#[ eternal slave to destiny // blade ] | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vxnuslogy · 10 days

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𐙚 the poets department.

— or in which i associate certain ttpd songs with (some) honkai star rail men.

— warnings: angst if you squint

— author's notes: notice how jing yuan is the only one who had a happy part? banner credits to @cafekitsune please check them out they make very pretty banners <3

𐙚 BLADE ; THE PROPHECY

blade has never known peace ever since his betrayal with an old friend.

he yearns and yearns for his time to finally come. howling like a crazed wolf at the moon whenever the mara trapped in his body strikes and every time he’d gaze longingly, wishing to be taken back to time where he and his old friends would sit under the moon drinking their sorrows away. blade didn’t care if the graying hairs on his head spoke of his eventual departure; so long as his friends would remember him fondly then he’d die in peace with no complaints.

but now, every waking hour, he waits for destiny’s slave to write down his death on his script.

he was a monster, cursed to eternal loneliness, and yet that didn’t stop you from treating him with kindness. little old you who frets over him like a nagging but loving mother. greeting him with a smile that made feelings he buried deep within his chest start to resurface.

maybe this was the “death” he’s been hoping for; blade would die from all the yearning he has for you.

all the times you would keep him company after tiring missions did his cracking heart no good. the urge to throw himself into danger just so you could patch him up; yearning for the arms that reminded him of a home that’s long gone. how he wouldn’t be ashamed to stare at you or your hands, wanting to hold them in his own calloused ones. he doesn’t shrug off the thoughts of you from his mind but he’d cut off his own arm before they could ever reach you.

in blade’s mind, you were too good for him. something he’ll come to destroy one day and he didn’t even dare to imagine how that would affect him. now, instead of waiting for destiny’s slave to write out his death, he hopes that he finds a few more reasons to stay longer, for your sake.

𐙚 DAN FENG ; IMGONNAGETYOUBACK

what petty rivalry you and the high elder had. always trying your best to one-up him at anything and everything but ultimately failing while dan feng laughed in amusement in your seething bitterness. but the high elder couldn’t deny the feelings of endearment whenever you show up with jing yuan and others to drink, or how you show him the new weapon yingxing had crafted for you. challenging him to another sparring session while the others watched in the sidelines with amusement.

oh how you wanted to wrap your hands around his neck when you caught wind of his plans to try and resurrect his fallen comrade, making yingxing his accomplice in the process.

the way his eyes started to crack with panic as you pulled your bowstring back and aimed an arrow straight to his heart. but dan feng knew, you knew as well, that you wouldn’t actually let the arrow go and kill him even if you say otherwise. in the end, you lowered your weapon as the high elder was escorted to the shackling prison.

before he was forced to be reborn into a new reincarnation, you visited him and how you wished to punch that knowing smile off his face. you exchange brief pleasantries before you ultimately get fed up with his nonsense. all the while you ignore the shouts of his promise in his next life.

sneak him out of the prison, run away somewhere far from the luofu or to turn your back on your first love, it didn’t matter. both choices were poison either way.

𐙚 DAN HENG ; PETER

how many years have passed since you thought of him? better yet, why do you still think of him? why do you feel a wave of ambivalent emotions when you see his new incarnation?

when your eyes met for a brief moment, you had turned away quickly. muttering a soft apology to the merchant you were speaking to a moment ago as you sped walked your way back home. oh how you wish your feelings for the previous high elder would die just like him.

how you hate the way your heart replayed the days spent with him under the sun as he argued that he’d recognize you in every lifetime; the ocean deep promises to find you in every life. you wonder if he remembers you now.

by the time the sun had risen again, he was right there. just a few feet away from you while you carry documents for the master diviner. you hated the way your feet refused to move as he strides towards you, a smile you remember all too well on his face as he offered you a hairpin.

“i remembered, like i promised.”

oh how pitiful was it of you as you dropped the papers in your arms to wrap them around his neck, pulling him a tight embrace. you didn't want to admit that you had been waiting for his return, but truly, love is never lost when perspective is earned.

𐙚 JING YUAN ; THE ALCHEMY

it was quite a sight to behold really. the great apprentice of the luofu’s sword champion, on the ground with you pointing a wooden sword at his throat with a victorious smile.

you reveled in the compliments your peers gave you but eventually grew tired of how jing yuan would annoy to no end. you were this close to asking his master to cut him from the training sessions. but you don’t deny the way your cheeks flush after every sparring session jing yuan would win, he’d come running to you, asking if you were watching.

you’d hope that when he grew older he’d at least grow a mature bone in his body, oh how wrong you were. how was it possible that the same kid you’d beaten to a pulp would grow to be taller than you and even more annoying.

his relentless teasing when you couldn’t land as much hits as you did when the two of you were just kids nearly sent you spiraling over the edge. poor yingxing had to listen to your rants for hours on end, sometimes even kicking you out of his workshop so he could actually get some work done.

but despite all of his annoyingness and your wishes for him to mature, you will never grow tired of him running straight towards you after every victory he’s won under his belt. jing yuan has made it known to everyone that your name was etched into his heart, and really, who were you to fight the alchemy?

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kurim-chis · 10 months

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blade/yingxing x reader scenario:

kurim: blade’s past name was yingxing, supposedly

(blade sees your smile, beautiful and loving and inviting as he remembers you to be — when he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath and pretends he can have this, at the very least. you were so lovely, so very lovely, and the man he once was - yingxing - had truly loved you in a way he could not love anyone else)

you and yingxing were lovers, decades ago when he was still part of Xianzhou and you a person he fell in love with, yingxing liked building you trinkets and taking you to eat during the weekends and seeing your smile and he would throw hands with jing yuan because he always teased him and called him a love sick puppy

you and yingxing were some of the short-lived species in Xianzhou, you were content in XXXX area and yingxing was a genius amongst genius in crafting, building and creating tools, machinery, weapons and works of arts.

you and yingxing had your whole life planned out, it was not hard to when there was so much to do and so little time to do it, but you two are determined to make your lives count despite the looming threat of the abundance hanging over their head and the wars Xianzhou has to partake in and how nothing is determined in life, but you two love each other, but then this happens, but then that happens, but but butbutbutbut—

yingxing becomes mara-struck.

yingxing kills you in his first mara-struck rampage/haze.

yingxing will forever remember it - your blood is very warm and wet, even as he drops to his knees and tries tries tries but there’s nothing he can do because you’re already dead — he might have screamed, howled until his throat burst and his lungs collapsed and mended themselves, he might’ve had fought against jingliu too as well, he doesn’t quite know. he cannot remember anything apart from a red haze, doesn’t remember if you had screamed or tried to fight back or tried running away, but one look at you shows just how horrible a death you had experienced in your last moments. blade will have forever etched the image of your mangled body in his memory, because of course yingxing will have.

this is the first step towards the death of yingxing’s ego, and what will eventually create blade, an abomination who seeks for death and yet is denied time and time again, who is only left with vengeance and violence as a driving force for moving and breathing and fighting because he has nothing else

yingxing was a man who committed many great mistakes and paid for it with everything in his life, including the one he loved

blade is the remains of that man’s ego, the hatred and grief and anger and obsession and destruction and love, a monster given eternal life and reduced to a mad dog of destiny’s slave, all for the sake of reaching paradise

blade lives for the sake of dying — he lives for death, for vengeance, for the possibility of paradise

(blade sees your smile, beautiful and loving and inviting as he remembers you to be — you smile and smile and smile, perhaps a little sad but as lovely as he remembers and he wants to reach out for you with his bloodied hands, but you are unreachable, a ghost of his past, the victim of his sins, and he can do nothing but watch you stand on the other side of the river of stars. blade thinks that you’re as lovely as yingxing remembers you to be, waving at him, smiling at him, always smiling at him)

elio promises an ending to his wretched existence.

blade will stop at absolutely nothing to reach his desired paradise.

(you smile at him, and blade thinks that you still look so very lovely, decades after your death)

i’m sorry, i’m sorry, forgive me, forgive me, it was all my fault, if only i hadn’t—

(you only smile, and then blade opens his eyes to find his mangled body healing and mending and stitching together again)

#kurim writes hsr #blade x reader #blade sees death as a paradise he cannot attain sooooo #here’s the equation: you = dead = paradise #EXTREMELY SELF-INDULGENT I GUESS #i wanted something angst #hsr blade #hsr #blade x you #honkai star rail #in this house we swim in the pool of blade’s suffering #actually that’s kind of weird because I swear i wasn’t this obsessed over him before #I actually kind of liked Jing Yuan more :P #hsr scenarios #hsr imagines

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sparkylurkdragon · 1 year

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Concept: Ghirahim quoting all or part of Stormbringer's rant at the end of "Black Blade."

youtube

I am the Black Blade! Forged a million billion years ago!

My cosmic cycles are for eternity Carving out destiny Bringing in the Lords of Chaos Bringing up the Beasts of Hades Sucking down the souls of heroes Laying waste to knights and ladies My master is my slave

(maniacal laughter that goes on for about half a minute)

You poor fucking humans!

#original posts #blue oyster cult #elric saga #legend of zelda #skyward sword #ghirahim #Youtube

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celestial-narwhal · 11 months

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A Lost Soul

Name: Blade (应星 YingXing) Species: Immortal weapon. Pronouns: He/Him (AMAB) Occupation: Stellaron Hunter Region of Origin: Xianzhou Alliance (Outworlder, planet unknown) Age: Eternal. Height: 6′3″ (190 cm) Birthday: May 3 HC Tag: ScarsEtchedinMetal (Blade Hcs) | EpitaphofTheForgeMaster (应星 hcs) General Tag: ASharpenedSword (Blade) | MemoirsofABlacksmith (应星) Verses: Past and Present, available below vvv

Ship Status: Highly selective due to his volatile nature. He is not sound of mind and I need to know I can communicate with ship partners comfortably before writing ships with him.

Blade: The sharpest weapon in Destiny's Slave's arsenal, Blade will not hesitate to end the lives of those who get in his way. Countless lives stain his hands, and many more are to come in order to achieve his ultimate goal. He does not see death as a harsh consequence to those he fights, however. To him, it is a blissful mercy.

His own death is his ultimate goal, after all.

When he fights, it's with abandon. He cares not for injuries he sustains, nor does he cower from taking what should be fatal blows. In fact, the pain he feels when he is harmed only enhances his power. As an unwilling immortal, his sense of touch has diminished significantly, nerves shot and numb. The only time he can feel is in the heat of battle after receiving an injury, which gives him a maddening high of catharsis. He is prone to losing himself to his mara and own mind when battles are commenced.

Outside of battle, he is a stoic, reserved man. His words are saved for necessity, and he is ever-loyal to the Stellaron Hunter's cause. It will inevitably bring him to his promise end, after all. He protects his fellow hunters without hesitation, and even humors their odd requests every now and then. While it may appear he is dispassionate, he listens intently to those he is involved with, engraving those memories into his mind the best he can.

Blade doesn't recollect the entirety of his own past, after all. Might as well make new memories with others.

The things he does remember, he keeps engraved in his mind. Of five people, three must pay a price. If any such people appear before him, he will not hesitate to keep to that oath.

应星 Yingxing: An apparition of the past. Blade's former self. He was known as the Furnace Master amongst the Xianzhou Luofu. He created numerous amounts of weapons and curios with curious powers, bringing him to notoriety despite not being a Xianzhou native. He made deep connections while living there, eventually becoming a part of the High-Cloud Quintet with his dearest friends.

Yingxing was a reserved, but not shy man. While seen as apathetic and arrogant to strangers, he openly showed his love to those he cherished by making countless gifts for them and smiled frequently, eyes shining with an affectionate fondness. He disliked being in the spotlight, reserving that mark for his bombastic friends and loved ones.

While he was not of any nobility or high blood, he held grace in his calm demeanor, always ready to encourage others to reach for the stars and remind them that they could do amazing things. If he, a short-lived outworlder, could work hard enough to surpass the long-lived that surrounded him despite his limited time, you could surely do that same. To those he was intimate with, he was teasing and playful, loving to see their reactions despite his actions often being a result of impulsivity.

Yingxing held a viscous vendetta against Denizens of Abundance after being enslaved in a work camp as a child, only to watch his family get devoured by the borisins before getting rescued by the Xianzhou Alliance. Due to this, he had a propensity to hold deep grudges and held no mercy for those of the Abundance. In fact, he basked in the ability to enact his revenge against them whenever he was allowed, a rather unsettling light always glinting in his eyes when his vengeance was performed.

He explored the world best through touch, embedding each sensation and feel into his memories with every brush of his fingers. Being a master forge smith, he was incredibly talented with his hands, being able to shape even the most complex shapes into form. When he focused on something, the rest of the world melted away and only him and said object existed, causing him to often work for days on end without rest. He held a strange stubbornness when it came to his craft, and he was always hellbent on finishing whatever he started.

Yingxing met his untimely end on the battlefield. Now he lays forever trapped within the weapon known as Blade. Immortality comes with consequence.

Read More on the HSR Wiki | Artifact lore

#about #ASharpenedSword (Blade)#MemoirsofABlacksmith (应星)#EpitaphofTheForgeMaster (应星 hcs)#ScarsEtchedinMetal (Blade Hcs)#SwordParry (Blade asks)#MetalworkinProgress (应星 asks)

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mojowitchcraft · 1 year

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Strawberries & Cigarettes

Chapter 12 is now up! Start from Chapter 1 here

The black blade Forged a million billion years ago My cosmic sword goes on for eternity Carving out destiny Bringing in the lords of chaos Bringing up the beasts of Hades Sucking out the souls of heroes Laying waste to knights and ladies My master is my slave Ha ha ah ha ah ha!

From "Black Blade" by Blue Öyster Cult

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic rec #steve x eddie #stranger things fic rec #ao3 weird witchcraft #weird_witchcraft ao3 #shameless self promotion #strawberries and cigarettes #mojowitchcraft wips

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amerikanhervi · 9 months

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Destiny's pretty now, just for you I tried to shy away from you, but still so close to you The silence talking so much 'bout you I do a ritual, make things out of nothing at all (On a big stage, feel so small) Do you believe in love?

FELL - Varg™, Bladee

SkekShear, Servant Keeper of the Accused. A two-spirited Arakkoa of low caste birth, who spoke in the forbidden "We".

A bleeding heart who has served under the council since they were a hatching.

One of two Cursed Arakkoa who walk with their banner.

Despite all of the blunder, and bluster, of SkekTex. She welcomed him with open arms. Despite his winglessness and his lack of flight. Despite his low birth and his low caste.

When the exile came, for SkekTex and her councilors to Azeroth. She would not leave without her servant. Not because he was property--but deep down inside of her she knew the caste meant nothing.

That was her friend.

But she looked upon him, and from her throat croaked: "COME, SLAVE-THING."

She did not have the heart, the power, to reject her birthrights.

They did not move. They did not understand, confusion across their face as they looked at their cast-out master.

"COME, PEACE-SEEKER." She demanded again, slamming her scythe bottom across the stone with its clatter.

The low-caste Arakkoa ran to their master, tears streaming from their angled beak. In this moment, before the Arakkoa that cast her from her people--she showed compassion to the caste they tasted disgust.

Now, as an exile, SkekTex could embrace her friend. As she was no more low in caste than he was. Like trash upon the wayside. She raised her proud beak, before cawing across to the others behind her:

"WE do not need your life. We do not need your blame, or judgment, or forgiveness. We are Wrongly Accused. And in time you will see that Tex has spoke only the truth, councilors of Arakk."

She looked down to her once servant, her proud brow furrowing as she finally uttered the words that broke their composure:

"Come, friend of Tex. Councilor of the Wrongly Accused. We will create a new world together. Forged by trash, for trash."

SkekShear began to bawl into the robe of the Grand Sage, as she led him through the portal.

All they could muster was a babbling, incoherent scrawling of fear and joy equal.

"We thank you, Mistress. Thank you. We love you."

For a lowborn servant to feel companionship was the first forbidden emotion of their eternal "punishment".

#WronglyAccused #SkekShear #SkekLore

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senatushq · 2 years

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NAME. Eren Demir AGE & BIRTH DATE. 32 & August 12th, 1990 GENDER & PRONOUNS. Male & He/Him SPECIES. Druid OCCUPATION. Former Marshal FACE CLAIM. Alperen Duymaz

BIOGRAPHY

( tw: war, death, slavery ) There are many names that encapsulate Eren’s past, yet to those that know him well, they’d only ever call him simply – the lion.

A druid’s past is littered with the history and memories of their reincarnations, and Eren was no different. He wasn’t sure he ever remembered his first life. In fact, he never remembered any of them. They told him about his history. The stories written about him; the great hero Achilles who slayed Hector and won the war for the Greeks against Troy. The golden son of the beautiful druid named Thetis, who was punished by the god Zeus to marry a mortal because of her son’s destiny. Another who was simply the other half of his soul, bound to his side for eternity as the fates would see. But who was that to Eren? Another story, another lifetime ago. Blood and swords, shields and spears – the dirt of foreign earth. Rebellions over lifetimes, war fought with him at the helm. The lion-hearted they called him, claws that were sharper than any blade, and teeth that sever head from body.

Yet Eren remembered none of that. He knew his current life with his family and friends, and as they ran up and down the streets of Istanbul. But there was a question that haunted Eren at every turn, one that asked: who were you?

Eren would tell his parents that he understood what his past signified, but the truth was, he could never grasp it. His headstrong personality was balanced by his brother, but that didn’t make Eren feel like he knew who he was anymore or any less. It’d be a whisper, Eren Alexander, you should know your past. Yet when it came to him, the first thing he’d ever remembered was a hideous monster at the mere age of eight. A chimera, they’d told him after he’d described it. As his claws and teeth had ripped it apart. A defender, they’d said. It’d been the first clue as to who he was. Skandar had been his name in that life. His parents had waited, dubbing the middle name after his first memory. But after that, nothing came.

To ignore the possibility of letting anyone down, especially his family of druids, Eren pushed himself to train. He’d do everything possible with his magic – redirect the lightning storm as it danced with the waves upon the Black Sea. But it was never enough. There was violence in his veins, and it itched beneath the surface of his skin. Nothing calmed him, but there was another void in his soul. One that he couldn’t place, but could blame those missing memories. So he fought. And once his parents realized that his duty was no longer to them, they sent him to Rome.

Yet there was still that hollow feeling in his chest. What was his purpose besides to kill? He did not know. But it was the one thing that made him feel complete. He was ferocious, he was the protector of his kind. A brilliant strategist once in his lifetimes, a leader of a slave rebellion in another – what or who would Eren kill next?

He was a guardian to others; there would be no druid harmed under Eren’s protection. Eren would learn to find his own way, and see if those memories of his past selves would finally become known to him.

PERSONALITY

+ Ambitious, Respectful, Independent – Grumpy, Arrogant, Dogmatic

PLAYED BY LAUREN. PST. She/Her.

#supernatural rp #new rp #skeleton rp #lit rp #oc rp #the lion #takenm #takendruid #takenc

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givemeonebreath · 3 years

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A big, messy Linked Universe playlist

Link for Links

Heavy on the angst, because of who I am as a person. (At the same time, don’t take it too seriously, man.)

Influenced by canon, manga (TP Link is really Going Through It™ ), my personal perceptions, and popular fandom canon.

A pretty wide variety of genres, with a bias towards metal and prog rock.

I kept snippets of lyrics for most songs, also because of who I am as a person. (Some were particularly hard to narrow down to just one verse or chorus.) Those - and a little more rambling - are under the cut if you really want, in the order of the playlist. But. It’s long.

I didn’t initially make this with the intent to share, but hey. Throughout my past year+ of listening, I’ve been haphazardly adding songs to a playlist I very creatively named Links. If something reminded me of them, whether through the music or lyrics or both, I threw it on the playlist, so some songs might seem odd or vague. Some are really on the nose, as subtle as a sledgehammer. (Sky for Sky? Dude. Sorry.) Some are there because of a fitting line or two that stuck in my head. Ultimately, music - like any form of creative expression - can be interpreted in a multitude of ways.

My listening habits and tastes are erratic, which is why this is one big, jumbled playlist and not separated for different Links. Not to mention if I did that, some (Wild, Legend) would have a lot and some (Wind, Four) would have none, both because of my own familiarity with them, and because of the general themes of the music I tend to listen to. Most songs are a general ‘hero’s spirit reborn’ mood, anyway - those are the first part of the playlist. The second half is more nuanced to specific Links, plus a few Ganon vibes.

1. Deep Purple - April (Koji Kondo, composer of the original Legend of Zelda theme, was into Deep Purple as a kid, and it shows.)

2. Kamelot - Regalis Apertura

3. Au4 - So Just Hang On, Beautiful One (I’ve posted this here before. I can’t hear it without thinking of LU now.) So I slipped in through the gate almost unknown. All my border stamps were late. Seven days old. Cold hand griped my shoulder blade, broke the bone. Bloody nose and turned away, all the way home.

4. FC Kahuna - Hayling Don’t think about all those things you fear, just be glad to be here

5. Glass Animals - Youth Boy, when I left you you were young I was gone, but not my love You were clearly meant for more Than a life lost in the war

6. Pain of Salvation - Restless Boy A restless boy in a world too slow A flame born into cinder, ash, and glow I've given everything I gave it all Yet find myself alone

7. Haken - The Endless Knot Our design shifted frame by frame! Across the line our cycle starts to fail. Our design shifted frame by frame! Across the line we die to live again. We need a story to believe in. We need a hero to prevail. We need a challenge we can overcome, it takes a tragedy to make us one

8. Kamelot - Memento Mori (I particularly associate this with Time and Twilight) I am the god in my own history The master of the game I may believe if she would come to me And whisper out my name Sometimes I wonder where the wind has gone If life has ever been Sometimes I wonder how belief alone Can cut me free from sin

9. Katatonia - Fighters Look I told you so We never stop If we said that We'll back it up For sure You know We're fighters

10. Megadeth - This Day We Fight! (I mean, all Links, but particularly Warriors) For this I was chosen, because I fear nothing With confidence I tread through the dead of the night Off to another war-torn, faraway battlefield Wherein lies a demonic enemy horde

11. Moon Tooth - Igneous Well, the spirit took me And this old broken body leapt up and danced Settin’ out Settin' out with all my heroes in a bundle at my back Hawk am I More wings span in my shadow than overcast Yeah, you know what they say Always need something to look up to, ha

12. Samael - Moongate Destiny, tomorrow is today Destiny, without boundaries How many nights will we spend together traveling infinity back and forth and again How many times will we go together questioning eternity about us about our wonders...

13. TOOL- Parabola This body holding me reminds me of my own mortality Embrace this moment, remember We are eternal, all this pain is an illusion

14. Lunatic Soul - Blood on the Tightrope No matter how hard you try To shut down your feverish thoughts They hunt you down with no regret Cause you have to fix it all

15. Hybrid - Keep It In The Family

16. Soul Savers - Unbalanced Pieces Gone, now carry on Through violent seasons I call you mother, mother, mother In vain, absent chain The twilight's bleeding And the playing board has two unbalanced pieces

17. Steve Von Till - Valley of the Moon All she gives is a stone facade Like ill-given flowers at a dead man's wake Here we slave for the dreams of another And fight over scraps like wayward dogs

18. Ludovico Einaudi - Experience

19. Lunatic Soul - Summoning Dance Three stones on the right side Three stones on the left My vicious circle of life and death “Oh you want it” I hear it again “Oh you want it” My burden Curse to break

20. Lunatic Soul - Through Shaded Woods Run through your shaded woods Run through your shaded mind Run through the night Run away Run through the darkness Run

21. Lunatic Soul - Naavie

22. David Bowie - Nature Boy There was a boy A very strange, enchanted boy They say he wandered very far Very far, over land and sea A little shy and sad of eye But very wise was he

23. The Dandy Warhols - Sleep Well, I could sleep forever But it's of her I dream If I could sleep forever I could forget about everything

24. Au4 - Everyone is Everyone (and Everything is Everything) Tripping and tumbling, Flipping and fumbling. Flowing on the rivers of sadness That have been forever rumbling. But from dawn until now Of all the paths that I could have gone down Of all the valleys That I could have been flowing through. In spite of all the chaos And all that has come between us, How is it I still find myself Here with you.

25. Kingcrow - Everything Goes Your hands again upon the ground Falling rain for hours and hours As you learn the game Time dispels the fog ... Ever been there? Ever felt like prey? Ever thought your mind was feeble? Lot of things that don’t make sense

26. Pain of Salvation - Icon As a child I felt too old And now when I'm grown-up I feel too young A different kind so I've been told Just slightly out of reach and out of time

27. Sophia Loizou - Divine Interference (I got spooky dungeon vibes. Also, the title.)

28. Carpenter Brut - Fab Tool Runnin Gunnin Forward in the phantom shatter so grand Splatter grand, arcanum fuel Wrought iron out of the sky Over me, tells no lie

29. Blue Stahli - Death Will Have to Run All on the open road Where none will ever grow A journey toward the known With countless miles to go

30. Gyroscope - Mistakes & Ladders I am the first? No I can't be the first A continuous nothing, destined for something Tell me who you are and why you trapped me here

31. Queens of the Stone Age - Run, Pig, Run Run, pig, run Here I come

32. Chali 2na & Krafty Kuts - Guard The Fort The swords are drawn and odds are stacked And we clash the impact's a thunderous clap Calm demeanor Even though we are under attack [...my turn to guard the fort ready for combat]

33. The Great Discord - Army of Me (lol)

34. Kongos - Terrified I think I'll start again and change my name You only live once or twice, what a shame Somebody fucked up when designing this game

35. Woodkid - Run Boy Run Run, boy, run! This ride is a journey to Run, boy, run! The secret inside of you Run, boy, run! This race is a prophecy Run, boy, run! And disappear in the trees

36. The Beta Machine - The End A million miles away from you this time I'll do what it takes I'm on my way If lines are in the sand I'll go under If I can make it in time I will bring you back with me

37. Devin Townsend Project - Gump When we last met who was I? I'm sorry we no longer see eye to eye The energy to keep you in while keeping myself out I'm sorry how you'll take this But I just don't have the patience anymore

38. Arrested Youth - Riot! I can't get much satisfaction living in this cave It's tough to breathe, I'm in the belly of the beast Can't sleep with all my rage With me and all my generations living in this cage Pick up your guns and tell your sons, tonight we break the cage

39. Led Zeppelin - Friends So anytime somebody needs you Don't let them down, although it grieves you Some day you'll need someone like they do Looking for what you knew

40. Faunts - M4, pt 2 (Wild) Fight your foes you're not alone Holy war is on the phone Asking to please stay on hold Bleeding loss of blood runs cold And I need you to recover Because I can't make it on my own

41. Faith No More - Ashes to Ashes (Wild) I want them to know it's me, it's on my head I'll point the finger at me, it's on my head Smiling with the mouth of the ocean And I'll wave to you with the arms of the mountain

42. Devin Townsend - Jupiter (Wild) I know you At least I think I do Everything's changed But in the days that are so dark It's wonderful

43. Katatonia - Neon Epitaph (Wild) Shadow of my shadow Cling not to my grief I am long left behind now You are free

44. The Smashing Pumpkins - The Beginning is the End is the Beginning (Wild) Time has stopped before us The sky cannot ignore us No one can separate us For we are all that is left The echo bounces off me The shadow lost beside me There's no more need to pretend Cause now I can begin again

45. Katatonia - Lacquer (Wild) My voice travelling Soaring bird above your head The house we lived in Ridden with disease ... The levee breaking I can't live to fight once more The road to the grave is straight as an arrow I'm just staying around to sing your song, baby

46. Eskimo Joe - This is Pressure (Wild) There is no romance in suffocation The walls fall down like your expectations You want to scream And you want to shout But you've built up steam And you can't let it out This is pressure

47. Portugal. The Man - 1000 Years (Wild) We'll wait 1000 years Until the end of time We'll wait 1000 more Dressed up in gold and white We'll climb the mountain sides To find what's in the sky We'll dig through mountain sides To find what's deep inside

48. Au4 - An Ocean’s Measure of Sorrow (Wild) Forgot my name and who I was. Memories of nothing floating up. All of the sorrow we once knew, Colours the ocean's water blue.

49. Band of Skulls - Carnivorous (Twilight) I am corrosive and cohesive Like a chemical bond I'm all together undone I am the broken kingdom I'm just so, so, so So carnivorous

50. Glass Animals - Flip (Twilight) I wanna go back with a club and attack I wanna take to my guns and break you I gotta make my little foe take his own

51. TV on the Radio - Wolf Like Me (Twilight) My mind has changed my body's frame, but, God, I like it My heart's aflame, my body's strained, but, God, I like it

52. Kamelot - The Spell (Twilight) All my demons cast a spell The souls of dusk rising from the ashes So the book of shadows tell The weak will always obey the master

53. OSI - Radiologue (Legend) I was dreaming I was heading west thirty days faster Had a fever woke up in a sweat bailing out the water Can't go on Can't go back Heard your voice coming through the noise wrote it in the radio log Hurt my head, wondering what you said so I threw it overboard

54. Katatonia - Don’t Tell A Soul (Legend) I have been destroyed by the perfection that is a lie see I'm moving soon see my feet are already on the road and if you know where I’m going don’t tell a soul

55. Haken - The Mind’s Eye (Legend) The shape of things to come are closer than they seem Changing your design every time you disappear I'm planning my escape through portals of your mind Where people seem to drop like flies

56. Pain of Salvation - Species (Legend) Sometimes I hate my fucking species Yet most days I'll do anything to please it My generation was fooled to pursue our dreams But it is not what it seems You never need what you want And you rarely want what you need

57. Euringer - Do You Kiss Your Mama with That Mouth? (Legend) All my life, misunderstood I'm fuckin' too smart, too smart for my own good The last question, before I go is "Hey motherfucka, do you kiss your mama with that mouth?" Yes! I kiss your mama with this mouth

58. !!! - Pardon My Freedom (Legend) Like I give a fuck, like I give a shit Like I give a fuck about that shit Like I give a fuck about that motherfucking shit

59. Team Sleep - Ataraxia (Legend) Froze asleep Coma deep I dream I'm out with you Alone at sea

60. Oliver Tank - Embrace (Legend) You're in my dreams The world is torn apart at the seams And I don't wanna leave Wearing my heart on it's sleeve

61. Machine Gun Fellatio - The Girl of My Dreams (Is Giving Me Nightmares) (Legend) The girl of my dreams is giving me nightmares I don't know what it means but she's got multi-coloured hair When she stands in the sand I dream of peaches And I'm not sure what that means either

62. Earl Greyhound - Shotgun (Legend & Hyrule) I am nobody, nobody is who I am I am a traveler on this land And nothing, nothing, nothing in my hands

63. TV on the Radio - Staring at the Sun (Hyrule) You're staring at the sun You're standing in the sea Your mouth is open wide You're trying hard to breathe The water's at your neck There's lightning in your teeth Your body's over me

64. Echo & The Bunnymen - The Killing Moon (Time) Fate Up against your will Through the thick and thin He will wait until You give yourself to him

65. Sufjan Stevens - Sugar (Sky) Don’t break my heart, don’t break my flow now And all this rage has got to go now Let’s take up this lifeline Come on, baby, gimme some sugar Don’t make me wait Don’t make me wait too long Don’t make me sing the sad song Come on, baby, gimme some sugar

66. Obsydians - Ascension (Sky) Rise above the hardships you’ll face I will sign and keep on rising As long as you are giving me your soul and keep me awake Feel like home and spread your light around I will listen and just be there As long as you are giving me your love I’ll give you my soul

67. Sonique - Sky -_-

68. Enter Shikari - The King (Ganon) Watch your back, my friend I'm about to kickstart a cycle Of never ending revenge And this time it's primal, it's tribal

69. Saul Williams - WTF! (Ganon, Hylia) "You've been polluted, uprooted by time You have been muted, computed but I'm A living vessel of the one, of the moon, of the sun" Hey! You ain't as dead as you seem, what the fuck? Hey! But you keep living your lies

70. These New Puritans - We Want War (Ganon/ Dark Link/ any nemesis I guess) Shadows dance back up, it's happening again If you listen carefully you might hear them whisper: "We hold all the secrets, we hold all the words; But they're scrambled and broken so you'll never know" Can't you see them Floating like black ash? Can't you feel them Crawling down your back?

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #listening to music while I stare blankly at nothing is legit my number one hobby #and then shit like this happens #linked universe playlist

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mememanufactorum · 4 years

Text

Final Fantasy XIV Primal lyric starters

* FEEL FREE TO SHARE AS YOU PLEASE, NO CREDIT NEEDED. CHANGE PRONOUNS OR ANYTHING ELSE AS DESIRED.

-Under the Weight-

Cold are the hands that grasp at your soul

Bound to the dark, for the light I shun

Succumb to the hate that corrupts your fate

In spite of the blood that was spilt before, you whet your blades, you thirst for more

Now kneel, overdweller, your lord commands

There’s no salvation for the sons of man

The skies will tremble and the earth will quake

From the crumbling walls, no one escapes

I’ll drag you down to the seventh gate

-Thunder Rolls-

Thine advent quelleth creeping night

The wicked burn, their pyres bright

Soul without a name, heed my call

Sin doth stain the hearts of us all

Soon he too shall reap what is sown

Step into the storm, know its mercy

Let the wind and the rain crash down over thee

Soul fallen from grace, ware thee well

Judgment thou must face, thine own hell

Soul, thine end is nigh

Take my hand

All life must return to the land

Purge thy flesh of fear and be strong

Step in from the storm, praise its mercy

Let the sting of the rain never stray far from thee

Now lift thine heavy head and vanquish thine sorrow

Now turn thy gaze ahead and look to the morrow

-Oblivion-

There’s nothing left

Now close my eyes for one last time and say goodbye

The pain won’t cease

I’ll find no peace

We are taught to fear the reaper

I try and try but I can’t say no

This endless nightmare has just begun

My heart is dragging me down unto oblivion

The endless lies, I’ve cast aside

Steeled is my soul, my blood grown cold

I gain control

We all learn to fight the reaper

Can’t defeat her, so instead I’ll have to be her

My mind’s made up, my fear is gone

-Unbending Steel-

Red bloometh the rose of conviction

Red bloometh the rose of hate

Red bloometh the rose of conquest

Only blood will sate

The war, it wageth on

The storm, it rageth on

The bold ever fight on, their lives echo in song

All, like snow, they fall, petals plucked and strewn

The war still wageth on

The storm still rageth on

The bold blindly march on, their lives lost in a song

-Fiend-

What is it like when you pull back the curtain and realize every wrong is a right?

Your world is rusted like a dirty razor

You walk the path laid before you

The call of reason, you refuse to abide

Necessity is an inventive mother

You’ll find slumber when the world comes tumbling down

Retreat where lesser men lead

Flee from what you do not see

Heed the dark within your being

Waste no more time fighting your demons

Lay down your arms and let the evil inside

You let it eat until there’s nothing left at all, so you can feel that you are truly alive

Better to serve in a waking nightmare than to live in their paradise

What is gold always glitters, but it still comes with an unpayable price

You are the night at the end of the tunnel

The angels graze in the meadows of excess

-Equilibrium-

A heartbeat without harmony is moonlight without dark

The heart seeketh equilibrium

With balance will your worry part

-Locus-

Let go this destiny

You’re caught in a trance

The mortal coil we serve is taut like a spring

Our world’s a fantasy, no more than a test

No time enough tomorrow for turning back to where we began

This mortal coil we serve is naught but a spring

Your world’s a fantasy, you’ve failed the test

-Beauty’s Wicked Wiles-

In time, you shall follow

Behold as our burdens become south with the sun

Step from the dark to the light

Give into your hunger

Cast off inhibition, let passion run wild

Fuel the unquenchable fire

You needn’t hide

-Wayward Daughter-

Each petal a promise torn, shorn one by one and cast to the winds

I gave unto them my all

Wayward daughter, step into the night

Naught save the night shall know our sorrow

We give unto it our all

-Amatsu Kaze-

Is this divine torment or judgment, I know not

To the end of the world I flee to surrender to the whims of fate

He shirks not from my rage and speaks of destiny and defiance

Surrender to the wind

Surrender to the rage

-Sunrise-

Stranger to kindness until freed by love eternal, you and I

Honor binds me unto errant kin

If here I find my end, stay your tears for we shall meet again

As the light of the setting sun fades, bid farewell to me, beloved

In these fleeting moments, hold my hand as I whisper a silent prayer

Should dawn never break on this thousand thousand year night, I promise

Should I take to wing and seek you in every distant sky

One more life for us, one more chance – for this I pray, I beg, I plead

Dreams of you and me in my heart I hold forevermore

Wait for me, wait for me, my love

-eScape-

Come ride, heroes, ride

The storm heads gather

Why do weathered warriors wander their way whither wanting wonders wait?

Twixt the leaves you’ll find naught amiss – missing aughts and crossing fates

Dare the dead tread ahead on a road that was borrowed design

Through the sum of their suns do they seek tomorrow

Witness as the end shall begin what was final

-What Angel Wakes Me-

Yet with each descent do we rise again to our hearts’ content

Fly away, my friend, for a day and then we’ll begin again

Do you love me not?

Will you, when I’m gone, remember me?

Braving anything together, we learn to play our part

Catch a falling star, lock it in our hearts eternally

To these crowns we cling for we’ll all be kings tomorrow

Summer child with heavy eyes, come our angel nigh, sing in our sweet lullaby

Time wilts and fades, luster lost in the rain, bows to the blade, till the spring calls again

-Invincible-

These memories ache with the weight of fate

Ever we fight, never we fly

Ever we fall, forever we fall

Now breathe deep of the darkness beneath the flood, where all of the proud angels drink to their deeds of blood

Their lies, twisted and torn, into dreams they’ve spun

Yet ever we will stand stall, invincible

-Return to Oblivion-

My sins claim me

How long have I waited to open my wings?

The soul longs for oblivion

A slave to my fate, ever doomed to repeat this

No more goodbyes, though my heart is still aching

Now open my eyes one more time, here I come

Spring’s promise of sun is honored when winter’s weighed upon us

Clear as diamond, yet fragile as ice

My heart is racing

Falling too fast, but the fall will not break me

No more goodbyes, I am tired of waiting

-To The Edge-

All our splendor bathed black in silence, our surrender, a somber reverie

Know our places, for worth is wordless

Brother, stay this descent to madness

Come and save us

Catch us before we fall

Don’t lose hope

Like broken angels, wingless, cast from heaven’s gates, we only fly when falling far from grace

Hell can take us, heaven can wait

Quick to their ends, our candles burn until we’re free

In monochrome melodies, our tears are painted in red

Deep inside, we’re nothing more than scions and sinners

In the rain do light and darkness fade

Time circles endlessly, the hands of fate trained ahead

All things change, drawn to the flame to rise from the ashes

To begin, we first must see the end

Rock of ages, we cast the first stone

We know not what we do

Tomorrow’s come too soon

Follow blindly like lambs to slaughter, at the mercy of those who ply the sword

We’re forgotten, now and forevermore

Without a compass, wandering lost in lies and faith, only alive when fighting death’s amber embrace

Our hearts beat loud, unafraid

On hands and knees we pray to gods we’ve never seen

Come, shadow, come follow me

The final hour upon us, no more time to breathe

#Final Fantasy XIV #Final Fantasy #roleplay meme #roleplay prompt #rp meme #rp prompt #I know I skipped a few songs.#Mostly because I didn't find their lyrics particularly workable into a meme format.

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roseategales · 4 years

Text

WHERE FIELDS OF FLOWERS BLOOM — CHAPTER TWO: GHILANAS, DYS.

fic rating: explicit, for eventual smut. | chapter rating: teen. | categories (for this chapter): missing scenes, mild angst, hurt/comfort. | pairing: solavellan. | content warnings (for this chapter): canon typical violence, death, war, racism, experimentation on lavellan as a prisoner. | word count: 4.3K. | alternate link: ao3.

author’s notes: all my love to @brietopia and @spacedadpicard for beta’ing and putting up with me going, “but! but! but!” every few comments. full authors notes are on ao3. | ghilanas — luck, fate, destiny, lit. "guiding soul" the force that seems to operate for good or ill in a person's life, as in shaping circumstances, events, or opportunities; dys — chance, luck. translation by fenxshiral.

_____________________________

The Herald was a symbol of his mistakes made manifest.

She was of the People. Dalish. Left without empire and without home. Sundered from her history, herself. Marked and marred by vallaslin, the chain by which the Evanuris’ slaves were bound, that elves once died to have him break, in an attempt twisted by ruination and ignorance along restoring what was.

Were that not enough, she had found her way into the Conclave between the Templars and the mages, and thus stumbled upon Corypheus and the ritual meant to unlock the foci, the Mark bestowing itself upon her hand in the process. She would have died in the explosion if not for that chance encounter, and all the world would have been reshaped to feed the arrogance of a madman he had never wanted to enable. He would have had to devise new means to again procure the foci and tear down the Veil—if he even survived.

But whether her survival could be called miracle or mercy remained to be seen. For her and for the People.

And yet… It seemed she would be unlike anything he expected.

It was nearly nightfall when he arrived at Haven’s gate, the first rift having burst into the sky that morn. Already it was spreading—like a wound unable to heal, splitting across the heavens, sickly and virid, over the high mount that cradled the Temple of Sacred Ashes. The ancient structure itself was a wreckage. Broken, jagged pieces of its remains hung suspended in between the two halves of the world, visible from the village below.

There, the Divine’s people were reeling from the shock. Bellringers sounded continuous alarms to action. Scouts were racing to uncover answers, soldiers marching to fight against the demons pouring from the Fade, clergy and pilgrims were scattering. Everywhere, a whirlwind of boots hitting the ground, hoofbeats, blades ringing in the air, confusion searching for clarity. The same questions repeated over and over again, in a multitude of forms:

What happened? Sabotage? Who would do this? Why?

Treading on a snow-laden road and leaning on his staff, Solas navigated his way through the people moving past him, the breezing winds and snow flitting by, grazing his cheek. Those who noticed him threw suspicion with their glances. They murmured their surprise, and some even stared. The two male guards standing at the gate in particular.

They saw an apostate mage, after all, donning wool and linen. Arriving on a day of a cataclysm, during a time when mages across Thedas were demanding freedom from the confines of the Chantry.

Although he was no threat, he called out his surrender and intent to assist as he came to the gate, and gave up his staff as a gesture of goodwill. The guards immediately seized his pack, bound his hands with tightened rope and arrested him—as he expected they would—and one of them barked for a soldier to take him to a tent near the chantry on the hill, where one whom they called Sister Nightingale would subject him to questioning.

The soldier who was called to lead the way took him and charged forward. He was a man who could not have been more than thirty, whose bold features curled into a sneer, and whose gauntleted grip would bruise flesh through to bone of the arm he pulled on. Solas said nothing, but showed a slight smile, determined to ignore the injury and the onlookers. It was a minute inconvenience, in the grander scheme. One that would end quickly once they reached the Sister.

Who, he recognised upon seeing, was no mere Sister of the Chantry at all, but a figure of high rank, associated with the Divine herself.

She was surrounded by wooden tables set at each corner of the tent, supplies, and scouts receiving and handing over missives and messages. She gave orders like it was bred into her nature. And unlike the laity and the other robed clergy about, she was outfitted in plate and mail, an insignia emblazoned on her chest that differed from that of the Templar Order’s. It was not a sword upon flames. It was an open eye in the midst of them.

Hearing the crunch of footsteps on snow, the Sister turned her head from missives arranged on a table facing west. The soldier announced the arrival of an apostate, and repeated his alleged surrender and offer of assistance. Waning light glinted off the Sister’s hard gaze, and she dismissed the soldier. Leaving herself alone with a character unknown, to interrogate without interference.

No time was wasted in launching her inquiry, her conduction of it extensive and circumspect. What was he called? Why had he come? Where had he traveled from? Would there be witnesses who could verify his story? Did he have family? Friends? Connections? What did he know about the tear in the Veil? How had he come into his talents? Pursued his studies? And how did he avoid capture by the Templars? She spared no boundary, no diversion of her waiting, watchful gaze.

Solas answered as required. He told the Sister his name, his purpose for coming, the village he embarked from. He told her there were indeed witnesses who could place him, that he traveled alone and had no family, friend, or connection to speak of. The paths that led to details he could not give, he furled into half-truths and omissions, spun back toward his knowledge of magics, the Veil and the Fade. He explained to her what he’d seen, the tools and gifts he gleaned and dreamed, how he walked through memories ever fluid. He laid out secrets of the Fade, made plain its nature and channels, expounded on its hosts and dangers presented. Still, he named his childhood village, for needed trust.

And it was then that the Sister cautiously asked: Did he know there was a survivor?

He heard the rumours.

Did he know who she was?

He did not.

He took the opportunity for his own inquiry: If he might study the survivor, for signs of what caused her survival, as he believed that could be the key to sealing the tear in the Veil.

Could he help them wake her?

He would try.

There was a falter in the Sister’s trained mien. Solas saw the denouement in shard-like precision, when resignation demanded a choice be made.

She slid a dagger from her sleeve to cut his wrists free, a warning and an agreement without need of speech. He thanked her, and she escorted him within the sunburst-painted doors of the chantry.

The chill of winter had stolen through, even there. Stone walls had become vessels for it. Any warmth the candles, torches, and the Eternal Flame could provide was feeble, snuffed out by damp air, the further down and down he and the Sister went, into the depths beneath the place of worship. A sting of cold shot up his soles with each step. She assessed him in peripheral view, for a flinch, an indication of duplicity, as he did her. They were silent but for their footfalls, passing by intervals of luminescent sconces and deepening shadows, empty cells and statues of Andrastian legends on both sides, to the end of the tunnel—where the prisoner was lain.

There were two Templars at the mouth of the corridor, atop the steps that led to the prisoner, in the low incandesce of torches fixed at the four corners of the cell. A man and a woman, who saluted the Sister, gauntleted hands at the hilts of their swords, faces hidden behind the visors of their steel helms. They were waiting, undoubtedly, for some volatile effect of the prisoner’s magic, or for her to turn into an abomination upon her waking.

She would pay the price for his failings.

They all would, if he could not set things right.

The Mark flared virescent. The guards tightened their grips on their swords. Solas looked warily to the Sister, who stood steel-stiff. The guards moved to protest whatever he would do, but she shook her head and gave her permission. He was enabled to take the steps down, to kneel beside the prisoner herself.

She appeared a slight thing. Sweat beaded at her forehead, down the dust and halla-spirals of her vallaslin, her body shivering and paled, shrinking into the too-large coat of a human mercenary she had padded out, into itself. As helpless as the Dalish patchwork depiction of the Halla Mother. Bound as the would-be goddess was in the stories as well, her hands cuffed in iron chains. Like a hunter’s kill.

A waft of elfroot hit him. He spotted an emptied flask in the corner, used up to afford them precious time and opportunity before her probable slaughter, and he questioned if it was too late. If he had failed before he’d begun.

He turned to the Sister, and gave her a list of spells he might attempt, what he could try, gently drawing the prisoner’s marked hand to his. It was like ice. Magic ebbed from the scar along her palm—magic composed by him—pulsing green, a current thrumming on his skin, strange and unfamiliar now.

The Sister nodded. She bid him to do what he could.

He sheathed himself in a layer of protection, and cast above them a map of the prisoner’s channels and links of mana and magic.

That was the first day.

The second day passed. Solas was again interrogated by another of the Divine’s aides, a Seeker Pentaghast. She assumed suspicion of him until witnesses could corroborate his story, and threatened execution if he did not wake the prisoner. Then they returned to him his pack and staff, conditions and expectations clear. They placed him in a hut, Templars stationed and stalking outside. Everywhere he went, there were eyes on his back, waiting for a single offence.

All the while, the first rift continued to spread and grow. Reports of more rifts came from the surrounding areas. Demons were ravaging whole camps and villages. Scouts and soldiers were lost. Refugees replaced them in exchange for shelter and safety. The tear in the Veil was dubbed as the Breach, perhaps so they could comprehend it: what was swallowing the world whole.

And the prisoner? The prisoner remained unconscious.

He did what he could. He tried to separate the Mark from her, but he was still too weak. He tried to siphon the excess energy to lessen its effects, but it overflowed. He penned notes with each attempt, each method he could think of and perform. At his request, the apothecary, who attended to her with elfroot every morn and eve, brought him a draught of spindleweed to combine with his spellwork. He had to stop a trial when the Mark resisted and her body began to thrash. Reading his report, the Sister and the Seeker pressed the importance of her survival and a solution to the Breach.

At his wits’ end, he entered the Fade with the intent to make contact with the prisoner’s mind or a spirit who could advise him, or one who might’ve witnessed her actions preceding the blast, to grant her time and prove her innocence. It was of no use. Ill as it was, her body hadn’t the strength to sustain itself, and her spirit was compensating for it, confined to its form in the cell, unable to slip fully into a dreaming state. The spirits who possessed knowledge of the ancient magics were driven away by the Breach. The ones who might’ve witnessed the events of the Conclave were twisted by Terror. His options for saving her life and the Mark were all but exhausted.

The best he could do was give her a less fitful sleep, by suppressing the Mark’s link to her mana.

No one expected her to wake by the end of the third day. While Solas hoped—neither did he. How could she? When she was a mortal made in a world rendered immutable? A mere shadow of who the People were? When she had been thrown physically through the Fade? When the foci’s magic was never supposed to be tuned to anyone else’s but his own?

No, she would pass. He had to find other means of repairing the rifts, and brace himself to flee.

He turned his back on the prisoner, and diverted his research to alternatives. To mending the Breach alone.

She woke on the dawn of the fourth day.

She was an impossible sight—a force who fought her way to the riverbanks, the Seeker at her side, staff in hand, flickers and flares of flames and thorns at her fingertips, her face a fury as sharp as the crimson shock of her vallaslin. He nearly stumbled as he saw her, the rift at his back, demons outpouring toward them, assailing. She burned a number of demons to ash at her feet, the Mark’s magic pulsing and crackling in the air, as awake and alive as she.

There’s a chance, he thought, banishing the demons before him, opening a path to race to her side. There’s a chance, there’s a chance, he repeated to himself, like a plea, a prayer, as he grasped for her hand, and felt the surge of power, pushing it up toward the rift.

She sealed it. And another at the forward camp. And another in the valley. The Mark and effort drained her, left her gasping for breath as they forged on to Temple’s remains, but she persisted, assured him she would do what she could while she lived. And she did. She closed that first wound in the sky, stabilising the Breach, and the Mark’s symbiosis to herself. The world had its hope of healing the Veil.

But what little relief their victory had, Solas could not take comfort in. Talk of her divinity, her mantle as Andraste’s favoured, flew faster than ravens across Thedas, witness accounts carrying its wings. They spoke of the woman behind her in the Fade, the echo of the Divine’s tenebrous slayer. As a new villain entered the story, she was titled its hero, her transfiguration occurring over a matter of days. From survivor, to prisoner, to the Herald of Andraste.

How bitter the irony was. He had devoted his life to freeing his People from would-be gods and their false images, and here, his actions had indirectly led to the creation of yet another.

He would deserve his enemies’ mockery.

Thus, his service to the Inquisition would be twofold. He would lend his expertise and talents as they were required, and he would take it upon himself to observe the Herald, to counsel her, to check her if necessary. Corypheus, the Breach, and the Mark were his responsibility. She was the solution and a consequence, a complication that could put an end to his plans if he was not careful. He needed to learn who she was, gain her trust, and prepare himself for who she would be.

At first, he thought to do so at a distance. But after her recovery, she’d come to him. She wanted to understand the nature of what befell, the cause of the Breach, his theories on the Mark on her hand and its effects. She asked to see his notes. Reasonable requests. Pragmatic. If she was the possessor of unknown power and subject of study, it was her right and, arguably, her obligation to be informed. He sat with her in his hut, on the stone floor warmed by the hearth, his notebook between them, the desk’s nook too small for them both. Snow was falling with the afternoon sun outside, strong winds blowing past. They explored each topic, one by one. How could the Veil be rent like this? Think of it as a chord’s constant vibration, anything with enough power can disrupt it. Could such a thing be expended, destroyed in the blast? She survived, did she not. Will the Mark’s volatility resurface with use? It’s difficult to tell, but it appears stable, for now.

She paused when they turned to the dog-eared page of his tests on her. Her fingers traced the diagram he drew of her mana lines, like veins, like roots and branches forming an indistinct figure. Beside it was his scrawl, in Common for transparency:

Using spindleweed achieved the opposite of the desired effect. Its remedial properties on wounds caused by demons and spirit magic were absorbed by the Mark, amplifying it momentarily. The survivor’s connection to the Mark is too intrinsic. Casting a sleep spell stopped the thrashing. Pulse is still elevated. Other methods may have to forgo supplementary elements, or prove fatal.

Frowning, she thumbed the scar on her palm. Cast in the light of the fire, shifting shadows and golds on her sun-warmed skin, Solas remarked to himself how she looked less like a religious icon, or a helpless creature, and more like one of the People who fled to his rebellion; with circles under her eyes, her form meals away from filling her plain cotton tunic, apprehension at her spine and heavy on her exhale, his notes echoing Ghilan’nain’s. It was like the past impressed upon the present. Yet that would imply she chose the road they were on. On some level, he pitied her. He wondered what she must have thought of it all.

A strand fell from her flaxen braid. She tucked it behind her ear, and asked him softly: How did he wake her?

He told her the truth. He didn’t.

Her eyes snapped to his, disbelieving. She lifted her hand from the page, curled it in her lap. He anticipated reproach. Anger. Contempt. For her to spit that colourful Dalish curse at him. May the Dread Wolf take you. Instead, she asked him another question: Was he threatened?

Would she absolve him for that reason?

No, she said. To absolve him would be to declare him condemnable, his position easy—he did what he had to.

He wasn’t sure what surprised him most. Her understanding, her willingness to be sacrificed, or her solicitude, genuine and thoughtful. She swore she wouldn’t let anyone use his help against him. Of course, this was in part due to her deeming his knowledge and skills an asset. No one else could offer her the explanations she wanted, not in detail. But when had anyone in this world, let alone a Dalish elf, considered his point of view so readily?

He didn’t know how, but over two weeks, their time together became routine. If she wasn’t in meetings with the Inquisition leaders, or in her hut, or with whomever needed her, she was with him. They discussed the Fade, his travels, the war, lands and cities navigated by her clan, texts she’d read, heroes of the age and prior, hour upon hour. The company was unexpected, but not unwelcome. It was refreshing to have someone listen, and to hear them speak to him so freely, without reverence, without prejudice. And he was provided opportunity to learn much of her. Of her idealisations for a world of peace and magic, of routes she traveled in the Free Marches and Ferelden that overlapped or just missed his own, of her decision to scout in her father’s honour, of her inclination to study, her discomfort in her new role as Herald.

He commented on that discomfort once, people bowing to her as they walked by and she entered his hut. The door closed, safe inside, she told him it was like no one saw her as she was.

He knew the feeling, he said, before he could catch himself.

Did he?, she questioned. But a sadness underlied her smile, and she supposed that he did.

Such was her longing to make sense of her circumstances, and for connection, that she laid down her skepticism, accepted him. By this, he was disarmed. He would give away more of himself than he intended. Encourage her jokes and teasing when he should have been more reserved. It was dangerous, frightful. She had an openness he admired, and he’d forget himself in it. He had to raise barriers, recall the purpose of dialogue with her.

Yet—he regretted not returning her favour.

One mistaken sentence, spoken unfairly of the plight of the Dalish, and she was gone. He felt betrayed, that he misjudged her. She was the one who asked for his opinion and insights on Elvhen culture, only to scoff and turn on him, as a foolish, insolent child would, like the rest of her kind, was she not? He was left cold, dismissed, abandoned as soon as she heard truths she disagreed with. He caught glimpses of her on two occasions, when the apothecary requested his assistance; once as she was leaving the chantry with the Inquisition’s Chief Ambassador, another when she was ushered into the tavern by the Child of the Stone. He wanted to go after her, but thought better of it. And if she indeed cared for him or what he had to say, wouldn’t she have approached him by then?

He didn’t think... She’d felt betrayed as well. Nor did he guess she would have apologised, though she was not to blame, and neither were the Dalish. But she did.

She called him lethallin. Her friend. Her kin. As if their People were one and the same.

As with all his mistakes, however, Solas paid a price. Although she was still happy to listen, she was comparatively reticent with what she shared of herself. His questions on her clan and her life before the war would often be met with nonanswers, subject changes, or questions of her own. Her trust was damaged. On these matters, at least. It had to be mended, with time.

But as for the matters she continued to trust him with, he was grateful for them. The day after the Sister’s agents were sent out, they received a report, that the Mother was found tending to wounded in the Hinterlands. Because he was to accompany the Herald along with the Seeker and the Child of the Stone, he was privy to the briefings. A section of thirty soldiers was to travel with them, six as an escort, the rest to bolster the forces already there. They were warned of what awaited in the war-snatched territory—corrupt Templars, apostates driven to madness by desperation, displaced refugees, farmers and village folk clinging to semblances of their lives in between—and charged to set up posts, protect whoever they were able to, win influence and allies, gather supplies, and make their way to acquire a horsemaster if they could. The journey lasted two days, and they paused little for rest and refreshment.

The Herald was at the center of preparations throughout. She’d ask the Seeker for advice on Chantry politics. Write letters with the Child of the Stone to a mutual friend in Kirkwall’s alienage. Rise early and retire late to help the soldiers around camp. Allow him to examine the Mark periodically for any signs it would conflict and destabilise with use of her magic.

The one thing they could not fully prepare for was the devastation of the Hinterlands itself. Ancient towers were torn down, homes razed, the crossroads blocked by bandits taking advantage of the chaos. People were at death’s door due to lack of medicine, food, shelter, and something as simple as a blanket to keep them from the bite of winter’s winds. Worse, the Templars and mages were little more than animals. The Inquisition’s party was attacked upon arrival, calling out peace to both sides. Neither could be reasoned with, even as the Seeker and the Herald pointed out the Inquisition’s banner, the camp of sick and injured nearby, their voices high above clashes of metal, blasts of fire, lightning, screams.

War, as ever, spared neither the neutral nor the innocent.

He could feel how the battle weakened the Veil. Terror, Despair, Rage, all threatened, humming on the hairs at his neck and in the back of his mind. The party was disconcerted by the encounter, the scene of death and suffering around them. The Herald especially.

She was no soldier. The first time he saw her fight, she was driven by pure instinct, against creatures she’d been taught to fear, to see as an other. But against humans and elves, those living and breathing to her, her spells were defensive, roots and vines coiling up from her staff as shields or holds. Were it not for his barriers and the Seeker’s blade, she would’ve been wounded. Her kills were hesitant, last-minute. And in the aftermath, horror and grief were plain on her face. Grief for her parents and clanmates, perhaps.

Perhaps that was why she wore her diplomatic posture like armour when meeting the Mother to acquire potential allies. Why she turned her focus to aiding the refugees, hunting medicine, food, and whatever they needed to survive. Why she insisted she was fine when he and the Child of the Stone expressed concern, refusing to eat, or even sit, until she was certain every last supply they had was distributed.

He would never forget how she knelt before a dark-haired Elvhen woman and her daughter, gently placing a blanket in the child’s small hands. Cooking fires limned the camp, ambers and golds painting its inhabitants, the background of obsidian night tinted green. The Elvhen woman prompted her daughter to thank the Herald. But, she shook her head, leaned close to the child and said, “Eludysia will do,” as an entreaty, not unlike when she first came to him, sadness in her forest-green eyes.

Eludysia. In Elvhenan, your name’s meaning evoked who were. Your vices and virtues, your past and your present, your deeds, your failures, your triumphs. Hers meant: She who’s lucky with a secret.

He hoped she would be.

#dragon age fic #dragon age inquisition #da fic #solavellan fanfic #solavellan fic #mine.#my fics.#fic : where fields of flowers bloom.#inquisitor : eludysia lavellan.#solas.#ship : solas & lavellan. in another world.#dragon age.#posting this like a weight off my shoulders. finally #at the same time..... oh god i'm posting this

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m-204863 · 4 years

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Earth's Moon

The best voices - voices that truly matter - never allow themselves be heard. This lesson is worth learning again and again. Forever. Your voice moves as a whisper, murmuring inside larger winds. Only the trusted few can absorb what is necessary. Wise and sly and perfect, your instructions drop, leaving nothing but the hard sweet rime of enlightenment. The path is set. Your voice is unleashed.

Mercury

One face is blistered, the other plunged into a brutal chill. Is this how it's always been? You remember hot oceans, nourishing atmosphere. But something transpired, kicked what was wet and fertile into space, stealing away everything of value. Or perhaps what thrived here for a day or for ten million years decided to leave, peeling its wet organics off the bones.

Venus

You see history hidden between the barren rocks and within the high acid clouds. You see the ruin ready to claim its birthright. Sunlight starves. The fierceness chills and thins and runs sweet. A new ocean emerges, thick and salty and hot, from springs and geysers that drench the dead ground. You wonder: will this world's second birth be its finest?

The Sun

The blaze sits inside a nest of little worlds, still too distant to share its heat but plainly staring out at you. A face emerges, drawn from plasmas and radiation... There must be meanings in its roar. You listen hard and carefully, and sometimes a lucid melody seems to rise out of random noise. Joy builds, and the first hope in ages transforms you. It seems important, even critical, to tell every star from here to the black between the galaxies that you will be strong again.

Mars

Life waits inside this world's bones. Your voice flows across the red rock and through the dead valleys, speaking in code and goads. Ancient volcanoes swell, exploding at their peaks and splitting wide along their shoulders. Ash clouds blacken the starved air. A fossil ocean of ice softens and collapses. Geysers erupt, tall as mountains, throwing up steam and clouds. Every moment matters. And from a great distance, in the midst of a thousand careful disasters, you watch the transformation with your own eyes. The rose has blossomed.

Jupiter

Even the largest body lets itself be pushed where it needs to be, seduced into nice, warm loving orbits. Persistence is the key. Seafloors transform and then yank themselves skyward, shattering the icy crust. New worlds awaken in the swirling depths. You build homes around this half-born sun ripped by storms and supersonic wind.

Saturn

A cold giant shows its night face to you. Distant moons slide past - icy little comets enslaved by a splendid master. The lightning bolts and high clouds sweep away, and you burrow into a sea of liquid hydrogen that boils out of the long gash. You put yourself on the perfect trajectory, and for a fraction of an instant you allow yourself the luxury of confidence.

The Traveler

You have lived as invisibly as possible, flicking from solar system to solar system, making grand plans, overseeing the culturing of civilizations, before leaving in a blink. But you have no recollection of ever wanting worship or even thanks from those blessed by you. But memory is heavy now. It feels like lead and neutronium and electroweak matter fashioned into a moon-sized ball that you must carry as you move. Now, your flight is rapid, your vast mind infected with such dread and toxic doubt that you find yourself afraid of the simple act of thought. And it is your children you must turn to now, in time of need.

The Traveler 2

This has been such a long chase. This will be the place you will fight. Fight and win. But do you really know why you go where you go, and where this journey is taking you? The chase leads you where you need to be, you believe. Unless...you are being pushed.

The Traveler 3

The knife had a million blades. And you were giant, powerful and swift. But the knife pinned you. Cut your flesh away. Very little was left, you are sure, because you feel insignificant now. The hard slick heart of your soul: That is what remains. A body small as a river stone, and just as simple. You picture yourself as a piece of indigestible grit, a nameless nothing hiding among other nameless stones. Perhaps you glitter like a gem, yes. Pride makes you hope so. If only you could see yourself. But you have no eyes. Not the dimmest sense survives. What lives is memory, and what slim portion of these thoughts can you trust? The knife stole much more than your body.

Darkness

The universe is a beast. The body is made from tiny stuff, from near-nothings. From atoms swimming through a blood of crackling sparks. Simple, eternal Laws shape the beast. The largest galaxy is ruled by principles of mass and motion. Electrons are slaves to charge and to chance. And this is why the universe feels inexhaustible, eternal. No sun complains about its death. Life is the problem. Life can be woven from flesh or circuit or thoughtful light. Origins don't matter. But small, half-smart creatures have a fierce talent for denying the inevitable, for balking and complaining about injustices that don't exist and consequences that should be borne in silence.

Riis

This world is rich with family. You pause to rest. Life is a balm. You must cherish it where you find it. You do not mean to stay, but longing and kinship forestalls your departure time and time again. These little gardeners are such careful stewards of fragility. They sing songs of disasters averted and loved ones lost. They fashion heavy elements combed from the bones of old stars into objects of peace and beauty. You must force yourself to be cruel. Your presence is important.

- Dreams of Alpha Lupi, Destiny. Written by Robert Reed and Seth Dickinson.

#Destiny #Destiny2 #Bungie #TheTraveller #DestinyTraveller #Screenwriting

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xanthiasonadonkey · 6 years

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Rereading fragments of Herakleitos

Deeper, deeper Into the darkness descend; All things must end, All ends lead to new beginnings. Spring or winter - no more than a wheel spinning, Dusk and Dawn are a single star. Know, no matter how far you walk - There are Gods in that place, as close As your breath. Only that which burns can inspire; I am drowning in fire,

Devoured by the waves Of that proverbial river Which washes away Things beloved, hated, indifferent - Deeper, deeper: See the moonless night, Hear the silence. Hurry now Before daybreak comes, And the roar of thunder Awakens us. Strife, after all Is life's mother/father, king/queen, Slave, master. Muster the courage to face change; You never know how the dice shall land Next time, And again, and again, once more - no end, But a spiral. Nothing remains. Nothing returns. Correction: change is a constant. What is at stake in this child's game? Eternity. Truth. A moment. A word. Logos. Incineration of doubt. Not because you have found Certainty - but because of the harmony that resides On the razor's edge, in the clach of blades. Tension. A dichotomy: bow and life are the same, Death and song are two taut strings For the forminx and for the bow: Where do you aim it now? Bend it well, make it sing. Mind: bow. Thought: bowstring. Words: arrows; Never release them too early, Never release them too late. I am not from Delos. I'm a terrible diver, There is no choice but to sink, While you play with children and speak of flame. There is no taming destiny - time to start taming myself: Blessed are those who would fortify heart and mind With a wall called Law, Known to humans or otherwise. You, who left all your wisdom at the feet of the Goddess - Did you know, in all your bitterness and ascetic pride How little humans would change in so many centuries? Leaving the future to children did not work so well. Ah, but of course, had you known - you would laugh like the madman you never were.

#philosophers can be awesome sometimes #presocratics #philosophy #panta rhei #heraclitus #herakleitos #poetry #classics #tagamemnon

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ptw30 · 7 years

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Blade!Shiro Masterpost

Summary: It isn’t easy being the only human in the Galra Empire. After Shiro’s human father and Galra stepmother leave he and his half-Galra brother, Keith, to fend for themselves, Shiro resorts to the worst-case scenario time and time again to survive. And now that Keith is sick and in desperate need of medicine, Shiro has no choice but to proposition a high-ranking Galra official. But this time, it might not be GAC he receives – but salvation.

i.e. How Shiro becomes the only human member of the Blade of Marmora

Stunning art by xblackpaladin

Warnings: Mature themes throughout, including non-consensual marking, prostitution, graphic violence, and heavy angst.

I use #blade!shiro to tag all the entries in this story, so if you do not wish to see this series, please blacklist it. Thank you!

Story links under cut

The Series

Worst-Case Scenario: Shiro propositions Ulaz and instead of receiving GAC, he receives salvation. (NSFW - prostitution, mentioned, not graphic)

Adoption: As Shiro and Keith settle into the Communication Base Thaldycon, thanks to Ulaz, other members of the Blades of Marmora take offense to the brothers' intrusion, and Shiro has to decide what's more important - keeping his brother or saving him. (only on AO3)

The Commander’s Human Lover: On a mission for the Blade, Thace gets help from an unexpected source - Sendak’s mate. Too bad the person-in-question doesn’t know it. (NSFW, sensuality)

First Mission: Shiro gets his first mission with the Blade of Marmora, and he’s not happy with Kolivan’s choice for his partner.

Haunted: Sendak is visited by the ghost of his past lover. Maybe.

Appealing Destiny: Kolivan tries to save Shiro the only way he knows how - and Ulaz is not pleased.

Double-Edged Dagger: Sometimes the hardest battles are the ones we fight against ourselves, but they are winnable if we have the right weapons, which in Shiro’s case is his new, eccentric but caring family.

Introduction to Galra Culture: Shiro can’t leave Keith with Thace for five minutes without something happening to the kid.

Galra Culture 102: While Keith is accepted into the Blades’ pack, Shiro is not, and the future Black Paladin is forced to come to some difficult realizations.

Scar Tissue - Shiro’s past comes to light, and he worries about his future with the Blades.

Part One: In which Kolivan loses his “universe’s best Galra!dad mug” (mature)

Part Two: After Shiro’s former life is revealed to Kolivan, the youngest Blade copes with “help” from the Black Lion and Keith.

Part Three: “Destiny must find a new victim to extort.”

DVD Commentary: “How does one tell his cub he is fated to fight not just for his life but also the freedom of the entire universe?”

Epilogue: Shiro can’t escape his past, but his pack won’t let him drown in it.

Quintessence Sharing: or “how Shiro got his inking.”

Date Night: On a mission to a sport port bar with Antok and Kolivan, Shiro sees a surprise patron - Sendak.

Battle Hazard: When Kolivan's hurt and Shiro offers to help him, one of Shiro's biggest disadvantages in battle is revealed.

Catnip: Antok and Kolivan walk in on one of Shiro and Keith’s sibling disputes.

An Eternity: Ulaz has an unexpected visitor in his quarters aboard Sendak’s ship.

The Red Paladin: Shiro brings Keith’s presents when he’s away more than three quintaints. This time, he brings destiny.

Crossing the Border

Part One: Precautionary Measures

Part Two: Proper Documentation

Shock to the System: Shiro has a violent allergic reaction.

The Guardian Spirit Fire: Puberty not only brings hormones but also paladin powers. So I guess Shiro was a late bloomer.

Tail Piercing: Keith wants a tail piercing; Shiro says no. Yeah, Keith doesn’t take that well.

By Omission: Keith hopes for some freedom at a swap meet; Shiro hopes to keep his little brother by his side; and Kolivan just wants less grey fur [i.e. the story where Keith finds out about his brother’s status in the empire]. Only on AO3.

Separation Anxiety: Shiro is sick and has a heart-wrenching request for Antok.

Broken Blade: Captured by the Galra Empire, Shiro reunites with Sendak and is forced to face some hard truths about his past and his future.

Notes on Broken Blade - triggers and spoilers

Part One: Shiro learns the cost of awakening a blade.

Part Two: Shiro tells Ulaz what happened on the mission that led to his "capture." (Tumblr Link)

Part Three: Shiro returns to the Blade of Marmora headquarters with the paladins and finds his relationship with Kolivan fractured; in his first meeting with Sendak following his capture, Shiro is forced to face his torrid past with the commander. (Tumblr Link)

Part Four: AKA “The Honeymoon Period.” Shiro and Sendak spend two weeks alone on a Galra battlecruiser on the way to Central Command and attempt to find some common ground - and maybe some way to relieve the boredom. (Tumblr Link)

Cultural Shock: Shiro teaches Sendak an important part of Earth’s culture - the selfie. (Yup, I went there.)

Second Chance: “They were ours before you awakened.”

Self-Preservation or Lack Thereof - Keith sees more of Shiro’s scars.

Whole: Lance brings Hunk and Pidge to meet Keith in his shack, a la “The Rise of Voltron.”

Brother-in-Law: Sendak contacts Keith when Shiro stops writing him.

Late-Night Needs: Sendak has some rather specific needs in the middle of the night. (Strong language; discussion of sex but nothing really happens)

Hole in the Sky: Shiro and the Paladins go across the glowy, explode-y thing to meet Sven, Slav, and Akira.

Never Again: Following the events of “A New Defender,” the pack worries for Keith’s safety.

The Blood of the Covenant: Shiro meets the one person from his past he never thought he’d see again, and it makes him appreciate all he’s gained in his young life.

A Formal Declaration of Pursuit: Sendak sends Shiro a formal invitation to dinner.

Washed Away: Shiro gets the urge to groom Sendak. (NSFW - semi-graphic sex)

Testament - Keith is injured during a battle; Shiro refuses to leave him.

Story Series on AO3

Various stories of the series that don’t quite fit in the flow - mostly fic requests

The Emperor and the Blade - An exploration into Kolivan’s mating mark

Swedish Fish and Tiny Tails - Shiro meets his little brother for the first time.

Owned - Sendak is interested in someone on the dance floor of the bar, but he misreads the entire situation.

Unfamiliar Scent - Keith meets Ulaz for the first time.

Space Family - Keith learns what scent means to a pack.

Admission - Kolivan’s reactions to finding out about Shiro’s past in “Scar Tissue,” Chapter One.

The Once and Future King - Zarkon confronts Kolivan about the cub and new Black Paladin he’s adopted.

Out of the Blue - Shiro and Keith feel a new presence awaken in their souls - the Blue Paladin.

The Mission: Takes place during “Crossing the Border” - how Kolivan takes Shiro’s captivity.

DVD Commentary: “Never Again”

Birth-Quintant: Prompt: Wat if the blade did something to celebrate Shiro or Keith’s birthday? Since they probably never really had one since their parents left.

Not Ready: Kolivan is hurt, and Shiro refuses to leave his side. His pack doesn’t let him suffer alone.

Adoption (Part Two): Shiro is the leader of their pack - and he’s adopted everyone on the Castle of Lions - except Lance. Yeah, Lance isn’t hurt, though. No. He’s not. Really. (Okay, maybe a little, but he’s certainly not jealous.)

Learning You: Sendak/Shiro bad sex - Shiro and Sendak have difficulty with intimacy after so many years apart. (NSFW non-graphic after/before sex scenes)

Skin Deep: Shiro reflects upon scars he received before becoming a member of the Blade of Marmora (Shendak).

Operation: Kuron - Kolivan makes a difficult decision - what to do with clones of his eldest cub.

Father and Son - prompt Zarkon/???? twu wuv - Zarkon beckons Shiro to the astral plane for some father-son bonding time.

Confession - tender Shendak - Shiro decides he doesn’t want to let Sendak go ever again.

#Sharpening the Blade - Blade!Shiro meta posts

Sendak’s reaction to Shiro’s disappearance

Zarkon/Haggar after Shiro’s captured

Shiro and Keith’s Parents (potential spoilers abound)

Great Things - AKA How Haggar Became a Soccer Mom (Honerva is Shiro’s Biological Mom AU)

How Moira/Blades React to Sendak and Shiro’s Relations (spoilers/NSFW - sensuality, implied sex)

Shiro’s diseases following the events of “Worst-Case Scenario” (Discussion of STDs)

Lotor’s Introduction - and White Lion slippers

Becoming Galra - Shiro’s run-in with Haggar leaves him with more than a robotic arm in this prompt (warning: grooming - as in, cat grooming)

A Note on Becoming Galra - about Shiro being human.

Keith and the Space Mice AU - The Druids make Keith extra-smol.

Do the Galra have weddings?

Would Sendak and Shiro have a kit?

Shiro Stayed with Sendak AU

What if Ulaz hadn’t picked up Shiro and Keith AU

Shiro stays with Sendak AU

Shiro is the royal consort; Lotor is his slave

If Lance Had Stayed and Become Part of the Pack AU

The Pack Panel - AU Prompt - What if as Lance and Keith get older (growing up together) the Blades have to point out to Shiro that Keith has started courting behavior toward Lance.

An Altean in a Galran Pack - Prompt - what would have happened if Lance had been able to stay with the Blade, and Keith and Shiro? - He’d get a big brother and a yupper.

#shiro #kolivan #shendak #voltron: legendary defender #blade of marmora #ulaz #keith #antok #thace #blade!shiro #ptw30 pens #masterpost

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thetragedies-blog1 · 6 years

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NAME shanghai AGE unknown STATUS dead, vampire DOMAIN afterlife PERSONALITY chaotic evil GENDER female ACCOMPLICES hayul, suisen, supposedly soror STORY fuchou village, the tragedy of wolf and lamb ROLE antagonist CAUSE OF DEATH sacrifice, murder

COMPANY dollmore SCULPT dollpire shiloh BODY dollpire SKIN COLOR white GENDER female FACEUP cried doll (myself)

A little thorn lost in the wind. A rose torn out of the soil before its time. Blood flowed across the land when two warring brothers demanded rights to the throne. An older against a younger, adamant against ivory, steel against marble. Two of the same, their greed followed by a parade of death that marched across towns smaller and greater, poorer and richer. A noble or a beggar, so many perished in times of the brotherly conflict that soon there stood more houses than the people of the country who could have inhabited them. A man capable of wielding a weapon was a vassal no longer, but a soldier taken into two armies that every now and then met in bloodshed upon unwilling battlefields, watering the soil with crimson of their friends, their companions, their own brothers. It was general Longwei that claimed the grandest number of victories in that unfortunate period of history. He served the younger brother, a sworn commander to the thousands and a father of one, a youngling he took to battlecamps whenever traveling. His daughter's mother faded away whilst plagued by an epidemy that decimated the population even before the wars began, and so he took it upon himself to raise the offspring and teach her strength of a true warrior if only to let her defeat herself in the darker times to come. But the providence would not let the chapter of this story unfold. For the gods are cruel and they demand sacrifices. She was a pearl of the force, this child. Beloved by the soldiers who oftentimes let her win in dice or card games that entertained their eves, beloved by the father who protected her against all evil of the world ; although there was blood on his own hands, he found tenderness in the war-trained muscles to braid her hair and paint upon her pale features whatever symbol she deemed sweet enough. An image wholly unfitting a general feared amongst many and considered a blessing amongst few. He dreamed that one day she would inherit his position, his forces after him and lead the country to safer times under the rule of the rightful king, he dreamed she would be the liberation the history called upon, the stability the nation yearned for. But the providence would not let the chapter of this story unfold. For the sacrifices defile the innocence almost extinct in the world of conflict. It was a warm autumn night when the enemy forces sneaked into the stationing troops' encampments. Blades glittered silver in the moonlight when agents slaughtered the warriors locked in slumber, set aflame tents and constructions that shaped their temporary shelter. Like a brother against a brother, general Fengge stood against general Longwei, a battle that unleashed within a heartbeat with the outcome already signed in the stars. Longwei knew of his doom. Fengge knew of his victory. And yet, it was the choice one offered his enemy that truly broke the spirit of the commander sworn to the younger king - an opportunity to save his soldiers and march away from the field unharmed if only he would, with his own hands, murder the daughter that hid behind his legs. The little rose, as he called her so many times, still but a youngling that knew so little of the world. That was when the sense of duty triumphed against the love of a father. Keeping her close to his chest, locked in a closing embrace, he drew a dagger into her back. His troops, as promised, retreated in silence. Never again had general Longwei achieved victory on the battlefield. The commander lost his will to live. His eyes were blind, his voice barely a whisper. His spirit gone, his soul drained by the sin he committed against the only rose he thought to be hope. The younger brother lost his war, and it was the elder who sat on the throne, ruling over ghosts and corpses that piled in massive graves. The fate of general Longwei became unknown ever since.

HERE THE CHAPTERS OF FUCHOU VILLAGE END, THE TRAGEDY OF WOLF AND LAMB COMMENCES

Preoccupied by weaving her perfect plan, the Whispering Mother did fail to notice a new strength given birth to in the Fuchou Village - a fatal mistake which soon led to the fall of her reign. When the bloodlusting offspring of a vampiric spirit, Shanghai, guarded by a war-schooled monk, Hayul, spread across the lands of the Afterlife, it was a game of surrender or demise. The Five Guardians deployed by the Whispering Mother stood no chance against the growing forces of newly born blood-leeches and one by one, they met their unsightly end.

The tremendous army of destruction swept across the Fuchou Village, eventually shattering the walls of a castle set as a hideout to the elderly, withering flower form of the Whispering Mother, the last pillar paving the road to Shanghai's victory. Although weakened, the Whispering Mother fought back several waves of the vampiric spirits invading her small kingdom, until it was thousands of fangs biting into her form. Tearing it to shreds. Turning it to ashes. What remained of the Whispering Mother was locked away in a glass coffin, an eternal prison where forever she would rot.

Thus a new Queen of the Afterlife was born - bathing in glory, the vampire spirit Shanghai took place of the frightening entity that, incidentally, shared her overpowering desire to invade the World of the Living and alter its form into a kingdom of the souls unfairly treated whilst still breathing or bearing the fate of wrongful death. Murdering her own maker, the Whispering Mother, Shanghai gained the ability to do so in her own design and with the aid of her own children, the vampires born from the darkness of demise itself. In her reign over dead souls, she proved herself to be far less strict than the Whispering Mother, far more understanding, far more accepting - and ruthless when it came to monopolizing planes of the Afterlife. Although her expansion was a violent one, instead of rebellion, the conquered spirits gave her love.

The numbers of her vampiric family provided Shanghai with a chance to invade the World of the Living faster, more easily. What was left to gain was a perfect link that would let her spread her ancient blood disease into the outside, the still breathing humans. And to find this link, it was Hayul's duty as Shanghai's closest confidant, protector and lover.

A gentle breeze of the wind. A raging sea with its waves crushing against the wall of the cliff. A hermaphroditic youngling balancing on the edge between morning and evening of existence, a pair of twins locked into one body - one absorbing the other whilst still in the mother's womb. Two consciousnesses molded in perfect union, inhabiting the same body. A broken, resentful entity bound in wrath at the injustice of the world, willing to fall into the waves. Ever since birth, their fate was to fulfill the role of a missing piece in this game between life and death ; and so they have accepted this destiny, sealing the promise of a better world with the taste of their blood upon Shanghai's mouth.

In this perfect world, the wronged ones would no longer be bound by the pain of the past. In this perfect world, the wronged ones would have their retribution. In this perfect world, Shanghai's children would rule over the slaves made of those who denied peace. In this perfect world, death would win over life.

#character: shanghai #story: the tragedy of wolf and lamb #bjd #abjd #doll #ball jointed doll #balljointeddoll #legitbjd #dollmore #dollmore shiloh #dollpire #dollpire shiloh #doll profile

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indurarinks · 7 years

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A CURSED BLADE (& BLOOD SPILLED)

Prologue. Throughout history, whispers of reverence told the ancient tales of a mighty weapon that had been forged by the gods themselves. A lethal blade that represented a perfect combination between the duality of opposing forces: good and evil. It was said the old books of knowledge, which have mysteriously disappeared from the face of the Earth, contained the gory details of countless battles fought by said instrument of war. The same war that has been waging since the dawn of time— the eternal rivalry between good and evil. Light and darkness. Aeons ago, when rivers of blood saturated the battlefields with fallen soldiers from opposite flanks, this feared weapon stood proud amongst the dead. The foul, nauseating smell of death, sweat and guts wafting from the slaughtered soil fed its eternal hunger for blood. Unfortunate were the lesser, weaker creatures that either volunteered or felt a sense of obligation and duty to fight for the side they had been drafted for. None survived an encounter with her. The dance of doom brought forth the ripper of souls as another life was slayed and met its final fate. Despite her reputation, few could claim to hold the knowledge of the identity of the gods' ultimate blade. Most soiled their armour the moment confrontation with her came. The astonishment and disbelief smeared on their faces, like a warrior's war paint, almost comical. The undefeated, omnipotent blade of the gods was made of female curves and long, smooth tresses inked in blinding gold. Future legends on the lethality of female beauty were actually a reference of her, the spirit trapped within the weapon. But all her grace, elegance and submission did not grant her the most precious gem a soul could possess— dignity. The arrogance of the gods stripped her of the most basic rights. That included the attribution of a name. How tragic that the most beloved creation of the primal gods could be so terribly neglected. For thousands of years, she portrayed the role of an inanimate instrument, cold-blooded and indifferent. But a role is just an act and every mask falls off eventually. And standing at the edge of pandemonium, she stared at darkness in the eye with rebellion brimming from within. She dared to give herself a name. Aella. A name of Greek origin as she was too ashamed of her native tongue, the same one language she had once shared with her makers. The word itself signified 'whirlwind', she thought it was befitting. Her tale was soaked in blood and tears. Hunted by misery and endless sorrow. And the single flame of happiness vanquished, without a chance given to taste it properly. Long before humanity's creation, the balance between the two sides of the coin was respected with great admiration. Until it was no more. Greed was held accountable for its virulent poison that depleted all rationale. Then Aella was brought into existence, the gods masterpiece. Cut from the Source that feeds the fabric of the Universe. She was created with one purpose and one purpose only— to lay waste to those who threatened the balance between good and evil and the laws ingrained in it. The ultimate weapon of destruction, she was the ace of demonic nature, crippled by light's legacy. And when the Primus Bellus (the first Great War of the gods) came, the three primal gods of the Mavromino tricked her into eternal slavery. A bold move from their part that guaranteed them forevermore ownership of the mighty queen in the old game of chess. Merely a slave of darkness, her heart shrank with the continuous consumption of it and her soul withered like soft petals after their prime. It was said she would bring about the final fate of the worlds. By then, there was no evidence of decency, the strokes of light in her canvas had faded. She was ruthless as she disseminated the terrifying beauty of death. Even the gods themselves feared her, frightened by her fire and hunger for vengeance. Until one very unexpected day brought a fathomless alignment of stars and with it came the missing halve of her soul. And even though Aella struggled with inexperienced emotions, the undeniable chemistry pulled her toward him like gravity. Their love was both maddening and soft and sweet like a hot summer day with the occasional fresh breeze that just felt right. And they quickly married in secret. For the first time in endless lifetimes of servitude, she was confronted with a concept that had become foreign to her, kept from her in gleeful malice. Light. With it came loyalty, trust, & friendship. Love. But while her heart and soul belonged to her husband, her body and her sword were owned by another. Until kingdom come. They fooled themselves into believing both could coexist but the Fates were never so kind to her. Soon, conflict would stir between the two warring sides of the same coin, bringing about an unforeseen tragedy. The loss of her heart's desire by the bloody hands of the one holding her leash. She was cursed. Eternally divided by good and evil. Now, thousands of years later, Aella was unleashed into a modern world she had no experience of but all the knowledge at her disposal. Noir, the one pulling her strings, sent her back to Earth on a pressing mission. One she could not fail to complete. Bound by duty to carry out his interests, she had no choice in the matter. But nothing would stop her from proving the ancient, but long forgotten primal gods that she still had a say in her own destiny and she would conquer the battle against the old prophecies.

#stygianambrosia #a cursed blade

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