#something about mourning lost love even if they aren't dead

[summertimemusician]

Linktober Shadow Day 3

Twilight

Definitely self indulgent, just a small thing I managed to throw together after a sleep deprivation filled day.

My Twilight Princess lover side definitely comes out on this one, as well as some vague headcanons in a short drabble, as always can be read as platonic or romantic.

There was something special, you think, about the way autumn came in a howling moonson of glory into the Era of Twilight, heralding the coming of the temperate strokes over the woods in flowering tones of russet, bronze, maple and amethyst in gilding gold over the evergreen of Hyrule’s eternity in warmth even as the weather turned ever colder, the late afternoon sunset fleeting in it’s mercurial transition into the hour of twilight, only matched in honor to the abandoned forests of the Era of Sky, the enduring wealds of the Era of time and the untamed thickets of the Era of Wilds. Oh so contrasting to it’s hero but no less lovely for it was a perfect balance, when you first met Twilight (or well, got properly acquainted, really, but that’s a story for another day), it was clear he was no less captivating than his homeland, as steady as the oaks and pines stretching towards the heavens and with the kindness of it’s people, was it any wonder then, that you found it easy to love the man with the loyalty and eyes of wolf to match the divine beast in his soul?

So it was why through a long, long period of trying to make the true extent of your feelings as unseen as a dream after waking hours and trying to hide just how enamored you had slowly become, that you became well acquainted with the tells that showed something weighted on his mind as you left Ordon’s Spring after washing Epona for the long road ahead tomorrow. The way his head hang just a little, ears lowering to match the way Wolfie’s would when he gently nudged one of the members of the Chain into holding him after a nightmare as his walls attempt to come back up, as solemn as a wolf in mourning.

Ever so responsible, ever steady. Trying to take the world onto his shoulders as any hero would.

He should have know it wouldn’t work on you, not after all you’ve been through.

“Rupee for your thoughts?” Your tone gently broke through the stillness of the stream as you fed Epona an apple, Twilight’s ears twitch as he turns towards you, softening as he notes the way the twilit enchanted sunlight lingered upon your visage in a most ephemeral way, shadows holding affectionately and brightening the stars of your eyes and the liminal nature of this moment and how Epona neighs, gently nudging the side of your hand for more rubs or maybe apples he knew you loved sneaking to her when he wasn’t looking, making your airy, fae like laughter free to be taken by the breeze.

“Reminiscing, is all.” He answer you, tone a low rumbling of the fall winds and like handling mirror shards into something new and beautiful as he privately holds onto the memory of your smile, holding it with claws and teeth for he can never quite be sure for how long he’ll have it, “It feels like a lifetime ago since...”

Since the start of his journey, since the beginning of his new one in the throes of attempting to settle in Ordon to lick his wounds after the lingering shaded reality of another realm settled into the crevices of his soul and marrow after grabbing the neck of the beast inside his being and biting down onto the hackles had left the injury open to bleed again.

Since losing Midna shattered his heart and killed him all at once, leaving him to live a life of haunting his own existence until you looked at him, all of him, and guided him back to life. Picking the shards of his heart and slowly putting them back together with the care of someone he’d seen mourn for an unfortunate nightingale on the road even as you cut yourself when he attempted to push you away.

You nod, gently resting your head on his shoulder, your gaze flicking to the Shadow Crystal, you don’t press about Midna and Twilight feels so, so warm, breathing out, you were both working on it, slowly but surely. Midna may not be dead, but he knew her absence left you haunted too, “Does it still hurt?” The twisting of reality upon his form, drawing from a well of ambition from long gone spirits who’d attempted to grab at the Goddesses throat, and the way the darkness so fiercely claimed any part of his he could touch. Making both of your shadows darker as the veil between worlds thinned, refusing to allow anything else to attempt a claim.

He shakes his head, gently putting his chin atop yours, “No, not anymore.”

You hum, gently nudging his chin in a sweet, adoring nuzzle, “I’m glad, then.”

You both remain on the spring until night falls, basking into one another’s presence and soaking into the timeless moment of learning to love one another as you can.

Twilight silently wishes that, just this once, he’s allowed to keep this the same way the Twilight Realm still keeps the old him.

[thedevilssinner]

I wanna share something because I don't want to suffer alone with my thoughts 😅

It's one of the scenarios where Tav knew Astarion before he was turned, but I've never read anything where it played out like this.

I apologize if something is wrong, English is not my native language.

Imagine that Tav is an elf and Astarion's lover before he was turned.

They're devastated when they finds out that Astarion has been killed. Mourning his death for a very long time and even moving away from Baldur's gate because everything reminds them too much of Astarion.

They know that all their happiness and love are gone. No one can fill the void that Astarion's death has brought them.

And now, two hundred years later, they stand on the beach, the sun beating down on their head, the burning Nautiloid at their back and before them... Astarion?

Only it's all wrong, his eyes are red and he's pale... paler than he's ever been.

Anger rises up in Tav. How dare some shapeshifter even take on Astarion's form after their beloved has been dead for 200 years?

And do a bad job at it!

Before the pale creature could even call for help again, Tav lunged at him with an angry cry, surprising the imitation and truckling it to the ground, dagger pressed to it's throat while they straddled his body. "How dare you?! How dare you to take his form?! Show me who you really are... now!" They command, surprising even themselves with their actions. But they couldn't stop... not when someone is using Astarion's face for gods knows what.

"Darling, there seems to have been a little misunderstanding. I don't know what you're talking about, and I'd appreciate it if you'd remove the dagger from my neck." The shapeshifter replies, his voice smooth and flirtatious and so unmistakably Astarion's that it hurts, and Tav presses the dagger a little harder against his neck.

"Shut up, shapeshifter!" Tav shouts at him, gaze anchored on that so familiar yet different face. "Where did you even get his face?! His voice?!" They ask angrily, the hand holding the dagger starting to shake. "You have no rights to pretend you're Astarion when he's... when he's gone. And to do it badly!" They continue, still angry but deep seated sadness linger behind.

The shapeshifter's eyes widen, opening his mouth as if he wants to say something, Tav noticing the fangs there and even worse idea that him being a shapeshifter, starts to creep into their mind.

"Tav?" Fake Astarion finally speaks, saying their name as if he were saying it for the first time in a long time, tasting it on his lips. The previous flirting gone. Instead he looked confused and as if just now he remembered something that was hidden in his mind. "You are them, aren't you? Gods, how could I forget... so beautiful." His red eyes glide along Tav's face, his voice nothing than a whisper. He's clearly lost in his head and Tav swallows thickly, realisation slowly grasping their mind but they fight against it.

"No, stop! Stop it! You can't be him. You can't... he's dead and your eyes are wrong. You're wrong." Tav says, their body starting to shake all over, threatening to cut him by mistake with the dagger still against his neck.

But now it's easy for 'the shapeshifter' to take Tav's wrist and move their hand away from his neck, easily wrenching the dagger from their fingers and tossing it aside. His lips stretch into a sad smile.

"That's what vampirism do to you, my love." Astarion says ever so softly, the deepest pain and sadness etched in his voice and Tav knows, feels it in their soul, that he is telling the truth.

So that's how Tav meets Astarion again, this encounter more painful and bittersweet than anything else.

They stay on the beach for a little while, Tav crying their heart out and Astarion trying to hold back his own tears. Both of them not expecting something like this to happen.

(Sorry if Astarion seems ooc.)

[dulltoned]

Kismet Facts!

In order of oldest to youngest band member.

Ablaze

Four years older than Branch.

- Part Rock Troll. - Anger issues through the roof - He learns how to manage his anger later in life but when he's a kid it's bright and boiling and constant and it makes him feel alienated and unwelcome and scared. - Branch is the one who helps him realize that everyone gets angry, even if it isn't explosively like Ablaze, but Branch himself can relate to feeling like he's nothing more than a ball of rage. - He has a lot of energy and can really be the epicenter of a party. - Ablaze is one of the first candidates to take an exhausted or wasted Troll home from a party because not only will he keep them safe but he's strong enough to carry them home if they pass out. - He lives with his parents and his grandpa, he lost his grandma to Trollstice but he never knew her. Sometimes he feels bad that he doesn't mourn her like the rest of his family. - He thinks Hype is annoying at first and he isn't quiet about it. After he spends a bit more time with the glitter troll, though, he finds that Hype is actually a kind-hearted soul who's eager to offer an ear and apologizes through gritted teeth about his behavior. The two of them are incredibly close after that. - He's not good with trickier emotions but Kismet knows that when he does sit down to talk about things or assure them, even if it's with a scowl on his face, that he's being sincere.

Trickee

Three years older than Branch

- Painfully optimistic but not nearly as bad as Poppy. - Trickee can be a little ignorant to how terrible the world is sometimes but it's not by lack of exposure. He grew up around his Aunt and Uncle going at each other's throats and to him conflict is just a normal part of life. Sometimes it takes a little extra push to get him to realize that fighting or insults aren't normal. - He lives with his Mom, Aunt, Uncle, and baby cousin. He gets overlooked fairly often thanks to the infant in the house but he doesn't mind too much, he uses the freedom to explore the village and spend time with Branch. - His mother hates Branch, she thinks he's a skid mark on the bright image of the village. She doesn't know that he's Trickee's best friend. - After his initial confrontation with Creek to help Branch Trickee's made it a goal in his life to help people who can't see to help themselves. He gets into a lot of fights but he hasn't lost one yet. He keeps a tally of how many times he's had to pleasure of punching Creek. - Trickee is very in-tune with his emotions but he's not really eager to feel the more negative ones. He'll go desperately out of his way to try and cheer himself up and it's a good tell for the others that he's not in a good headspace. - He constantly trips over boundaries but he's very apologetic when he realizes. - He doesn't know what happened to his Dad. His mom says that he died during Trollstice but Trickee thinks she sounds too angry with a dead man for that to be true.

Hype

Three years older than Branch

- ADHD Nightmare - Hype struggles a lot with executive dysfunction. He's a very energetic and organized person so when he knows he has to get things done but he just can't he spirals. - Kismet do their best to help. When Hype just can't do something they'll start for him. If Hype needs to organize his room Kismet will be there with some tubs to start the process and make it a game between friends and it usually helps a lot. - He's really loud and he's constantly moving but he's one of the sweetest trolls you could ever meet. He's always happy to listen and he'll be a shoulder to cry on for anyone that needs it. - He's ridiculously smart. When he's eventually allowed into Branch's bunker he's the only person who ever recognized his organization system. - Hype lives with his parents and his siblings. He has an older sister and a younger brother and while they aren't the closest they do love each other. His parents are a little overbearing and don't really understand how his brain works but they try. - He has stupidly overreactive tear ducts. It does not take much to make him cry, happy tears, excited tears, angry tears, sad tears. Kismet will tease him about it sometimes and he'll glare daggers at them while they laugh.

Boom

Two years older than Branch

- Gay but not a stereotype. Your typical gay wouldn't be able to clock him if he didn't lean into the aesthetic as he gets older via rainbow hair and gay earring. - He's a bit of an airhead sometimes but he's astonishingly emotionally intelligent. He's the best at reading the rest of Kismet and he'll always be the first person to pull one of the other members aside to make sure that they're okay. - He's a great listener, to the point where you won't even realize that he's doing it. He'll say just the right thing to get you talking about whatever's bothering you and then by the time your done letting it all out he'll just be there with a soft smile and gentle assurances. - He wishes he was smarter. He's not stupid but sometimes he misses the mark and his dad has always made fun of him for it. He can tell that his dad doesn't mean to be malicious but the jokes hurt sometimes and it's made him a little insecure about his intelligence. He's jealous of Branch and Hype sometimes, they're both so smart, but that only makes him feel worse because it's not their fault. - Life of the party. Boom is the kind of troll that'll bring the good alcohol and end the night drunk on the nearest table, screaming the lyrics at the top of his lungs and shining like the sun under the spotlights. - He wished he wasn't gay when he was a kid. Not because people were mean about it or because it was wrong but because it made him different in a way that he wasn't really comfortable with when he was younger. The more time he spent with Kismet the more he realized that differences made people better and made them easier to love and so he leaned into what made him stand out. - He lost his mom during the Great Bergen Escape. He and his dad assume that she's long dead but losing her has only brought them closer.

Branch

Twenty-four as of Band Together (Twenty-two in the first Trolls).

- Getting close to people again terrifies him. Everyone he's ever loved have left him, willingly and otherwise, so meeting people and caring about them shakes him to his core. - He tries really hard to keep the rest of Kismet away. He snaps and he threatens and he scowls but they all keep coming back. They come back because he treats their wounds when they're hurt, he listens when they're angry. These people have entered his life and shown him kindness and support that felt so foreign to him now and he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he left them alone to hurt. - Hype is the only person Branch will ask for advice on his inventions and projects. He's seen how brilliant Hype is and he can respect it. - It takes him a long time to let them into the bunker for any longer than ten minutes at a maximum. They're only allowed in for patch jobs for a while and they're never allowed pasted the first room. It's only after he finishes the kitchen and the living room that he even begins to let them look around the space and even then it makes his skin crawl. - Eventually Branch makes them their own space. He hates having them in his bunker but he's come to enjoy spending time with them so he does something about that. He finds a big space under some tree roots not too far away from his bunker and he transforms it into a large recreational area with couches and games and even a small kitchen and bathroom. That space is where they end up forming Kismet.

[pyreo]

was sweeping up some map completion for a gift of exploration and just got reminded of so many cool things I like about original gw2/worldbuilding

I love Orr and how weird and alien it is. The ambience of sitting there with everything damp, dripping, made of coral, literally a lost world that doesn't fit above water any more. I love how oily the sky is and that occasionally a huge shadow sweeps over you as something like Blightghast/other risen dragons go by overhead. I love that it looks like this

It's so otherworldly. I especially like the eerie birdcalls (I know it's just a real bird I'm not used to, but it's so unique and strange)

I like that the end of the Pact storyline doesn't feel... hopeful. At all. Orr is blighted and diseased, mottled with decay, with lost journals from people who were never going to survive. I like that the story culminates here, grandiose but mournful. You're trying again but this place you're in was already lost, with thousands of lives, and it doesn't feel like triumphant reclaiming. I like that none of the game through these >10 years has really framed oncoming war, and fighting to survive, with glory. I like that the fight through Orr doesn't really feel righteous. It's no clash against a tyrant or something with belief in good over 'evil'. It's just sad. Trying to get through and survive it.

I like the clearly LOTR-emulating Orr music, particularly how this one goes into a male chorus at the end-

I like how an entire map is called Malchor's Leap and that clues you in to it being named after something and then you can go find out and it's just even more depressing. But at the same time, it reiterates the history of Orr - that human gods lived there and it must have been full of incredible splendour and that's gone and you will never see it, you can only try to imagine based on the wrecks of cathedrals.

And speaking of the human gods, I just like how each race has their own take on religion and they all get something tailored to their outlook. Nobody disputes one religion over the other like in our world - each one is generally assumed to be true on some level, and in some cases, provably real, but each race gets something different from their history and belief system anyway. Humans used to live alongside their gods but have been abandoned and none of them know why (and we eventually do find out what happened). Norn can invoke a governing spirit from any creature alive and choose the one that they'll serve best, but these spirits can be killed and you can see what happens when they mourn them. Sylvari have a stone of commandments from their long-dead benefactor that has completely fucked up their society because they aren't sure if following the tenets is wise or brainwashing. Asura actually believe there is an equation that can solve the entire universe and everything is part of a grand scheme beyond knowing, which is something more like a philosophy than religion but deserves mentioning because it means the Intellectual Goblin Race weren't made into cut and dry atheists as a cliche. They believe in something and have personal interpretations about it. One of them even made a machine to make the Eternal Alchemy viewable that drove someone insane when they used it and I just like how things asura do tend to backfire.

And the Charr. I mean. They're the atheists and it's all because they were duped into technically following a human god for a while and they're never going to get over-- no, wait. They started getting over it and the Flame Legion integrated with regular society again after their leader was deposed, because things moved forward and changed, and I like that too.

I feel like I can talk and talk on and on about this fictional history because it... just.... works? It's all part of a tapestry of cause and effect and meaningful characterisations. And they deliberately set up the basis for their playable races and then made the story NPCs generally turn those expectations around - Caithe being a grief-ridden assassin, Rox being a superstitious oddball, Zojja being irrational, Canach starting out as a pompous asshole.

I like the Ceera is still around in HoT and if you took the personal story route where her husband died, she still hasn't forgiven you and never does.

I loved Zafirah (bring her back!) showing that badly rooted spirituality can be redirected into something healthy and healing without being negated.

I like how many NPCs show up as part of a story step and you can ask if you know them and they'll say oh, yeah I was in the Pact with that whole thing? Or 'I saw you from a medical tent in maguuma and didn't think I'd make it', constant callbacks and the sense that minor characters have a continuous existence independent of you.

I like how solemnly the game takes its wins. The initial campaign against Zhaitan makes sure to kill characters off and made bringing Destiny's Edge along to it feel like its own entire obstacle. Heart of Thorns smashes any confidence the Pact has after the base game and takes an intentional sacrifice to be won, and I still think about him. Going after a literal god in Path of Fire costs you your life. Going after Kralkatorrik, with Destiny's Edge's guilt weighing on you, costs you your own child. Saving the fate of the world by fulfilling the exact conditions for Aurene to ascend costs you your child again, being taken from you so that the whole world stops rocking on its axis, losing your baby as she turns into a deity. Icebrood Saga puts you in the shoes of a relatable, easygoing crew on the opposing side, then sits back and waits for you to kill them all to continue. When you fight the final dragon as the final boss in Dragon's End you don't want to kill her at all, and she begs you to leave and get away so she won't harm you while you try, in bitterness and desperation, to end her unfathomably long life.

And the entire short but brilliant arc with Joko made sure we don't really feel empowered or just about the choices we've made.

It's just. Been really fucking good.

[an-angel-in-the-garden]

Hi there! If your still doing Hellsing imagings would it be possible to do headcanons of Alucards reactions to a ghost or a banshee? Thank you have a good day!

I'm so down for that! I do still write for Helling and it will always have a place in my heart. I wasn't sure if you wanted anything romantic so these are kind of romantic but could be taken as platonic.

A Banshee

I think as a whole he would find it pretty interesting but lets narrow down the whys and hows 

To start with there aren't that many supernaturals just running around anymore and Alucard mostly deals with Ghouls or Vampires 

He's always curious to learn more about the world and this would be new to him, not unheard of but new 

There's something about you that keeps him interested 

Its starts with the weeping, he's not used to the sounds of mourning anymore yet you weep so often both for the dead and those who shall die  

You were likely found thanks to said weeping it's hard for people to just ignore and after so many people saying they hear it before a tragedy Integra decided it needs to be dealt with 

He's given the job for an obvious reasons and he's hoping this could be fun 

Seeing you is another story though, from the moment your eyes meet he's starstruck. 

From the tear streaks to the long nails it's clear your something already dead but you don't seem angry or like you want to fight you merely weep 

The sound is both painful and beautiful, it's a haunting melody that leaves him feeling more empty then normal 

Something about how you talk, how you almost sing for the dead at times makes him unable to try and kill you so he offers you a deal 

Come back to Hellsing manor with him, work for them and in exchange you can live and weep as you wish 

After that you become a protector for the Hellsing group, singing and weeping for them and those they kill

Always a warning of the bad to come 

Some are still scared of you but Alucard finds peace around you, with you he feels more alive in some ways he hates it in others it becomes a small slice of heaven when things feel lost

So I know this took a long time and I do apologize for that. I had some trouble writing lately. I feel like I have more ideas now so I'm gonna try to get more out though I don't know when. I really hope you enjoyed it even though this was more simple than I first had in mind. Also I graduated this month! So that's been really fun. Have a lovely day or night~ Lilly

[mountain-lion-gremlin]

sometimes I feel like the old community that built up the alterhuman / nonhuman community has been forgotten.

Like everything has been so humanized, our identities are no longer deep because we don't teach the newer ones to try and understand it.

Sort of now feels like a game of "what feels like you the best?" And obviously, that isnt bad nor has it even been a problem. I've just been having this gut feeling that the whole community is becoming more and more human and forgetting what brought us here in the first place. Why we even feel these sorts of things. Like being a part of yourself is just a side blog, just something that is an add on and not something that is apart of you if that makes sense...

I feel lonely a lot, because I can rarely find anyone who connects with their nonhumanity as deeply as I do.

Rven though I'm currently not practicing being nonhuman and focusing on my shifts - no, not practicing, releasing. I haven't been releasing recently due to life and existing really lol. But either way, I just feel like this emptiness from being human is leaking very deeply into these places that once went to these places to hide from that.

Maybe others understand what im getting at and feel the same lol. I know others can't tell the difference, but I certainly can. And of course being human for some is an important part of their identity! I mean like I love being human - there's so many neat cool things and it's so great that I can even write this out so other creatures and decipher my thoughts and gain meaning out of them.

I just feel like the older, deeper, and more core primal part of the nonhuman community has been shunned and forgotten because of the bad reputation it has. And it's dying, and it's just mournful to see people wander onto these alterhuman places that don't connect with them, and talking about something that this other group completely understands, but has been completely lost and forgotten about.

Its scary to think that the p-shifting community is dying. But people don't want to believe in things that challenge the rational world now, and that's okay. Perhaps it needs to die. I'll always be a p-shifter through and through though. I'll always be a shapeshifter, even if nobody knows or understands what that is anymore.

Perhaps, a new community will grow over these old roots and find new meaning to shapeshifting. Perhaps our flawed ways will be seen and avoided. I want to see a community that isn't dying or dead because someone is a dictator with no actual experience in shapeshifting. I want to see a community where being a hybrid is okay, being unrealistic in your form is fine, that discovering werewolves and shapeshifting through a TV show doesn't make you a faker.

The p-shifting community is flawed. I do hope the old dumpsterfire dies. And I hope to god that we come out on the other side healthier and more alive then ever. I will say though, I have a feeling that no matter what happens the meaning of physically shifting will be lost no matter what we do. It's too taboo, too strange to most, and defies all logic in tiny human brains. That's okay though.

The practice has never been bad, but the people have been. I believe that p-shifting has never been bad (Of course if you apply it correctly. Anything done incorrectly can cause issues, including p-shifting) but the people who claim it, the people who attempt to dictate it, are. We don't need to destroy and harm and ban people because they aren't what you want, because they don't fit your standard of okay cuz there isn't any "science".

ill probably cover that anothertime, I'm incredibly passionate about the issues in the shapeshifting/ werewolf / p-shifter whatever you want to call it community.

But anyways, this is a tiny post about just expressing how I feel about this lack of depth that I feel about alterhumanity as a whole. I feel like they are moving in a direction that has lost the core meaning of being something other than human .

I will say though, it depends on how you view yourself and your relationship with your humanity. Perhaps all along there has been a large majority of people who sort of identify with being not human, but are mostly human. Perhaps the shapeshifter community is just an extreme version of this, that's why there's a lack of depth to it (personally to me)

regardless. Most likely no one will read this lolll

[er4mnesiia]

[“ in loving memory of our previously shared events, yours truly ,”]

𝇅𝅭𝆬 𝃴̹ ܀࡛ ‧͙ 𝐀𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐨, 𝐗𝐢𝐚𝐨, 𝐊𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐡𝐚, 𝐓𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢, x gn!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (separated)

synopsis : when you accidentally stumble upon an emotion and thought educing memorabilia left behind by your lover, who is now lost to time, you begin to reflect back on past events either heartbreaking or joyous.

cw : angst. characters may be somewhat ooc in their behavior/thinking. others are soft angst, while others are somewhat hard angst (apologies for the noticeably contrasting themes between them). mentions of blood, gore, and of course death. (if you aren't one for gore, i would suggest reading Kazuha's only; the others include macabre scenarios.) not proofread - expect some grammatical errors.

⊹ ⋆ ۪. :¨·.·¨: 𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ ⊹ ⋆ ۪. :¨·.·¨: 𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗

✩ [ALBEDO] memorabilia : art unbalancing the decomposing and adoring moments.

you were to forever shake. forever to mourn. forever to be dissatisfied with the sorrow that he had bought about to you. fate lied within his hands the moment he began to rip apart the land of Mondstadt to mere pieces with a mad man's misconception that nothing was forevermore. perhaps, if Albedo had been more thoughtful, he would've known that you'd live on with perpetual woe without him. you'd be left with the remains of what you felt when you saw pillars crash to the ground, families and citizens run as they scream and shout in horror, and buildings fall into unforeseen years of dilapidation. sorrow, angst, and grief would be those said feelings contained within you long since that moment of dejection. Albedo appalled everyone of Teyvat when news of the disaster that the great penultimate alchemist caused disseminated across regions. but, while he was greatly feared beyond what anyone who truly knew him could have previously imagined, you couldn't help but cry of want for him. whenever you welcomed the brief scent of past peace and indescribable love that lied upon his last artwork before his death, you'd be forever haunted by the apparition of your now deceased love who could've lived a long life full of joy and simple pleasures.

✩ [XIAO] memorabilia : a yaksha's mask - preserved for 2000+ years of immortal life and longevity.

the past is something that has always rather affected you. with the empty lacuna perforated inside you during the temporary moment of harsh pain the moribund green yaksha suffered, you had a premonition of what was to come within the next few minutes. the only thing you were able to do was take off his rusted mask and give him a breath of air. admittedly, it wasn't so pleasing considering Xiao could smell the rot of dead bodies, but it was the best you could do. that moment was freeing for neither of you - you both knew of the loss you would face. you'd be on your knees in a minute, quivering as you clasp his lifeless body. meanwhile, your lower form would be paraplegic consequential to the overwhelming emotion erupted at the sight of him; rendering you with an inability to walk away and forcing you to stay by your unbearable lover's side. he was torn to have let you go in such a state like this. most of his worrying was reflected towards you. but atlas, there was no reversing history; once gone, always gone. you were sure to live on with that same unfilled gap pierced within your soul, for a multitude of reasons, but with the years old mask Xiao wore with a sense of responsibility and duty in your hands, you remembered how even someone so apparently hurt could spare some light.

✩ [KAZUHA] memorabilia : a leaf instrument, played once, twice, and thrice, to commemorate each second with a tune forbade to be forgotten.

upon seeing your lover's favorite instrument, you let out an audibly hitched breath, and with lithe but quick fingers, you picked up the green leaf. for a moment, you could have sworn you heard Kazuha's sonorous voice, before it echoed through the leaf and filled your ears with a melodious, familiar tune. for a moment, you could remember him holding your hand, the weight of it as light as a candle, as he whispered and passed on the truths of the wind to you. with a soft beat of the heart, you'd fall within, and your heart would deflagrate as you kept your eyes stead on the poet. thuds once would alarm you, but the loud noise your heart would erupt when you looked upon Kazuha's features would always do the opposite. it was sad, but you knew everything would have to come to an eventual stop, whether in your favor or not. putting the relish of your memories to an end, you tapped the leaf's petiole before trailing your finger up its base, its midrib, and finally to its green, pointed tip with the touch reminiscent of your lost love, and a feeling of tristesse now weighing with an unwelcoming, heavy pressure forever to be molded deep along the bridges of your soul.

✩ [TIGHNARI] memorabilia : an atrophied flower, withered due to reduced care and neglect.

a red flower sat on Tighnari's desk. it was running dry since your lover wasn't able to tend to it before his death. the botanist's death was caused by the injurious environment around him; he suffered from femoral arterial bleeding, and unfortunately, there was no alleviation to stop the plenteous flow and spurting of the red liquid- no matter how much you bloodied your hands in hope of his survival. you always warned Tighnari of the perils encompassing the area, but he pushed your warnings aside and continued to dig his own grave for the sake of botany. what happened to the cautious and caring man you once knew? due to his not-so-prudent actions, he had to face the end of his time earlier than the regular being's anticipated time of closing. but even as tears began to fall, sparing vigor and moisture to the flower, you knew nothing could bring the withered anew and afresh. the flower was lost to time, too. yeah, curse the chimes of the clock for its victims. now, with the remnants of your lover's blood painted on the tips of your fingers, you'd carefully rip the red crisp petals off the sorrowful flower one by one.

[lonelylavenderluke]

Son of my father. Son of my mother.

Morpheus x platonic!oc, mentioned Morpheus x Calliope x oc, mentioned Morpheus x reader

Warnings: angst, character death

Hope is who he was.

It's what his father would call him in the dead of night when even the moon couldn't scare away the small boys fears.

Lord Morpheus was besotted by his son. A final gift from his lover. The last thing they ever made before a curse put upon them by a jealous goddess killed them.

All the Endless remembered the day Hope was born.

Death had been there despite her best efforts to save her dying sister-in-law not even she could save them, she'd watched her brother clutching the screaming infant to him, the palace staff who'd been aiding the birth buzzing about. Some where crying, others ordering the rest about but in amongst it all stood her little brother cradling the crying child against his chest trying to sooth it whilst desperately avoiding looking at the corpse of the child's mother. "I'm so sorry Dream..." her voice was quiet as the room seemed to empty leaving the immortal Endless beings and a corpse. "Were they in pain?" the only thing he asked unshed tears welled in his eyes as he finally looked up at the body of his lover.

After the loss of Calliope and Orpheus both Dream and Goddess of Fortune, Tyche stayed away from many of the other gods. Betrayed by family, Tyche swore never to return to Olympus and instead devoted her time to aiding Morpheus in ruling the Dreaming, helping the mortals through guiding their dreams to show them fortunes within their lives. The Goddess's Hera and Artemis not long before before the death of the gods of Olympus cursed the young Goddess to die at child birth that even her own grasps of fortune could save her from. Morpheus was reluctant at the news of their child, he'd already lost a son now he faced losing another child and wife. Tyche had been upset by his reluctance, she held no care for the curse all she cared for was her child. "Have we not earned this one bit of joy Oneiros" she had once argued, sat upon his throne as if she had always belonged there, "but at what cost" he responded kneeling before sadness plaguing his very soul.

Desire arrived but hours after the birth of their nephew. Their twin Despair appearing beside them. Both twins walking in tandem of one another as they stepped through the gates into the throne room. The pair could feel the love and pain oozing from their older brother, as he sat upon his throne with his son in his arms, Lucienne standing tentatively at his side with Death hovering at his other. "Greetings brother" Despair was the first to speak, "Greetings sister" Desire followed on as Death and Lucienne turned their attentions onto the twins. "I hope we aren't to late to share our condolences" Desire smiled as Despair hovered closer to the steps wanting to see the infant within their siblings arms, "if you are only here to jest and make fun then leave... the both of you today is to celebrate and mourn" Death was harsh with her words, a surprise to both younger siblings. "No jesting, we only wish to see our new family member is all... we are deeply bereaved at the loss of sweet Tyche" Despair was the one to answer as Desire held their tongue knowing that it would be unwise to start something when Dream was like this. "Come closer then" Dreams deep voice broke through the tension as Despair darted up the stairs hovering in front staring contently at the small child in his fathers arms, "he is small" was her first thought. "Far too small, are you sure he is yours Dream" Desire poked at his brother seeing if he could goad some sort of reaction from him. Desire was forbidden from returning to the Dreaming for a long time after that day.

Destiny and Delirium were the next to visit. Destiny did not stay long only to pass on his blessing and a title for the new-born infant. The 'Prince of Hope'. Delirium stayed the longest other than Death. She adored the baby finding peace when holding him, Dream did not have the heart to turn the younger Endless away when she would visit. He found comfort in the sounds of his son and youngest sisters laughter echoing in his throne room, filling the silence left behind from his wife's own laughter.

Morpheus also found comfort in holding his son. Letting the boy sleep against his chest as he listened to the dreams that would come and speak of their own problems. He would carry the boy with him as he traversed the lands of the Dreaming doing his rounds as he visited his people. He never took his son near the nightmares. Despite being their creator he feared for his sons safety when near a nightmare, always enlisting Lucienne and Jessamy to watch over the boy as he went about working on his nightmares.

The child had been crying for what seemed like hours. Most of the palace staff steered away from where the king and his son were. Lucienne had tried offering some advice but instead was met with nothing but more tears. "You're only causing yourself more pain" the lord muttered pacing back and forth, "there is little benefit to all this noise" he almost huffed confused as to what could have caused so much distress for his son. Walking back into his chamber he sat on the end of his bed resting the child on his lap so that he could look down and check over the infant once more, nothing was out of the ordinary. Lifting the boy up he rested him against his chest offering comfort as best he could, "my sweet boy what is so upsetting " his voice was low and deep pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of his sons head. "Your mother would have been better at this... she would have known what you were feeling, what to do to make you feel better" Morpheus admitted quietly running his hand up and down the child's back trying to sooth the restless baby, "your mother was always better with others than I was" the pain of missing his wife gnawing away at him. He found that he could only speak about her to their child, it was too painful to talk about her to any of the others but he felt that it was his duty to his wife that their child knew of their mother. Lying down holding his son against him, the king of Dreams kept telling tales of his wife sharing his memories of her to try and sooth his son. When he'd finished reciting the time Tyche had taken to being a mortal actor for plays such as those written by William Shakespeare he'd noticed Hope had finally fallen to sleep eventually soothed by the sound of his fathers voice.

Any who walked in the realm of the Dreaming would see it's king and his shadow in the form of his child. The little boy growing happily under the protective gaze of his father, Hope was rarely seen away from his father, hands clasped onto his fathers cloak so that he wouldn't lose his way. He spent so many of his days either playing in the Fiddlers Green or curling up in the library be read the stories of the world. Wanting nothing more than to explore the waking world but only having the books as an escape. Morpheus however forbid his son to go to the waking, “mortals are not as they are in the books my sweet boy… there are those who would seek to use you and your gifts” he warned gently lifting the boy up to sit on his lap, brushing his hair from his eyes, “when here no harm will come to you as long as I say.. you are my son and the Prince of the Dreaming, all the Dreams and Nightmares are just as much yours to control as they are mine” he leaned closer as the small boy glanced around at the few castle staff that were bobbing in and out of the throne room. He reached out for his fathers ruby playing with it in his hands, Morpheus took it off and placed it around his sons neck instead. “One day a long time from now, you will have your own tools like I do to govern the Dreaming as I do now” he slowly explained watching as Hope studied the jewel with great delicacy, the boy seemed to look closely at the inscription on the gold of the jewel recognising the name that Lucienne had pointed out to him so often, “Mama” the toddler cooed running his fingers over the inscription. Of course how could Morpheus forget, the day his son had been born but his wife died he’d inscribed her name onto the gold of the ruby wanting to forever have a part of her with him where ever he went. “Yes little one it allows her to always be with us” he spoke softly as he watched his sons gentleness, that was one thing Morpheus believed little Hope had inherited from his mother was her gentleness. They stayed in silence Dream wrapping his arm to pull Hope closer as the little boy yawned still playing with the ruby, “one day I will take you to the waking but for now I want you to stay and keep growing happier and stronger” the king of dreams promised his child not knowing what the future held for them both.

“Papa” his sons voice called out over Lucienne’s warning, the Lord of the Dreaming was just leaving to go after a rouge nightmare, the little one had been reading in the library when he sensed his fathers preparations to leave. Morpheus turned back to look at his son who seemed to be struggling to run up all the stairs with his baby deer like legs, ml img away from his throne the king moved closer before kneeling down to his sons level as the child crashed into him wrapping his arms around his father. “Don’t go stay” the poor boy whimpered, he always cried when Dream left the Dreaming, the fear of him never coming home grew anxiously within the child, Morpheus hated leaving Hope wanting nothing more than to take the boy and lock themselves away in chamber so he could hold and shield his son from the dangers of the universe. “I cannot little one, I must leave to sort something out… I promise to be home soon” the ancient being promised pressing a kiss to the boys temple, “I miss you papa” the toddler snuffled clinging to his father.

Hope eventually let go. The last memory he has of his father was that of swirling clouds of sand. After that his father never came back. And soon after even Jessamy stopped returning. The memory of his father was all Hope was left with. He was still an infant in the eyes of the endless. Delirium visited once during the Dream Lords absence but left quickly when the little boy refused to play instead focused on trying to help Lucienne stop the chaos.

He eventually lost track of time. Slowly began forgetting what his father was like. He shadowed Lucienne for a decade before taking over, by then he'd grown as if he were a human, tired of being treated like the child he knew deep down that he was. Standing tall almost as if he were the reincarnation of his mother with hair like his father, those who remained took pity on the Orphaned Lord. All he had left were in what remained of the Dreaming. His endless Aunts and Uncles abandoned him at the first signs of fathers disappearance. With no one to guide him and no books left in the dreaming to teach him, Hope was left to hold together what remained of the Dreaming. Lucienne mourned the child her young lord had been, mourned that there was little that she could do to help the prince in his attempt at ruling. The boy held no ill will to her, reassuring her that her remaining at his side was all that he needed from her.

Fierce was the young Lord Hope, kept away the reaching hands of those like Lucifer who sort to steal what was his fathers. With what little power he knew to muster he forged a blade encrusted with Amazonite, 'the stone of hope' as mortals knew it as, in the presence of those that remained like Cain and Abel. He swore upon an oath to protect the Dreaming and all who resided and walked among it, swearing to never abandon those who stayed true to it. And so he stayed in the far reaches of the Dreaming wondering the dreams of those who could still dream. He never returned to the castle of his youth to much was felt there, pain that not even the soothing words of Lucienne could quell in the young gods mind. So he remained governing and caring for who stayed, watching over protecting his realm until he felt a disturbance in the realm, feeling a pull that lead him towards the home of Cain and Abel.

If he could remember his father then he would have felt his fathers return. Instead all he could think was that his home and its people could be in danger. He sensed Lucienne nearby, close to the unknown threat. His heart picked up, fear growing in his mind as he ran through the Dreaming, holding tightly onto the connection held between it and himself.

"Lucienne!" he shouted pulling his sword from its sheath reaching for the librarian who stood beside the dark figure. Cain and Abel stood by as well all seemed shocked yet unsurprised by the Princes actions. Long had those left in the dreaming known that Hope had forgotten his father Morpheus, the belief that the pain of his absence had been to much that his conscious mind had forgotten him to save the young boy from the pain. "Stand back" the boy hissed pulling the librarian behind him shielding Lucienne with himself his sword held high and aimed at the figure, Morpheus was all but stunned.

He knew that face. It was almost as if looking at the ghost of Tyche. His boy. His small son that had been begging him not to leave him that day. "Lord Hope" the brothers called out bowing their heads at the youngster, Morpheus watched at the snarl that had found purchase on his sons face. How he looked at him as if he were a stranger. "Hope please put down your blade" Lucienne ordered resting a hand gently on the boys shoulder as he looked back at his closest friend, "Lucienne a stranger stands before us, a possible threat to both you and the brothers and you ask me to put down my blade and leave us defenceless" the young lord growled unhappy at the order. The only thing stopping him from snapping at the woman was the trust in which he had in her. "My dear lord this is no stranger to the dreaming" she was soft in the way she spoke, spending so long with the boy had allowed for her to learn how to calm the young man in front of her. "Lord Morpheus has returned, my prince" Abel called out a hush fell over them as Hope struggled to deal with what was said. Anger and hurt but also glee brewed within him, he had waited so long for his fathers return but at what cost.

"Hope" Morpheus called to his son, wishing for the boy to meet his eyes, "my son" the words were a plead to the child he'd left behind. The blade was lowered but not put away. “I am no one but the Lady Tyche’s son” the young lord said, tears welling in his eyes. Morpheus felt betrayal fester inside of him, how dare his own blood turn against him. But then he understood, he’d promised to be by his sons side, to guide the young boy into his powers and now. Now his son stood before him nearly a grown man. Had his absence forced his son to change so.

“So, did you find out what you were looking for?” Hope was sat at the end of the walk way, staring down at the rippling nightmares and dreams below him, “I must leave for London” Morpheus said aloud Lucienne watching from behind as the pair stared at one another, “so I’ll watch the realm for another hundred years then” the younger hissed with venom on his tongue. Morpheus stared at his son unsure as to approach the subject of his absence. “I want you to come with” the request startled Hope. He looked at his father with unease, “the man who left would never have allowed me to the Dreaming” the statement was meant harm more than it did, instead Morpheus nodded. “Trust me if there was any other way I would travel alone.” The old god responded, Hope knew not to look a gift horse in the mouth, he didn’t know this man but knew that if he helped then his home might be saved.

“For my sake please take a raven, my prince” Lucienne pleaded taking hold of the youngers hand, her pleads had fallen onto deaf ears with his father but the youngster nodded, “please send one for us Lucienne” the request was quiet but heard before the boy followed after the Endless being into the waking world.

[blvckmvgicwoman]

Bestie, spare thoughts? Cause FUCK

bestie, first of all

FUUUUUCK

okay, now let's go on

listen, I do truly think Rhaenys is one of the best characters on this show, I think she should've been queen from the start, but telling Daemon this war wasn't hers to start when she was indeed the one that kicked it off killing hundreds of common people? Like, sis, no

Rhaenyra giving birth was such a sad scene, I cried both times I watched it

it's no secret I strongly dislike Rhaenyra's bastards, but how Jace tried to belittle Daemon's decisions in front of everyone just pissed me off so much... okay, Daemon is far from being the best person, but out of everyone in Dragonstone (don't know about the kingsguard there), he's the only one with war experience. Is he blood thirsty? yes, but he's still the only one with war experience

and you're trying to tell me a TEENAGER that doesn't even know how to properly punch someone is trying to demote Daemon's authority on the matter? Nah, I won't have that.

I really liked Corlys's ambiguity; yes, he is supporting Rhaenyra's claim to the throne because he's a man that prides himself in his honour and his house has supported her since the beginning, but he hates her with a passion because he and Rhaenys lost both their kids to her and Daemon.

Rhaenyra's coronation was incredibly sad, but beautiful, imo

I think it was incredibly intelligent Otto taking that book page to her because he preyed on her emotionally, I think it was a really well done scene.

I am pissed though that we were robbed of Daemon and Rhaenyra's mourning, once again we have Daemon being villainized for the wrong reasons

now the best scene ever made on this series: the whole sequence of Storm's End

Luke should've gone all the way back the moment he saw Vhagar because right then and there he knew shit was about to go down. It was really arrogant of Rhaenyra to send him just to remind Borros of his father's position on the claim to the throne.

The sapphire reveal was something I was anxiously waiting for since the beginning of the series and it did not disappoint.

Ewan truly is a gift to this world, the guy is one of the best actors out there and he truly is on the top 5 of actors on this show.

I confess at first I was pissed at all the "it was an accident" but then it grew on me and I think it actually makes a lot of sense, since we didn't have Aemond explicitly threatening to kill Luke if he didn't give him his eye.

Baby boy is still just mama's lil war criminal because he wanted to gift Luke's eye to her, I loved that.

Also, I truly think Luke wouldn't be dead if Arrax hadn't dracarys'd Vhagar... like, what did he actually think it would happen? But I think it was amazing to show that neither Luke nor Aemond had complete control over their dragona, because it brings us back to the very beginning of it all: dragons aren't slaves and they truly are something men shouldn't ever have thought as a servant.

Daemon claiming Vermithor? Yes please, sing high valyrian lullabies for me too, thank you.

this is already HUGE, so all in all, I really liked this episode and I'll definitely binge watch it all now.

what about your thoughts, bestie?

[thoughtsofafruit]

Can we please talk about grief?

Tw: Grief, parent loss, mentions of mental health issues

Look, I'm starting to see more accurate representations of grief in media but so often is shown in such an unrealistic way that makes my skin crawl and sometimes that bad representation makes me feel like I'm in the wrong for how I've experienced grief.

My mum died when I was five. It sucked. It still sucks. It will always suck. I know that, anyone who has a similar experience knows that. Yet sometimes I'll pick up a book and boom parent dies, completely over it in three days or a week or some insane shit.

I'm eighteen now. I spent my entire time in school after my mum died being bullied in some form or another. I had to move schools in the middle of the school year, I lost my closest friends, and every single thing in my life was different. The only thing that has actually felt consistent in that entire time is grief.

In books, grief is something you can get over, something that fades. In real life its not.

I'll be going about my day and suddenly I'm bombarded with this deep longing for my mum. It happens for no reason, it happens when I see happy families, it happens all the time, and its been happening for the last fourteen years.

I'm writing all this out right now because I was hit by that sudden and dreaded thought, 'what would my mum think of me now?' And I need a place to vent about grief. What better than the black hole of the Internet?

I was once told 'you need to get over it' in reference to my grief for my mum. And to that I say, fuck you, you heartless bitch.

Grief doesn't go away. It stays, it hovers around the edges. You get better at dealing with it, sure, but its still there. You don't just stop missing someone who you had for so long and was suddenly gone from your life.

Grief shows in strange ways. Some of my most common thoughts are

Would she be proud of me?

What would she think of me?

Am I living up to her expectations?

Am I too much like her?

Am I the kid she wanted me to be?

These thoughts suck.

When your young and your mum is freshly dead and everyone around you is still mourning and just as hurt they'll tell you she'd be proud they'll tell you she'd love you. But when your 18 and trying your damn fucking hardest to find a way to live and still be yourself, no one tells you those things.

Grief haunts. Grief is the ghost in the corner of the room and grief is the monster stalking you.

You learn to live with you, you learn to move on around it. But you're never the same.

I broke at five, and I've never been me since. I'm still me, just not the me i would be if my mum was still alive.

That side if grief is never shown in media and it fucking sucks. I'm never gonna pick up a book with a character whose parents are dead and read a scene that so perfectly encapsulates that pain. That sudden, 'god what would she think of me now?'. That side of grief is so often left behind.

I've been to a grief counciling sort of thing and a lot of it was geared to getting over grief not learning to life with it. This course was specially aimed at kids who lost a parent. Imagine that, being young, clearly depressed and you're sent to a place for grief even though your mental health issues aren't connected to the grief, not anymore, and every last thing is aimed at getting over it.

They, being my school guidance team, sent me there to help and it made it worse! Because there i was, eight, nine, years after my mum had died nkt yet over it and all these people around me whose parents had more recently and all the advice was geated towards getting over it.

Grief isn't something you get over! And I'm fucking sick of it being portrait that way. My grief is part of me now, I've learned to live with it.

Sure, sometimes ill still cry myself ti sleep missing my mum. But thats fine because I was five and my mum was my closest person and she was ripped from me. One day I had here, the next I didn't. I'm going ti spend the rest of my life missing her. And that is ok. It is so ok.

In short, I'm yet to see grief shown in media in an accurate way, I'm yet to receive grief counseling that isn't about getting over it, and I'm yet to see other people talk about how grief actually is for them.

[sweetestpopcorn]

Hi Sweetpopcorn, thank you for all your dedication in “the blacks and the greens”. I love those characters very much, but somehow I am a little sad that Viserys’ ending. It seemed no one actually mourned for him except for his daughter. He is really a good father in your work but somehow I really question whether he truly loved his daughter that much in canon for he could actually see that the union of Rhaenyra and Lanor isn’t a happy one.

Hi there Anon 🤗

Aww 💔 poor Walserys. RIP. Unfortunately his poor habits caught up with him (spoiler not really spoiler: it was diabetes).

I'm kidding XD

His grandkids were also sad, especially baby Aegon who continued wearing black and the times he did not was because his parents told him not to.

Of course I made him a father more concerned with his daughter's feelings and slightly more intelligent for plot purposes (🥲). Honestly in canon marrying Rhaenyra to Laenor - against her will - was one of the stupidest things he did and a blatant and sad show of disregard for Rhaenyra's feelings and happiness. Still I would argue he loved her.

It was very standard to have arranged marriages, even Viserys had one when he was younger, being married to Rhaenyra's mother Aemma. Of course that he likely found some happiness in it - though we are told very little about their marriage except how much they both loved Rhaenyra and how many pregnancies/babies they lost.

It was very possible that he believed Rhaenyra would eventually see Laenor as a great match for her and find some happiness as well. I really don't believe he was coming from a malicious place of wanting to harm her, even because, selecting a husband for her was something that was very carefully considered by him and his council. They did a sh:t job of course, and Rhaenyra told them to f_ck off and just went to have an affair and three children by Harwin Strong and barely saw Laenor for six years (ups sorry people who romanticise Rhaenyra's forced and unhappy marriage), but oh well good intentions and all of that.

The only concession on this that I will give is that I do think him being dead set on marrying her to Laenor and even threatening her was not because he thought the marriage was THAT good, but because he was being stubborn and did it as a way of displaying his strength and dominance over her. Like I am THE KING you have to do what I say. We had seen Walserys having such moments before. Unfortunately though I think he mostly picked the wrong battles and the wrong moments to act like a dragon but oh well 🤷🏽‍♀️

Yet again, I do maintain I think he, like mostly people really, had mostly good intentions. Most of us don't go around actively trying to screw others or cause them harm. We think we are doing what's best. Parents especially do this and when they hurt us, most times they aren't trying to hurt. Nor does it mean they do not love us. They are imperfect people, like we all are, and are just thinking what they think will be most beneficial for us. I think this was for the most part what Viserys was doing in canon (i.e, book canon btw which is the only one I consider and discuss).

All the best to you and thank you so much!!!! Your words mean the world to me🥰

[kokohamstar]

Struggle (An Elias and Jonah story)

Struggle

The Loss of One, Elias Bouchard

To leave a tip for your writer: https://t.co/QFw1zSxnYq

Jonah watched the body of James Wright as it sank into the ground below. He wasn't there to mourn. He was there to ensure the body was properly disposed of. James had little to no friends or family when Jonah had taken over to begin with, and even fewer loved ones at the time of his passing. Jonah had grown accustomed to keeping a safe distance, between his vessels and their acquaintances.

Be their boss. Make the rules. Know them. Let them know James, but don't let them know you. This was the rules of the game.

But James Wright had expired. Jonah wore a new suit. Now, Jonah would let them know Elias. His last action in the body of James Wright, was to name his successor as the head of the Magnus Institute.

The first shovel of dirt fell on the casket with a thud, and Jonah turned away.

I can't see.

Green eyes widened as Jonah listened to the voice in his mind.

Am I blind? I'm walking… where am I walking?

Jonah stopped moving. "Elias. Why are you here?"

James? The voice was the same, even as it poured from the newer vessel's throat. James where is here exactly? Where are we? I… I don't understand what's going on.

"James is dead. Just like you."

The voice was quiet for a moment and Jonah started to think whatever had caused Elias's being to stick around, had let him go. But I can still feel alive…kind of.

"You're mistaken. Please stay dead." Jonah kept his feet moving. He was familiar enough now with the walk to Elias' flat.

James why can't I see?

"I'm not James. James is dead." He reiterated. "I am Elias." He was starting to earn stares on the street as he passed, seemingly talking to himself.

Have I lost my mind?

"Yes. You are a second personality who should not exist. So please stop doing so."

You don't sound like me though. And you're…much colder.

Jonah cursed under his breath. He could see whatever he wanted, but he couldn't find the voice in his head in order to strangle it…and kill the man once again.

You killed me?

"So you know my thoughts, do you?"

Well… I guess since I'm here. There's nothing else to listen to.

"You're surprisingly calm about all this." Jonah was genuinely surprised by it. As annoyed as he was at the other's existence, he was impressed at the being's composure.

I know. I don't know why. I'm not afraid. I'm angry. Confused. But there's no nervousness or fear here…wherever here is.

"In your own head." Jonah sat at the man's couch, resolved to at least finish a conversation before trying to kill the part of his brain that still belonged to a dead man.

In my own head. Elias repeated. So you killed me. And now…you are me?

"Yes."

You're one of those things we research at the Magnus Institute, aren't you? A demon or a ghost or something.

"There are no demons and no ghosts." Jonah sighed deeply. "God have you learned nothing? I'm human… well…sort of I suppose. It's quite a long story. In short, I'm Jonah Magnus." Who was the man going to tell? Elias couldn't speak to anyone but him, after all.

The founder. So you're super old. And you just…hop ship when you get tired of looking the part?

"Sure. Let's just go with that." There were too many details to go into, Jonah really didn't have the time or motivation to describe his master plan to the voice in his head.

You couldn't have just tried botox?

"I needed a more reliable solution."

How did you kill me?

"I plucked out your eyes and replaced them with my own. That typically boots out the last host and replaces them with me. But you're still here. And you really shouldn't be."

So really you should be the one leaving. Not me.

"Good luck making me do that."

Right. I can't control anything. I can just…feel it. I have all of my senses, well… except sight. Thanks for that--

"You're welcome."

But it looks like all the action is up to you.

"Good for me." The amusement had faded as quickly as it'd come on. "Now how do you die?"

Antipsychotics? Isn't that normally how you get rid of the voices in your head?

"Did you always ramble on with bad jokes?"

If you ever joined me in artefact storage you might know that.

"I never planned on knowing you any more than I needed to."

I guess there's no better time than the present then.

"This is not a good time."

But it could always be worse.

It was a long time before Jonah heard silence in his mind. He didn't even know what triggered it. The nagging in his mind just…stopped. He'd grown accustomed to the voice after almost 6 months of it. A second opinion on how something tasted, or how a song sounded. Bad jokes that…occasionally, got a slight chuckle out of him. Then one day, mid statement…the words stopped.

/I should hate you for killing me, you know. But I guess it's just as well. Finally of service to the institute after all. Even if it's not in the most admirable of ways./

"You're not of service. Just your body."

Well treat it kindly, at least. I didn't. You'll hate me for that one da--

And the voice was gone. Jonah tried listening to their favorite songs, telling himself jokes from a cheap cornerstore magazine. Nothing happened. Elias was gone.

Jonah looked in the mirror that night, looking at the man he'd been talking to for almost half a year. In his mind, he said goodbye. Let them know Elias, not Jonah, he remembered. Could he have done that before? When he didn't know Elias himself?

He took a deep breath, smiling, in a way that Jonah Magnus did, which, to anyone else might look foreign on the younger man's face. The body was his own.

With poise, he held his hand out to an imaginary guest and practiced. "Elias Bouchard. Pleasure to meet you." And no one was there to correct him.

[hopefulstarfire]

I wanna talk about Mason I cannot control myself he's my favorite he's a dad he's a badass I just !!!!!!!

So

Masons role is that of the 4th Swordsmen. He's to parallel Bakura.

The parallel itself is that of two men who lost everything and made deals with dark forces (one knowingly and one unknowingly) on a righteous cause for justice for what had happened to them. There is also a similar parallel in that Mason has lost his memory-- only getting key memories that Dartz has allowed him to regain or keep to help him focus on the mission, and a couple of very altered ones to keep him compliant -- and Bakura is the one that's always stuck as the one to remember everything. Bakura also sees Mason as a puppet to a master who has a tight grip on his strings, while he views himself as the dungeon master, as being in control (Even though he's not ever fully in control, having been fused with Zorc).

Both of them in that Arc are also desperate to save Kat. They've both lost her -- Mason missed out on 10 years of his daughter's life, and Bakura mourned his love Kema for 5000 years before he found her reincarnated as Kat -- and are both wanting to pry her away from the Leviathan and give her the best.

Also can you imagine the way you meet your girlfriends dad is he's out here trying to kill you and also wait aren't you supposed to be dead?

Mason as a Swordsman had the role to look after the other three. He would be their Guardian, their protector, where Dartz wasn't always hands on. With Masons unwavering loyalty to Dartz, seeing him as the man that saved him and is giving him the chance to get both of his girls back, he's able to further implement that with the boys while also ensuring they are all able to their jobs as commanded without interference.

Which also lines up with the fact that Alister and Raphael were his nephews. Dartz told him that his job for their fathers was to guide and nurture them and keep them focused on their task to change the world for the better. Masons few scattered memories also helped solidify his love and care for the boys.

He sees all three of the boys as being like his own, but Valon is like his son especially.

And I mean like. Valon and him are scarily similar. Hell, he, Jonathan and Robert were the Blueprint for the Doma boys.

This Mason is a lot more serious and paranoid that something could be out there to hurt them at any corner. He's not afraid to be brutal and he's not afraid to bloody his hands as much as he needs to to complete the mission. He doesn't want to hurt truly innocent people, and he wants to make a better world, but God help you if he has to take you down or you do anything to hurt his boys.

Gurimo lost teeth after a particularly nasty incident and learned very quickly not to try and mess with the other Swordsmen if Mason was around.

That penchant for chaos does still come out every now and again though.

Also his love of country music never died. Even without his memory, he loved it and played it all the time.

Until Dartz snapped at 3 in the morning and banned it because he could not take it anymore.

I'm still figuring out what Masons deck would be 🤔. Open to suggestions!

[modgirlyreposts-revamped]

pog ok shadow songs + short explanations

cooler than me - lyndi wadsworth: this is that rock cover of cooler than me i sent a while back. i explained already why i think this sums up shadow and sonic's dynamic and his feelings toward sonic.

custer - slipknot: the opening lines referring to both death by guns and being reminded of a person's beauty scream shadow's feelings regarding the life and death of his best friend maria who was shot and killed. figthing hell and fear because you understand it hits really well with him, too. other than that it's a lot of general anger and cynicism, which, even when shadow has developed as a character not only over the course of games like adventure 2 but also past that intense edgelord characterization shadow the hedgehog 2005 gave him, is still pretty fitting. even if he's not cruel or anything outright, he's still bitter with a short temper and angry at a lot of things.

dead memories- slipknot: the entire song is about losing the past and the pain of remembering. granted, the lyrics aren't anything near a 1:1 comparison, but i mean, the theme fits him really well.

chop suey - system of a down: i love this song. the vague, slippery grasp on a heavy theme of death i think fits shadow well too, as death is a recurring factor in his story.

wake me up when september ends - green day: the entire song is about mourning, which again, the trauma he suffered when maria died is a big factor in his character.

born with horns - machine gun kelly: shadow as a character has a lot of turmoil. as shown in one ending of shth 2005, he has a lot of regret for the damage and pain he's caused, directly or inadvertently. he stays away from making friends after maria died. he was made and repeatedly attempted to be used as a weapon. through two different games, in essence, shadow was stuck on the same feeling and the same traumatic event again and again. ("how much time can i waste constantly feeling the same thing?") plus the entire ending refrain really just sums up shadow's character arc and his isolated nature and experiences.

lonely - machine gun kelly: i mean, come on. maybe the lyrics aren't anywhere near a 1:1 comparison, just like dead memories, but the theme of loss and mourning?? the way it's presented? it fits him really well. shadow lost so much. plus the recurring theme of "i'd trade it all for you," i know it's metaphorical and it's a common feeling when you lose a loved one (yeah, i'd know that personally /lh) but shadow's motive for trying to destroy the earth was driven by vengeance and mourning over maria's death.

nothing inside - machine gun kelly: no explanation. the lyrics don't fit, the theme is wrong, but i hear it and i'm like yeah, that's shad, mainly because of the chorus.

rocket man - elton john: now we get into the stuff that's gonna warrant an ummm wtf but, the mix of lyrics about space and themes of feeling lost? "i think it's gonna be a long, long time 'till touchdown brings me 'round again to find- i'm not the man they think i am at home, i'm a rocket man" first of all. space. shadow was created in space. he lived on the space colony with maria. a "long, long time", shadow being sealed away for 50 years in cryostasis, but for some reason it's really his story in sa2 ending with him falling to earth from space that makes this one hit for me? like, i know he survived, but still.

space oddity - david bowie: wish i could say i wasn't too stupid to know what this song is actually about. i just kind of hear an astronaut dying in space when a mission goes wrong, accepting it in the last moments ("tell my wife i love her very much") and no one can reach him, and it probably represents something but i have no media comprehension. anyways death in space.

ok these are all too depressing what about teenagers by mcr because it's so funny to me that shadow is literally my age and he's out here like THAT

Love the MGK songs in here, my propaganda has worked- /j

Also the fact that I'm older than a fUCKING SONIC CHARACTER SCARES ME-

[remusisyphus]

afterthoughts

1.

it's a twilight in March.

the cold in the air is not strong enough to justify the red spreading on your cheeks whenever he says your name.

"Sa-to-ru?" he calls, right next to your ear, and it feels like a flower being taken by the wind, like the end of a nightingale's song. he always says it like that, detaching the syllables like one would pick the petals of a daisy for a "love me, love me not" game. you rise your head in a daze, eyes almost blurry. "Sa-to-ru," he says again, playfully, like he always does, and you catch glimpses of the pink of his tongue. "you're with me?"

"of course," you answer because you are. you're always with him.

"Sa-to-ru," he says for the third time. it's like a squeeze on the shoulder. it's funny how he doesn't even need to touch you to reach you. it's like a "please focus". it's like a "please stay."

you sigh.

seriously, why does he always separate the syllables of your name like that? like he's picking you apart? why does he taste your name so well?

he's the only person who takes the time to embrace it like that. to map your soul like that. what's in a name? probably nothing, most of the time. and yet. when he says it, it suddenly sounds like something more. like a treasure.

he's the only person who calls you by your first name, maybe that's why.

he's the one and only.

2.

it's a twilight in August.

sweat drops are travelling on your skin from the top of your back to the tip of your toes - you wonder if the heat will crush you or if it will wait until you're almost dead on your bed, hoping for sleep.

you're sweating and there's not even a single tear in your eyes. blood is flowing away from him but you're the only one losing your breath.

"Sa-to-ru", he chuckles, "don't be silly, Sa-to-ru." he's even more playful than usual, even softer than usual - how dare he?

he's melting in your arms, like he always does, but it's wrong. it's so wrong.

"Sa-to-ru," he calls and suddenly you're freezing despite the heat. it's like a hug. it's funny how he still doesn't need to touch you to reach you, even after all this damn time. it's like a "don't mourn me." it's like a "you're the strongest, aren't you?"

you hate it. for the first time ever, you hate your name on his lips. it feels like you're his curse. you're cursing him and you don't know how to stop.

is drawing blood for the face you think about whenever you open your eyes in the morning and the face you dream about a proof of strength?

for the first time ever, you feel weak, truly weak. like a tall child with endless limbs and an endless sorrow. being overpowered by someone hadn't felt like that. hell, seeing him leave hadn't felt like that. because there was still something between them to chase. to nurture.

"oh, Sa-to-ru," he whispers. it's like a "i love you."

and as you bite your tongue not to scream, you taste sweat, and tears, on your lips.

"Suguru," you say, "my name can't be my name if you’re not here to say it. it won't ever be my name again. I will wait forever for you to give it back to me."

he laughs, breathlessly, looking somehow bewildered. "damn, silly, at least curse me in the end?"

he closes his eyes. you don't say goodbye and you don't cry and you don't beg him to come back because language has lost most of its substance.

3.

it's a twilight in October.

you're scanning all these faces in the crowd, all these weak bodies and equally weak minds, when he appears out of nowhere. he creeps on you like your nightmares do.

and oxygen leaves your lungs, your heart, your veins because he is not supposed to be here. he is not supposed to look at you and to stand and to wave in your face as if - as if - as if spring hadn't - as if - God - why -

"yo, Sa/to/ru," he says cheerfully, "long time no see." technically it's the same intonation, the same smile, the same everything. but it's also not.

words are music. if you play the same song on two violins that are technically the same model, it still won't sound the same. because you won't be able to reproduce the exact same tune, because one of your fingers will bend in a slightly different way the second time, in a way not big enough to be noticeable but here enough to matter.

so instead of a touch, it's like a bark and a knife in the stomach at the same time. it sounds like an abomination.

you get caught, like the fool you are, too busy drowning in all the times your name sounded right to defend yourself. being imprisoned weirdly anchors you.

"who are you?" you ask, having regained a bit of control. "my six eyes tell me you're Geto Suguru but my soul tells me otherwise."

the sight of his brain being possessed and exposed should terrify you - and it does. but it only brings some sort of relief.

the treasure, no matter how often it might be replicated, is still safe.

4.

it's a dawn in December.

"oi, Sa-to-ru... what are you doing here, loser?" he says playfully. it's like a "i didn't expect to see you today." it's like a "i missed you." it's like a "come here. no one will leave this time. not ever again, for better and for worse." it's the bittersweet embrace none of you knows how to give.

you're not stupid. you know what it means. but you can't bring yourself to feel sad or disappointed. not when it means this. him, at last.

"Sa-to-ru," he repeats. he's hesitant.

"Suguru", you say. you hold his hand and he smiles tentatively.

what's in a name? a bit of this and that.

[titanicfreija]

The ghost scanned her Guardian passively, as though she could learn any more after building her from the bones out. Every hair, every cell, even some of the clothes she wore.

She was glad the guardian needed to sleep. The Ghost didn't, but she needed the time to decompress.

Finding her guardian was a lot. She was overwhelmed with so many feelings over and over-- she even worked herself into worrying it was the wrong person at one point. (It didn't last long. The idea of picking anyone else after meeting this one was abhorrent and twisted the not-guts that picked her.)

Her life-long search was over. She was almost sad, feeling the ending for what it was, and the new beginning was scary, but she was so excited! Everything felt different, just the constant sense of her Guardian and the Light shared between them made it all new.

She couldn't wait to tell the others! Even if she had to admit that her guardian was a Titan, she wanted to tell anyone that would listen. Rex might even get jealous.

The Ghost wondered how long she'd been dead and up here. The bones wouldn't tell, since the curse was laid, that twenty years the ghost said would reduce the corpse to dust wouldn't have passed until... Who knew? Maybe they would be the ones to break the curse.

The ghost watched the glow creep across the Awoken skin in the night, pleased with that luck. She always hoped for an Awoken guardian, she loved the lights on their skin and eyes. This one had silver eyes and skin, and the hair and tattoos were red. The ghost always wondered why the guardians would have their face paint still on, but something about her skin demanded to be colored like that, so. Whatever, she supposed. It felt natural enough, like she was just supposed to, like knowing how to fly.

The ghost felt guilty for doubting, and a little justified, and she felt a pang of pity when she realized that there were not only those who had not yet found their guardians, but lost them. The idea of losing the woman she just met twisted her not-guts again. There were stories of those ones going mad, and the little ghost could understand why before, but now she had a whole new understanding.

It was so much! She was grateful again for the time to relax--

"You don't sleep?"

The guardian mumbled before she opened her eyes, and the ghost wasn't sure how she knew she was still up.

"I don't," she told the guardian. "I'm taking the time to have all the feelings about finding my guardian."

"Yeah? I've been dead, you'll have to tell me about it."

The Ghost giggled at her joke. She'd been making it most of the day, it was a big adjustment to make for her, too.

"I searched forever. Finding you feels like a miracle. And a happy ending. And a new, terrifying beginning," the ghost said. The guardian resettled and the glowing eyes flickered as she closed them again. The Ghost continued, hopefully lulling her back to sleep. "I'm excited and happy and afraid and anxious. I can't wait to get to know you, but I'm scared we won't like each other. I feel like I love you and I've only just met you."

"I dunno if it's love, but I'm definitely bonded," yawned the guardian. "Love might be a good word for it?"

The ghost "shrugged". "That's how it feels to me, but I would have said I loved you before I met you, and I missed you and mourned you, too. I really only have words I've read and heard others say, and the ways I feel them aren't like humans just because I don't have a stomach to churn. Though I think I can simulate the feeling for myself. My spine tingled when I heard your bones the first time."

"You talk weird."

The ghost chuckled to herself. She probably did, but she didn't know how else to describe it. "I don't have ears, but I hear. I'm not sure how else to talk about things."

"Fair enough," the guardian mumbled.

"I'm glad I met you."

"I'm glad you met me, too. You were born looking for me?"

"I didn't know it was you until this morning, but I knew I had a guardian, and I had to find you. I did my best not to guess about who you would be, what you would be like, but I can't say I didn't wonder or hope. Like, I always liked the Awoken skin glow stuff, especially the blue and purple, but I couldn't know if you would be. I know a ghost who doesn't like his guardian. I know ghosts whose guardians don't like being guardians. I worry about that, too. What if I like you but you don't like me? What if you don't like being a guardian? What if we both just hate each other? If we have different ideas of doing things and can't work together?"

The guardian mumbled incoherently in her drowsy state and the ghost 'felt' her almost-asleep and wondered if the shared senses were proximity related or if they could do that all the time. And if she could find the guardian with it. She didn't want to move away and find out.

The ghost landed on her guardian's hip, shifting her petals to perch. She liked touching the guardian, and being held was nice. She was trying to figure out how to ask to be carried without getting demanding about it-- she didn't want to be held tight, just cradled.

The guardian's helmet rested on the ground next to her boots. The ghost studied it, sure it would need reconstruction, too. She liked her guardian, but she was already pretty headstrong. The ghost flew happy circles, spiralling inward and flying up and spiraling in again.

I found you I found you I found you Ifoundyouifoundyou!