard he’d trick himself into thinking he may have said exactly the right thing while stumbling over his words to reassure her that she wasn’t alone because the team—he—was by her side.

She’d been the first to set out to pick up odd jobs when the mechanic had said they’d need another day to fix the buggy, and she’d spent most of the day running about the village and keeping busy with a bubbly cheer Cloud hadn’t seen in a while. Of course, it meant that she was absolutely spent by sunset, when she stepped into the pub and dropped down in the chair next to Cloud with an exhausted sigh. He smiled a bit into his glass of water.

“I am beat,” she announced, stretching her arms over her head.

“I bet,” said Cloud. “You’ve been pinballing around the town all day.”

Aerith waved a hand in the air. “Not my fault you’ve been slacking off,” she giggled.

“I’ve done plenty,” he replied in a huff. “You just wouldn’t stand still long enough to pay attention.”

“Oh, I pay attention to you, believe me.”

Cloud shook his head, and he heard her laugh next to him. She leaned with her elbows on the wooden table and looked around the tavern. “This is nice.”

He hummed. The locale was crowded, but not too loud. The voices of the other patrons criss-crossed and overlapped, creating a wall of background noise that, paradoxically, made Cloud feel like he and Aerith were alone there. Whatever they said, nobody would be listening. Idly, he wondered where the rest of their friends were, but Aerith lightly bumped his shoulder and shook him out of his reverie.

“Hm?”

“Gil for your thoughts?”

Cloud shrugged. “No thoughts.”

“No Gil then. Didn’t think Cloud Strife, infamous cheapskate, would miss the opportunity for a nice pay-out.”

“One Gil ain’t a nice pay-out.”

“Never said how many. Your loss.” Aerith giggled, then she sighed and leaned against him, shoulder to shoulder. “I’m so tired,” she said quietly. Cloud got the feeling she wasn’t just talking about the odd jobs.

“Yeah,” he said. “I know.”

She sighed again, and he snuck a glance at her. She was staring into nothing, a slight frown on her face. Cloud bit his lip. “You want anything? Something to drink?”

She huffed out a half laugh. “I’m good.”

Cloud looked at the crowd for a second. “…Wanna get outta here?”

Aerith straightened up. “Oh, yes. Yeah, let’s.” She got up first, and took his hand to gently pull him after her. They wove through the people around them until they slipped out into the chilly night.

Aerith shivered, but took a deep, relieved breath. “Thanks,” she said.

Cloud shrugged. “You could’ve told me you didn’t wanna be there.”

“I didn’t realise,” she said, with a sheepish grin. “Not until you said it.”

He hummed. “D’you wanna go to bed? Or—”

“No, no.” She glanced around. “I’m not that kind of tired.” She shifted the hold on his hand—she hadn’t let go—so that their fingers were entwined. “Let’s just… stay awhile. Is that alright?”

He swallowed a knot in his throat. “Sure.”

Aerith smiled. She tugged lightly on his hand. “Come on—there’s a great spot I found yesterday.”

Cloud let her lead him through the tunnels of Cosmo Canyon in companionable silence, until they reached a small door deep into the mountain. Possibly. Cloud’s sense of direction completely vanished inside those tunnels. Aerith let go of him to pull the door open with both hands, then shot him a sly smile and slipped through. Cloud had to crouch a little bit to follow her.

The door opened on a small balcony overlooking the entire dark valley. The night was clear, and the stars were shining like ground crystals scattered across the pitch-black vault of the sky. In the distance, Cloud could hear the voices and music coming from the inn, muffled and faint.

He took a step forward. “This is…”

Aerith laughed quietly. “Beautiful, right?” She leaned on the railing and motioned for Cloud to join her. “I’ve never seen so many stars at once.”

Cloud hummed. “Well, that makes sense. Midgar.”

She made a face. “Yeah. But also… We’ve been on the road for how long? Two months? And I don’t think I’ve ever properly gone stargazing.” She looked up with a sigh, and Cloud didn’t reply.

Neither of them spoke for a while. Aerith was looking at the sky, with her face softly lit by the torches littered around Cosmo Canyon. Their flames, as well as the stars, danced in her eyes in mesmerising patterns and light games, and everything about her was at once sharper and blurrier. Cloud didn’t think he’d ever fully get used to Aerith’s contradictions. There she was, so close to him that he could feel the warmth radiating off her skin and hear her soft and regular breathing, but she felt so far away at the same time, like she was waving at him from the edge of the world, daring him to come after her. And he knew, sure as the rising sun, that he always would.

She turned to look at him, and Cloud realised he’d never even glanced at the sky.

“You know…” she started, voice low. “You can say whatever’s on your mind.”

“Hm?”

“It’s just…” She sighed. “Sometimes, you look at me like I’m a puzzle. Like you’re trying so hard to figure something out.”

Cloud felt his ears burn. She was right—as always. “I do?” he asked, carefully.

She giggled. “Oh, you know you do. But…” She reached out and took his hand again. “If you wanna know something, you can ask. I’ll try to answer, promise.”

He nodded slowly.

“So… What is it?”

It was such a simple question. He didn’t even have to have an answer, she was just expecting another question in return. But Cloud shook his head. “I dunno,” he replied honestly.

Aerith cocked her head to the side.

“I dunno,” repeated Cloud. “It’s on the tip of my tongue, though.”

I can’t stop thinking about you. I want to know about everything that’s on your mind. I wanna make you smile until you forget what it was like to cry. But there’s so much you don’t say, so much you keep hidden. You always feel just out of reach. I feel like you’d vanish into thin air if I tried to hold your hand.

And yet, here you are. Holding mine.

Aerith smiled. “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

He gave a faux-annoyed huff. “Just my luck, huh?”

Aerith just laughed and winked, then she met Cloud’s eyes and her expression immediately softened. “Yep,” she said, squeezing his hand a bit. “’Fraid you’re stuck with me, Mr Bodyguard.”

It was a sort of shy smile that reached her eyes, crinkled with affection and wonder, as if she was looking at something special and secret. But it was just him.

Cloud swallowed a knot in his throat. He was so, so completely screwed.

He could only nod with a small smile of his own. Aerith drew a little closer to him and looked up at the sky again. “For the record, it’s the same for me.”

“Hm?”

“One of these days I’ll figure out what questions I should be asking you.”

“Oh.” Cloud furrowed his brows. He didn’t think there was much about him she didn’t know, much that she hadn’t immediately understood when they’d met. “Okay. I, uh, I’ll answer.”

Aerith hummed. “Thanks. Hey, you know about constellations, right?”

“A bit.”

“Tell me.”

“Alright.”

She smiled.

Their visit to Cosmo Canyon had brought to light a whole new smile for Aerith. It also marked the first time Cloud caught himself thinking that he wanted to kiss her. Although, if he was being honest, it wasn’t much of a surprise.

[autistickaitovocaloid]

Holistar Miku director's commentary under the cut el oh el

While most of the inspiration came from the last two chapters of Hatoful Boyfriend Holiday Star (duh) I did find myself taking a bit of inspiration from some pre-existing Mikus, these being 2021 Magical Mirai Miku, 2015 Snow Miku, and her Infinity module from Project Diva.

The hair was the part that took the longest to draw, I had to be really conscious about how the parts overlapped as while I had some stylistic restrictions, I wanted it to look 3D. I think I did an okay job.

Her hair holders were originally going to be stars but I worried they'd look too generic (also the design had tonnes of stars already), and I thought the eggs were thematically appropriate (and looked sick as hell with the king heads spilling out).

I got the idea for the crowns on her hair from Harmony Splatoon. Enough said.

The stars are meant to mimic holographic glitter/sequins because I'm obsessed with those things.

She originally had a third smaller eye under her red one akin to my hc King design (these three eyes also represent the 3 gemstones btw) but her face felt too cluttered with it.

Her pupils are supposed to be egg shaped but idk how well it came across ;-;

The eyelashes are meant to tie into the crown motif seen elsewhere but they kind of give her a Matryoshka/Peleda vibe. I'm okay with this.

The capelet was calling out to me from somewhere that I didn't get until after I drew it, and then a day or so later I figured out I got the idea from Nageki's advent calendar art.

The jewel on the ribbon was originally a topaz, but I made it some sort of blue one instead as it worked with the design better.

Her shirt has a collar under the capelet btw. If I ever make a ref sheet I'll point that out.

The skirt had a few different designs. At first it was red and fur lined like the cape, then it resembled a lighthouse, and then I decided to stick with the skirt seen here. I think it's my favourite part of the design tbh.

The reverse gradient on the sleeve and tights are meant to represent how the night on the Holiday Star swings like a pendulum, also having the gradients go the same way looked weird.

It's not pictured here, but her character item is 100% a picture book.

EDIT (21/04/23) Some things I forgot:

I got the idea for scattering the stars throughout her hair from Dokutsuki of Broken Bottles fame (I really need to finish that game...).

I don't usually colour in eyelashes (if I even add them at all) but I really loved how Miku's eyelashes look in the music video for Common World Domination, and seeing as I had that song (along with a few other of PinocchioP's) on loop while designing/drawing her it only felt right to include.

Inspired by all the fan designed Snow Miku's I'd seen a month or so before drawing her, I nearly gave her some sort of animal companion. I was torn between a quail and some sort of holistar-themed Yukine (even though she's not meant to be a snow miku) but in the end I didn't give her anything as I couldn't choose in time.

On that note however I think it would be kind of funny (even if it's a little grim) if her "twintails" could move in a way similar to that of the snakes that make up a gorgon's hair.

[merryfortune]

Scarlet Stains

Written for the 100ships Challenge

Prompt #83 Scarlet 

Title: Scarlet Stains

Ship: Oilseedshipping | Brassius/Lenore

Fandom: Pokemon

Word Count: 1,972

Rating: T

Tags: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Accidents 

   There was nothing cosier than reading poetry against the ambience of rain, after a full and hearty meal… in theory, at least.

   Brassius was sitting with a notebook that he was both glad and rueful that he had kept over so many years. It was a notebook that he had used during his youth as a supplement to his actual journal of the Treasure Hunt. Here, rather than record the day to day, he wrote poems and drew pictures, letters that he always wanted to send but never got the opportunity to.

   Letters and poetry and drawings all meant for Lenore, no less.

   Looking at them twenty years later, reflecting on them, they were truly the messy scrawlings of a school boy in love and for it, Brassius was hideously embarrassed. The clunky turns of phrase, the overused cliches, and to say nothing of the absolutely atrocious anatomy of some of these drawings. Brassius could hardly get over them and yet was immensely charmed by them nonetheless.

   Charmed enough that he would endeavour to rewrite, redraw, redream. 

   There were some gems hidden in the rough on these pages, to say nothing of the smile that he had on his face. Brassius did not smile widely nor nearly as often as most but right now, he did have a little tweak of his lips whilst the cogs in his mind turned with every page, to and fro, revisiting and sometimes feeling it were the first time he had ever laid eyes on any of these passages or images.

   Perhaps this time, these newer iterations of these letters and artworks would make their way into Lenore’s mail. Should be easy enough, once Brassius got started and once he did, he always finished, even if it was usually to a detriment of his health and hunger.

   What had stopped him before was distance. She was in a whole different continent, over in her family’s traditionally native Unova whilst he remained in his own homeland of Paldea and now. The distance between them was that of their shared bed, the inches in between. Though more accurately, Lenore was fluffing about in the kitchen and he was sitting in his living room with a glass of grape juice.

   For now, not yet, he promised. Soon, he yearned. Right now he was still in the tedious stage of thinking and theorising. He savoured both his drink and these newly unearthed ideas of love and lust from his boyhood. All set against the backdrop of a quiet, rainy night. Truly tonight, Brassius thought to himself in the utter intoxication of self-indulgence, was the picture perfection of domestic serenity. He could want for nothing but yet more hedonism called, quite literally.

   “I’m ready to bring around snacks, if you are.” Lenore called from the kitchen. “Just the usual charcuterie board.”

   “Sounds wonderful, dearest.” Brassius said.

   “Oops, looks like schnookums is hungry too.” Lenore laughed.

   Brassius looked up from his little cavalcade of notebooks and saw that the ‘schnookums’ in question was her Deerling. Lenore often used all sorts of pet names under the sun to refer to her Pokemon. Often said names overlapped, even between her properly nicknamed Pokemon, and who knows what companion she had out of its Pokeball at any given time but usually, it was Deerling.

   Like as of right now. It made sense as her Deerling was probably the closest thing that she had to an ‘ace’ Pokemon. It was in its Summer coat, a nice forest green, and it clopped about with its nose in the air. If Brassius had to describe it, words like ‘spoilt’ and ‘bratty’ came to mind for the temperament of this particular Deerling with the actual name of Ferdinand.

   He wasn’t sure what it was about Ferdinand the Deerling that made Brassius anthropomorphize it in that way but he thinks it has something to do with how it all but stomped about through the house with its hooves. Or the fact that Lenore had, admittedly, kept him too pampered for too long, never battling him properly or the like. It was certainly stomping about right now and getting under Lenore’s feet as she tried to bring over the board of different savoury treats to the living room’s coffee table.

   “Come on now, don’t do that, please get out of the way, Ferdie.” Lenore mumbled to herself and her Deerling as she very gallantly tried to not lose a single cracker off the charcuterie board.

   It was quite the dance and one that Brassius was concerned over, craning his neck up slightly so he could see underneath his fringe as Lenore, and Ferdinand, came closer. Lenore balanced the wooden charcuterie board every which way and all whilst Ferdinand pawed at her, nuzzling her legs and weaving in and out of them.

   “Wh-Whoa, careful, boy.” Lenore wobbled as she tried, as deftly as she could to not let Ferdinand bowl her over.

   Ferdinand yipped and yapped, continued to stomp around and every step was painful for Brassius to watch as nothing less than cinema unfolded in front of him and he could do nothing to stop the ensuing destruction. Destruction which localised only on him because of course it did. Destruction that he really should have put his drink down for, actually.

   Lenore’s ugg boots clomped around just as much as her Deerling’s hooves as she almost spilt that and almost spilt this way before finally making it the few metres from the kitchen’s entryway to the coffee table. She successfully put down the tray of snacks - dried meats, olives, cheese, crackers, it all looked utterly delectable - and smiled.

   “I’ll try not to eat all of it all by myself.” Lenore giggled.

   “That’s alright, your appetite has always been more hearty than mine. I like watching you eat.” Brassius said and he won’t lie.

   He did feel like quite the romantic after such a statement. Even taking a swig of his grape juice after saying that. He savoured the sweetness of, but not before glancing up at Lenore who appeared to agree. There was a scant blush to her face as she fidgeted from behind the coffee table.

   Her movements attracted her Deerling to her side again. Ferdinand rubbed up against her legs and then pushed the envelope. Its front hooves went up onto the table and its snout leaned in, after some of the cheese and crackers.

   “Wait, Ferdie, no!” Lenore yelled. “Human food is bad for you! Bad!”

   Ferdinand squeaked, jaw dropped and was just as spooked by Lenore’s suddenly raised voice as Brassius. Brassius’ hand jerked but not so much to spill his drink but then Ferdinand hauled itself onto the table. Its hooves cracked the crackers in half, squished the cheese and caused the little bowls of olives and dip to clatter and clink.

   “Stop!” Lenore yelled. “Bad, Ferdie!”

    Frightened by Lenore now trying to shoo it off the table, the Deerling leapt most gracefully for cover, kicking up the charcuterie and tackling straight into Brassius. Brassius gasped as Ferdinand’s little, flowered head hit him straight in the sternum and he let go of his papers and his drinks as his eyes went wide.

   “Bad boy, get back in your Pokeball!” Lenore scolded him.

   She thrust out her Pokeball and the scarlet light snapped Ferdinand the Deerling up but the damage had been done. Brassius had spilt his grape juice not only over his already burgundy-coloured jumper and his now burgundy-coloured paper. 

   The poems, the drawings… They all disappeared under scarlet stains, turning soggy and turning Brassius’ dreams of reimagining these boyhood days into a new love song for Lenore, they disintegrated on Brassius’ very fingertips, in his lap.

   “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry about Ferdie, I knew I should have put him away earlier,” Lenore fussed, descending on Brassius like a secondcoming of the troublesome Deerling anyway, “you’re not hurt are you? And oh my… I didn’t know you were working on something.”

   Lenore knelt on the lounge beside Brassius. Everything in disarray: the cheese and crackers, Brassius and what he had been holding. Lenore placed a tentative hand on Brassius’ shoulder, careful to avoid the leafy plumage of his outfit.

   “I’m fine.” Brassius replied. Stilted. Lying through his teeth.

   Lenore’s brows upturned, “You don’t sound fine…”

   She removed her hand and tried to pick up the papers. They were wet and flimsy, she had to be delicate as she tried to make heads or tails of them. What they were. What they were meant to be.

   “Are these poems?” Lenore asked as she tilted her head one way and held up her hands another so she could see the black ink through the red staining on these papers that turned to drippings as they tore.

   “They are.” Brassius said. “From my youth. Love letters, too… Drawings, that sort of thing.” He all quietly, regrettably admitted it. “They were meant to be sent to my dearest Norie quite some time ago now.”

   “O-oh.” Lenore gasped, her eyes sparkling but a little teary, too, despite how starstruck she was by this trip down memory lane. “I had no idea that you wrote.”

   “Not very well. I should leave that to you,” Brassius replied, “or even Hass.”

   Lenore snickered, “I’m sure they are fine. You are a great artist, who says you can’t sculpt with words?”

   “Me.” Brassius said. “And whilst I wish I had shown them to you sooner, I, myself, only rediscovered these treasures earlier today… It's fine.”

   “I-It's not fine.” Lenore argued. “I went and totally ruined some very precious memories by not reprimanding my Pokemon well enough.”

   “It is fine, Norie,” Brassius insisted, he caressed Lenore’s face, “because I can rewrite them, better, stronger, perhaps better this time for I am looking at a fountain of endless inspiration and everyone knows a grail’s measure in holiness is equal to the trouble it spurs questing for it.”

   “O-oh.” Lenore squeaked, just in time before being kissed by Brassius.

   His kiss was forgiving yet passionate. He held her face which warmed under his touch. She kissed back chastely against the rhythm of Brassius’ kiss, his solid jaw and his tough lips.

   “Now, if you will excuse me,” Brassius said, his voice breathy after breaking the kiss, “I have some work I would very much like to get on with and if I am lucky, I will have fruits to show you in the morning.”

   “Oh my gosh, Brassie,” Lenore protested, playfully pounding on his chest, making him wince since he was still fresh off Ferdinand’s Tackle, “at least have something to eat first, and go to bed before midnight, pretty please.”

   “I will try, my love.” Brassius replied, a half-hearted smile which left no illusions for Lenore and yet. She was still incredibly endeared to it.

   She sighed, “I’ll clean up, it's my mess. I’ll see what I can salvage of your poetry, too,” Lenore said, “you go and chase your mistress. Better hope my next poem isn’t about the woes of you overworking.”

   “Thank you, Norie.” Brassius said and he was finally allowed to leave the lounge despite Lenore’s Nanny Gogoat tendency. 

   Lenore sighed as she looked over the chaos that had been caused but she couldn’t say her heart didn’t flutter at the thought of having poems written about her. She picked up the pieces of the stained love letters and could definitely make out Brassius’ awful, scratchy handwriting on them, even if the contents were faded. She really did hope to save them, even if she was looking forward to Brassius’ next attempt at seducing her with the written word.

   Maybe she could even get a poem or two out of this unexpectedly eventful evening. Even if they were, in all likelihood, going to be exactly about the woes of Brassius overworking himself.

[fire-lady-ilah]

I would be fascinated in any ideas you had about how the hunt for Aang would go with 'good parent Ozai' AU!

Ask and ye shall receive! (@tiktokonaclock, here’s that part two you asked about). This continues from where I left off in part 1.

At first, Ozai says no. He has good reason to do so, Zuko is the Crown Prince, should he and Azula die then he will be heirless— he doesn’t know if Ursa would be able to bear another child, nor does he wish for another. In a less logical way, his mind protests because that is his son. Sixteen, yes, but still very much a child. That isn’t even the age of conscription.

He knows that the Avatar is a child, Commander Zhao’s report said that he appeared to be twelve, travelling with two other children that were closer to Azula’s age. He knows that his children make a formidable pair, he has no doubt that, together, they could be able to take on entire battalions of soldiers.

They are his children and they are Ursa’s children. How could he just let them go out to face an enemy such as the Avatar?

Zuko has Ozai’s charisma and awkwardness (as they come together, though few remember the way the Fire Lord used to stumble over his words as a teenager). Zuko looks so much like his father that sometimes older servants even refer to him by his name. But Zuko is equal parts his mother. He has his mother’s kinder nature, and he has her drive. Ursa’s persistence is one of the only reasons the Fire Nation is flourishing as it is now. Ozai knows that it had been suffering near the end of his father’s rule, he knows that he is an amazing military leader, just as he knows that it is better to leave his wife in charge of the majority of domestic policies.

It is that persistence combined with Azula’s carefully crafted wording that she also got from her mother that makes both Ozai and Ursa cave and give permission for their children to hunt the Avatar. Sometimes, Ozai wonders if his life would be easier if he didn’t love his family so much.

Zuko and Azula leave the Fire Nation together. Zuko is sixteen and looks the very image of a Crown Prince, even if a few hairs escape his top knot and fall across his face. Azula is fourteen and looks every bit the Princess she is. A single hair escapes it’s place and she leaves it be. She would not dare call attention to imperfections, just as Ozai himself wouldn’t. He is full of pride as he watches his children board the ship (the second newest design, as advanced as possible while having already been tested. He would not let untested technology take his children from him permanently). Captain Jee stands on the deck, greeting them. Apparently he had been demoted from his position at some point for assaulting an Admiral.

(He remembers the day he discovered the Captain’s existence well. Zuko had been eleven and helping him look over military documentation that had been sent to him to approve. One of such documents had been Jee’s demotion to lieutenant.

“I remember him. He was Lu Ten’s friend.” He heard his son mumble as he touched the included portrait of Jee. Closer examination showed that it had been drawn by his nephew himself. His son had loved his cousin, and he was not against doing things to make him happy. If Jee was loyal to Lu Ten, it only meant he would be more likely to be loyal to Zuko.

“I will have him transferred to the palace guard.”)

He proved to be honourable in the guard and had quickly been promoted back to captain after Ozai heard the true reasoning of the assault through Zuko’s horrified voice. He himself cared little for the affairs of military officers, but if it made his son happy to sign the papers for the Admiral’s dishonourable discharge and imprisonment, so be it.

That action had only solidified Jee’s loyalty to his son (and by extension, his daughter).

Now, I’m conflicted on whether or not Iroh would go with them. I’m leaning toward yes. Neither of them have been hurt by their father, but Zuko is still the most naturally kindhearted person in the royal family and he is destined to be Fire Lord. Azula has more empathy than she does in canon (although that’s not saying much), I doubt Iroh would comment that she’s “crazy and needs to go down”. After all, Ozai loves both his children here. That means that he doesn’t intentionally harm their mental health, nor does he encourage competition between them. They both want to make both their parents proud. If nothing else, Iroh would go with them so that he could stop them.

Thus, shortly after the Crown Prince and Princess of the Fire Nation step onto the ship, the Dragon of the West follows. It is filled with the best of the Fire Nation to seek the only bender of all four elements.

A stark contrast to canon, no?

The hunt progresses somewhat like in canon, though not. Lo and Li instruct further Zuko and Azula in lightning bending.

(“Only a hair out of place, Princess Azula.”

“That means I shall achieve perfection soon.”)

Iroh takes over his nephew and niece’s firebending training, though Azula is a master in her own right and Zuko is nearly a master as well. He forces them back to their basics.

Zuko yells and stomps and Iroh is reminded of his brother at the same age, back before his brother became the monster he is now. The same brother he sees glimpses of when Ozai is alone with his wife and children, the same brother that he sees none of in the Fire Lord. Azula is silent and moves to do her basics without complaint. She unnerves him, but he still loves her.

He loves them both. And he loves what remains of his brother in Ozai, even if he would choose the balance of the world over the Fire Lord in an instant.

They visit Admiral Zhao first. He declares that he has already captured the Avatar and that he would be more than willing to transfer his prisoner onto the royal family’s better equipped ship.

The siblings visit the chained Avatar. Zhao speaks of what he plans to do.

That is the thing about Ozai loving his children. Loving them means protecting them from certain cruelties, at least more than he did in canon. Zuko and Azula both see the Avatar, only twelve, and Zhao’s words overlap with Azulon’s orders to their father when Lu Ten dies. After all, Zuko had been only a year younger then.

That night, the Blue Spirit and the Dragon Emperor break the Avatar out of the stronghold with dual dao and twin daggers as the Prince and Princess sleep in their luxurious cabins. If that isn’t completely the truth, no one says anything to suggest as such. The Blue Spirit is knocked out by an arrow to the forehead. The Dragon Emperor does not allow the Avatar to remove the mask.

(“How did you not see that coming, Zuzu?”

“In my defence, you were supposed to be watching my back while I pulled the Avatar away.”)

They meet the Avatar’s companions briefly before the Emperor gestures to the rising sun and they disappear.

It is only after the escape of the Avatar that Iroh begins to consider the siblings further.

They pen a letter to their father.

Ozai reads between the lines and wonders, just once, if perhaps he had sheltered his children from the reality of war too much. He does not wonder again because he knows the alternative would have been far worse.

Instead, Ozai speaks with his wife. Ursa is a complex woman, but the Avatar is the reincarnation of her grandfather and she has an actress’s mind (and thus she has a politician’s mind).

As their children chase the Avatar, the Fire Lord and Lady put their own plan into motion. Canon Ozai may be content to lay all responsibility on his children, but this Ozai is actually a decent dad.

The siblings are free to enter Fire Nation territory as they wish and have no reason to sneak into the temple, even still they do. They watch as a Fire Sage, one of the highest religious authorities in the Fire Nation, disobeys the Fire Lord to help the Avatar.

Zuko’s quick fingers undo the water tribe boy’s restraints as Azula’s undo the girl’s. They share playful smirks, after all, neither of them are in any danger. They are a powerful team and they have their father’s unwavering support.

(“Why did you just untie us?”

“Zhao’s a dick.”)

Avatar Roku emerges in place of Avatar Aang. He pauses in front of the children, the girl that has Rina’s smile, the boy that has her hair (his own hair), always trying to escape from its confines.

They do not waver. They do, however, run when the Avatar begins to destroy the temple.

The siblings believe the Fire Nation is the greatest in the world. They believe that it is their duty to spread their glory to the other nations. But, late at night, taking tea together, they consider that perhaps Fire Lord Sozin went about it in the wrong way.

(Great-grandfather says hi, Ursa reads aloud from their children’s letter. Not for the first time, Ozai regrets sending his children on such a dangerous mission. He knew that Avatar Roku had been spotted on Crescent Island, he knew that he had blown up the temple. How close had his children come to being blown up?)

The Avatar sets course for Omashu. The siblings make a stop in the Fire Nation while they’re nearby. They have a friend to pick up.

Parts: [1] [3] [4]

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Cold As Ice. 

Word Count: 3.3k

Pairing: Fae!Yandere!Todoroki/Reader

Synopsis: Todoroki, the King of the Fae, seems to have lost his vulnerable, helpless, idiotic little mortal. He's as displeased as you'd expect, and he does plan to make his anger known.

TW: Graphic Violence, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Animal Death, and Imprisonment. 

One of Shoto’s greatest pleasures was recalling the spring you’d first met.

Parts of it were true. Fae couldn’t lie, but they could omit, and he never failed to find a new detail to leave out whenever he recalled the months he’d spent in the mortal world. He told his court of the weeks you’d spent attending to his wounds and soothing his pain, or the charming cottage you shared and how quaint human civilization had become, since his last visit. With a small smile, he would speak of the livestock you’d tasked him to feed and the herbs you’d mixed into your tea, creating a concoction his fleet of servants could never seem to replicate. His favorite memory was the kiss you’d shared when he was finally healed, before he departed to return to his mysterious ‘homeland’. He loved you, and you loved him in return. It was something out of a fairytale, for him.

He didn’t tell them of the translucent blood that stained your hands for days after you freed him from the thawing ice, or the strange symbols he drew in the snow until it dissolved under the warmth of the spring sun. He never saw fit to mention the mare he beheaded, whose organs he carved out and jarred and kept in your pantry, if only to remind you of your companion’s slaughter. He wanted to make you seem like a willing partner. A sweet mortal who didn’t know better than to love a fae, a soulmate born into the wrong world. But, soulmates didn’t have to be held down to be kissed. They didn’t have to be threatened into returning their admirer’s affections. They didn’t have to be dragged into a land they did not know and thrown at the feet of a man they did not love. They should not hate their lover, not as you hate Shoto.

They should not run as soon as they’re given the chance to.

Shoto thought you preferred him to death. That was his mistake, his underestimation. He thought, if you were given the option of throwing yourself from the window of your tall, lonely tower, you’d be more scared of the inevitable injury that would entail than spending another day in your captor’s company. Now, with a hand clasped to the numb, throbbing shoulder that’d broken your fall and the bare soles of your feet beating harshly against the frozen ground, you thanked whichever gods were listening for his assumption. The forest, with all its winding roots and outstretched branches, was your safe-haven, the brisk air filling you with a sense of freedom, of strength. You weren’t sure how to get back to the human plane, not without magic, but a damp, dark cave would be a sanctuary compared to Shoto and all his fineries. You would be content with misery, as long as you were the one to choose it.

But, it was a hopeful dream. Already, you could hear the crack of hooves against soil, the soft footfalls of those agile enough to chase after you without a mount. This was just another hunt, to them, and you were an animal to be tracked and captured, to be skinned for your fur and declawed and thrown back into the wild because they thought that was better than putting you out of your suffering. Your revenge came in the form of boredom, in how easy you were to catch, in the refusal to indulge their desire for clever prey. Rather, you ran blindly, searching for a hole to hide inside of, a frozen lake their horses wouldn’t be able to follow you across. Simple methods, but fool-proof ones. Strategies even you wouldn’t be able to blunder.

A woman called out, a bird of prey screeched, and you spotted a knock in a barren cliffside, a deep hollow in an overlap of rock. It would be a tight fit, but if you held your breath and worked quickly, you might be able to find your way inside. You’d almost overlooked it in your panic. Surely, if you were quiet enough--

You never got a chance to finish that thought. Without warning, a gust of ice-cold wind washed over you, and something sharp and burning embedded itself in the back of your calf, your knees buckling as soon as the arrow found its mark. You collapsed, catching yourself with your injured arm out of instinct and screaming as a bright, primal burst of pain etched itself into your bones, your flesh, your being. But, that didn’t stop the hilt of your aggressor’s sword from colliding with the nape of your neck, cutting the sound short and sending you back to the ground. You didn’t try to catch yourself, this time.

With some effort, you roll yourself onto your side, gritting your teeth and tilting your head back to state up at the two faeries who surround you. Your found the woman first, a knight with a sword at her hip and a small, tight-lipped scowl. Yaoyorozu, the leader of the hunt, her hair darker than the night sky and her skin pale enough to put the falling snow to shame. A beauty, like all her kin, almost human if you looked beyond her swirling eyes and the pointed tips of her ears and nails. You had to remind yourself that she was one of the reasons for your current vulnerability.

Beside her was Shoto, a bow slung over his shoulder and an arrow missing from his impeccable quiver. His expression did little to betray him, all regal neutrality and flawless perfection, but his anger was present in his wings, outstretched and taunt behind him, in his white-knuckled grip on his chosen weapon. You met his eyes, and in a moment, his hand was around the shaft of another arrow, ready to send it through your chest with little more than a flick of his wrist. When he realized what he was doing, he dropped it, a fleeting look of self-scrutiny and pity passing across his expression. You could try to convince yourself that it’d been a reflex, that he didn’t truly want to be more destructive than he had to be, but you’d be lying if you tried to say there wasn’t the slightest hint of hesitation. Just another sign that his generosity wasn’t the reason for his delicacy.

He simply didn’t want to break his newest toy so quickly.

Yaoyorozu spoke first, addressing her ruler rather than her prisoner. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been treated as more than an extension of your captor. “I can call the others,” She said, her gaze flickering vaguely over the blood pooling underneath you. “We’ll need a healer if you want your pet to walk without a limp. I didn’t think to bring one, but the castle isn’t far.”

“I’ll handle it,” He replied, kneeling beside you. So close, you could make out the thin lines running through his translucent wings, flowers of ice and glass that deserved a better place to bloom. The corner of his left-most wing was scarred over, burnt to a leathery crisp, not unlike the matching scar over his nearest eye. In the back of your mind, you fantasized about what it would be like to rip them from his back, to crush thin skin and impossible formations in the palm of your hand and render him as flightless as yourself. Shoto chose to pretend he didn’t know what you were thinking about. “This is my responsibility. Gather your pack and have a medic waiting for when I return.” He paused, letting his temper flare with a narrow-eyed glance in your direction. “You shouldn’t have to rush, I intend to take my time.”

Yaoyorozu bit the inside of her cheek, but she didn’t protest. Rather, she nodded, bowing her head as she turned, following her footprints back into the tangled woods. As soon as she’d disappeared into the darkness, Shoto took the time to sigh, to glare properly the next time he bothered to face you. His bow fell to the ground, abandoned and forgotten. You weren’t particularly concerned.  He had a dozen more waiting to be used on something helpless and disobedient.

“You humiliated me,” He started, his hand drifting to your injury, freeing his arrow before a gloved thumb drove itself into the open wound, his touch as agonizing as a hot iron rod against unprotected skin. You had to fight not to lash out, to condemn yourself to a fate worse than momentary discomfort. There was still a knife sheathed at his belt, and you could only be thankful he hadn’t thought to use it. “I trusted you to go without restraints, to go without guards, and the first thing you think to do is prove to my subjects that my lover would rather risk death than be with me. Tell me, does that sound like behavior I should reward?”

You didn’t answer. Your arm was going numb, equal parts due to the fracture and the chill, and you couldn’t tell him anything he wanted to hear. That’s what it came down to, in the end. How you could make Shoto happy, even if he claimed to be willing to return the favor.

He shook his head, pulling away from your wound and taking up your chin. His hold wasn’t tight, nor did he make an effort to force you into a submission more demeaning than your current surrender, but those small shows of grace were nullified by the feeling of your own warm blood beginning to stain your skin. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

You didn’t have to think. You barely had to open your mouth. As soon as your lips parted, the words were already falling from your tongue, a blunt, shallow river of things you knew you’d regret. Things Shoto would make you regret. “Eat shit and die. You can impale yourself on your own crown, for all I care.”

His frown barely wavered. There was a beat of silence, an idle evaluation of your current state, but his disdain was never vocalized. He didn’t bother to. He didn’t have to.

You didn’t see his hand move, not before the grip of his knife was making contact with the back of your head, your vision going black before pain had a chance to follow.

~

Your contempt for the Winter Court was the only thing that rivaled your loathing for Shoto.

It was a place of joyless, merciless conduct, of cruel smiles and stone painted with gore, although the colorless blood of fae rendered the violence a sightless affair. Two guards were flanked at your sides, but neither dared to look at you, staring straight ahead as they opened the massive oak doors of Shoto’s throne room. The quiet was heavy, tense, but you didn’t attempt to make conversation, not as the panels of wood slid away and a narrow carpet came into view, a rich navy to guide all newcomers to the elevated stage on the otherwise of the room. He could’ve easily come to you, sent a servant to alert him when you awoke or been waiting there himself, but he wanted a show. He wanted you to grovel at his feet, and he wanted his subjects to see you do it.

Oftentimes, you wished you’d been taken by a member of the Summer Court. You wished you’d never been taken at all, of course, but you couldn’t stop yourself from wondering what it would like to exist in a land without ice and sleet and stares that are only barely concealed. You’d visited their valley once or twice with Shoto, and although they weren’t any less wicked than their cold-blooded counterparts, they hid their malicious intent under charms and spells and tricks, traps that kept their victims rooted out of delusion rather than fear. It’d be a deceptive fate, but compared to the reality of the Winter Court, it couldn’t be unpleasant. If Shoto could simply invoke your name when he craved control, you wouldn’t be favoring your right leg over your left as you dragged yourself down the well-tread pathway.

There were sneers from the stands as you passed by, harsh whispers of rumors and tales that were just untrue enough to burn at their tongues as they spoke. You tried not to pay them any mind, but it was difficult. Your latest ‘betrayal’, as Shoto had put it, would only fuel their distaste for their ruler’s mortal partner. Perhaps if you were something else, they’d be entranced. If you were an abnormality or a beast or something dangerous, you’d be able to do more than run and make noise and disobey rules they hadn’t thought not to follow. But, you were human, so you were boring. A feral mutt whose tricks had long-since grown old.  

You came to a stop in front of Shoto’s throne, a massive structure of silver and velvet and ornate carvings of every woodland animal you could imagine. You didn’t attempt to meet his eyes, only dropping to one knee, assuming the position he’d force you into, if you didn’t fall into on your own. You didn’t speak, though, letting Shoto greet you with a tone so stoic, you had to wonder whether this was a punishment or an execution. “How are your injuries?”

“I’ll live, unfortunately,” You replied, under your breath, rolling your shoulder back, making an effort not to wince. You didn’t want to show weakness, not when he was already so far above you. “The healers say I’ll need a few days to recover fully. That won’t interfere with…” You trailed off, your eyes flickering around the courtroom. Searching for any sign of a looming threat. “That won’t interfere with what you have planned, will it?”

He huffed, a small pout pulling at the corners of his mouth, but he accepted the announcement without further argument, leaning back and letting his chin come to rest on a closed fist. With his free hand, he gestured for you to come closer, an indolent wave barely worth the energy it took to execute. Slowly, you pushed yourself to your feet, only pausing when Shoto tapped his thigh. Disappointment washed over you, but any shock was minimal. If he couldn’t have his revenge, then your shame would serve as a consolation prize.

You clung to your last scraps of dignity, keeping your expression stern and your posture rigid, but Shoto freed you of that with an arm around your waist, dragging you into his lap, your side soon flush against his chest and your back pressed against his armrest, your legs left to tangle with his. He was quick to deflate, to melt into you and bury his face in the crook of your neck, the affection intimate and sickeningly underserved. The tips of sharpened teeth brushed against your skin, but thankfully, abstained from taking root. The last thing you wanted was another wound to fret over. “Can’t you bring me the smallest relief?” He asked, chilled breath washing over your skin, earning a shudder. “An apology, words of remorse, a purpose, anything. I don’t want to be bitter with you, beloved. Any sign that you care for me is a sign I’ll take to heart.”

He sounded exhausted, exasperated. You attempted not to let his disposition faze you, keeping your gaze fixed on the furthest stone wall. “My words would bring you no comfort,” You muttered, more to reassure yourself than to convince him. “There’s nothing I can say to quell your anger. You saw what I did, and you know why I did it. An excuse would only frustrate you.”

You felt him grit his teeth, his hold around you tightening. His wings flickered before resuming their trained motionlessness. “You have no reason to despise me--”

“I have every reason.” You didn’t wait for him to finish, nor did you have any interest in letting him. This was a dance you’d practiced many times, a song you could identify from a single note. You would sing along, but you wouldn’t let Shoto act as if you’d never done so before. He didn’t deserve your patience. “I’m a prisoner here, Todoroki, I’m your prisoner. You provide for me, and I understand that you think you’re being kind, but no amount of luxury can make this place my home. I don’t belong here, I’m…” You were different. You were alien. You were lesser. “I’m not meant to be here. I’m not meant to be with you.”

Early on in your captivity, you’d convinced one of Shoto’s servants to smuggle an iron knife into your chambers, the weapon forged in the human world and stolen from a fae noble with questionable intentions. When Shoto next visited you, letting his guard down in favor of rambling on about his day and the ongoings of his court, you’d driven the dagger blindly into his chest over and over and over again, only stopping when one of his knights dragged you off of his limp body. You didn’t have to say it’d been useless. Cold Iron was effective on most creatures, but you’d need something much stronger to kill a fae as powerful as Shoto, whose veins took the shape of snowflakes and whose wrath bunt with the heat of glowing embers. The servant was killed by sunset and your knife was melted down into two nails, both of which were then driven into your heels as retribution. You hadn’t been able to walk for a month, but Shoto told you time and time again that he was being lenient, that was being merciful. You’d believed him. The fire in his eyes had nearly been enough to melt his frozen heart.

Compared to his current rage, his fury back then seemed like child’s play.

“A prisoner, you see yourself as a prisoner,” He spat, pointed talons biting into your hip, cutting through fabric and skin and drawing blood before he thought to stop. “I’ve never asked anything of you. I gave you a castle, beautiful clothes, a life befitting divinity, and you say you feel like a prisoner just because I urge you to tolerate me in return.”  He paused, scoffing, letting out a breathy, humorless laugh before he went on. “If you’re a prisoner, you’re a rather coddled one. That’s my fault, isn’t it? How can I expect you to learn your place when I treat you like a lapdog?”

“That’s not what I meant,” You responded, hastily, avoiding his question. “You know that’s not what I meant. I’m only trying to--”

“You’re trying to earn your discipline, apparently,” He warned, nearly snarling against your shoulder. His fingers found their way to your hair, taking you by the scalp and jerking you backward, just far enough to allow him to glare, to bare his teeth and growl. “I’ve kept you safe. I’ve let you live in leisure because I wanted to believe your pathetic human mind would let you be motivated by gratitude, rather than fear. I can see that allowing you to love me on your own terms isn’t an option, anymore.” He wretched you upward, forcing you to straighten your back, a pitiful whimper escaping from your lips before you could suppress it. “If you think you’re a prisoner, then I’d be more than happy to treat you like a prisoner. It’d be a shame not to give you what you’ve been begging for, wouldn’t it?”

You moved to argue, to apologize, to do whatever would sway Shoto’s resolve, but by the time you opened your mouth, he was already calling over his guards, metal gauntlets soon clamped around your forearm and your shoulder, ready to dispose of you at the slightest omen of their King’s will. Shoto only leaned back, watching as you lost your composure, as you panicked. He didn’t yell, nor did he lecture you further, but as always, his rage found a way to make itself known, if only in the grin that ghosted across his lips. Satisfied and decided. The smile of a man pushed to the edge and far too prepared to push back.

The smile a monster, finally ready to devour its prey.

“This might be a change for the better.” His tone was one of sterile contentment, a serenity that ran deeper than his voice could ever portray. You had a feeling you wouldn’t be able to shake him, again, not so easily. 

You had a feeling he wouldn’t give you the chance to, again.

“You might finally come to see how loving I’ve been, when you’re stripped of my favor.”  

[rosencrantzsguildenstern]

1 & 2 for book asks?

okay yes thank you!!!

book you’ve reread the most times?

this is a little interesting because thinking back there's tv shows and especially podcasts that i've relistened and relistened to but with books i tend to reread them less....that said it’s definitely either the homeward bounders (by diana wynne jones) or the marvelous land of oz (sequel to baum’s ‘the wonderful wizard of oz’ of cinematographic fame).

the homeward bounders is just?? really good?? it’s got a crazy premise and is so good at like... showing this unique pov of this 100-year old immortal preteen and taking all this stuff he goes through and how it effects him but still letting him and the other main characters have very clear personalities. it’s really good at showing effects of trauma subtly and it’s also very funny in some points! it’s also got THEMES- the way it like adapts mythology is so so good.

anyway marvelous land of oz. i still really enjoy it but the amount of times i’ve reread it is because it was a childhood favorite;- i got a kindle paperwhite for christmas at about six or seven with a bunch of public domain classics predownloaded for me and that explains so much about why i am the way i am. anyway this includes all 24 oz books but the marvelous land of oz jumped out to me the most because i really loved ozma, and it’s her introduction/solo book, which she stars in. but then when i read further i felt like she had become this perfect paragon leader (bc of. like. gender roles idk) and all the depth and complexity and comedy of her character had kind of been lost. i think i liked it for slightly different reasons as a kid- i liked the oz books in general because after the first few, oz became this perfect world it was fun to imagine. even now i get hit by the urge to reread the marvelous land of oz! and i do and i enjoy it. i want to buy this fancy illustrated edition so much... it’s always on my mind

2. top 5 books of all time?

okay so obviously there’s gonna be overlap with the above but i’ll give a straight list. this is SO subjective btw

1. the homeward bounders- i mean see above but also know that everything i was talking about? yeah its an 80s book and the plot feels SO based on that 80s thing when everyone was obsessed with d&d and thought it would make demons and monsters. fun fact 

2. the war of the worlds- it’s a classic! it’s good! it’s well written! it’s got themes! but mostly something about it just hits the things i like weirdly well? i love sci fi and i also LOVE when characters go through the worst experiences of their life

3. frankenstein- i like being pretentious (this also applies to above) but no uhh legitimately it’s a really good book. BEAUTIFUL prose and the points it makes are brilliantly thought out and executed... like when we start off by walton being like i wish i had a friend!! and then we read through the whole thing and it’s got PAYOFF because a companion is the only thing the creature wants.... people could (and DO!!) analyze this book forever

4. in other lands- it’s a very clever, completely irreverent comic satire of a fantasy world that manages to end up very heartfelt and real! it’s fundamentally a coming of age story, where we watch the main characters go from 13 to... 18 i believe? somewhere around there anyway their arcs are VERY good, and the satire also has very interesting things to say about the real world

5. the marvelous land of oz- unlike the homeward bounders i can’t say much more about this.... charming kid’s book. movies do NOT do it justice and never did (and wicked does even worse. i could TALK about wicked)

bonuses i didn’t mention because they’re plays: ‘rosencrantz and guildenstern are dead’ (by tom stoppard) and ‘chitra’ (by tagore). i NAMED myself chitra so you can better bet the latter had an impact on me. that’s for personal reasons, whereas ragad is just really good and would probably be #1 on this list if i was counting it

[candythemew]

🔥 SkekLach (can be AOR Lach, Manga Lach, or JM Lee’s Lach)

OH BOY GET READY FOR AN ESSAY!!

(Also old post I’m getting back to, but for context this was for TDC Hot Takes. She asked for my favorite version of SkekLach.)

     Whenever I see SkekLach, it is such a joy regardless of iteration. I don’t know what it is exactly but I absolutely adore her. Although this wasn’t always the case! Originally I was indifferent to her and found her to be physically repulsive. I literally couldn’t look at her for extended periods of time. But through re-watching the series she’s really grown on me! ...But I think you all know about that by now! (Search her up on google and you’ll find SO much of my art.) ◬☾——– ≪ °✾° ≫ ——–☽◬      Each iteration has it’s own strengths and weaknesses, but I adore all of them. If you want to spare yourself a fangirlish analysis, I like AoR!Lach the best, but Manga!Lach is extremely cool. Although everyone shares traits, it’s more like comparing apples and oranges rather than [ X ] is better than [ Y ] . There is some overlap and bleeding between characters, but ultimately these are all vastly different timelines with different circumstances and characters. I’ll be dissecting each of them under the cut! ◬☾——– ≪ °✾° ≫ ——–☽◬

     As said above, There are three versions of The Collector. In order, the first one to be created was the Legendsverse/Manga SkekLach the Collector. Followed by the J.M. Lee/ Novel SkekLach, and finally AoR SkekLach. Who we see in age of resistance, and is the Collector of the main canon’s timeline. When I write for her, I tend to do a bit of blending with her various other versions. But even in the show, she’s a lot more keen and intelligent than she lets on to be. You just have to look for it! A lot of her character traits are subtle. I only really grew an appreciation for her after my first re-watch of the series! ◬☾——– ≪ °✾° ≫ ——–☽◬ Another thing to notice when it comes to the Collector is that unlike other alternate versions of canon characters, most main characters are relatively unchanged. SkekLach however has the most diversity in her character differences and alts.

◬☾——– ≪ °✾° ≫ ——–☽◬

𝕷𝖊𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖉𝖘𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖊

◬☾——– ≪ °✾° ≫ ——–☽◬

◬☾——– ≪ °✾° ≫ ——–☽◬      Manga!Lach has a much more muscular build. Even for his old age. He is adorned in ornate armor rife with symbolism and battle scars marring his flesh. These quirks to his character design reflect both his intelligence, and physical prowess in combat. His armor is stylized to look like faces. Both intimidating and fearful expressions decorating him in a display of intimidation. Fun Fact: in the manga, SkekLach was the second tallest Skeksis. With the Ritual Master being the true tallest of course. SkekLach was also a bit of a beastmaster. He had a loyal pack of Arduff always by his side ready to snatch up any unfortunate gelfling (or skeksis!) who got in his way. As well as a group of small, crawlie like creatures called Spy-eyes. He would have these creatures attatch themselves to a victim, and they would be allowed to see and hear anything said victim did. Anything they knew, The Collector would know too. He used these creatures to ensure Lahr’s co-operation in his plan for securing his place as Emperor SkekSo’s favorite and to foil The Chamberlain and Garthim Master’s plans against him. Oh yeah, did I forget to mention that he’s also a tactical mastermind?

◬☾——– ≪ °✾° ≫ ——–☽◬

𝔍.𝔐. 𝔏𝔢𝔢 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔤 𝔄𝔡𝔲𝔩𝔱 𝔑𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔩𝔰

◬☾——– ≪ °✾° ≫ ——–☽◬

◬☾——– ≪ °✾° ≫ ——–☽◬

     Novel SkekLach is much more toned down, calm and (no pun intended) collected. Although he shares some qualities with both his manga and AoR counterparts, he’s kind of his own thing. He’s portrayed as more skinny and lanky. With a beak more similar in shape to SkekOk’s and wearing what appears to be a crown on his head. This Lach is much more directly involved with politics and wants to see his job through. Or at the very least just to get things over with. Oddly enough, unlike his previous version, he performs the Gelfling censuses. This trait would be later carried onto his canon successor. He was often blunt and to the point like AoR Lach, but didn’t really have the same punch that she has. In the novels he also has an animal companion. Much like Manga!Lach. A Royal Blue Phegnese. An avian mount creature that we never get to see, but we do get a loose description of. This was his preferred mount of choice. He was also good friends with SkekOk. They would often write to each other and even got drunk together. This is likely what inspired their close bond in AoR.

◬☾——– ≪ °✾° ≫ ——–☽◬ 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔇𝔞𝔯𝔨 ℭ𝔯𝔶𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔩: 𝔄𝔤𝔢 𝔬𝔣 ℜ𝔢𝔰𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔫𝔠𝔢 ◬☾——– ≪ °✾° ≫ ——–☽◬

     And finally, our girl, AoR SkekLach! Everyone pretty much knows what she looks like by now. Incredibly diseased with oozing pustules that cause her constant pain every second of every day. Short snouted with dulled down tusks that were once razor sharp, and even sharper goldenrod eyes. (A glimpse back to the glory days perhaps?) Also since her introduction, she is the shortest skeksis in the series. Taking SkekOk the Scroll-keeper's orginal title of shortest by being about a head and a half shorter than him. Although she’s a female Skeksis, she’s not traditionally feminine. An interesting aesthetic choice for a female presenting Skeksis! Most of her colors being toned down blues and greens, Although she does have lots of bows that adorn her robes. Predominantly on her sleeves and shoulders. and in close up shots you can see that her puppet model has very distinct and pretty eyelashes. She’s very dirty as she doesn’t care much for her hygiene anymore. She doesn’t make an effort to change things as she has already tried multiple times to improve her condition, and has failed every time. The way she acts and presents can help us know that she's been through a lot. You can especially see this in the way she talks to others as well as herself. Adopting a mindset of: “Things either always stay the same or get worse.” This causes her to stay demotivated. To the point of not doing much of anything. She idolizes the glory days of her youth and desperatley wishes to go back to them, but she's a bit more self aware than her peers. Even she mocks her them for thinking that they can truly return to their former splendor. Although speculation on my part; it’s more than likely that in her prime she was similar to her manga counterpart. As she’s deceptively observant and oftentimes makes snide remarks in the background. Although she doesn’t care for showing it off. Being apolitical in the court, she sees no point in it. …Aside from the occasional drama or rumor she hears from either the Ornamentalist or Scroll-Keeper. As she's part of their little circle. Although speculation, she might even have some battle scars under her robes. As she’s talented when it comes to battle. Evidence to support this is when SkekVar the General asks for her assistance. Specifically when the Emperor ordered him to deal with the Gelfling. He picks her out of all of them. When she denies, he asks again reassuring her with an encouraging, “Come now! It’ll be fun!” While she replies with a disbelieving, “Ugh, I DOUBT that…” …And SkekVar was right. SHE DID HAVE FUN!

…And she got acid spit in her face which must have hurt 1,000 times more than it would for someone else as she’s very sensitive in her face due to her pustules. But hey! She got to kill a spitter and her mood changes pretty drastically for the positive going from that. Although she won't be able to enjoy it for too long since she dies 2 episodes later. Also when she drinks essence with the rest of the court during the scene where Skeksil watches the rest of them to make sure the Grunaks did their job, if you listen in the background she just straight up yells "I'M GONNA FIGHT A LANDSTRIDER!!" She wants to punch a horse. Good for her! So basically I just talked about all three of them at length for no reason but I hope you liked my ted talk. I have no idea where I was going with this, but yeah. I really really like SkekLach.

[changeling-fae]

I've heard a lot of interesting theories about Astarion! I would like to hear your thoughts on them.

In-game, Astarion can use speak with dead on Gandrel. If Astarion is disguised, Gandrel will reveal he was not sent by Cazador. In fact, Gandrel has no idea who Cazador is. Instead, Gandrel was sent by Maiden Fel, the head of his tribe. He describes Maiden Fel as "reason even monsters have nightmares". I really like the theory that Maiden Fel is a night hag. It would explain Ethel's correspondence letters and Astarion's nightmares. Whoever Maiden Fel is, it's possible she is in league with Cazador. However, how would Cazador know Astarion is alive? Most would assume everyone died on the illithid ship. So, I have two ideas:

1. Cazador is a red herring. Maiden Fel is the hidden antagonist of Astarion's story.

2. Maiden Fel is in league with Cazador. Astarion's scar is a spell that helps Cazador track his spawns.

(Totally unrelated - I think it's interesting that Magic: The Gathering has an "infernal scarring" card which enchants a creature. D&D and MTG are owned by the same company, so perhaps there's some overlap.)

I would also like to mention that most of these concepts aren't my ideas, so thanks to everyone who wrote amazing theories.

Hi there, thanks for the ask!

I watched the video that shows the Maiden Fel thing and I did read some interesting theories about how the Gur were originally tied to Selune in their oral tradition of their origins story so the game does have more evidence of Selune and Shar being at play.

Especially since Astarion is apparently a Shar worshipper as well, though I’m unsure if that’s his choice or Cazador’s influence. He’s ok with you knowing he’s a vampire but stays silent on the whole Shar thing even if you’re chill with Shadowheart being a follower.

I do think that Maiden Fel being a night hag is an intriguing theory and it could be a good way to connect more stuff together although I’m still fairly certain Cazador will play a big part.

It’s possible that maybe true vampires can sense their spawn and that’s how he knows Astarion is still alive, especially given that the only way for a spawn to become a true vampire is by drinking their sire’s blood specifically. So they’re probably connected.

There seems to be little hints that Astarion was chosen by Cazador for a reason and while possible it’s tied to his corrupt backstory if they keep it, there could be other factors at play.

Maybe what drew Cazador and possibly this Maiden Fel to Astarion is the same force that drew the Mindflayers to mc and their companions. By the sounds of it, mc and the group were chosen specifically for the altered tadpoles but we don’t know why (at least that’s the impression I got).

I’d have to read the possible translation of his scars again but it sounds like it’s a spell to prevent him from getting help from devils to escape and/or to keep his soul where it is. Which could again maybe tie into why he (and the others) were chosen to start.

It’s definitely a lot of fun to speculate and I can’t wait for the full game to come out so we can confirm or dismiss our theories!

[trials-by-blood]

Male with Gender Neutral S/O. S/O is protective over their Yautja. One day, on the mothership, a female gets interested in the male. S/O firmly shows the male is theirs. Male is very impressed by their antics. (If possible, make it naughty ish. Like pulling on Yautja tresses. I apologize if that makes you uncomfortable. I don’t know what you’re rules are.)

Okay so, It’s done! Like another prompt, I decided I should consciously try to be concise and cap it off before going over 2500 words or else it could go on and on. Unfortunately, this couldn’t be naughty because I’ve made the decision to keep this blog at a PG-13 rating. I wound up RBing my original post (The one announcing open asks) with a loose outline of my rules after receiving this very ask. Yeah, I kinda had that “Uh-oh, I forgot the most important step” moment. 

This one sort of ran in a few unexpected and at times turbulent directions. I hope you enjoy this reply although it veered a little off course.

-Ghardeh-

The ooman was always a pain. Ghardeh called them H’ko. It was literally the word for no. Why did Ghardeh call the ooman this? Because it was the first word in Ghardeh’s language that they had learned and one they loved to use. No, no, no. “No” to proper clothing in the current yaut fashions, “No” to any food item they found suspicious, “No” to bathwater heated too hot, “No” to sleeping in the kehrite as unblooded should, “No” to observing Ghardeh’s hunts via a live stream transmitted from the eye lenses of his helm because they did not like the idea of possibly witnessing their companion’s death in real-time. A definite “NO” to learning to hunt as well. They didn’t have any interest in hunting to prove themselves. 

H’ko, H’ko, H’ko. Ghardeh had heard the word in that terrible accent so many times he’d begun mockingly repeating it back to the ooman out of frustration, eventually, it became their pet-name, and later it became a term of endearment. Ghardeh had long given up on the notion that H’ko would ever become a warrior, but that was fine, the ooman was proficient in mechanics and electrical work and it was a respectable profession for an ooman.

Bound for the Clan ship, Ghardeh did not worry much about the ooman’s safety. His clan worked with oomans regularly and in H’ko’s case, as they weren’t a warrior and wore typical ooman dressings, the people would regard them with the same scrutiny as the unblooded: well beneath the gaze of warriors. And yautja women? Well, they ignored their male counterparts ninety percent of the time too, doubtful they’d even register H’ko’s presence at all. Other yautja should simply pretend H’ko didn’t exist as they tagged along safe and sound under Ghardeh’s left arm, and if anyone spared them a second glance it would likely be assumed that H’ko’s role was that of a hired repairer and no more.

Ghardeh had prepped H’ko very sternly and more than once for this visit. Speak to no one above their rank. Do not make prolonged eye contact as it is seen as a challenge. The breeding season is near so if a female propositions, allow Ghardeh to decline and do not intercede. That last instruction was very important. 

Ghardeh had known that humans were often monogamous, and when asked H’ko confirmed that they would prefer not to share Ghardeh’s romantic attention with others. This was one of the many compromises in their unusual partnership. Ghardeh would sleep and engage in sex acts with H’ko and only H’ko, but they had agreed to allow Ghardeh to donate reproductive material non-sexually to females if it was asked of him. Ghardeh had to explain to the ooman: if you are a strong warrior and a fine hunter, it is your duty to contribute your traits to the next generation. They had accepted that aspect of yautja culture begrudgingly, taking a long time to think through and voice all concerns about it just as Ghardeh had done as well when it became apparent that his ooman companion did not enjoy the notion of their mate being dragged to a stranger’s bed chambers if a proposition was accepted. The ordeal of Yaut mating practices also seemed to upset them. A female will usually test a warrior to be absolutely certain that she’d chosen a sire well. This often involves dangerous feats or enduring a physical altercation. H’ko had been unhappy with the very common occurrence of males limping their way home after a failed encounter with a choosy woman.

Ghardeh was merely reviewing all of this information in his head whilst he lied on his back and massaged at the stress crease in his forehead with his knuckles. Tucked against his left side and in the crook of his arm was H’ko, snoring and blissfully unaware of Ghardeh’s anxiety. H’ko would be relatively safe for sure, but something always went wrong when he tried to bring them aboard the Clan Ship. Last time, H’ko accidentally got dragged off with another group of oomans after being mistaken for a member of an ambassadorial tour group. None of the actual ambassadors had the gall to inform their extraordinarily intimidating guide that H’ko was just some random person who was grabbed, scolded for wandering off -which they had, but not from that group-, and herded along with the rest of the soft little aliens. Ghardeh was tempted to tether H’ko to his own body this time, so they couldn’t move more than ten feet from him.

Ghardeh sat up and scrubbed a knuckle against his closed eyes as he prepared to leave the bed, then let a hand fall on H’ko’s shoulder to gently shake them awake. It was time to dress, eat, and prepare. 

Docking went smoothly, and disembarking was uneventful as well. They were greeted by Chulonte, a friend and hunt brother who knew H’ko well and even dipped his head slightly to acknowledge their presence.

“The meeting place has been reserved, we should go now, the others have already gathered,” Chulonte told them briskly before turning away and leading them on.

Ghardeh leaned toward H’ko and dropped a hand on their shoulder. “We’ll acquire a midday meal after the meeting, just the two of us.”

Ghardeh was pleased when H’ko gave him an earnest closed-mouth grin. H’ko liked when they ate alone yet in public. Called them “dates”. 

-Taylor-

Ghardeh was in the meeting with his equals, a loose coalition of hunters each with their own private hunting vessels who always coordinated with one another so that their time hunting on various worlds did not overlap. Apparently, there were laws in place to prevent over-hunting on some planets and to avoid over-exposure on others. Taylor was told to wait outside with Chulonte’s hounds. They were big ugly scaly beasts. One had a face like a cross between an English Bulldog and a cod, the other was nothing but a fangy maw of teeth and horny protuberances growing from its back but they were rather friendly, at least toward Taylor. Taylor wasn’t completely fluent in the Yautja dialects but it had seemed that, as a favor to Ghardeh, Chulonte had given his hunting hounds a command to guard the tiny human among them. The animals hovered close to where the human sat and would stand from their seated positions if any passerby veered too close. Taylor chanced a hand at petting them, Bulldog Face kept dropping his enormous head into the human’s lap for more attention, Spikey Back wasn’t into it and lied down just out of reach.

A group of women began to form nearby, but not too close, as Spikey Back had stood and shown the lot of them his teeth when they tried to form a cluster too near to where Taylor sat waiting for Ghardeh. Taylor could hear this and that which was said among the women. Some of the discussion was pretty damn raunchy. They were here to find action and had planned to greet the hunters when they conclude their meeting and disperse. They said things about what they wanted to do to the hunters they had chosen, sometimes what tests of strength and resilience they were expected to endure, but more often the discussions leaned heavily into overtly explicit themes. The woman who wanted Chulonte wanted to see if he could track by scent as accurately as his hounds could and if he succeeded in this test she would, and Taylor could only partially decipher the phrase, “??? him so ??? that his spine comes undone from his pelvis”. It made Taylor’s skin crawl, especially when all of the women laughed approvingly at what the other had said. Taylor hoped it was a lesser evil in being just a filthy joke but given how tall and strong they appeared, and how dangerous Ghardeh had told Talyor they were, they wondered if they really could injure their partners in such a way. It certainly seemed possible.

Taylor felt tension building in their chest. They heard them name off nearly all the hunters they’d seen enter the meeting room and every brutal ordeal they wished to subject them to, and it was only a matter of time before Taylor heard Ghardeh’s name. It happened, and when it did, the human’s pet name was mentioned as well. 

“Ghardeh is a difficult one to persuade, too difficult to bother with up until now. He now has rank advancements, clearly enough to afford him a live trophy. That’s worth some regard, but how to get rid of H’ko long enough to have adequate time with the man?”

“Seems like Chulonte’s dogs make fine enough guardians for it. Let us coordinate our liaisons then-”

Taylor couldn’t keep their mouth shut. They’d been infuriated by three ugly words. Live Trophy and, It.

“I am NOT a Live Trophy! And Ghardeh is NOT available for your abuse!” They shouted, causing both of the hounds to jerk to attention and search for a threat to their charge.

-Ghardeh-

Ghardeh had correctly predicted that the meeting would go very much as it had in all of the previous seasons, a few smooth agreements, a few disputes, a fight or two, and then they’d leave and continue about their personal business. He left that meeting room with lunch on his mind and the expectation that H’ko would be clamoring for a meal as well, he had not anticipated being met with the sight of them dangling from the grip of Dar-bak’di, the most fearsome of the local young women who roved in a pack during the breeding season. H’ko was kicking and gasping for air as they flailed in her grip, Chul’s hounds were being bribed into complicity by the other women offering them whatever morsels they had in their bags, and Dar-bak’di was making a show of how easily she could destroy a mere ooman. Now it was Ghardeh shouting H’ko! H’ko!

It took a great deal of convincing to get Dar-bak’di to release H’ko, and the limit of her mercy was to drop the gasping ooman on top of Ghardeh and call them both abominable, in addition to accusing Ghardeh of something akin to bestiality. Dar’bak-di had smelt Ghardeh’s amorous n'dui'se all over his ooman companion and she refused to believe it when she was told that H’ko was a legally hired mechanic. To perform mating practices with species classified as prey was frowned upon, but not against any written law. The truth of the matter was, H’ko was unbelievably lucky to survive the encounter and had, hopefully, learned something from it. 

-

The ooman did not argue or make a fuss on the way home, and whether they liked it or not they were carried. The bruising around their neck was already blooming into hot red blotches. Ghardeh said nothing of it but make no mistake, he was furious. He’d told H’ko in no ambiguous words not to engage in conversation much less an altercation with yautja women! And what did they do, start a fight they could never under any circumstances survive on their own.

Upon his Vessel, Ghardeh placed H’ko in bed and with the intention of letting them sleep the ordeal off. After leaving the room, he went to the galley to serve himself a drink before grabbing the kit to treat severe bruising, but heard the soft soles of H’ko’s feet padding behind him.

“Go back to the bed and rest,” Ghardeh told the ooman flatly without turning to look at them as he poured a glass of c’ntlip.

“They were saying terrible things,”

Ghardeh sighed and set aside the decanter before taking the first sip and responding.

“They’re lonely and horny, of course they were speaking in lewdisms. I warned you that they would speak this way about whatever they set their longing eyes upon.”

“But it was about you and-”

“I don’t care what was said about me! You disobeyed the most important instruction I have ever given you! You could have been rent to pieces! You directly challenged an individual no less than twice your height and perhaps four times your weight! Worse still, she was legally in the right to throw you through a wall if she wanted to!”

“She called me a Live Trophy!” H’ko shouted through a snarl.

The tone immediately triggered Ghardeh’s expression to twist and eyes to darken as he postured for a fight -albiet only a verbal one- but the words gave him a reason to pause as he processed what was said. Live Trophy, it was nothing else but a slur, and H’ko’s anger was justified. H’ko tended to show a fear response with tears and soft whines when they were angered, though, which Ghardeh was always bewildered by. A show of anger more familiar to Ghardeh had come first this time, perhaps because his own mannerisms had begun to rub off on the ooman, so a second pause was taken to scrutinize H’ko’s face. Ah, the grimace and tears were building behind the facade. Ghardeh deflated.

“She called you a Live Trophy?” he asked, softly this time as not to elevate H’ko’s anger further.

It was too late to abate the ooman’s upset. Fat droplets ran down their rounded face and they stopped making their oh-so-important eye contact as they nodded to confirm that, yes, they’d been called a live trophy.

Ghardeh moved in to close the distance between them in two strides before dropping both hands on his ooman mate’s shoulders with a great sigh. 

“We will treat the bruising on your neck, then we will prepare a meal on our ship, then we should talk about what happened.” 

H’ko did that typical human thing by saying nothing and gripping the yautja around the waist in an embrace. Ghardeh tried the rumble affectionately, but frankly, he was now furious beyond belief for all new reasons. Live Trophy. Had he known such a term had been thrown at his companion, he’d have been inclined to challenge her too.

“You were brave Tay-Lar, for defending your honor.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” Ghardeh said with a genuine growl of approval this time, stroking the back of his companion’s round head.

[roxasboxas]

If you mind me asking, what would your KHocs think of Mine?

Taiyo

Kumo

Tsuki

hmm... let's see... (below a cut because this got long)

Taiyo

In compliance with my OCs original AU timelines

The B&B crew (Sean, Igni, Astrid, and a reincarnated Brain) would probably encounter her in the final stages of their plan to royally screw up the predictions written in the Book of Prophecies, during the early stages of her search for a cure. They would have no reason to be hostile towards each other, and in fact the crew would probably be worried about her travelling by herself at her age, remembering their own early adventures, and they would probably get along with her well enough. I don't think they'd abandon their mission to help her, or her for them, but they'd probably find a way to keep in contact with each other somehow, especially if Kumo had told them about his goal to find her (in which case they would relay the information they had on that to her as well). After thoroughly derailing the timeline, the crew would probably meet back up with her, and I think Igni would probably join her on her mission (likely being able to get along with her the best) while the rest stayed behind and made sure they'd have somewhere to rest when they needed it.

Lily (and Roxas and Riku) in contrast would probably join her right away, her purposeful search for something being preferable to their blind flight in avoidance of the Organization. I think they'd get along well, although I think they'd probably separate once Lily and her companions decided for certain on the more concrete goal of properly dealing with the Organization and reviving Xion. Once both parties achieve their goals, they probably remain friends and spend more time together, enjoying the lower stakes of it all.

In compliance with the actually canon Kingdom Hearts timeline

If the B&B crew (likely minus Brain) ultimately fails to change the timeline, it would probably result in some or all of them being banished to the sleeping worlds. Were they to encounter Taiyo there, they would certainly join her in her quest, hoping both to cure her and to return to the Realm of Light. Again, I think her and Igni would probably get along the best, while Astrid would likely take at least some responsibility for the group's well being, and Sean would get along with Taiyo well enough but for whatever reason I think he'd be closer to one of her other companions. There's also a good chance they might end up teaming with Kumo in this case, and as such are looking for her alongside him instead.

Without the events of the timeline she forced me to allow her a focal point in by surprise, Lily probably wouldn't become a Greater Nobody and probably wouldn't encounter Taiyo, at least not on friendly terms. She wouldn't want to fight her, but if the Organization took offense somehow or Taiyo took poorly to encountering dusks, Lily would ultimately die in the confrontation.

Kumo

In compliance with my OCs original AU timelines

The B&B crew would probably have known Kumo during their overlapping times in the Radiant Garden! Astrid would likely know him best, as she took magic lessons from his guardian, but they'd all be aware of him. Considering how shy he is, as well as the age difference between them, he might not have necessarily been friends with any of them, but they would have at least been friendly. He would probably be one of the people Astrid most regretted leaving behind, with how regularly they saw each other, and despite the injury to her heart that ultimately led to the group leaving the Garden making it difficult for her to properly feel her emotions at times, she would have been fully delighted to see him again if they encountered each other while bouncing around the worlds.

If Lily & co encountered Kumo before encountering Taiyo, they probably would have travelled with him instead. He might have gotten along better with Riku than with her, but they'd certainly be friendly enough while they searched. Ultimately, like with Taiyo, they would eventually decide to fight the Organization and wouldn't force him to come with them, but they'd fully welcome him if he opted to do so, especially since defeating the Organization's leadership could probably grant them access to a wider network with which to search for his friend.

In compliance with the actually canon Kingdom Hearts timeline

There's nothing saying my OCs don't exist in the Radiant Garden back in the day, so I'm saying they do and at least most of my other write-up for their relationship with Kumo still applies. They might even stick around and know each other longer, potentially even travelling with Kumo in his search for Taiyo.

Again, canon timeline!Lily probably wouldn't encounter Kumo as anything other than a lonely dusk, so there probably wouldn't be much interaction there.

Tsuki

In compliance with my OCs original AU timelines

The crew would likely find her somewhere during the time they were attempting to derail the Book, and consider her a nice enough kid, but since she's young and has people looking after her they probably wouldn't worry too much about her after moving on unless she specifically asked them about Kumo and/or Taiyo, in which case they come back and check on her pretty regularly in between everything else.

Lily & co would be approximately agemates to her if they ended up encountering her, and would probably be with Kumo or Taiyo when they did. She would, appropriately, be considered a friend of a friend, and eventually a friend in her own right. I think she and Lily would get along great, being the only members of their trios not to wield keyblades.

In compliance with the actually canon Kingdom Hearts timeline

The crew probably encounter her alongside Kumo, meaning that they would have significantly more context on her. It's also not impossible that she would begin to accompany the lot of them on their search for Taiyo.

Depending on the environment of the Fortune Fortress (is that an original location? it sounds really cool!) Lily might occasionally collect flowers or seashells there (if either of those are present) as a dusk, and it wouldn't be impossible for them to see each other, even if they probably wouldn't directly interact, at least not at first. However, because canon is an illusion and the Fortune Fortress could be very far away from it, Tsuki could see this strange, wiggly entity and decide that that's gonna be her new best friend, eventually resulting in Lily's growth to someone with hands who can then use sign language and properly communicate once they've spent enough time together. From there, Lily would be incredibly grateful to Tsuki for her time (and might even develop a little crush? 👀) and would back her up if there was any threat to her safety.