#well.. weapon and vessel I should say...

[silkscream]

pure smile snake venom

ੈ✩ suguru geto x reader

ੈ✩ cw: smut (minors dni, ageless + blank blogs will be blocked), unprotected sex, dom!suguru, emotional manipulation, fingering, dubcon, blood, yandere behavior, edging, multiple orgasms, choking, loss of virginity, religious imagery

ੈ✩ wc: 5.1k

ੈ✩ a/n: oooo i am soo normal about cult leader suguru. art by @/wonowono__3 on twitter

He finds you unconscious. 

He feels you before he sees you – your cursed energy permeates the air with dread. He can feel it in his throat, as if the hand of his past self materialized to strangle him, reminding him of desperation. It wasn’t a feeling he was used to, not anymore.

It also felt like death. 

When he finds you, your body would have easily been looked over, small as you were compared to the vastness of the forest around you. Insignificant, left to rot. 

When he’d looked at your face, there was recognition in his chest despite not seeing you before. He hadn’t been drawn to anyone in a while. He barely had anyone that wasn’t at arm's length to him, even his closest devouts, yet something about the delicateness of your face enticed him. A predator finding lost prey.

He finds it mildly sacrilegious to touch you when you’re in this state, but your shirt was saturated with so much blood that it took him a bit to realize that the color of the fabric was supposed to be white and not merlot-red. He lifts your shirt, grimacing at its dampness, and finds a wound that looks fatal. 

He looks at it and feels the residuals of a nasty curse. By the time he tracks it down, he tortures it with all of the energy inside of him. 

__

You wake up on a futon you don’t recognize. You don’t remember a thing. 

You wince as you attempt to rise, clutching your side. You’re topless, clothed only by gauze covering your chest and ribs. 

You exhale, closing your eyes. In the darkness behind your eyelids, you see a face with a vacant smile. You are met with that very smile when you open your eyes again.

“Welcome back.”

You blink. He must be the stranger that saved you from — well, what did he save you from? You were used to spirits, took years to adjust to that fact, and have even killed a few yourself. But when you feel the pain in your side, nothing comes to mind.

“You… saved me?”

“I suppose so. It was pure luck that I happened to stumble upon you.”

“Where — where am I?”

He tells you it’s his temple, then he tells you his name. When he asks for yours, you’re reluctant. Eventually, you tell him. If he was luring you into his trap, you suppose you had fallen into it against your will by pure chance. It was probably better than bleeding out in the middle of nowhere.

“Do you have anyone who will miss you?” 

You don’t say anything. You think of the dingy studio apartment you’ve been subletting for a few months. You try to conjure up a narrative of belonging in your head that would give you any reason for you to leave. Nothing comes.

You shake your head.

__

Geto Suguru is the first person to tell you that you’re magic.

You knew that, in some way, ever since you were a child. Your intuition made you a strange child, always slightly cryptic with a sense of maturity that made you seem like a vessel for a sad ghost. Your visions would only get stronger – small bursts of light whiplashing through your mind into images, rapid like a supercut. The things you saw would come true. 

This is what makes you a good weapon. Ironically, you had always thought of yourself as weak. 

He was captivating the way a cult leader should be, and you had fallen under his spell. It was his robes and the regal way he carried himself, maybe. You don’t think he’s bad — he’s made you important, and you’ve never felt wanted before. You were a recluse before Suguru found you. Barely the shape of anything, so he found it appropriate to mold you into something to call his.

Suguru doesn’t tell you much. You know that he probably lies to you.

He holds too much power for you to question it. His cursed technique is daunting and his grace is enviable, but he’s mostly kind. You help him when he finds curses, usually the more powerful ones that could threaten him. Able to see into the near future, you can sense their next move each time. It makes it easy to subdue them to Suguru’s advantage.

You also find that he is regarded as something of a saint to non-sorcerers. Something twists in your gut when you watch his exorcisms, seeing the immediate relief in the faces of his followers. They look at him with so much adoration that it makes you self-conscious that you share the same disposition.

He tells you you’re his favorite and the feeling dissipates.

You like how ritualistic living in the temple is. Breakfast at the same time each day. Tea in the garden. Rolling in the gross with bruised knuckles.

You take a liking to his girls. They remind you of yourself, but they lack the meekness you had as a teenager. The twins adore you almost as much as they adore Suguru. They are endlessly fickle, as most teenage girls are, but their devotion is worn candidly in the way they carry themselves. You wonder how they can be so obedient, but you realize that they have known nothing else. 

It’s a quiet luxury. You like to pretend that you’re some sort of priestess, sometimes. You had never been as reverent as your mother, but you think that there is peace in serving a God.  If not Suguru, then some higher power must’ve granted you another chance at life, even if your new life meant mundane piety. 

You liked routine – it fit you. You did your part in the temple and Suguru would reward you with gentle praises. You were only one of few sorcerers in his current entourage, so you felt special. 

Despite this, something felt messing. You often wish Suguru could cast out the malaise inside of you, but you’ve carried it in the pit of yourself for as long as you could remember. Even in your pious bliss, you start wondering if the curse that nearly killed you left a part of itself within you. Each day is the same until you wear thin.

When the string finally breaks, you find him with blood on his hands in the temple’s omoya.

It’s not the blood of a curse, either. It’s dark crimson, such as the same blood that is inside of you, and on the tatami mat lies the lifeless body of a servant. 

Shin, his name was. He wasn’t much younger than you, but he had the spirit of a boy, always able to make you laugh before he served you breakfast. He had arrived only a few months after you had, citing suicidal ideation as a catalyst to seeking Suguru’s services. Once treated, he had felt larger than life. 

And now, his face is frozen in time – the look of sheer fear. 

“Useless monkey,” Suguru tuts, wiping the blood off his face. You’ve seen that look on his face before — when he’s cruel and callous in battle. When he snaps the neck of a special grade curse before he eats it. 

You run to the bathroom to vomit.

When you emerge, one of the twins looks at you curiously. Mimiko. She smiles at you serenely, her eyes flickering with taunt. 

“Is everything alright, Y/N-san?”

“Y-yes,” you nod. “Just a bit under the weather.”

“Are you feeling sick?” Her eyes light up for a second. “Oh, could you be pregnant? Nanako and I really wish there was another kid around—“

“No, no, I’m not pregnant,” you cut her off, shocked. Did she think you and Suguru were… together? Did she think you were his concubine?

“Ah. I can get the servants to prepare some ginger tea for you.”

“No need, Mimiko,” you shake your head, smiling sheepishly. “I just… need to get some air.”

She leaves you alone as you walk towards the pagoda. You feel another wave of nausea when you remember Shin’s lifeless eyes. The blood on his throat. 

You stare at the sunset. It’s been a long time since you’ve left the temple of your own volition. Suguru keeps a tight leash on you nowadays, blaming the unpredictability of your power. Bitterly, you realize that you’re only ever in town alongside him. 

Sometimes, you miss being a stray.

His presence is immediate. When you turn, his long hair sways in the breeze as he flashes you a cat-like smile. 

“Thought you were trying to run away from me,” he murmurs, walking towards you. “But you’d never do that, would you?”

“Just… enjoying the view.”

He looks at you, amused. It feels belittling. 

“I apologize. I thought Nanako had locked the door.”

Your blood stills. He saw you.  

“I thought you only killed curses,” you stammer. For the first time, his presence makes you feel unsafe. 

“I never said that, sweet girl,” he chuckles. He plays with a loose strand of your hair. “Humans are beneath us, you know that. Humans are the reason curses are created. Curses just like the one that nearly killed you.”

You don’t have it in you to protest. He’s gotten closer to you now. A hand on your waist. His lips kissing your hairline in a way that makes you feel like a child again.

“I— I liked him,” you stutter. 

“Mm,” he hums. “He liked you, too. A bit too much if you ask me.”

You stay silent. Only the sound of cicadas fill the air. 

“It’s not your fault,” he grins. “You charm anyone you meet by default, you know. But sometimes, these followers… they want to threaten our mission. Sometimes, they’re paid off by sorcerers who are targeting me to gather intel. And darling, when there’s a target on my back, there’s a target on yours.”

You pull away from him with wide eyes. His face is neutral. So naive, you are. He was only doing you a favor, but a sheltered girl like you trusts too easily. 

“Just remember. I will be the only one to protect you.”

__

He finds you in the garden.

You’re surrounded by wildflowers, your yukata loose enough on you that it falls off your shoulder when you sit up to greet him. The sight of your bare skin tokes the fire in his stomach. He’s dressed more casually tonight, in a plain kimono as opposed to his usual gojo-gesa.

“Enjoying the fireflies?” he asks.

“Yes.”

He notices the dark circles under your eyes. Your smile is tired now. You stare blankly as if you’re in a trance. 

“You’ve been a bit off lately,” he muses. “Something on your mind?”

You blink at him in surprise, almost regretting it once you make eye contact. The hint of a lazy smile is there while his eyes scrutinize you. It always feels like he can see right through you, observing you just before he eats you whole. 

“No, Geto-sama,” you shake your head.

He laughs, rubbing your shoulder. “So formal with me.”

“Shouldn’t I be?” you knit your brows. You had been at the temple for less than a year. You weren’t intimate with him enough to warrant that. You weren’t intimate with him in the way your heart longed for.

“Not with me. Never with me.”

“Suguru.” You mull over the taste of his name on your tongue. The shape of it in your mouth. “I’m okay, Suguru.”

You feel pathetic under his gaze. You can tell he’s waiting for you to say something, sensing the apprehension in your voice. The slight quiver of your bottom lip as you avoid his face.

“I’m just… recovering. From my technique, that’s all,” you say hoarsely.

It’s not a complete lie — the intensive training with Suguru led you to discover that you could bend time and space to your will in small aspects. Teleporting short distances became a new tool for your arsenal. It was still difficult to manage and exhausting to exert. The other day, your nose had bled so much that you almost thought your membranes would burst completely.

“You’re exhausting yourself,” he says gently, rubbing a hand to the small of your back. “But you’re improving rapidly. I’m proud of you.”

Warmth floods your body at his praise. It was too easy for him to wrap you around his finger, and you were starting to hate it.

“Thank you,” you mumble. 

“Do you feel powerful?”

You take a moment of reprieve when he asks this. Powerful? Despite being a sorcerer and wielding the ability to exorcise the monstrous manifestations of human suffering, you did not feel powerful at all. You never have. If anything, you only felt useful.

“Not really.”

“You should,” he smiles. “You’re getting stronger. We’re untouchable together, you and me.”

You and me echoes loud in your brain. Stitches itself into every crevice unwittingly. 

“Ge– Suguru,” you swallow thickly. “Is that why you saved me? Because you wanted me to get strong?”

“Yes,” he nods without hesitation. “I saw potential in you.”

“Is that all I am? Potential? I’m just– just a vehicle for you?”

He leans over to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. His own hair is down, for once, and you can smell his white tea shampoo as his shoulder touches yours. It almost soothes you.

“You aren’t just a tool to me, you know that,” he sighs, looking at you with intent. “I like taking care of you.”

You nod slowly as you look towards the sky. His words aren’t enough to fill the emptiness inside you. His proximity to you makes your chest constrict in the slightest bit, creaking the floorboards of your ribs inside a haunted house body. 

You shiver when he pulls down your yukata and presses a chaste kiss to your collarbone. It must feel the same as when humans get their curses exorcised by him. Lightness in their being instead of dead weight. Blessed by a god.

“Come inside,” he purrs. “You’re getting cold, yeah? I can see your goosebumps.”

No. His hands were just colder than you expected.

He gathers his hair into a half-up bun before he brings you to his room for the first time. It’s rather bare, save for the kotatsu across from his futon and the talismans that are hanging above it. The calligraphy is messy, unintelligible, as if the text was written manically. 

He sits you down at the kotatsu and pours you bergamot tea. You cough nervously in anticipation.

“Suguru.”

“Yes?”

“Um.. how long do you intend on keeping me here?”

He raises a brow. Looks at you like you’ve asked something stupid.

“You have somewhere else to go?” he asks sarcastically.

You triple-blink at his bluntness. He isn’t taking you seriously. 

“Well, I have a friend or two in my hometown. I was thinking about—”

Your breath hitches when he grabs your chin. His gaze bores into your face, his lips in a hard line.

“You’re unhappy,” he says plainly.

“No, I’m just not sure if I can completely fulfill the purpose that you—”

“Do you think anyone else will take you in?” he spits. “You told me yourself. You have no family. You were barely scraping by when you lived alone. With the amount of cursed energy you possess, you think you’ll be able to protect your friends from all the curses you’ll attract?”

You sink into yourself. As if a switch is flipped, his expression changes completely. There’s that familiar softness in his eyes again. God, the tea was making you feel so warm, too. One look from him and you find yourself melting. Even the Devil would swoon.

“Don’t you think fate brought us together?” he whispers. “Don’t you know how valuable you are to me?”

He almost sounds like he means it. Your rabbit heart speeds up when he strokes your collarbone with his thumb. A heady feeling consumes you and you force yourself to tear your gaze away.

“Look at me,” he demands, grabbing your chin again. He crowds your space, not leaving you any room to breathe. Your gut aches from sudden heat.

“God made you for me. Don’t you know that?”

Your mind goes blank as you nod slowly. He looks at you like he’s starved. No one’s ever looked at you like that before. No one has ever really looked at you before him.

“I’m— I’m sorry, Suguru,” you whisper.

He caresses your cheek, his breath tickling your jaw as he leans in.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. I understand what it’s like to feel a little stir-crazy. I’ll take you out more often, yeah?”

“O-okay.”

He grins and it comes off as sardonic.

“Such a spoiled girl. Only the very best for my girl, hm? I clothe her, feed her, make her stronger. And what do I get in return?” he scolds, thumb swiping over your quivering bottom lip. “She tries to run away from me.”

“I’m not,” you pout.

“You’re not?” he scoffs.

You don’t know what to do other than apologize. You were weak like that.

“You’re so good,” he sighs. “And you want to keep being good, is that right?”

“Yes,” you mumble. 

You shiver again when he runs his fingers through your hair, his other hand undoing the ties of your yukata. You sharply inhale at the cool air hitting in your nipples, the rest of you trembling at the prospect of being so bare in front of him. God or prophet, you didn’t know. All that you know now is that there was no coming back from this. 

“My good girl,” he whispers, nipping at your earlobe. “My best girl.”

You whimper when you feel his tongue on your jaw. His kisses are tantalizingly slow. Teasing. He marvels at the flutter of your lashes in response to his touch. 

He had tried to deny those feelings in the beginning, but he couldn’t help it anymore. He feels as though he’s created you. He liked you delicate, lace winged. A butterfly caught in a jar.

Suguru thinks this is fair. He has always believed in fairness, and although one might argue that his philosophy is a direct contradiction to that, he could beg to differ. Different people had different values, that was all. You just happened to have an advantage in the hierarchy he holds in his head. A precious thing, his treasure. 

When he turned his back on Jujutsu society by becoming a curse user, he would avenge the suffering of the sorcerers around him. Years of adapting to the taste of shit and vomit would eventually earn him something that made it all worth it. He’s convinced that something was you.

He was your savior, therefore you were his blessing. It was only fair that he could take you the way he wanted. You were meant to be found by him. You were meant to be kept. 

You barely put up a fight.

You whimper when he parts your legs with his hands and finds you embarrassingly wet. Every stroke of his hands on your inner thigh has you twitching involuntarily. 

“Oh,” he coos. “Look at that.”

You look away in shame, trying to close your legs, but he forces them open with a bruising grip. Your heart drops to your stomach. 

“What’s wrong, baby? You want to be good for me, right?”

You nod without a word, trying to control your breathing. Your brain is telling you that you want this — you’d wanted to be his from the moment you saw him. Your body tells you the same, but dread creeps up your spine.

You gasp when he grazes your clit with his fingers. He plays with it, stares at your cunt through your underwear like it’s a prize.

“Let me see you,” he murmurs. “Don’t be afraid. I’m the only person in this world you can trust.”

He slips your panties off easily and you wince at the sound of your wetness sticking to the fabric. He applies more pressure to your bud, distracting you with his mouth on yours. You mewl into his mouth without realizing and he grins against your lips, slipping his tongue inside. 

When you feel a finger push into your walls, you convulse in surprise, though you don’t pull away like he expects. You merely clutch him harder, your hands wrinkling the sleeve of his haori. 

“Shit, you’re tight,” he rasps. “No one’s been here before, is that right? Just me?”

He groans when you look at him with innocent eyes and nod meekly. Of course he would be your first. You were nothing but a wounded dog when he found you, barely had a life of your own before he took you. You were pure and the world was keeping you for him. It was meant to be.

“S-Suguru…” you breathe. He’s pulled you into his lap now, your cunt getting his kimono wet. The slick of your cunt around his finger is enough to make blood rush to his cock. 

“So pretty,” he mumbles. In one fell swoop, he takes you in his arms and carries you to the futon. You squeak in surprise at being lifted off the floor so quickly and so easily. 

He takes the pause in his actions to undress himself, slipping off his robes, and when you see the thickness of his length prodding against his toned stomach, your mouth goes dry. 

“C’mere,” he beckons. You obey.

He kisses you sweetly on your mouth and then down your jaw, squeezing your breasts. Your breath hitches as he takes the time to rub his thumb over your nipples. Suddenly, his teeth graze your chest. Biting, tasting. Forbidden fruit.

You let out a quiet moan and he chuckles. “So sensitive.”

Without a warning, he plunges two fingers into your cunt and you nearly cry out. There’s a choked noise, something in between pleasure and resignation. It’s all too much. When he adds a third finger and feels much less resistance, he laughs. 

“Taking me so well. You’re doing so good,” he encourages before lapping at your chest again. When his fingers curl at just the right angle, your vision starts to get fuzzy. His thumb on your clit only intensifies the feeling.

“I c-can’t—”

“Hm? Use your words.”

“I’m… I’m gonna…”

His movements still and you nearly scream. He pulls back to see tears brimming your eyes and he kisses them away gently despite his cruel smirk. 

“Nonono, please—”

“Please what?” He feigns innocence. 

You bite your lip, your face too hot to feel comfortable expressing what you want. You feel the ghost of your curse wrap around your throat again. Once again, you find that the ticket to salvation has silky black hair and snake eyes. The artillery of a fallen angel disguised as something pure.

He can tell you’re frustrated but too afraid to voice it. You’re as pliable as he knew you would be. Endlessly easy to coax a reaction from. 

“Do you expect everything to be handed to you? Just because you’re mine?” he taunts. 

His. His. His.

You shake your head, whimpering. 

“Then ask nicely, baby.”

Your cunt is on fire even though he isn’t touching you. When he strokes your lip and pushes his thumb into your mouth, you let him. Your tongue tickles his fingertip.

“Ah, so you still have a tongue. You can still speak.”

He laughs when you pout.

“Please touch me,” you say, your voice as quiet as a breeze.

“What was that?” He grins even wider. 

“Pleasetouchme,” you whimper, your voice light as air.“Please… please make me cum.”

“Good girl,” he chuckles, licking into your mouth. His fingers fuck you in earnest now. You feel so full that your eyes roll back. It’s cute.

Poor thing. Suguru is a patient man, but he’s not sure if he has it in him to wait. He could make you cum three more times so that you’re truly ready for him, but he doesn’t want to. He supposes that if he breaks you, you’ll thank him anyway. No one else wants you more than him, you had to understand that. 

His cock throbs at the sight of you coming undone. It’s nearly animalistic, like provoking violence from weak prey. Cataclysmic like a falling star. He’s consumed with it, with the fact that he can do this to you and no one else can. 

He fingers you through the aftershocks, too, until you sob loud enough that his other hand has to cover your mouth. You squirm underneath him, shaking your head in desperation. 

He admires the slick of sweat on your chest, your glowing figure. When he releases you, he thinks briefly that you’re on the verge of passing out. But you tremble, rapidly breathing, eyes unfocused as your lashes flutter. 

Suguru licks you off of his fingers and you stare in horror, returning to yourself.  It makes him giddy, how even your spirit is infinitesimal.

“You taste so sweet,” he purrs. He kisses you roughly, tongue prying your mouth open and making you moan. “See? Sweet. You’re perfect.”

He likes seeing you all flushed. Glaze on your cheekbones. He thinks he should make you his wife, memorialize your fucked out form with a commissioned painting and hang it above his bed. A good luck charm among the talismans. You look too good to ruin with his cock, but he knows he’d already taken all of you anyway.

He’ll put you back together after. Pamper you with yuzu slices in a hot bath. Play the part of a boyfriend instead of a master.

He pins you down even though he doesn’t need to. You let him settle in between your thighs, his aching cock slapping against your stomach. 

“So cute when you’re scared,” he chuckles at the look on your face.

“It’s… big,” you say meekly. 

“It’ll fit. It won’t be so bad, yeah? I changed my mind about punishing you for trying to run away.”

Panic paints your features.

“I wasn’t trying to run away! I promise.” Your lip quivers again. Maybe he should make you beg.

“Is that right?” He leans in, precum spreading on the skin above your cunt, tip grazing your clit just slightly. You bite your tongue so you don’t moan from the sensitivity.

“Yes. I want to stay.”

“And why’s that?” he jeers. 

“Because— because you’ve given me everything.”

He waits for you to elaborate.

“Because I’m yours. I’m…  your good girl,” you slur through tears, voice above a whisper.

“Poor baby,” he hums. “Of course you are. Always will be.” Whether you like it or not.

You moan at the same time he prods his tip inside. When he sinks in even further, right to the hilt, he becomes delirious with need. It takes everything in him to not pound into you recklessly.

“Pretty fucking cunt,” he groans. “So warm.”

More hot tears, but your dread is replaced with rapture. He fills you up, already poking at the most sensitive spot inside of you. Your body ripples with pleasure as he moves and digs into your guts, an ocean of tender heat.

It’s a branding. You don’t exist if it isn’t for him.

“Suguru,” you moan. 

He kisses your neck, teeth hard on your flesh. Pulling it taut while his tongue rolls in it and leaves mouth-shaped blessings.

His hips drive into you with more force, cock reaching places that your fingers could never reach. You shut your eyes and phosphenes float through the static of blackness. They linger when you open them again, Suguru’s face illuminating in grainy color.

It takes you a bit to realize his mutters, the way he’s babbling through moans.

Good fucking girl. All mine forever. I’ll die with you.

You let out a pitched moan as Suguru wraps his fingers around your throat. Every part of your body feels like it’s bursting. You cum like that, your walls outstretched by his thickness carving you out in the shape of him. 

“Take it,” he grunts. “Take my cock. Fuck, I think I’ve been waiting for you my whole life.”

He’ll probably obsess over your cunt for ages. The face you make when you’re being used. Your ragdoll body.

His bun had come undone. Even if his cock wasn’t in you, your stomach would ache from how beautiful he looked. Eyes focused on you, nearly deranged at the way he was blistering you raw. The cascade of tears down your cheeks. It made him impossibly hard. 

He pulls out quickly to flip you onto your stomach so he can rut into you from behind. The angle makes it so that his cock is even deeper. 

“Oh, Suguru—”

“Yeah, baby? Gonna cum again?”

You whine, all high-pitched and girlish. 

“Tell me you’re mine. That you’ll never leave me,” he grunts.

“I’m yours,” you hiccup. “I’ll n-never leave you.”

Your cunt was starting to burn, even with how wet you were. Suguru cums with a rough thrust at your words, nose buried in between the lovebirds littering your shoulder. You’re full of him. He doesn’t stop, his dick still hard inside you. 

“Shit,” he hisses, looking down to see his cum oozing out of your pussy, all mixed up in your arousal. “How are you still so fucking tight?”

He grits his teeth when he feels you squeeze around him. You can barely form words now, crying as you can feel yourself about to cum again. 

“That’s it,” he pants. “Cum for me, princess. Cum on that cock for me.”

You’re twitchier this time. Your moan tapers off into squeals as you bury your tear-stained face into the pillow. He follows after you with a gasp, his large body covering you like a cocoon. 

He kisses the nape of your neck. Between your shoulder blades. His cock stills inside you, but he doesn’t pull out until he softens completely. When you stop shaking, he turns you over. 

“There’s my angel,” he says fondly. “Thought you passed out on me.”

You shake your head. He smiles lazily, leaning to kiss you all over your face. 

Your bones feel like jelly, but you still switch your positions with intent, and to your surprise, he lets you. Naked and breathing heavily above him, you examine him with his hair spread out on the pillow, cheeks flushed and cherubic. He almost looks innocent. 

He groans at the way your leaking cunt grinds on his crotch, prompting him to get half-hard already. He grabs your hips at the same time you grab the base of his throat. He laughs. 

“Do you feel powerful?”

You blink twice and your eyes glaze over. 

In your vision, you see Suguru’s face flashing you his usual grin, this time showing all his teeth as blood drips from his chin. When you look down at your hands, they’re saturated in the same red. He kisses you despite it all and you understand. 

“Yes,” you breathe. “I do.”

[alexanderwales]

This is someone demonstrating the use of a rope dart. It's a blade on the end of rope, and you swing it around as a weapon. The woman demonstrating it probably put a lot of time into a bunch of awesome moves and a little choreo, and that's a skill worthy of saying "wow, cool!" about.

But I go to the comments and see a bunch of people saying "I didn't know this was a real weapon!" or "wow, amazing to see this forgotten historical practice".

And ... no. Sorry. This is a performance art. It's cool, but it's in the same class as juggling. I'm a juggler, I think juggling is cool, I have a lot of respect for people showing their routines, but I'm not (implicitly or otherwise) making claims about its combat effectiveness or its historical use by military or private individuals.

Did the rope dart ever actually exist? I have read just about as much as I can on the subject without talking to an expert and/or learning Mandarin. This was one of those irritating research questions where everyone keeps showing the same four pictures over and over, and in a quest for ad revenue, the same text has been copy and pasted hundreds of times all over the internet, usually without a citation.

Did people ever use a rope with a weight on the end? Yes, absolutely. Grappling hooks are great for boarding enemy vessels, and something like a bolas is great for entangling the legs of a horse; the Chinese have pretty well-documented use of both.

Are there records of a rope dart? I mean ... kind of. But there are "records" of lots of things, and if we can look at a video of something like the above and think "man, that's dope as hell" then I think we should assume that people have been thinking that for basically all of human history. People have also always loved talking about their blorbos. They like cool shit, they like grandiose characters that are divorced from reality. Most of the very scant sources are approximately on that level. There's a bit more evidence for something called a meteor hammer (or comet hammer in some translations), but that had a weight on the end of the rope/chain, not a blade, and there's also very little evidence its historical use.

So unless there's some killer source unknown to the people whose research I was reading, I am willing to say with a reasonable level of confidence that rope darts have pretty much always been a performance art in one way or another, a fun little skill toy, or something used for martial arts busking.

(I should mention that the research question is complicated by the impact of the Cultural Revolution on Chinese martial arts. The Red Guard wanted to transform martial arts to align with Maoist doctrine, and a lot of the traditional martial arts were seen as religious and anti-proletarian, bourgeois and decadent. In practice, this meant that a lot of martial arts masters were persecuted, imprisoned, tortured, forbidden to teach, or killed. Additionally, a lot of primary source documents were lost, and by "lost" I mean intentionally burned and destroyed by the Red Guard. So it's possible that (in addition to me poking at a pretty intense language barrier) there were better historical documents chronicling the dubious history of the rope dart which no longer exist.)

Anyway, if you go to read up on the rope dart, you'll see a lot of people singing its praises as a weapon, and fundamentally, physics and practicality are working against it. The best argument I've seen for a similar weapon is a claw on the end of a rope to grab someone on horseback and pull him off, but that's a claw, not a dart, and I'm still somewhat skeptical. I don't think I need to get into why a rope dart is a bad weapon when compared to most other options. It shares most of the weaknesses of throwing knives, which themselves are much more sport/performance than of practical use.

There's such a deep desire to root cool shit in history and authenticity and practicality. There's this burning need, I think, to see a performance routine like this and say that it's a useful skill. I get it, it's a fantasy, but trying to make that fantasy more real by dressing it in the garb of reality is just ... I don't know. Sad, I guess. Like we can't see a cool thing and accept it as a cool thing, like it's got to glom onto something else, take on the power of truth.

That said, am I going to include a villain with a rope dart in my next book? Probably, yeah. It's undeniably cool.

[blueishspace]

Hero, Villain God 46

(Prev) (Next) (First)

*Grian's (Poultryman) pov*

Worm man is the first to go inside the vent, apparently he has a map of the place...you don't question why, Seraphin goes next just after him and you are honestly surprised he managed to fit considering he's a wall of a man and also has giant wings.

You look towards Flame, he motions for you to go.

"I'll be last, it's a precaution."

You nod and jump in as well, soon you hear Flame as he goes in after you.

You crawl around the extremely dusty vents for way too much time by the time that everyone stops and Worm man begins to whisper loudly.

"This stupid vent map"

"Is there... something wrong?"

"The map! It's wrong, the vent should be going left not right!"

You hear Flame groan from behind you. "What? What do you mean?"

"I don't know what's wrong with it."

"Just...pass it to me"

"Here! See??"

"... Hmmm, yeah this thing is- wait."

"Yes?"

"It's upside down? For some reason whoever made this put North on the bottom and South at the top... "

"... Well, that's not my fault, who would even do a map this way?"

"Just...take it and try to keep it in mind."

Oh... you have a thought... Did you havr something to do with that? Considering the way things are transformed when near you it wouldn't be too unlikely. You'll haveto keep that in check much more with three bodies.

You keep crawling trough vents for at least half an hour, you are starting to think it would have been better to just jump in at this point and say screw it to the plan these guys had.

"We're here!"

Nevermind, the plan was a great idea and the most fun ever.

You look down at the grate beneath you, as the others begin listening in you don't really care to do the same, after all this is all stuff you already are listening to trough your other vessel. There is something you do want to do, after a few minutes of espionage you make Mother Spore shush the villains and point to the ceiling.

"It seems we have an audience."

Oh this is so fun, It's been a while since you messed stuff up like this. Feels great.

*Mumbo's pov*

Mother Spore silences everyone again, before you can even wonder what is up with her this time around she points to the ceiling and whispers.

"It seems we have an audience"

From the ceiling vents drop Worm man jumps down and his fellow vigilantes Seraphin, Poultryman and Flame follow suit landing on the table... How long have they been there?

You aren't ashamed to say you end up hiding behind Spore as Flame's hair turn into...well, flames, And Xonorth begins a barrage of tendrils towards him... Nor that you let out a squeak when Doctor Rat turns into ink and melt into the ground...You feel like your reactions are very valid, you are an inventor villain you weren't supposed to be in the middle of a full on fight. That's why you even agreed to work with Mother Spore in the first place.

"How... We should... go Spore."

". . I'll make a way out"

And she does, in an instant most of the wall next to you crumbles... You are going to have to pay Quackity for that won't you...

That's...how did she- nevermind, no time for that.

*Grian's (Mother Spore) pov*

Mumbo tries to leave, you should have expected that, without any weapons on him It's not really fair to him to expect him to fight.

Seraphin does try to go after him but you block him mid-air and push him back...

... This room is way too small for this, you are going to need to bring this fight outside. You grab Mumbo under your arm and drag him off with you.

"Spore!??"

As you make your way outside you see people recording and making calls, you don't have long before the authorities get here... Just means you'll have to do what you can to make the most of such little time.

[reality-shitting]

Yk how in early Shifttok days, people spread the misinformation that some people in your DR might know you've shifted? Like Bill Cipher or some other powerful being? What if I told y'all I actually scripted that 🧍‍♀️

In my Ao No Exorcist DR, I scripted that Samael (the demon king of space and time) would know right off the bat if I had shifted and that was part of my "everyone in this class has a dark secret" arc. (Yk, aside from being a prophesized demon vessel for my murderous ancestor, who cursed the entire bloodline by making a pact with Satan. As well as being the Order's ORIGINAL weapon. Anyways, script when?)

So anytime we we're in a room together, he'd say some cocky shit about me knowing more than I should about the future, or would foreshadow stuff in front of my classmates and I would just sit there like "fuck off, pheles, you get shot by a depressed nerd with daddy issues and an ongoing identity crisis in a few months."

[vagabond-umlaut]

parterre

Lord Nanami is a knight, yes. A very esteemed one at that. But does anyone know he is an impressive gardener too? Well, he is— for he is the one, who caused these many flowers of these many hues to bloom in the landscape of your heart— so much so that you've not the slightest idea on how to manage them all well.

▸ knight!Nanami x lady-in-waiting!Reader; Historical AU; Tons of Tooth-Rotting Fluff; Crushes; Pining [is it mutual, however?]; Jealousy; Misunderstandings; Teasing; Did I already say this is so sweetly fluffy, you might end up with cavities? Oh. Okay. Cool :); Reader is so terribly down bad for Nanami, it's become a matter of mild concern; She is called a harmless little nickname by the princess here; THIS FIC WAS WRITTEN AS A LITTLE CELEBRATORY GIFT TO NANAMI NATION, AFTER THE FEAST THAT JJK 2.12 WAS FOR Y'ALL ;))

▸ Behold, the thesis I mentioned to you last night, Julie my sweetest pie. 🤭🤭🤭 Hope you'll enjoy reading this! 🫶🫶 @nanamikentoseyebags

▸ I don't own the characters or image used. Divider is by @cafekitsune. Please don't plagiarize, translate or repost this. Enjoy reading! ❤️

Nanami Kento is no simple man. He is one crafted wondrously by the heavens. A veritable evidence, if there ever were any, of the existence of some greater being— powerful enough to make a man such as the knight. Merciful enough to make him live in the same time frame and place as you do.

A wistful sigh falls past your lips as you begrudgingly tear your focus away from the training grounds and direct it to the scalding coffee at hand, though it takes but two mere two seconds before you find your eyes darting to the open window yet again– skimming over the many heads out there– wanting to find only one blond head– heart beating far too many beats when you hear the name of its owner being yelled out once again—

The utterance of your title in court drags you away from your frantic search, to the mildly smiling face of the princess: Sleepy, yes– But a lot more awake than she was five minutes ago. You rush to offer her your greetings, only to stop when she lifts a finger and tilts her head to the side, brows furrowed a pinch.

"That was Kento's name being hollered, wasn't it, Petals?"

You aren't certain which infuriates you more— that the princess used your childhood nickname well into your adulthood– or that she called Knight Nanami by his first name, a privilege he is known to grant to a very select few—

Compelling your face to shift into a smile, you nod. "I'm afraid it was, Your Highness."

"And was it yet another lady cheering for his victory in a match, huh?" she queries, kicking the covers off her feet and landing onto the floor with a loud thud. Wincing lightly, you quickly shake your head 'no'.

"It wasn't, Your Highness. The voice sounded much like Lord Haibara."

A quiet hum comes in response to your observation– soon shadowed over by the off-key singing of rather... indelicate songs, you're certain no one of an upbringing as royal and guarded as your princess should know— before the lyrics pause– all of a sudden– the moment she sits down at the table and looks out the window.

At the ongoing duel between Nanami and Geto, swords clanging and their bare chests shining in the early morn sun.

The very sight making every drop of blood in your vessels to rush to your cheeks, flooding them with colour– whilst your gaze roves with no trace of shame over the well-built physique of the solemn blond– lingering in particular on the toned muscle of his arms and forearms, flexing and extending as his fingers grasp the hilt of the weapon and the muscles in his legs strain against the tight fabric of his slacks, as the knight moves in a spell-binding dance of danger and tact against his opponent.

A huff of a chuckle escapes you when the former lands a solid hit on the latter; no one can match him in his prowess at wielding a sword; making a tendril of pride unfurl in the centre of your chest, only for it to shrivel in the heat of envy the princess' chortle ignites in that very same place.

You make no efforts to stop the words tumbling out your mouth next. Nor the tense frown which nestles into your tinted lips, throwing your face into lines and ridges.

"Is Lord Nanami courting you, Your Highness?"

"What!?!?" Not even an instant elapses before the exclamation leaves your listener. You continue, pretending to be unperturbed by the way innumerable shades of shock and incredulity colour her countenance.

"I mean, you call him by his first name, and he too does the same for you. Besides, the both of you have often been spotted to be strolling in the gardens together, easily chatting and smiling... not to mention the ball held last winter solstice when you two entered the ball, side-by-side— it is not only me who me who wonders so, milady," you add when you notice her back straigthening and she returning the cup to the saucer, "The court is rife with suppositions, on the nature of your relationship with Lord Nanami."

A beat passes in tense silence in response to your expressed musings— before the hush is disrupted by a very grave-sounding query, from the lady across. "What do you look for in a future life partner, Petals?"

"Me?" you ask, index finger pointed at yourself.

The princess gives a nod. "Yes, you, Your Grace."

Your nose wrinkles at such ill-considered usage of such high-ranking titles— nevertheless, you find yourself brushing those concerns away to mull over much more important matters...

A good while passes before you form a reply. Focus zeroing on a tiny coffee stain on your dress, you begin.

"Someone who is calm and collected, stoic and serious. He should be strong too, not just in brawn but in brain and matters of heart as well. He must be strict and disciplined, but must have a gentle, caring side to him too. Won't hurt if he's a traditional romantic, giving me flowers and sweet compliments instead of the terrible comments men say to the ladies these days. And..."

You trail off, losing yourself in your mind, before resuming, in a muted murmur this time, "It might be really nice if he lets me be of those few who can call him by his name– and he becomes comfortable enough, to call me by my name. And accompany me on walks in the garden in the afternoons. And perhaps, even, ask me to the balls where we may wear matching outfits, and present ourselves as a couple before all."

A hand comes to rest over your folded ones. You look up to find a bit too wide smile resting on the princess' lips. She offers your hands an easing squeeze.

Little does she know it does little to ease your turbulent emotions— a feeling which worsens with the observations she voices to you next.

"I was terrified your beautiful mind was tainted by the disease of idle inquisitiveness, as happens to most in this world with age, you know," she hums, standing up and making you sit in her chair, "I'm very glad to conclude, that's not quite the case. However– I cannot say your so lovely mind is disease-free either, my sweet Petals."

Your brows gather together in confusion as you peer at her, eyes in a narrow stare. She continues– smile growing a touch of tenderness.

"Your mind has been afflicted with the awful ailment of lovesickness. And–" she says, putting greater emphasis on her syllables, when you attempt to protest her statement, "it is usually incurable, unless very great feats of bravery are performed by the patient themselves, or in the off-chance, the fates decide to be helpful and the person behind the mess makes the first move— but I must say, Your Grace, you are very lucky to have me as your consulting physician— for I know what will provide you interim relief until either of them happens— want to know what it is?"

You take a moment to consider before returning a slow, unsure nod.

The princess beams. "It's the knowledge of the fact, there's someone who matches every criteria you mentioned, to a T— and that– he has his eyes reserved for none, except one beautiful lady-in-waiting, who stares at the training ground from the windows of the princess' room every single morning— looking as fresh and vibrant as the nickname, the princess insists on calling her."

Your friend pauses for a beat— not that you really notice it over the thrum of your blood in your ears and your heart in your chest— she inquires, "You understood the prescription, didn't you, Petals?"

A high-pitched squeal– so unseemly, so embarrassed, so jubilant– is the only response you manage, retreating into the cushion, hiding the warmth of your face and the stretch of your smile behind your palms.

▸ masterlist

[transfemme-shelterdog]

Literally cannot even exist lately, like

Trans men face both misogyny & transphobia : “they don't face misogyny, they’re men. They have male privilege”

Trans men do not experience male privilege with nearly the consistency that tumblr makes it out to be, and trans men who say they do are either ignoring trans men who DON’T or are lying to fuel the discourse. In most cases, trans men aren’t even viewed as men : “Sounds like you’re using AFAB privilege”

Trans men who Don’t appear as either a cis man or woman exist, though, and are not treated with the kind of privilege assumed. And in most cases, according to these statistics, not only are we targetted, we are frequently misgendered post-mortem so our transgender status is erased : “why are you weaponizing stats to make yourselves seem more oppressed?”

Trans men face transandrophobia, a type of oppression that works along the axis of masculinity & transness, but is not mutually exclusive or cribbing from transmisogyny as a term : “stop stealing from trans women”

And for as many “just say transphobia” posts Ive seen, I've seen as many “Trans men experience no problems &, frankly, should shut up. By force, if necessary” like what the fuck am I supposed to do? Die? (According to the “trans men should be put down like rabid dogs” take, MAYBE!) like I am bolstered by the fact that most people don't fucking think like this, like many trans folks IRL are more interested in community & solidarity, but like. Christ! What the fuck!

It's honestly baffling that the same people that (rightfully) complain about being misgendered, and seen as men, also can't fathom that trans men experience the same in reverse, and thus can and will experience misogyny.

Not to mention the additional issue of being victims of misandry/anti-masculinity by their very own allies who think it's so god damn fucking progressive to hate men. Yes, trans men really are as bad as the shitty men who are trying to take away their reproductive rights, as well as transitioning rights, and push for them to be treated as nothing but vessels for the future of the white race.

Truly, that is an incredibly enlightened and incredibly progressive take there, Luna. Zero holes in the logic there. Trans men really are as bad as their oppressors.

[intermundia]

hey will um- any thoughts on feyd-rautha and paul’s dynamic? not even necessarily from a shipping pov. i just feel like you’ll have some juicy insights lol

I don’t have anything really new to say that hasn’t been said, but it IS fascinating to me that Paul and Feyd-Rautha were supposed to be married, with thousands of years of Bene Gesserit design to create these two ideal parents for the chosen one, but Paul’s divergent masculinity broke that union and made them into antagonists. They’re foils, like the way you place a gem on metal to make it shine brighter, yet the light that Feyd-Rautha shines on Paul illuminates Paul's dark side, rendering his negative self visible, warning about it and exemplifying it.

In the sense that Paul was raised in a culture of honor, and yet chose exploitation, Feyd-Rautha was raised in a culture of exploitation, and chose honor. He contained that unexpected virtue, not enough to redeem him, but enough to cast light on the honor that Paul discarded. When Paul says “so this is how we’ll survive, by being Harkonnens,” the audience knows with dread what part of Paul’s essential personhood that he will be leaning into, the cruelty and exploitation of others, the wanton violence, the selfish ambition.

Also it’s fascinating that unlike Feyd-Rautha, Paul is NOT sexually vulnerable; he’s simply not available to be manipulated through sex, he does the manipulating. He resists Irulan’s seduction entirely, and doesn’t give any real power to Chani. He indulges in sex because he feels love and desire, and he maintains control in the realm of sexuality over Irulan, whose life path is controlled by the fact that he denies her children. If he had been the wife of Feyd-Rautha, he would’ve been able to gain and keep power in the relationship using sexuality and children as a tool.

Feyd-Rautha, despite being a psychopathic power hungry dominant force in much of his life, still would’ve bent to Paul-as-lover, Paul-as-giver-of-intimate-pain. Feyd-Rautha was born to be a sire for Paul's child, born to serve as stud for a powerful woman to create the one. It’s an inherently complementary role, a dependent one. Once they took his seed, and once they established sexual control over him, he would be theirs to use or discard. He’s a tool and a weapon, where Paul should’ve been the sacred vessel, the ultimate woman and mother.

I also deeply appreciate the design choices that Villneuve made that diverge from the written text in a way to visually communicate important personality and ideological information. They are equal-and-opposite visually as well as narratively. Seeing that final duel, Feyd-Rautha is bleached of all natural color, hairless and clean, his shiny black armor tells the story of an industrial culture, versus Paul in sandy brown, natural cloth with a natural blade, coming from the people who lived on the land, in balance and sync with the land, and against those who steal and exploit the land.

It's an archetypal clash of civilizations, embodied in these two young men fighting to the death. They just look like a matched set, opposites that synthesize a thesis of Atreides and antithesis of Harkonnen into a higher being, that should have been their child. The fact that they fought to the death instead of generating life is a bad sign for the galaxy—not that their child necessarily would have been the one to lead into a better future, but Paul killed billions. Jessica's usurpation of Paul's motherhood of the one disrupted that plan, and Paul's masculinity and sexual independence led to a disaster.

[anonymousewrites]

Logos and Pathos (AOS Edition) Chapter Three

AOS! Spock x Empath! Reader

Chapter Three: After the Academy

Summary: (Y/N) and Spock have become friends and run a simulation for a very strange cadet, Cadet Kirk.

            “Cadet Kirk is trying the Kobayashi Maru again?” said (Y/N), walking towards the testing observation room with Spock. “This is the third time.”

            A few years had passed since their first meeting. Spock and (Y/N) had, surprisingly, become friends. Well, it had been a surprise to everyone else, but to them, it made perfect sense. (Y/N) could sense emotions, yes, but they were very logical and intelligent. Spock respected that. And because Spock saw beyond the labels others had put on them, (Y/N) respected him. The two were known for working very well together and being an efficient, effective team.

            “It appears so,” said Spock. “He still has not understood the true test of the program.”

            (Y/N) sighed and shook their head. “He gets frustrated, not scared. He has the intelligence and resourcefulness to do well—after all, he started a year after Uhura but caught up—but this is the one thing he hasn’t understood yet.”

            Spock nodded in agreement. “Perhaps a third loss will teach him the psychological lesson.”

            “Well, psychologically speaking, I have to admit, he’s tenacious,” said (Y/N). “Not a terrible quality.”

            “We shall see what other qualities he displays this time,” said Spock.

l

            “We are receiving a distress signal from the U.S.S. Kobayashi Maru,” said Uhura, voice bored with the redundant situation she’d been put in since Kirk wanted to try the test for the third time. “This ship has lost power and is stranded. Starfleet Command has ordered us to rescue them.”

            “ ‘Starfleet Command has ordered us to rescue them, Captain,’ ” said Kirk from his place on the fake bridge.

            “I believe the human word for this bravado is ‘cocky,’ ” said Spock from behind the observation glass.

            “That would be the common vernacular,” agreed (Y/N). “And his emotions confirm it.” They cocked their head. “Strange, though. He doesn’t seem worried about the results of this test at all.”

            “Could it be he’s desensitized to failure now?” said Spock, considering the options.

            “His had less anxiety the second time he took the test, just more frustration,” said (Y/N). “But he has absolutely none now. That doesn’t seem likely. He should still have some worry about failing.”

            “Hm.” Spock laced his fingers and gazed at the test as it continued. “Let me know if his feelings change.”

            “Do you think he’s up to something?” asked (Y/N).

            “I do not jump to conclusions. I need more facts to make any educated hypotheses,” said Spock.

            “You’re making a guess,” said (Y/N).

            “No, it’s an educated hypothesis,” said Spock.

            (Y/N)’s smiled in amusement and shook their head.

            “Two Klingon vessels have entered the neutral zone and are locking weapons on us,” said Bones—real name Leonard McCoy—another cadet in his final year and a friend of Kirk.

            “That’s okay,” said Kirk confidently.

            “That’s okay?” repeated Bones incredulously.

            “Yeah, don’t worry about that,” said Kirk, leaning back in his chair.

            “Did he say, ‘don’t worry about it?’ ” said another test operator.

            “Is he not taking the simulation seriously?” said a third.

            “He’s…amused,” said (Y/N), blinking. “And happy.” They crossed their arms. “Put that together, and he’s gloating.”

            “Gloating?” repeated Spock, furrowing his brow ever-so-slightly.

            (Y/N) and Spock had the same thought. What could Kirk be gloating about?

            “Three more Klingon warbirds decloaking and targeting out ship.” Bones looked back at Kirk and sarcastically added, “I don’t suppose this is a problem, either.”

            “They’re firing, Captain,” warned another cadet.

            “Alert medical Bay to prepare to receive all crew members from the damaged ship,” said Kirk, calm and nonchalant as ever.

            “And do you expect us to rescue them when we’re surrounded by Klingons, ‘Captain?’ ” pointed out Uhura.

            Kirk just spun around in his chair. “Alert Medical.”

            “Our ship is being hit. Shields at sixty percent,” warned Bones.

            “I understand,” said Kirk.

            “Well, should we, I don’t know, fire back?” said Bones.

            “No,” said Kirk, pulling out an apple and taking a bite.

            “Of course not,” muttered Bones.

            The lights on all the displays flickered. (Y/N) frowned. That wasn’t in the program. Spock had it running smoothly. Any glitches were when he improved it and tested it himself. For cadets, it was efficient and timed to perfection.

            “What is this? What’s going on?” wondered the confused test operators.

            “Spock, is this a new part of the test? Equipment failure?” said (Y/N).

            “I would have informed you beforehand. You know that,” said Spock.

            “I do,” said (Y/N). “But then that leaves us the question…what is going on?”

            The computers came back on, and the cadets looked around in confusion before focusing on the readouts (Uhura was the first to concentrate, which (Y/N) noticed proudly).

            “Arm photons. Prepare to fire on the Klingon warbirds,” said Kirk.

            “Yes, sir,” said a cadet.

            “Jim, their shields are still up,” said Bones.

            Kirk took a bite of his apple. “Are they?” His amusement grew.

            Bones turned to look at his readout, and his face fell into an expression of shock. “No, they’re not.”

            “Fire on all enemy ships,” ordered Kirk cheerfully. “One photon each should do. Let’s not waste ammunition.”

            “Target locked and acquired on all warbirds. Firing,” said another cadet.

            On the displays, the Klingon warbirds exploded as they were hit by photons. Kirk mimed pistols as he chewed his apple.

            “All ships destroyed, Captain,” said Uhura in a mix of being impressed, frustrated, and shocked.

            Kirk stood up. “So, we have managed to eliminate all enemy ships, no one onboard was injured, and the successful rescue of the Kobyashi Maru crew is underway.” He took another bite of apple and looked at the test operators smugly.

            “How the hell did that kid beat your test?” said an operator, turning to question the programmer himself.

            “I do not know,” said Spock.

            (Y/N) didn’t need to sense his emotions to know he was frustrated. Spock didn’t like not knowing.

l

            “It isn’t possible to beat your test. It’s designed to demonstrate failure,” said (Y/N).

            “And yet Cadet Kirk did,” said Spock. “I don’t believe there is a flaw in the current program, but I must investigate every possibility.” He was running through the code as they spoke. “There.” He tapped on the code. “A subroutine. Recently installed.”

            “I suspect—hypothesize—it was by Kirk,” said (Y/N). “He wasn’t surprised by the change in the test and wasn’t worried beforehand. That suggests he knew about it.” They crossed their arms. “It was clever, but it’s cheating.”

            “Indeed,” said Spock, nodding.

            Between his discovery of the subroutine and (Y/N)’s deductions—which made logical sense even from their empathic observations—they had all the evidence they needed to convene a hearing. Spock was fortunate to have (Y/N) as his partner in his work. Their skill and hard work made everything easier. Better.

            “We should go and submit our claim, then,” said (Y/N), turning to leave.

            “(L/N),” said Spock. “Thank you for your assistance. You did not need to stay after the test while I examined the code, but you helped my conclusions with your observations.”

            “Of course, Spock,” said (Y/N), smiling. Their chest warmed at Spock’s thanks. “You’re my friend. I wanted to support you since people were doubting your work. Wrongfully, but still.”

            “Your support was appreciated,” said Spock, nodding.

            “It was no problem,” said (Y/N), smiling. “But Spock, come on, I’ve told you to call me ‘(Y/N).’ ”

            “It isn’t formal,” said Spock.

            “We’re friends,” said (Y/N). “That isn’t formal.” They grinned and started the walk out of the room.

            Spock paused a moment before following. There was nothing to argue there. Spock and (Y/N) were friends.

l

            “This session has been called to resolve a troubling matter,” said the head of the disciplinary committee, still Barnett.

            This time, everyone had been called to the hearing, likely because this situation was much more egregious for the academy as a whole. Cheating was unacceptable. Cadets whispered to one another, but the murmurs quieted as the head of the committee spoke. (Y/N) sat beside Spock, reading for the hearing to begin.

            “James T. Kirk, step forward,” said Barnett.

            All heads went to the cadet in question, whose face fell. Kirk stood and walked down to face the committee like (Y/N) had years ago.

            “Cadet Kirk, evidence has been submitted to this council suggesting that you violated the ethical code of conduct pursuant to Regulation 17.43 of the Starfleet code,” continued Barnett. “Is there anything you care to say before you begin, sir?”

            “Yes, I believe I have the right to face my accuser directly,” said Kirk.

            The head of committee looked at (Y/N) and Spock and nodded to them. They rose, and (Y/N) felt the ripple of surprise from those that knew of (Y/N) and Spock.

            “Step forward,” said Barnett.

            Spock and (Y/N) headed down to the other podium at the center of the hearing room.

            “This is Commander Spock and Lieutenant Commander (L/N). They are two of our most distinguished graduates,” explained Barnett. “Commander Spock has programmed the Kobayashi Maru exam for the last four years. Lieutenant (L/N) currently works with psychics in the Academy.” He looked at Spock and (Y/N). “State your case.”

            “Cadet Kirk, you somehow managed to install and activate a subroutine in the programming code, thereby changing the conditions of the test,” said Spock.

            “You are undoubtedly the culprit since you requested the third test and had no surprise when the test changed. You knew it was coming from the beginning,” said (Y/N). “No nerves, no surprise.”

            “Your point being?” said Kirk.

            “In academic vernacular, you cheated,” said Barnett.

            Kirk didn’t back down from the sharp down. “Let me ask you something I think we all know the answer to: the test itself is a cheat, isn’t it? I mean, you programmed it to be unwinnable.”

            “Your argument precludes the possibility of a no-win scenario,” said Spock.

            “I don’t believe in no win scenarios,” said Kirk firmly.

            “Then not only did you violate the rules, but you failed to understand the principal lesson,” said Spock.

            What a repartee, thought (Y/N).

            “Please, enlighten me,” said Kirk.

            “You of all people should know, Cadet Kirk, a captain cannot cheat death,” said Spock. The reference to Kirk’s father was clear.

            Kirk swallowed, and (Y/N) felt the pressure of profound grief wave over them.

            “I of all people?” he said.

            “Your father, Lieutenant George Kirk, assumed command of his vessel before being killed in action, did he not?” said Spock.

            Spock, that was a low blow, thought (Y/N), giving him a look.

            Spock noticed it and avoided their gaze. He never liked when they were upset at him.

            “I don’t think you like the fact that I beat your test,” said Kirk, his sadness sharpening to anger.

            “Cadet Kirk,” said (Y/N). “You didn’t beat the test. You failed to learn its lesson. Three times now. It’s not about beating it or failing it.”

            “What is it about then?” said Kirk.

            “Fear,” said (Y/N) simply. “A captain must learn to face fear and handle themself accordingly. You have to learn to control yourself, your ship, and your crew even when afraid.”

            Silence fell over the room as Kirk processed those words.

            “Excuse me, sir,” said an officer, walking in from outside the chamber. He broke the quiet tension. He walked up with a report to Barnett.

            Worry clouded his aura, and (Y/N) frowned. Barnett’s emotions changed to concern and confusion, and (Y/N) tensed. Something was going on.

            “We have received a distress call from Vulcan,” said Barnett.

            (Y/N)’s eyes widened, and Spock straightened. His expression didn’t change, but they had known him long enough to see he was concerned. It was his home.

            “With our primary fleet engaged in the Laurentian system, I hereby report all cadets to report to Hangar One immediately,” said Barnett. He stood. “Dismissed.”

            Everyone followed suit and rushed towards Hangar One. Spock was the first one to begin moving, and (Y/N) hurried after him.

            “Are you alright?” they asked.

            “I must ensure my assigned ship is well-staffed for the trip to Vulcan,” said Spock. “Then I—we—can handle the distress call.”

            (Y/N) nodded. He was focusing on the issue at hand. That was Spock’s way of dealing with problems.

            “Whatever ship I’m on, I’ll do the same. We’ll be able to face this,” said (Y/N) assuredly.

            “You’ll be on the Enterprise as well,” said Spock. “You’re efficient and skilled. You’ll be needed.” And if (Y/N) was with him, if there was trouble, he could keep an eye on them. He didn’t want them to be put in harm’s way where he couldn’t help them.

            “And I’ll do my best,” said (Y/N), smiling at Spock. “I can help with staffing so it’s not all on your shoulders.”

            Spock nodded. He was glad (Y/N) always concentrated on the tasks at hand. They were an excellent officer. “You handle communications and command. I’ll handle medical staff and science officers.”

            “Spock,” said (Y/N), pausing. He stopped, and (Y/N) touched his arm gently, supportively. “Whatever’s happening, I’m with you, alright? I’m here to help.”

            Spock looked at their hand. There was a subtle warmth from their hand on his arm, and although he knew they would never use their abilities on him without permission, he felt calmer knowing they were there.

            He nodded. “Thank you, (Y/N).”

            (Y/N) smiled. “Of course, Spock.”

Taglist:

@a-ofzest

@grippleback-galaxy

@genderfluid-anime-goth

@groovy-lady

@im-making-an-effort

@unending-screaming

@h-l-vlovesvintage

@neenieweenie

@keylimeconstellation

@wormwig

@technikerin23

@ilyatan

@nthdarkqueen

@kyalov

[elle-p]

Akira Ishida's Persona3 The Movie #4 Winter of Rebirth blu-ray comment translation

Ideas about Persona 3 The Movie

For Makoto Yuki, the 4 chapters of Persona 3 The Movie were the story of how, after Death was sealed within him and his heart became hollow, it began to fill up and repair through his interactions with the Specialised Extracurricular Execution Squad.

I feel like as a part the adroit way the narrative is structured around the recollection of Makoto's memories, the timeline and timing of what is revealed is shifted, so that the audience members who hadn't exerienced the game version may have felt a sort of eerieness when seeing Makoto's position when he first appears. Moreover, many of the plot points that happen in every chapter, for example things like the misunderstanding regarding Yukari and her dad, the case of Junpei and Chidori, and Aragaki-senpai and Amada-kun's relationship, seem depressing and gloomy. However, it's not because they are cheerful and happy, but because they accurately depict the wounds that people carry inside themselves that Makoto, by meeting and understanding them as he progress through the chapters, is able to aquire the precious things everyone should have.

I believe that the reason why Persona 3 The Movie's 4 chapters were well recieved by the audience was not just due to their interest in seeing the story they experienced in game in a film, but also because the scenery that Makoto sees made an impact and they related to it, and were curious to see how things would develop. This is how Persona 3 The Movie depicts the various ups and downs of the experiences that make up people's hearts, but my understanding of the word 'Persona' is that it comes from psychology.

When I first heard about the title and contents during recording, I wondered why you would call the incarnation of yourself for battle a Persona. A mask that people wear to represent themselves externally. It becomes a weapon to fight your enemies, the things that face you. This seems like everyday communication itself. So, when I think about the original meaning of Persona, I can make my own satisfactory reasoning as to why Makoto's Persona isn't in the form of a single one that evolves, but instead uses multiple from the beginning. The empty minded Makoto has no desire to be seen externally. It doesn't matter to him; he doesn't care how he's seen, so there's no reason for him to limit himself to one mask. What do you think? Personally, I quite like this reasoning. By viewing Makoto as having been an empty vessel, it makes it a major necessity for the story to develop him as a character in the film. Is it too much of a stretch to say that Makoto Yuki's story isn't just limited by the framework of a game, and has the potential to withstand the development and adaption, so therefore it was inevitable that it would be made into a movie? Speaking of which, the climax scene of Winter of Rebirth. After all he's been through, regaining his lost humanity and filling himself, Makoto reaches the point where he is willing to sacrifice his own life for his friends, just like his mother once did for him. There is no recklessness that comes from the indifference to the fear of death as in Spring of Birth. In order to achieve their shared goal of protecting the proof of existance people leave behind, Makoto decided to save the friends who had filled him and given him the elements to reconstruct himself and the world in which they live. And, as you all saw, this action was based on a self-sacrifical idea. For this reason Makoto, who can wear the masks of many Personas, gets every one of them shattered, and in the end can only move forward without wearing a mask. Don't you think this is a very symbolic scene?

He entrusts his friends with the same word his mother told him: 'live'. If a mother's love for her child is the ultimate, unsupassed thing, then you can say that Makoto's inner self, which can pour out that selfless love from the bonds with his friends, has completely regained human form. In addition, there is a mechanism in place which means that you can only go to the last stage without wearing the mask of a Persona. This can be seen as a message that the power to stand up to Nyx, the last opponent, the environment, and the world resides in someone's true essence, and that it is impossible to do so while wearing a false mask. It is also suggested by the composition that it is necessary to wear the mask of a Persona when defeating enemies, and to expose your true self when protecting loved ones. I would like to say that there is no way that exposing your true self could lead to strength, but once reset and gained new experiences, Makoto reached the next stage before others, attaining the answer to life. He is no longer an ordinary person. Even though it's fiction, I'm glad that it was Makoto and the others that were given the mission to fight Shadows in the Dark Hour. If it had been me, since I still haven't found the answer to life, the world would have ended on January 31st as planned, and these ideas would have never come into the world. If you think about it, that could have been okay, too.

劇場版「ペルソナ3」にまつわる妄想

結城理にとって劇場版「ペルソナ3」の全4章はデスをその身に封印され、心が虚ろになってしまった彼が、特別課外活動部の仲間達とのふれあいを経て、その中身を満たし直していくまでの過程をたどる物語でした。

理の記憶の甦りという物語構成の妙として、時間軸とそれが公開されるタイミングがズラされていたりしたので、ゲーム版に触れたことがない観客の皆さんは初登場時の理の立ち位置に一種の不気味さを感じたのではないかと思います。そのうえ各章で起こる事件は、例えばゆかりの父��に対する誤解や順平とチドリの一件、荒垣先輩と天田くんの関係など暗くて重いものが多い印象です。しかしそういった明るくてハッピーなものばかりではない、人が内側に抱え込んでいる傷の部分をきちんと描いたからこそ、彼らに出会ってそれを見つめることになる理も、章が進むにつれて、本来、人として持っているべき大切なものを、欠けることなく獲得していけたのだと思います。

劇場版 「ペルソナ3」の全4章が観客の皆さんに受け入れて頂けたのも、ゲームで体験したストーリーを映像で見てみたいという興味の他に、そんな理の見る景色に影響され同調することで、その先の展開が気になったからという部分もあったのではないでしょうか。このように人の心を構成する様々な経験の起伏を描いた劇場版「ペルソナ3」ですが、そもそもペルソナという単語は僕の理解では心理学周辺で出てくるものですよね。

一番初めのゲーム収録でこのタイトルと内容を知ったときに、バトルをするための自分の化身をペルソナと呼ぶなんて、何でシャレてるんだと思ったものでした。人が対外的に自分を表すためにかぶる仮面。それが敵、自分に向かってくるモノと戦うための武器になる。これは日常のコミュニケーションそのものに見えます。だから、そういうペルソナを本来の意味を考えると、理だけが一つのペルソナの進化という形ではなく、初めから複数のぺルソナを使い分けられるというところにも自分なりに納得のいく理屈をつけることができそうです。心の中が空っぽの理には端から対外的にどう見られたいという願望がありません。そんなことは彼にとってはそれこそ「どうでもいい」ことであって、どう見られても構わないからこそ、かぶる仮面を一つに限定する理由がないのです。どうでしょう。自分としてはこの理由付けの仕方、なかなか気に入っています。理が空の器であったと捉えることで、映画の登場人物として物語を展開させていく大きな必然性を持たせることにもなるのです。結城 理の物語はゲームの枠にとどまらず、映画化という展開にも充分耐えうるポテンシャルを持っていた、だから映画化されるのは必然だったというのはちょっと暴走し過ぎでしょうか。暴走ついでに、第4章『Winter of Rebirth』のクライマックスシーン。これまでの経験を経て、一度無くした人間性を取り戻し、中身を満たすことができた理は、かつて母親が自分にしてくれたように、仲間を生かすために自分の命を投げ出すという境地にまで達します。そこには第1章『Spring of Birth』の頃の己の死の恐怖に対するどうでもよさから来る蛮勇はありません。自分たちが存在した証を守り残すという全員の目標を果たすために、理は自分を満たしてくれた、自分を再構成するためのエレメンツをくれた仲間と彼らが生きていく世界を、今度は自分が救おうとしました。そしてそれが自己犠牲的発想に基づく行動だったのは皆さんも感じられた通りです。そのために数多くのペルソナという仮面をかぶることができる理が、ことごとくそのペルソナを打ち砕かれ、最後はその仮面をかぶらずに先へ進む。これはなかなか象徴的なシーンだとは思いませんか。

「生きろ」と自分に伝えてくれた母親と同じ言葉を仲間に託していく。母親が我が子を思う母性愛が、究極、無上のものであるならば、仲間たちとの間にその無償の愛情を注げるまでの絆を楽いた理の内面は、完全に人間としての形を取り戻したと言えるでしょう。それに加えて、ペルソナという仮面をかぶらない形でしか最後のステージに上がれないという仕掛けが用意されているわけです。これはニュクスという究極の敵、環境、世間に立ち向かえる力を宿す場所はその人の本質的な部分にしかない、虚飾の仮面を被った姿では無理なんだというメッセージにも見えるわけです。また、敵を倒すときにはペルソナという仮面をまとい、大切な人を守るときには自分の素の姿をさらけ出すことが必要だったという構図も暗示的です。自分なんかはとてもじゃないけれど素の自分をさらけ出したところで強さに結びつくとは到意思えないと言いたいところですが、一度リセットされ、新たに経験を積み直した理は、人より先に一つ上のステージ、命の答えに到達しているのです。もはや凡人ではありません。フィクションとはいえ、影時間でシャドウと戦う使命を与えられたのが理達で良かったとつくづく思います。もしも僕だったとしたら、命の答えにたどり着くのはまだまだ先のことでしょうから、世界は予定通り1月31日に終わっていたでしょうし、そうなったらこの妄想が世に出ることもなかったでしょう。そう考えるとそれもアリだったかもしれませんけどね。

[scabplucker]

haii i am hella interested in the thoughts u mentioned on the gego swap ^^

HIII sorry it took me so long to respond but yes i would be thrilled to share those thoughts with you!!!!! (this is also targeted towards the comment under the post as well!!)

When i think of possible reasons that Satoru could’ve taken such an extreme stance on the weak/non-sorcerers/defecting, i like to toy with the idea that maybe Satoru, just as Suguru, was also just one set back away from cracking under the pressure of jujutsu society’s expectations. Overworked upon his awakening after their failed star plasma vessel mission, i like to think how he could’ve been struggling. Satoru seems like the type to bury those sorts of feelings, especially when it comes to his work. Satoru has practically been groomed into the world of sorcery, it’s all he’s ever really known. I don’t think he’s ever given it all too much thought, or perhaps avoids considering that the thing which he was birthed for, his purpose which had literally tipped the scales of this world’s power hierarchy, is something that brings him dissatisfaction and maybe even contempt. With cannon Satoru, maybe the moment of Suguru’s defection was what tipped Satoru in the ‘right’ direction, rather than the path Suguru would then begin to tread. But I wonder, what if instead of Suguru being sent to the village, it was Satoru instead. What if just as Suguru had been faced with two paths to act on his hatred for non-sorcerers or remain steadfast in his morals, what if Satoru, unbeknownst to himself until that point (because he’s legendary at suppressing his inner turmoil), reaches the last straw of his already cracking psyche when he reaches that village. Of course Suguru had already been brewing on these thoughts of contempt towards non-sorcerers, but I imagine that hearing what Satoru had done, and seeing the state in which he was in might’ve been a shock to his system. Someone who might have been a pillar to Suguru (just as I imagine Suguru would be to Satoru with their shared struggles and just general closeness), someone who was now acclaimed to be the strongest, confident and blossoming with power every day since Toji Zenin, now wiping an entire village? It was someone who Suguru had imagined to never make a step out of line. It was someone who asked Suguru whether they should kill all those applauding cultists surrounding them, waited on his word for a sense of moral purpose knowing he was way out of his depth with those sorts of decisions, but did know that this numbness he felt meant he wouldn’t care for ending all those lives. Was this that Satoru? Had the newly declared strongest of the two develop a chink in the armor of that impenetrable infinity of his?

When Suguru sees Satoru the next time since his defection, Satoru tells Suguru that those lowly non-sorcerer monkeys don’t deserve selfless sacrifice after sacrifice (and perhaps this also goes for the sorcerers which are all beneath him, demanding that he stretch himself thin to make up for their weaknesses). Satoru is willing to be selfish for the first time in his life since being shaped into the ultimate weapon for humanity to combat curses with, since sacrificing and soon coming to abandon his basic needs as a person that he never felt he really was (at least not until Suguru, who he never felt alienated around, but things like that are left unsaid). Suguru had never heard Satoru say anything with such vitriol, he’s never heard him say something with such conviction. Just as those things are firsts for Suguru, he certainly has never seen the skin around Satoru’s eyes pink and puffy, has never seen him wear such a vulnerable expression on his face. Satoru asks Suguru to join him. Suguru knew this wasn’t for the best, he knew it was off, he knew Satoru was off. Suguru won’t stand by and watch this, Suguru says as such. Suguru leaves him.

BUT NOT REALLY!!!! They have a “super healthy” secret relationship of leaning on each other for emotional stability even as Satoru preaches about genocide, (Suguru finding it unnerving that Satoru wears that same, arrogant smile on his face as he did when they were teens, all the while.) and Suguru nurtures the newest generation of sorcerers in hopes that he can prevent anything like this ever coming about again (he also faced the abuse from the system and felt his own sense of self slipping away).

I’d like to think that Satoru is all around not the most stable individual and not super sure of himself even throughout his tirades. Satoru has never been the most ethically inclined, and honestly he can’t bring himself to cause any harm towards Suguru or anyone at jujutsu high. Call it sentimentality or being a coward, but Satoru can’t break himself out of this limbo of a deep seated resentment towards the world clashing with his personal attachments. Honestly I still have to think about that aspect a lot more, but…. yeah!!!!

also referring to my most recent art of the two, the light which the caption is referring to is the sunset they would both watch go down in cannon and stuff!! i wanted to play around with the symbolism of it, Suguru hopes that the light will hit Satoru, hopes that Satoru can feel even a semblance of that warmth in the hole of hatred he’s dug himself in. He hopes that maybe he can see the light that the world has to offer outside of jujutsu society and its inadequacies. He wants Satoru to be okay, he wants him to be alright in a way that Suguru knows he cannot currently offer. So for now Suguru will lend Satoru his shoulder as something they both know is temporary. They both are a MESS.

[theloveliestfawn]

A Court of Veiled Visions

Chapter 15: The Plasma Vessel

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“It could be,” Azriel agreed with Nuala, his voice measured. “This cult might be worshipping this Velius. The sacrifice of a plasma vessel is probably their ritual.”

Amanai shook her head. “We—they don’t worship Velius. He is a sorcerer, just like the rest of them a couple of millennia ago. He became immortal because he needed to watch over the veils.”

Cerridwen, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. “What exactly is a sorcerer?”

Amanai glanced at her. “A sorcerer is someone who fights the djinn and heals anyone infected by them.”

Cerridwen’s brows furrowed. “So… you’re saying the Fae in the temple are sorcerers?”

Amanai nodded. “That’s what they claimed to be.. But since there are no djinns left, no one has ever seen them actually fight.”

Nuala tilted her head. “Then what do they do?”

“They train everyday.” Amanai said with a slight shrug. “They study, they practice, they live like normal Fae… just with a different belief.”

Elain’s breath hitched, realization dawning in her eyes. “Cassian mentioned this too. Sorcerers were gifted with the ability to see djinn. And they could fight them and cure the infection they spread.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The moment Elain winnowed them there, they spotted two High Fae speaking to each other. When they sensed his and Elain’s presence, they instantly turned, weapons drawn, their gazes sharp and assessing.

The first was a male, dressed simply in a neatly tailored white shirt. His short, straight black hair framing a bored expression. In his grip, a long, curved blade gleamed, its razor-sharp edge catching the light.

Beside him stood a female clad in a similar neat shirt but in black. Her black-greenish hair tied in a ponytail. She wielded a long, staff-like polearm, its top adorned with a wicked curved blade.

Azriel raised a brow—he had never seen weapons like these before.

“Who are you?” the male asked, his tone laced with indifference.

Azriel flared his wings. “I’m the Spymaster of the Night Court. I should be the one asking that question—since you’re in our territory.”

The male’s lips curled into a sudden smile. “Oh! Our bad. We’re sorcerers from the Dawn Court.”

The female, however, didn’t react with the same ease. Her glare remained sharp, unyielding.

“We don’t have time for this,” she snapped. “We’re searching for someone important.”

Azriel’s expression remained unreadable. “The raven-haired girl with blue eyes?”

Their eyes widened just for a fraction before the female’s scowl deepened.

“Yes. Now tell me where she is.”

Elain, calm but firm, stepped forward. “What are you going to do with her?”

The female’s expression darkened, irritation flashing in her gaze. “None of your business.”

Azriel took a step closer, his stance shifting. And in response, the male instinctively moved in front of the female, blocking his path.

Elain’s eyes remained steady, unwavering. “Too bad. Only we know where the girl is. Unless you cooperate with us, you won’t get a thing.”

The female sorcerer smirked, amusement flashing in her sharp eyes. “Cooperate? Well then—we’ll just force the answers out of you.”

And then, in the same breath, they lunged.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

read the rest on AO3

[theroaringknight]

Hey, guys I just wanted to ramble about one my Deltarune “theories” before the next two chapters come out tomorrow.

So we know that there is some sort of “knight” that’s creating the fountains, and we know that Kris very clearly resembles a knight. So, I don’t know how much of this rambling is well-accepted or already theorized but I’m just spilling my thoughts haha.

But I feel like it’s a well accepted concept that Kris is the “white knight” and the roaring knight is the “black knight.” In story though it would probably be refered to as the “lighter knight” and the “darkener knight.” We also have a darkener King and Queen. And we even have a lighter king and queen (if Toriel and Asgore hypothetically take those roles). This suggests Deltarune is some sort of big ‘ol chess game. I would assume between the player and Gaster. Though, the level of “importance” to the pieces seem to be different then in a IRL chess game.

Additionally, I feel like this concept could even be seen in Noelle, Ralsei, Susie, and Berdly.

I feel like Ralsei and Noelle could easily symbolize “rooks.” As Ralsei is quite literally a prince, and design speaking, Noelle’s antlers kind of look like a crown? Also, they both share the same role in the party.

And Susie and Berdly both have an axe as their main weapon, so I wonder if that symbolizes them being the same piece, which with process of elimination would make them both bishops.

Obviously Susie, Berdly, and Noelle would be automatically labeled as “lighter pieces” and hypothetically Ralsei would be a “darkener rook” but that doesn’t make the most sense considering he is directly working with the player (hypothetically)? So he might just be defined as a lightner rook even if he’s not actually a lightner (I think this could apply to darkner pieces as well)?

Here’s the thing, if Susie and Berdly are both characterized as “lightner bishops” that sets cards on the table that there’s two lightner knights, two darkner knights, two darkner bishops and so on.

I feel like some more darkner pieces could be the characters like Spamton and Jevil, I don’t necessarily know what the frick they could be but they clearly have something to do with Gaster.

Basically what I’m saying is… if Deltarune is one giant chess game then there should be two other knights that we don’t know about. And the two main theories I’ve seen about who the roaring knight is Dess and Papyrus, and just thinking about this whole thingy, what if it could be them both? And it would be funny if they both thought they were the only darker knight haha. I don’t really know who could possibly be the other lightner knight. My first thought would be Undyne, but I only say that cause she’s quite literally a knight in Undertale. Otherwise, I don’t think that makes much sense. I don’t think it would be anyone from the classroom. I mean, I guess there’s also the fact that we created a vessel at the beginning of the game, so it could have something to do with that? Or maybe the Angel? Or maybe this is a dead end haha. It could just be very slightly based off chess and I’m slamming myself into a wall.

I don’t know if I’ll do anything with these ideas on this blog, but we will see! This story concept right now is really just a concept haha. I like to prioritize my personal stuff, but I’m in a bit of a UTDR mood rn cause of Deltarune hype!

But yeah, that’s it! Just a bunch of rambling!

[purple-crusader]

SOOO IT'S TIME!!! Stephcass Week is here!! I'm both excited and scared since this is the first time I'm posting my writing online and idk how people may respond.

There was no beta reader and English is not my first language, so you may correct me if you notice anything wrong. I'm gonna focus on one prompt per day, because writing all fourteen would be too much.

Anyway I hope you enjoy 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

STEPHCASS WEEK Day 1: Sparring

Word count: 1,014

@stephcassweek

Stephanie looked at her in complete awe sometimes. All her moves seemed both perfectly calculated and graceful, like a ballerina's (she should definitely try that some day). She knew exactly when to expect the enemy to punch, so she could dodge it. She was the one leading in a fight, proloning it sometimes so that it looked like a dance or just a play between her and the opponent. Ever since she joined the family, she begun to shape the way she fought into something embedded with grace. She didn't want to take down enemies from the get-go, hit them in their weakest spots, even if she could perfectly locate them. That's what she was trained for in her childhood by her father, to be a weapon of death. But she turned out to be much more, a true person and her fighting style could also be a vessel to show that.

There was something soothing and stimulating for Steph in the way Cassandra fought. To an extent that at times she would just look at her during trainings with other members of the family. She trained most with Dick, wiping the floor with him by the end of their 'dance', but that never really discouraged him. She trained with the blonde's boyfriend Tim sometimes, especially now, since his father made him give up the Robin mantle. It didn't stop him from coming down to the Bat-Cave and developing his fighting skills through Cass, if he couldn't do it on the rooftops. She saw her fight with Batman once, she almost thought he would win, but it was all part of Cass' plan.

She didn't ever volunteer to fight with her herself though. If anyone asked her why, she would say that she's just not as good. You might say that no one was on Cass' level, but her brothers at least trained for years, while she was just starting her Bat-training, so she stood out. Subconsciously though, Steph felt... overwhelmed? She couldn't quite put a finger on it. Cass was just amazing at everything. She was a great fighter, had a beautiful body, a fast lerner, incredibly resilient. Steph would get clumsy around her sometimes, not really sure what to say. Or she would stare at her during her training like at the moment...

Steph was taken out of her numb state, as Cass put Tim down on the mat and then looked at her and waved. A little blush got onto the girl's face, hoping the other one didn't notice how long she was observing her (she totally did), but she waved back. In response Cass did the hand move indicating she wanted the other woman to join her on the mat.

"W-what? Me? Pfft, oh- come on, Cassie! What am I gonna do to you?" Steph started, "Just look at what you did to Boyfriend Wonder, I'm gonna end up a puddle." She let out a forced laugh. "'m totally fine..." Tim muttered from his splattered position on the ground.

"I'll be gentle." Cass signed. She was learning to speak quite fast for a seventeen year old who was never taught that, but she preffered that form of communication sometimes. "Well shit." Steph thought to herself. "You only die once." She went to the mat, as Tim managed to get himself off it. She tried to take on some kung-fu fighting stance, that she would see in those Bruce Lee movies that she liked to copy so much, but she got kinda wobbly and it turned out awkward. Cass chuckled happily at that.

"I lead or do you?" Cass said it vocally this time. "I do?" Steph said unconvinced and the other girl nodded. The blonde decided to start with a simple punch to get things in motion, that Cass unsurprisingly dodged. Steph moved quickly to not lose her from sight, which went surprisingly well. Maybe she really was going easy on her. She tried to reach her with another punch, then a kick, a low kick, but Batgirl dodged them all. Finally the dark-haired woman caught Steph's fist and then moved her hand to the blonde's wrist. It caught the girl off guard and before she saw it, Cass pulled her closer trying to catch her. She couldn't let that happen.

The women begun moving around each other, throwing punches, dodging them, parring, pulling closer. Steph was too focused on the thing to notice Cass started the whole "dance with her enemy" thing with her. They moved graciously and in sync, as if they done that a thousand times before.

Eventually Cass must've lost herself in the little game she orchestrated, as Steph pulled a move that Tim taught her, that would put Cass to the ground. The girl took the control back from her blonde opponent and she ended up laying on top of her after their ill-considered crash on the mat.

"You OK?" Cass asked her opponent with some worry in her voice, when she saw Steph was laying completely still. Meanwhile in Steph's head a hundred different emotions were mixing at the same time, which resulted in a feeling as if a ton of butterflies scattered around her body. When she realized she was like that a good few seconds she pulled herself from the floor as fast as possible.

"I'M FINE! I'm great! Wow! Oh my God. It was amazing! We're so good at this! We must do that more often, huh." Steph was shooting words at a speed which has been a bit too fast for Cassandra, but she was glad her colleague was alright. She gently smiled at her and the butterflies came back to Steph's body.

"Welll... I'm gonna just... Go find Tim maybe... Or shower. Or shower with Tim- or no, not shower with Tim- anyway I need to go, catch you later!" And Steph left her sparring partner in the training hall. As she was walking through the corridor she calmed herself down and got her mind working properly again. One thought was left in her head.

What just happened?

--------------------------------------------------------------

Yet again I hope you enjoyed it and see you in the next days!!

[the-worms-in-your-bones]

The Apocalypse Element

‘Twenty of the greatest powers in space time’ → there are actually a good number of temporal powers, interesting, given we really only see three other than the time lords in later audios

‘Since when did gallifrey seek the approval of other time traveling races’ → the non isolation is pretty new

Seems that cia doesn’t typically do this type of thing → based on the doctor’s comments about vansell working more in the shadows, and it must be something important for him to be accompanying the president

They brought back an old president to serve in the role temporarily while romana is gone → is this just something that you can do, like make an old president step up, or was he asked/did he volunteer

Time lords at the conference to see who has the power to remove a planet from time

‘The monan hosts ship, the most powerful vessel here’ → their time ships have more power than the time lords

‘That technology in the daleks hands’ ‘it should have been gallifreys’ → of course they’re more worried about the time lords not getting the technology than the time lords getting it

There are other methods of time travel used by the other temporal powers (monans use gravity wells), but they all seem to be using to vortex as a medium for travel

oh romana

Vansell and the doctor using mental contact to communicate information → seems like a more accurate and faster way to do it than just talking to each other

‘You’re wearing the wrong body’ → this is taking place in the doctor’s future

Romana is still president, but the other guy is also called lord president → you get to keep the title?

‘Gallifrey sleeps, it’s the middle of the night’ → i wonder how long their nights are given the whole two suns things

‘The situation may afford certain opportunities’ → in reference to the monans asking for sanctuary, not willing to help others unless it can do something for them, they may no longer be as isolationist, but they are still only doing things in their interests

‘But gallifrey can not be seen to interfere, not in matters of war’ → interesting how the noninterference holds up even when they are now interacting with other temporal powers, also ‘can not be seen’ → they can interfere, it’s just that no one can know they are doing it

Vansell trying to get the monan time vessel → cia wants to use the technology for themselves, extremely predictable

Vansell seems to only care about the monans dying because it means he will no longer have access to their technology

‘I will not have gallifrey overrun with aliens’ → even though the president seems more sympathetic, he still clearly doesn’t want them there, still holds very time lord views

Doors are resistant to weapon damage

Doors opened by retina scan

‘One of my old presidential codes’ → presidents are given multiple code for things i guess, also wonder if they specifically have different uses and the doctor just can’t remember which one is for which thing or they can be used somewhat interchangeably, also the fact that he expects it to work despite the fact that he is no longer president → they just keep working even after you retire

‘My presidential override’ ‘telepathic imprimatur’ → codes part of the time lord themself? (something like regeneration, it’s given to you when you become president?)

The way they talk about the tardis here → ‘synaptic equations’ ‘don’t resist me’ ‘work with her’ → living technology that is also made of math (i really do love the living technology aspect of time lord stuff)

‘The tardis cradles’ → idk what i have to say about that, the wording just seemed noteworthy

‘And no one can leave gallifrey’ → so since the daleks are locked in this one room with the tardises you can’t leave, do they seriously keep all of their tardises in one place, seems like a security issue

‘To all levels’ → they’ve got multiple levels (look i know this isn’t like groundbreaking lore or something, but hey info on the layout of the citadel is info on the layout of the citadel)

There are residential areas within the capitol → interesting given how it seems there’s a difference between the citadel and capitol (though could be a case of only some writers have it be this way) and how when romana later loses the presidency she is no longer permitted to be in the capitol, are the residential areas for people who work in the capitol, like politicians, guards, cia, and such, or are they just treating the capitol and citadel as the same here (or, given that the thing with romana is from a later audio, that bit of lore hadn’t been thought of yet, and therefore doesn’t actually apply) (that’s not gonna stop me from pointing it out though)

‘You and the all the cia acting on your own agenda’ → typical cia behavior (seems vansell made the mistake of doing it in front of the president though because he just got yelled at about it)

‘Mere fools, greedy children who would surrender splendid isolation for quick advantage’ → i know this is how the president thinks the daleks see them, but also this is kind of just true

‘The daleks have left us alone for millenia’ → can’t tell if he means that they’ve just never bothered with the time lords before, or if it’s been millenia since they have

‘Advances that you craved for gallifrey’ → implication that the breaking of their isolation was the cia’s doing, honestly this makes enough sense, their whole thing is intervention, if gallifrey is no longer completely isolationist it just makes their jobs easier

And romana passed out, someone get her to a fucking doctor or something (an actual qualified doctor, not the Doctor)

‘These were ceremonial guards, expecting the arrival of a monan dignitary’ → guards sent there specifically for ceremony, but those are the only guards mentioned, so i’m guessing they don’t have guards normally guarding the tardis cradles (trust in their security technology to guard it for them?), also interesting how they’re all dead dead, dalek weapons have ability to inhibit regeneration? (that or the damage from them is just too severe for regeneration to be possible?)

Romana trying to ally with the daleks as part of her plan count 1 (yes, yes, i know it’s a trick, but you know, it counts), good to know she has one plan that isn’t just ‘i’m going to kill myself’

They just never checked that their doors couldn’t also be opened by dead retinas → i think the doctor describes this best ‘complacency, the middle name of most time lords’

‘We don’t have armies on permanent standby’ → no military at this point in their history

‘Vansell, i imagine you have some small power invested in you by the more conventional powers of gallifrey’ → cia doesn’t actually have that much power in the way that the president or castellan does it seems, though they probably do have a great deal of power outside of the everyday life aspect of time lord society

‘The president has his own console in the council chamber with access to our entire defense network’

‘Which is why the cia have full override’ → they don’t really have the power to order people around, but they sure can control pretty much everything else, can’t they

‘Think about the current population of this planet, thousands of privileged gallifreyans currently enjoying full security access around the capitol’ → i am once again asking just how many time lords there are

‘The whole planet will be out of bounds to its own population’ → so are all the locks controlled by the same system or is vansell exaggerating/only considering the capitol the planet

‘The high council chamber of congress’ → just putting this here because they said a place name

‘These may be extraordinary times, but humans have no place’ → i wonder what restrictions are put on leela in terms of where she can and can not go on gallifrey, given that this implies that humans aren’t allowed in certain places

‘Gallifreyans and daleks alike’ → idk if they’re using gallifreyans and time lords interchangeably here, but could be interesting if all technology on gallifrey is based off of retinal scans

‘Tardises won’t work’ → tardises also rely on retinal scans then?

The president keeps calling evelyn ‘the earth woman’ → i wonder how humans are commonly referred to on gallifrey (if they are referred to often at all), we’ve seen that they have different names depending on the species talking, so maybe some time lords call them other things

‘None of this seems real, that the daleks could destroy my world’ → it’s really interesting to me just how pervasive the idea of some sort of time war involving gallifrey was even before the new who time war, like you have the war in heaven with the edas and the daleks wanting to destroy gallifrey here

And romana has once again passed out

Romana and the other president clearly seem to know each other, i wonder if he was picked specifically to serve in her place because of a previous relationship that they had, or maybe he was just in the right seat in government

Need the sash and rod of rassilon to manipulate the eye of harmony

‘The vault of the eye of harmony’

‘The atmosphere here, you can feel the power can’t you’ → something something time lords themselves are somewhat technological, so they can feel the power of their technology

‘The sacred heart of the time lords’ → description of the eye of harmony

‘That’s all it is when you strip away all the mystical mumbo jumbo, a phenomenal power source’ → something something advanced technology being magic, even the time lords who have the knowledge to comprehend it still treat it kind of like it’s magic

‘Be true to our heritage, remain emotionless observers’

‘Let’s take your own galaxy, the milky way’ → now is the doctor saying it this way because gallifrey isn’t in the milky way (something which has been established, at least i think so by this point, to be untrue), or just using that phrasing to make it more relatable to eveyln

‘Only primitives depend on robots’ → time lords both suck and have a fascinating view of the universe, why are robots not advanced enough, is the end goal to be so advanced that neither you nor a robot need lift a hand for something to happen?

The way they’re talking about the eye of harmony makes me think it looks like the one from the movie

‘I can feel it, even with the sash defusing its energies’

They’ve got some sort of announcement system

‘If any trace of your eye scan is still lingering in the security matrices, who knows what effect you could have on the old girl’ → now what does he mean by this

‘We’ll never be defenseless again’ → romana going to build up gallifreyan military?

[gliphyartfan]

@yanderelinkeduniverse @stars-for-thought @imprisioned-in-the-hole @screaming-until-god-hears-me @crestfallenmermaidan @ice-cream-writes-stuff @linked-heroes @eternadreeblissa

Howdy Howdy! Boy this one should have been posted a few days ago! Sadly I got rather sick and then how to deal with a few other things. I'm good-ish now!

But it's here! And I shall be taking a victory nap as a reward!

This one ran away from me. Did not expect it to follow the path it did. But it happened and I accepted my fate.

(Note to self: Never write about deities, they take full control of the majority of the story, making me write more than planned while they take center stage 😤)

-

-

-

What He saw was the sight of battle.

What He smelled was the scent of blood.

What He heard was the sounds of combat. 

What He felt was the ground rumble below Him and the shifting of the winds. 

Felt the scent of smoke and blood fill His lungs and escape. 

Before Him, beasts that cried for flesh. 

Behind Him, He sensed terror, caution, and pain. 

He did not need to look around to know why He was released. 

Unrestrained beasts that needed to be culled.

The Young Vessel's desire for their deaths urged him forward. 

Yes. He understood well His purpose for being called. 

He raised His sword, uncaring of the sight of beasts instinctively cowering before him. 

It was not an unusual sight for Him.

It was only natural that the weak kneel before Strength.  

It was the way of War. 

The weak bow to the blade. 

But foolishness comes to the weak sooner or later, shown as one of the beasts became brazen enough to charge forward, it's allies even more so as they followed suit.

He hefted His blade above His head. 

And the hoards quickly fell to His might.

—

—

There is a eternal repetition in battle. Repetition in war. 

Use your weapon. Kill your enemy. Move on to the next. 

The methods that war is waged may change as eras pass, but remove all the ideologies that each side has, and the bare bones of it all is the same as the very first war to ever be waged. 

There are the Victors, and there are the Defeated.

 All of them have blood on their hands. 

Gods are no different from mortals in that aspect. Despite what many, divine included, may say otherwise. 

If it were not so, the Fierce Deity would have no need to exist. Perhaps he would have long been granted the Fine Rest all souls earn inevitably. 

Imprisonment within the mask did not mean death of who He was. Even within the wooden cage, the Drums of War called to Him constantly. 

Battle urged Him to come. To lay waste against those He would claim as enemies. 

Having a hand in Majora's death was a satisfying return to the mortal plane. 

But to bond with the young vessel that He laid claim to. A soul that could hold His power without risk of corruption. It lead much change for Him.

He sensed the Soul long before he ever step foot in that place of mourning and memories. Sensed the touch of divinity that coated his soul. (A touch that displeased him, though he had not yet known why) 

A seemingly fragile shell with a Soul that wielded such uncanny Strength. 

The boy had been far from his reach when he had first been made aware of it's presence, yet the boy's soul strongly reached for Him, as if it had known Him longer than the mortal shell had lived.

Many times the connection they held, fragile as it was, would strengthen without warning, then weaken after some time. 

The sense of Divinity would ting within those moments. 

The soul echoed it's emotions to Him when their connection grew during those times. 

What emotions they were. 

The force of them all pulled at His attention, left Him unable to return to the silence that his prison wrapped Him in. 

Turbulent. Like a raging storm. 

Yet at some point, it dulled. Repressed itself deep within. Yet with focus He could feel the raging force within longing to be released upon those that had wronged it's shell. 

 The urge would sometimes overtake the boy.

When it did, the feeling of loss would overwhelm them both. It was an agony that He felt through his incorporeal being every single moment until the connection would fade back to fragility.

Soon the connection no longer fluctuated in strength. 

But it did grow closer. 

and with it's nearing, it was inevitable that He would come to learn the reason behind the turmoil he perceived within it.

—

—

Young, weary yet hardened eyes took in the lands that held his prison. 

Lands that did, yet did not, exist.  

Still, those same eyes took in the life in this world, saw it with familiarity that one his age should not have. 

He was a shell that was Weak. 

Or so He had thought. In the beginning, at the very least. 

He had not meant to speak to the boy when he sent foot within the land of timeless death, merely choosing to speak into the silence, aware that any answer would not be made. 

Yet He had not been displeased when the boy answered Him back without a moment of hesitation. Even less displeased when the boy was unbothered by His return to silence.

He watched how those eyes remained dulled and unfeeling as the cycle of repetition continued. 

 They did not waver even when He spoke to the boy.

And still He watched. Witnessed the cycles repeating themselves, over and over again in this Timeless land.

The boy collected the masks, assisted every person that he could, and with each mask granted to him, their connection strengthened. 

A question asked by Him for every moment the child Fell to the First Day. 

The child would answer without fear or question. 

The child who opened his very soul to Him.

It was...interesting...to watch this strange boy, to be allowed to witness all that made him who he was. 

To see the vessel grown to match the strength of his Soul, to sense His claim over him within those memories despite never having claimed him before. 

To witness the battles that had Once been fought by his hand. 

To see others with souls as strong as his. Hardened through trials that no mere warrior could face without becoming corrupted.

To see them all slowly soften within the presence of a mere mortal girl. 

She was a curiosity at most. Though an ignorable presence at minimum. 

A being from another reality all together. One that does not have active gods nor active magic. 

The world may have arose from Chaos but magic has always rested against the surface of the lands. To know of a world that exists without such foundations...that was what caught His eye. 

He supposed the girl had a way with words and actions. Easily able to ease the sorrows of His Vessel and his companions with well meaning acts of kindness. 

A maternal hand. Perhaps a touch uncommon for a woman of her age without young ones, but not out of the ordinary for someone to be naturally caring. 

She was a curiosity. But a dull one. 

In the beginning. 

Yet he watched the memories that may as well also be His as His Vessel sharpened his blade and slaughtered all those that dare endanger her. 

How he and his companions nearly tore one another apart in a bid to claim a place within the one who's heart they desired to protect and cherish. 

It was then He began to focus on who the woman was.

This woman was knowledgeable as a royal scholar, wise with words in a way that even the most experienced ambassadors could not best. 

A heart that opened itself to those that had good souls yet a steel gaze that was ready to pierce anyone who would dare to fool her. 

In a way, all that was lacking was physical strength. 

It was utterly fascinating to witness. 

The souls of the Hylian Lands, they grew too used to peace. Rarely was war fought unless the Demon heir rose to bring it forth. The souls here preferring to stay in their ignorant comfort as the Goddess sent her Chosen Sacrifice of the era to do her bidding. 

Yet this one soul, one without magic nor blessings... 

Yes...He longed to see how much this woman's strength grew. 

This woman was not as fragile as He first assumed. 

He wondered, how she would take to the blade. 

Perhaps a spear? Nothing so fragile as a Bow nor dagger. No, this woman would not be pleased fighting at a distance. 

He wondered what expression she would show as she felled her enemies? 

What gaze would pierce her dying foes as she cut into their flesh? 

She was truly an...enigma...

Fragile yet strong. 

Heart of kindness yet a heart willing to steel itself in the face of adversity and manipulation. 

The only true reason His Vessel and his brothers succeeded in hiding the actions they committed, was simply because she saw no reason to suspect them. 

They would not have done so well, had she viewed them as adversaries. 

Indeed, The being that He once was, in a time no longer existent, had assumed too hastily.

 She was a match for Him and His. More so than any of the Goddess' blood. 

A soul worthy of His blessing and protection. 

It would indeed take a strong soul to attract the hearts of those who the Goddess of the Hylian land would dare claim as Hers.

A sense of peace was instant her presence, one that His Vessel had never held before. 

A peace that spread amongst those His Vessel eventually claimed as Sword Brothers. 

Yet...even the Deity of War knew such peace was always at risk of being ripped from mortals who were not cautious. 

And inevitably, the woman was stolen from them. (From Him.) 

His Vessel and his brothers broken by her absence. (His immense displeasure at their failings) 

Then...power. Much of it. Colliding and mixing in ways such differences each power held should not. 

And then...His Vessel woke again. Body once more that of a child. 

Awakening just as He took notice of the sudden connection that they shared. 

One that should not have existed, yet had always been there.

It seemed the Vessel was as aware of their connection as He was. Perhaps that familiarity was enough for his mind,unbalanced as it was, to hold on. 

He supposed His being had been used for worse purposes before. He saw no shame in a fellow warrior finding a semblance of grounding within the presence of a comrade. 

When the moment came that his wooden prison was placed in his Vessel's hand, their connection solidified instantly. 

Odd it was, to feel such a...sense of rightness. 

This...was His Vessel. 

How the boy relaxed upon wielding His mask. His power, His Being, coursing through his mortal veins, as the young Vessel's form adapted to house His soul. 

As it was always meant to. 

( When He returns to His prison at the end of their battle with Majora, He ponders what thoughts would fill the Great Ones of the Beyond. Should they ever learn of the Goddesses' actions? What would the Great Ones think of the Divine Maidens, sending infants to fight Their wars?)

—

—

He recognized the souls approaching Him from His Vessel's memory.

Where the other warriors treaded cautiously around Him, these souls walked without fear nor arrogance. 

His Vessel was not pleased by their presence. 

(his hurt echoing through Him at the sight of them.) 

'Leave.' His Vessel's presence echoed within him. 

Leave?

His Vessel? Unwilling to face them? Those that his heart claims as his own? 

Unwilling to face the possibility that they would view him with unfamiliar eyes? 

(Such an strong yet vulnerable soul His Vessel was.)

It was rather humorous to note. 

The two warriors drew near and stopped before Him. Each standing a bit further away as if in respect of His Presence.

Murmurs from the surrounding troops gradually spread out over the temporary encampment.  Easily ignored, He did not care for any attention paid His way.

He awaited their next action, silent as he was gazed upon by those that may or may not know Him and His well. 

The two sides stared at one another, His mind immediately noted similarities between the two men and his Vessel.

Both possessed powerful souls, His Vessel's own soul calling out to it's brethren. 

Their bodies relaxed, their hands visible. As if to assure him that they mean no harm. 

But their eyes, such gazes hid many intentions. Yet they were clear to Him with ease. 

...No, it was not that He was able to see their their facade. It was that they were not bothering to hide it from Him. 

They sought Him-sought out His Vessel whilst playing the part of oblivious men. 

And the intimidated men surrounding them, all were blind by such a weak farce.  

It seemed they were done with their inspection of Him as He was with them. 

The younger one took a step forward but was stopped by the elder one's arm. 

The elder one ('Captain' His Vessel's thought echoed through Him.), stepped forward, closing the space between then til he was naught by a few feet away. 

"May your sword never dull." The warrior greeted him, the corner of his lips turning upward in a faint smirk. 

"Though if it must dull, May it dull after your enemies are long since slain." 

It seems His Vessel saw fit to teach them proper greetings. Curious. (As was the surprising echoing from His Vessel.) 

"Captain," one of the men in the crowd whispered toward the elder warrior, "He's dangerous! Ally or no, we can't risk antagonizing him!"

Without a hint of regarded to the whispered warning, the captain pressed his sword hand horizontally across his abdomen, bowing deeply to Him. 

"We are honored by your presence, Great Deity, and your assistance in winning this battle." The captain spoke, voice calm and respectful "May we prove ourselves worthy of your continued favor in this war."

"...You speak well." Amusement sparked within Him as the men surrounding them jumped at His voice. 

Yet His Vessel's brethren were not phased. 

"I am honored by your acknowledgement." The captain replied smoothly, "I was taught well by a most trusted comrade." 

His Vessel had indeed taught him well. Not many would greet Him with such respect and sincerity. 

Even if His vessel was still displeased with the situation at hand. The urge to leave pulsing through their connection. 

...He naturally chose to ignore it. (The annoyance that pulsed soon after indicated that His Vessel was very aware of his intentional ignorance.) 

He observed the captain, noting His Vessel's emotions as he watched the man straightened. 

 Peace mixed with quiet joy. Yet also anxiousness and frustration. 

Truly was His Vessel willing to hide away in order to avoid facing what troubles him? 

Always so childish when it comes to matters of heart and soul. 

No matter to Him, He had no wish to linger amongst solders who could not muster the courage to look Him in the eyes. 

'I've faced my share of battles today.' He spoke to His Vessel, pulses of confusion and sudden panic swept through Him as He reached up and covered His face with His hand.

'Now you face yours.' And He released His hold on His Vessel, His power being pulled back into His wooden prison. 

---

---

Warriors watched as a bright flash of light consumed the surrounding area, exclamations filled the air yet the light faded as quickly as it appeared. 

Where the Fierce Deity once stood, now the men saw- 

"Is that a child?" 

The young boy, perhaps a bit younger than the Hero of Winds, stood there, mask in hand. 

Bafflement clear on his face as he stared straight at the Captain. 

"Hello Hero of Time." Warriors greeted him, a hand resting on his hip, his words inciting more whispers. 

Time blinked repeatedly, lowering his gaze to the mask in his hand. 

Slowly, his gaping mouth twisted into a scowl, and without a moment of hesitation, he threw the deity's mask to the ground before him. 

"Damned God!" He exclaimed angrily, even as the surrounding men because to quickly step back, faces rapidly paling at the young hero's actions. "A devil more like! Always putting me on the spot when I least want his damned input!" 

Warriors chuckled, which slowly turned into a laugh. 

Wind behind him, biting his bottom lip and trying to stay silent despite his shoulders shaking from his own laughter. 

---

---

"Oh, I haven't laughed like that in ages!" Warriors commented, still chuckling as they settled in a isolated corner of the encampment. 

It had taken some time to calm his men, but eventually he had managed to guide Wind and Time away with him. 

"They all looked like you insulted their mother." Wind snickered, legs kicking against the crate he sat on. "Then again, they'd probably look less insulted if you had." 

"Moments like this makes me wonder why I let that one put me in the spotlight." Time grumbled, sitting on the ground and resting against the crate Wind sat on. 

"Well, it seems he simply wanted you to stop trying to hide away." Warriors suggested, reaching behind him and unclasping the waterskin from his belt and holding it put to Time.

"Here, I doubt all that fighting in this soot filled air has done your tongue any favors." 

Time eyed the hand before accepting the waterskin and taking a drink. 

Silence reigned in their small corner.

Wind humming quietly as Time stared at the ground at his feet. 

"...How have you been, my sword brother?" Warriors asked watching as Time set the waterskin aside as he shifted slightly against the crate.

"...I suppose I could be worse." Time replied.  "I've been better, considering I don't feel quite as alone anymore."

"It's a nice feeling." Warriors agreed,  smiling at his brother fondly.

"Mn."

Another silence reigned as Time stared at the ground.

"…Do you want to talk about it?"

"What is there to talk about?" Time said, "I woke in a body I had long thought I would never be forced to wear again. Forced to see the faces of my allies look at me with unfamiliarity. To bow my head towards the Goddess' heir.  To journey again through places I never wished to traverse again." Time spoke through his teeth, his breath escaping in a hiss. 

"All while trying to differentiate between truth and fiction within the confines of my own mind." He laughed bitterly. 

"No, I don't have much going on in my life." 

"Well pardon me for assuming you've been struggling." Warriors commented sarcastically. 

He expected no answer to that but instead received only a scoffed laugh as Time leaned back against the crates once more. "Of course not. It would just be foolish on my part to assume otherwise, when the last time I was faced with the reality of a future that does not exist."

Warriors fell silent.

"But...you know it happened." Wind piped up. "We both remember it too, three for three. So that means the others must remember too." 

That earned an agreeing hum from Time who didn't utter anything else.

"But why didn't you find us?" Warrior continued, "Why not find us so you could share your burden with ones who knows what it feels like?"

"Because I... couldn't burden you with something as trivial as-" He cut himself off, "-I mean-" 

Time sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, his expression was solemn, his youthful face contrasting with such an old expression.

"I'm...nowhere near the end of this curse." 

"Time-" 

"How long will it be for you both, before we are all united once again." He asked, "One? Two? A few years at most?" 

Wind and Warriors stayed silent. 

"But what about me? Trapped in a child's body once again, and every aspect that comes with such a curse." 

"Pardon if this may sound offending, but is it truly as bad as you say?" Warriors questioned.

"You are not the one who must wait decades to reunite with everyone." Time snapped, turning his gaze away from them to glare up at the darkening sky.

"I logically thought of all the benefits that came with this circumstance of renewal. What I could improve from my previous path. What I could change." Time left out a quiet laugh, face twisting into a weak smile before it return to the frown it had.

"I tried to see everything from the perspective of someone who could return to our goddess with strength and wealth that would benefit her and her happiness." He shook his head, eyes closing. 

"But it was not returning to my past that hurt. Nor was it that all my efforts in the previous life was erased like wind blowing away words written in sand. To be looked at with pitying eyes who only see a child, no matter the efforts I do to prove otherwise." He opened his eyes, tears glistening at the corners and threatening to fall. 

"What truly hurts is the length of time that I must wait to return to you all. Not to even bring up the length until we reunite with our beloved." 

His eyes burned as the two other men stayed silent and patient.

(He hadn't even realized he had started shedding tears until Wind's hand gently rested on his shoulder and squeezed it tight.)

"I..."

His voice broke as he spoke, though he swallowed down the emotion before letting out another sob.

"There's nothing I want more than for us all to be reunited again, even moreso being reunited with our beloved." He whispered, "Yet I can barely handle it. The pain, knowing I'll spend decades waiting for my comrades to come together once more. In a way, seeing you both now is like salt on the wound, a wound that is then grind down by one's heel." 

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes tightly, as a choked laugh escaped his throat.

"I'm sure you heard of the failed assault against the sorceress' forces? The one led by the Lieutenant General Doza?"

"He tried to lead an assault through the Palace of Twilight, right?" Wind  stated, "And failed half way through, along with the slaughter of most of his men. . After that, he sent a message requesting for rescue and stating that the sorceress' forces are stronger than ever."

"Which they now are, thanks to his disregard of the warnings they received." Time spat,  eyes opening wide as his tone went sharp and cold.

"He also claimed that he was 'caught unawares', and that if he had be 'properly forewarned', he would have succeeded."

"Something tells me he had been forewarned." Warriors remarked calmly.

"He was," Time answered, "By me." 

"...What?" Warrior frowned.

"Before he neared the palace, I had crossed paths with him. I recalled you mentioning last time how the previous assault also failed and I had approached him with 'advice.'" He explained with a scowl. "He laughed at me and told me little children should not play at being a soldier. He ordered some of his men to escort me to safety while he marched his men forward." 

"That arrogant-" Warriors pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply. "Seems the death of his captain took the last of his senses. I lent him some of my men. The very same ones who lost their lives there."

"The attack failed against the sorceress, as expected. The only reason there were any soldiers left to save was because I requested reinforcements after I was shoved to one of the far bases." Time continued.

"Didn't really stick around to see if they came in time, left as soon as I sent the message." 

"That explains why I was praised for my foresight in the rescue." Warriors muttered. 

"I knew how to make it seem like you wrote it, so I took advantage of that." Time sighed. 

"Lives lost due to arrogance and overconfidence in one's position. Worst part? He'll never admit to it. Even if I had been an adult." 

"Men like him never want someone else to order them around." Wind commented. "Is that why you've been sticking as the Deity?" 

"He's imposing enough to make sure no one tries to treat me like a child." Time answered smoothly. 

"Yet you were hoping that you could use him to bypass speaking to us." Warriors placed his hands on his hips, Time looked away. 

"I already told you why." 

"Yes, but why didn't you try talking to us sooner?" Warriors demanded. "The failed assault happened two weeks prior, where were you?" 

"Does it even matter?" Time asked tiredly. 

"Not particularly, but I'd still prefer if you would at least tell us why." Warriors said.

Silence reigned for awhile.

Finally, a sigh left Time's lips.

"I was scared." He admitted.

"..Scared?"

"Don't tell me neither of you were scared at the possible idea none of us remembered." Time scoffed. 

Silence descended upon them once more.

"I was terrified." He confessed quietly, "I was petrified of facing you both, of seeing your faces look at me with unfamiliarity." 

He rubbed his cheek with his hand, "I could barely stomach returning to my child's body. But seeing you both look at me with unfamiliar eyes? That would have broken me." 

"But we do remember." Warriors quietly stated, taking a step forward. 

"But I didn't know that yet, did I?" Time smirked weakly at him. 

"Believe me, hearing you greet the deity as you did and knowing you could only do so if you remembered." He sighed calmly, "It lit my heart with so much joy." 

"But then I suppose I became a coward in the time we have been apart. Here I was, willing to hide away so you would not see me like this." He motioned to himself. 

"So I attempted the coward's way out of speaking to you." He snorted softly. "And you saw how that turned out." 

Warriors took a step forward, then another. Slowly making his way to Time and kneeling before him. 

"I'm sorry my sword brother." Warriors said softly, making Time look at him. 

"Why are you sorry?"  He frowned, looking away again.

"If I'd known it meant you this much pain, I might have stopped and thought things through better." He shook his head.

"No..I-" Warriors sighed, "I'm sorry that out of all of us, you suffer the burden of years. Something no sword can defeat. That you would be left alone in your era with no true support. With no one who could hear your words and know it to be true." 

"I don't deserve such understanding, or apologies." His hands balled into fists, knuckles turning white and turning almost translucent under the strain. "None of us do for our arrogance." 

"None of us do," Warriors repeated in agreement, "But that doesn't mean we shouldn't be forgiven. Or rather, cared enough about, to forgive ourselves."

"You-" 

"We...have much to atone for. For trying to trap our beloved in a cage of our own making." He continued, "And for not being able to see it until it was too late."

He reached out slowly, taking hold of Time's shaking hands, and gave them both a gentle squeeze, Wind's hand never having left Time's shoulder. 

"But we are here. For each other. And we will stand beside you, until it is time for us to part once more." He slowly leaned his head down, pressing his forehead against Time's. 

"And when we reunite once again. We will stand by you, always. Just as you would always stand by us." 

Time stared at Warriors, mouth slightly agape.

His eyes shone bright with unshed tears 

Time blinked rapidly, the tears spilling freely. Warriors reached up and pulled him, and Wind, into a hug, letting Time bury his head in his chest and hold on tight.

"Let me go. Please." He said through his tears.

"Never."

"Please Captain-"

"Let us have this." Warriors pleaded softly to him. 

"We won't let you go." Wind agreed firmly, burying his own face against Time's shoulder. "We don't want to, not when you need this as much as we do." 

They felt Time shudder against them, and soon, he nodded. 

 They held him closer, silent as they soon heard his sobs grow louder and louder.

"I'm sorry." He sobbed, pressing his face against Warriors' tunic. "I'm sorry." 

"We're here." Was all that was said in reply. 

Time said nothing more as he continued to cry. 

Allowing himself to finally let go within the arms of the few who had his complete trust.

[itsclydebitches]

I think I sent an ask like this along time ago? IDK though.

The weird thing about Oz is that it feels like there was stuff they could have brought up if they wanted us to view him in a darker light that they just...dont

Like, that whole thing with Oz conquering the world with Salem and tricking people into worshipping them as gods. Yeah he eventually saw what he was doing was wrong, but that was after he and Salem had 4 kids. So for a long-ass time he was an imperialist god-king

Or the part where he nearly attacked Ruby once she asked Jinn the question.

It just...feels like those are totally things that should be discussed more. But instead they focus on a bunch of other things that are really weird to hold against Oz.

Like why focus on this you have way better things to hold against Oz right there.

That's very possible, anon! I don't know how many unanswered asks are sitting in this inbox now, but it's not a small number...

Totally agree. I think Oz gets criticized to an unfair degree by the canon and fandom alike (no one is shocked to hear this lol) but part of my issue is what he's criticized for, not just the extent. The show tends to take incredibly weird perspectives like, "How dare you give our uncle cool bird powers with no downside" and "How dare you save group members from a deadly airship crash." The fandom takes stances with larger political implications like, "How dare an abused man 'steal' his daughters away from the mother who wants to use them for a magical form of genocide" or issues that fundamentally break the core concept of the show: "How dare you let teenagers fight dangerous battles / How dare you reincarnate - something you have no control over - into a 14yo boy." The show does engage with some of Ozpin's morally complex choices with no easy answers like, "Is it okay to keep secrets if history has shown severe downsides to revealing that information?"... but then the answer the story decides on - "No it's not" - immediately doesn't apply to half the cast, with no examination of how that changes our perception of Ozpin's choice. And, as you say, the show simultaneously introduces HUGE mistakes - "You positioned yourself as a god! Then a king!!"- that the characters could absolutely mistrust him for... but they don't. Because they're too busy focusing on all of the above.

The only thing I'd push back against here is anyone being mad at Ozpin for "nearly attacking" Ruby. I'd consider that a highly unfair criticism as well given that:

We don't know if he would have attacked. He just charges with his and out-stretched, so Ozpin could just as likely have been intending to snatch the Relic

All these characters have aura and train/hit for funsies on a regular basis. It feels like a stretch - one working to paint Ozpin in an unfair light - to act like Ruby taking a hit is suddenly some horrific event that's worthy getting up-in-arms about

In this same scene the girls pull their weapons on Qrow and Oscar - someone WITHOUT that training/fully unlocked aura - gets punched into a tree. Again, consistent morality. Why is Ozpin in the wrong for charging with an open hand (ambiguous) but the girls are justified in pulling their weapons (clear intent)? Why should Super Fighter Ruby be defended for taking a hit after forcibly stealing secrets from Ozpin, but we should shrug off the newbie farm kid taking a hit for the "sin" of being an unwitting, passive vessel?

Plus... as said above, "forcibly stealing secrets." I'm not saying Ozpin is 100% justified in attacking Ruby over this, but I think he's a HELL of a lot more justified compared to actions like threatening Qrow or attacking Oscar. Ruby ignored his requests to give the Relic back; she ignored how terrified he clearly was. She wasted a wish (which Ozpin knew would happen). She revealed his entire, traumatic history to the group PLUS a total stranger (Maria) which, again, Ozpin knew would happen. Of course he tried to stop her. We will never know what lengths he would have gone to, whether he would have truly fought Ruby or just made a last minute grab, but even if he had fought her... It think that's understandable. We can argue about whether it's right, but it's not the sort of thing the heroes should be holding against him once tempers have cooled, especially when he has stuff like playing God that they have hold as a long term grudge.

Out of everything Ozpin has done, maybe being willing to fight the prodigy fighter to keep her from making one of the stupidest decisions we've seen in the show to date is pretty low on the sin list.