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#Future War Cult
theavocadojam · 9 months
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jambitprime · 1 year
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T R U E P R O P H E C Y
in bright colors
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conniemb · 9 months
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Can we get a Lakshmi-3 that isn't a racist asshole who gets influenced by a god of trickery to try and kill all my beloved fallen cuz I do actually like her and fwc were my faction but this ain't it chief.
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tuliptiger · 5 months
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I think my drive for making art has died greatly because of learning how the world is. The older I get the harder it is for me to create art consistently. How am I to create and make things when the world is so cruel and horrific? How can I live in a more whimsical world and beautiful when reality is so terrible?
I love nature and I know the world is fine in places, it's fine in my corner, the world is still beautiful and the birds will still sing. Life will go on regardless of any living things struggles but how am I to create when I live in America? America is a great evil, a horrific and brutal thing and I don't know what I can do.
I'm not going to sell stickers and I'm not going to sell shirts. I'm not going to sell acrylic charms and plastic and fabrics and products and products and waste. Unless I can figure out how to truly make it hurt as little as possible.
I can't see it as anything other than a waste, I can't make a living off of it and I can't seem to figure out a way for it to do any good whatsoever and support me. The world isn't the art I make and it isn't how I see it at the moment. How how how. I can't spend my time creating art when the world is burning and it feels like my fault for not doing anything at all. Where do i start and how do i help what do i do
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didsomeonesayventus · 10 months
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For all the silliness of Engage I sure am thinking unnecessarily hard about the religious power struggles that come about from God Wakes Up
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lyriumsings · 1 year
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i’m in bed feeling miserable and all i have to offer the world is more destiny thoughts. After rewatching the cutscenes etc amanda’s death still falls so flat for me. but i see some people saying her anger towards crow is unjustified which is both true and not imo. like cayde wasn’t just some guy to her. she knew him her whooole life which we know spans hundreds of years and it seems also had some possibly unrequited feelings for him as well (which if bungie ever acted on tbh would’ve been gross so i’ll chalk it up to infatuation that cayde never would’ve acted on given he’s known her since she was child lol) so in that context her anger makes a lot of sense for me. BUT is it fair that she takes that out on crow? depends for me as well. early crow? absolutely not. he has no idea about anything he’s a completely new person and it’s unfair to punish him for stuff he didn’t do. but post savathun memory restored crow? i won’t ever say he deserves it but chasing the girl for friendship or otherwise knowing what you know and knowing she DOESNT know? yeah that’s kinda asking for some backlash esp if he didn’t tell her himself which i cant remember right now and even so telling her doesn’t entitle you to forgiveness. This is a something that was very very fresh for her whereas even the YW had lots of time to process and got to know the crow AS the crow without secrecy. So there was no big reveal YW just knew and made the choice to treat Crow as a separate person. Like i don’t think amanda was entirely out of pocket but i will admit the way bungie set this up left me just annoyed with her character as she died lol the dialogue IS awkward to listen to when most players just aren’t angry like that anymore and it DOES make amanda come off as mean even knowing the context. it just sucks that she was killed off in such a transition stage and feels like unfinished character dev in a bad way imo. but i also don’t agree with bringing her back as a guardian esp like super soon imo it just will not have the same effect as bringing back uldren/crow she’s just not on the same level in terms of character impact. not to mention it then sort of cheapens the effect of bringing crow back like oh so this is just a thing you’re gonna do so like character deaths don’t actually matter like the use of the pit of lazarus in the cw arrow like DJSJ when you make choices like that just willynilly with no real impact you make your fanbase stop caring like with amanda i can’t make myself care about her death like crow is ready for vengeance and im just we’re already trying to kill the witness bro i mean that’s just the current plan we don’t need to add additional steps lol
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queen-astraea · 9 months
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It has come to my attention that some people don’t like what I have to say. Or that it violates some kind of bs social rule, especially with regards to my mentioning of particular cults. That reaction is precisely what lets me know it is okay to say and also tells me everything I need to about the censors and how long their fingers actually are. So thanks. Here are some words about our views on truth. Happy day.
Truth is stone
be it a’glimmer
Illuminant in joy
or weight inedible
at the bottom
of a bowl
truth can be salve
to settle skin of soul
and its acidity
can melt fester
clear of the bone
truth keeps no time
has no need to appease
rarely is truth the nectar
beauty needs to be seen
more than not
her stone is shattered
when fiction fawns upon
deceit’s sweetness
to soothe
and to mute.
wear truth proud
my love
even when
Its unappealing tale
Would turn most around!
For that is when
its glare
and glorious glow
however unkind
is needed the most.
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the-cosmic-creature · 1 month
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Dune lore is fucking insane. I just finished the first book, and have concluded that Frank Herbert is a goddamn genius.
20,000 years in the future.
Matriarchal cult of eugenisist space-nuns with weird psychic powers
Houses that resemble the royalty of medieval earth, all still obsessed with power and profit over everything else
complex religions with clear inspirations of real-world present religions (specifically catholicism and islam)
Human supercomputers?? that are also assassins??
A prison planet that creates supersoldiers by killing the weak to filter out the strongest
the main villain being the physical embodiment of sin (gluttony, lust, greed)
politics. holy war. oppression of native peoples. false prophets. cults. drugs. worms.
and that just scratches the surface. theres five more books…
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chococolte · 2 years
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☼ — osculatus solem
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my take on sagau/cult au zhongli, reactions to first meeting you/as a worshiper + reactions to being your lover
word count. 4.2k
୨୧ — ꒰ cw. yandere, unhealthy relationship, possessive & obsessive thoughts/behaviors, religious + cult themes, sagau + cult au shit, g/n reader. i do not condone yanderes irl.
୨୧ — ꒰ a/n. im sorry if tense is weird im kinda dumb lol
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Zhongli has waited for you for six-thousand years.
It wasn’t until he was faced with you that he realized how cruel the wait was. Six-thousand years of patiently waiting had never felt like grueling punishment until he realized what he was deprived of. Like a man starved, he had grown used to the numbness of constant hunger— he found it almost comforting, as he had lived his entire life malnourished. He lived unaware of what it was like to have a full stomach.
Your presence is primeval. It emanates, and it overwhelms all else. When Zhongli looked into your eyes for the first time, he finally felt complete. He was finally where he was meant to be. Finally with who he was meant to be with.
The scripture had described you in detail, but there were only so many words, so many different ways to speak of you. None of them could compare to how you looked in person, standing in front of him.
Your eyes hold all the knowledge in the world. Constellations and stars shine within them, a myriad of stellar tapestries formed within the small reflective surface of your eyes. Past, present, and future dance inside, moving according to your design. You see all. You are all. Everything that is, and everything that will be, is you. Every burgeoning bud, blooming flower, roaring wave, and colossal beast; you are every death, there in every mournful cry and scornful glare; you are every mortal life and every god.
You are the sun that brings warmth to Teyvat, the moon that caresses its tides, and Zhongli wants nothing more than to worship you for it.
Zhongli was not always your devout worshiper. He was once, like all of his temperament, rebellious and spiteful. He refused to believe that all of his victories in battle had simply been part of your design. Just a single thread in your grand tapestry.
His triumphs were his, and his alone. He won by his own virtue, will, and vigor. He won by his own hand, spear, and stone. You did not aid him in his wars. You did not save anyone worth saving. Zhongli watched his allies die, slip through his fingers like grains of sand— and he would never thank you for what he endured. He promised himself that if ever faced with you and your faux benevolence, he would demand answers from you. You owed him that much. A recompense for all the hardship and injury he had sustained.
Zhongli, in his youthful hubris, did not care who heard his blasphemy, and whether they thought it distasteful or not. He was the god of war, and would allow no being to silence his voice. Zhongli bathed in his rage, wallowed in it; he would not allow himself to believe what others so easily indulged in. Ignorance led way to arrogance.
Guizhong had always been of the opinion that you were a kind, gentle god. She argued that your light could not be quantified, nor labeled; just because you did not act in ways he could see, did not mean you did not act at all. You breathed life into the abandoned, the lost— you embraced those without a home, without purpose. You forgave and you pardoned, and you rained down fury on those wicked and vile.
Zhongli had long grown used to her arguments. Every victory of theirs, despite the tight grip on his weapon and the ichor on his blade, was attributed to you— your grace, your blessings. By your grace you allowed them one more day, by your blessings you allowed them one more triumph. Zhongli thought her pitiful; you had done nothing to deserve her kindness. She worshiped you, and what had you given her in response to her devotion?
Guizhong died in his hands, and he had nothing to show for it. Helplessness ate it's way at him, through his flesh and bone. What was left was nothing more than a husk, a parody of a god. What was once anger at authority transformed into righteous anger at the one who made him. You allowed him his victories, to parade around with pride and vanity; you gave him your blessings, benediction and approval, and yet you let the one who meant the most to him die. The one who worshiped you above all else.
Why did he live over her? He did not appreciate you. He did not worship you. He made no offerings, nor did he pray. He did not believe in your salvation, neither did he ordain your will. But he was the one left behind with the sorrow and the guilt, and Guizhong was the one turned to dust. Why was he chosen?
Zhongli knew that asking questions was meaningless. You would not deign to answer. Maybe it was to be expected. Why would an Almighty God answer to a lower being demanding answers far beyond their comprehension? Why should you have to explain yourself, when you saw all? Zhongli was merely the god of Geo. You could take even that from him.
You were the God of All. The Primordial One. No being had authority over you; not even one of the Seven.
It was only in the light of Guizhong's death that Zhongli had finally begun to understand her perspective. He might’ve been alone, but that did not make you cruel. It did not mean you were unable to be kind, tender and loving. You loved as much as you breathed— the world was showered in your love for it, in the wind that caressed its people and the sea that fed them. Your love was in its bountiful harvests and its gentle rain.
You loved just as any other, but Zhongli had long refused to see it.
He started small. Gestures of devotion hidden underneath many layers of misty glass, only clear to those who looked hard enough. Zhongli had postured to those still with him that he no longer minded if they worshiped you in his presence. If he was feeling particularly daring, he would join in and mutter a small word or two of thanks. Perhaps he thought of it as a way to make up to Guizhong after so many years of his disapproval.
Though he may have found it unbearable at the beginning, he soon began to pray to you in times of need. He looked for you when he found himself in need of counsel, forgoing the people around him. He made offerings in your name when there was a drought or a shortage, praying for your guidance. Even if he did not initially believe that you would truly respond, the comfort it brought outweighed the logistics. If there was no one else he could turn to, he still had you— and you would never forsake him.
Zhongli started to find your answers in the strangest of places. An arrangement of flowers in some botanical garden of some odd scion, the conversation of two orphan boys that shed a new perspective; a tale that seemed almost catered to him told by a storyteller at a tea house. Perhaps he was imagining things— he surely would have thought so a millennium earlier. But were they truly coincidences, if they only happened after he had prayed and offered at his altar for you?
If it was the Zhongli of old, he would have said yes. But the Zhongli of new knew better now: it was you, speaking to him through indirect means. You answered his prayers and accepted his offerings. You forgave him for what he had done and the things he had said in the past.
Liyue was modeled after what Zhongli believed you favored the most. Its jagged cliffs, jeweled karsts, cuihua forests, and vibrant plant life; sculpted and molded to fit your tastes. He sometimes daydreams of showing you his life’s work— would you like it? Would you tell him he’s done a good job, that he had done enough to please you? If you found it distasteful, would you tell him why? Even if it meant tearing the land asunder and usurping the earth that tethers it to its place in the sea, Zhongli would change whatever it is you dislike immediately.
Even if the problem was himself. He would happily bow his head, whisper one last plead for forgiveness, and take his own life. If it was your will, there is nothing he wouldn't do.
When Zhongli meets the Traveler for the first time, he is frozen in place. His heart drops to his stomach as he sees the gleam of your existence in their eyes. It's you. You're here, in front of him— he wants to kneel and worship you the way he's always wanted, but…
Why is it them, and not him?
Zhongli knows he shouldn’t be jealous. It’s a blessing in the first place to meet you like this. It's a blessing to know that you're real. But he can’t stop himself from lying awake at night, thinking of what it would be like if he was the eyes through which you experienced this world.
It’s an ugly feeling. A twisted, nasty feeling. It leaves him feeling bitter in the morning and sick whenever he sees the Traveler walking through Liyue’s streets. He assists them on their quest, because you are there with them— watching him through their eyes. He hopes to leave a good impression, to assure you that there is no problem with him; perhaps, that is why you did not choose him? Because he was faulty in some form?
Hours upon hours of self-reflection spent in dark, locked rooms. Zhongli stays there, looking in mirrors, searching for reasons why. He looks at his mortal form and wonders: is this why? Did you want him to serve you as the Geo Archon for longer? Why not him?
Was he not enough? Was Liyue not enough? You are never wrong, never incorrect— the problem lies with him. But no matter how long he looks, he can't find the reason. He's better in every way. Better in his devotion for you, better in his worship— he would kneel until his knees turned raw and skin gave way to bone, he would pray and sing your praises until his throat bled. He built Liyue with earth and stone, and cracked the land until it was worthy enough of a formation, molding it with his hands to please you. He had changed himself until he was deserving of your forgiveness, until he was worthy enough to worship you.
The voice in the back of his head tells him it was because he once hated you. Once, when he was a fool and a heathen, he spat on your good name, derided it with disgust. Zhongli thought you forgave him for the sins of his past. He thought you still loved him despite it. He thought he had purified himself long ago, but perhaps he still had some rot left to root out. What part of him wasn’t perfect? What part of him wasn’t enough for you?
Zhongli knows he’s only being ungrateful. You’ve done enough for him. Who is he to demand more?
REVERENTIA ; first meeting/as a worshiper
Zhongli did not know what to do with himself when his eyes laid on your figure for the first time.
You were beautiful. Resplendent and illustrious. When you spoke, crying out so timorously, he shuddered involuntarily. He clasped a hand over his mouth in an attempt to steady his breathing, but your voice was infectious. His heart felt heavy in his chest as you looked at him with wide eyes.
Nothing could compare to your stare, to the life that swirled within your eyes.
Zhongli knelt, then, his head hitting the floor. His shoulders trembled with tension as he kept them taut and straight, keeping his posture as poised as possible.
His first words to you: "Welcome home."
Whether your reaction was volatile or not, Zhongli is at your beck and call. He waits on you hand and foot, staying by your side and keeping close. He acts as your shadow, following your orders, even simple commands, as if the result of his failure will be death. Zhongli is aware that your current form is weaker, mortal in nature; but when you ascend once more, he wants to be known as the one who never doubted you, never thought of you as lesser because of your current circumstances.
Zhongli, despite his worship of propriety, is still prone to decadence. His hands as he helps you dress linger for far longer than they should, brushing against the soft skin of your shoulders. The tips of his gloves burn from where they've touched you, and you notice him wearing them less and less often, now.
In Zhongli's eyes, you are never wrong. You stand at the pinnacle of righteousness, justice and light; anything you say is gospel. He commits all of your opinions, even of the littlest, pettiest things, to memory. His personal thoughts on the matter are meaningless, now— if you dislike it, then it's bad. Simple as that. If you find something enjoyable, then it's good. If your concept of morality is twisted and murky, then he will morph his own to match it; there is no internal struggle, no hesitation in his thoughts and behavior. Your will is all that matters.
When in your presence, Zhongli is perfect. He is courteous, gentle, and benign. He never does anything without your explicit permission. He brews you tea, and tells you anything you wish to know. He worships you with so much vigor it's hard to deny him.
Outside of it, he is barely hanging on by a thread.
Zhongli doesn't know how he lived without you before. He feels vaguely sick even thinking of going back to when you were not present. Just a moment without you is hellish. Every step away from you is like walking on scorching coal. It is an agonizing pain, one slow and tortuous.
He has never felt such pain before. The mere thought of leaving you by your lonesome sends him into a frenzy powered only by his desire to stay by you. He is willing to tear anyone apart should they stand in between him and his god. He can't leave, not when he isn't worthy of your forgiveness yet, not when you're so fragile in your current form.
Every night he rests only barely. Every morning he rises with relief, knowing that once more he is allowed to bask in your company.
Perhaps he's still driven by his insecurity, by the idea of you thinking him unworthy of you.
Zhongli speaks of your grace and elegance, of the light you inspire; he tells you how long he's worshiped you, how long he's loved you.
He tells you of his devotion, of the offerings he's left at your gilded altars, jewels and the finest riches. Zhongli brings them directly to you, now, with an uncharacteristic bashfulness.
He tells you of the wars he's fought in your name, of the blasphemers he's slaughtered— though, conveniently leaving out that he used to be one. Zhongli hopes you're proud of the things he's done in your name, that you will finally embrace him, utterly and wholly.
In the dark of the night, when doubt and searing loneliness so clearly bite at his mind, Zhongli walks to your room. He never dares to walk inside, always conscious of your privacy— but he kneels outside your doors with muted footsteps, only the soft echo of ruffling fabric to accompany him.
He mumbles into the gelid floor unintelligible prayers. He listens for your breathing, for assurance you're still within reach. His unrest is barely abated each time.
When he is particularly nervous, he stands by your doors until morning light, shoulders trembling with unease until you rise from your slumber.
Zhongli is fearful. His muscles are tense as he whispers pleadings that you stay, that you at least say goodbye, should you leave again. He fears one day he will awake and you will be gone.
He fears that he will be left alone again, once more without the tenderness of your guidance. Back to when he had thrown you away, when he only knew of bloodshed and the weight on his shoulders.
You freed him from his self-imposed shackles, whether knowingly or not.
Only when he's assured you're safe will he allow himself peace and serenity.
Only then, will he finally rest in the only paradise he wishes for: being by your side for eternity.
VENUSTUS ; as your lover
Zhongli has always loved you. By virtue of your holiness and sacred being, he has always loved you as his god. As his guiding hand and light, sculpting him into the Archon you want him to be; into a believer worthy of worshiping you.
Faced with your luminous presence, finally able to see what he has only imagined before, Zhongli's love for you only grows. It unfurls like a blossoming glaze lily, petals perfect and serene.
He would never dare presume that his feelings are returned. As his God, you are above him in every way— you are above him in every breath, every step you take. In every slight movement of your fingers, you establish the bridge between you. The line he should never cross.
You are above him. He is beneath you.
Whether it is intentional or not, Zhongli knows his place. He is grateful to be where he is, blessed enough to stand beside you in any capacity. To know that you exist would've been enough, but to care for you personally— to be the one with whom you spend the most of your treasured time with; that is an honor worth dying for.
Zhongli has played with the idea of being your consort before. Of being yours, utterly and entirely. He never lets the thought stay for long. Shame begins to eat at him all too quickly, twisting his stomach into knots of guilt and remorse. He's embarrassed more than anything; of having the gall to dare to imagine himself ever being so important to you.
The thought would've never crossed his mind before, the mere idea laughable. You were untouchable. Above even The Seven, above Celestia. You had not shown interest in any individual for a millennium, and it would be no different now.
But Zhongli knows you now. He's felt the brush of your touch, the zephyr of your breath when he leans in too close. He's felt the warmth running through your veins, the warmth that leaves him flustered, even when you've only touched him for a moment.
The thoughts come more often, now. More vivid. More apparent. You cradle him in your arms, whispering soft words of loyalty and love. You hold his hands in your own, intertwining your fingers, and tell him how you have come to love him. He is special. He alone is yours; no one else.
It terrifies him.
Zhongli is nothing more than your worshiper. He is your servant. He may have been a god, but now he is just your tool. He is content with that much. He should be content with that much. But his heart wants more from you, more than you've deigned to give him.
It wants your love. Your attention. His heart yearns to be special to you; to be the sole holder of your affection.
It's a selfish desire. A nasty one. One that he wishes he could remove, exorcise out of him like a spirit. But every attempt to carve it out of him only leaves him bleeding, and it hurts more to pretend like it doesn't exist. It burns him from the inside out, a fiery jealousy that roars whenever he sees you with another.
It should be me, his heart trembles. It should be me, his heart weeps.
Zhongli is terribly flustered when you begin to show signs of reciprocation. Small things like careful touches, honeyed tones, and words of favor. You compliment him more often, go out of your way to do things that please him; brushing and running your fingers through his hair, listening to him spin tales of old. He is aware that you must know everything already, but you look at him with such big eyes of wonder and interest he can’t help but go on.
He’s barely able to speak when you admit to him your feelings. His heart beats fast in his ears like war drums, his heartstrings tightening as if nocked by an arrow.
It's an uncharacteristic moment of timidity for the wise ex-archon. He's stammering over his words, barely able to keep up his façade of calm. Is that something you truly wish to do? With him?
You assure him— I want this, you say— and Zhongli allows himself to believe you. He follows you when you lead him by the hand into the palace of your heart. He cradles it softly in his hands, gentle and delicate. Zhongli swears to never hurt you, to never let another harm you in any way; but he still fears, still doubts you.
It should be expected for you to have multiple consorts. Multiple lovers, all equally vying for your attention. Zhongli should be happy that you have any interest in him at all— but the thought of being second to another in your heart makes him sick.
Venti, the verdant bard, does nothing but drink. He wastes away his woes in bottles of wine and bourbon; surely, you will not choose him over Zhongli? Ei lorded over her people and took their freedom away. Her reasons do not matter. All for an eternity unreachable by mortals and gods, she attempted to trespass upon your domain. Surely, you will not choose her over him?
The thoughts are foolish. Nearly sacrilegious in nature. He has no control over you; no place to demand that you only love him. But Zhongli has spent thousands of years worshiping you— is it wrong of him to believe himself better than the rest? Venti does not worship you in the way he does, with such fervor or zeal. Ei may pray or rest her eyes beneath your statue, but she has not spoken good of your name like he has, hasn’t hunted blasphemers like he has.
She’d rather her servants deal with them, whenever they so rarely come. Zhongli deals with them personally, knuckles clenched around his blade.
In every way that matters, he is better. As such, he shouldn’t fear, shouldn’t worry of when you will inevitably grow bored— he should enjoy the moments he has with you, the brief time when he is all that you have. When he is still all that you want.
Fear still grips his throat with its tiny, intangible hands. Even if he severs its wrists, it continues to thrive; to suffocate him with its pervasive thoughts.
He must prove himself, it echoes. Or else he'll be deserted. Discarded when another proves themselves his better.
Zhongli won't let himself be thrown away. Whatever he must do to please you, he will do.
Until his mortal form wears down to nothing but dust and bone, until his only coherent thought is how wonderful it is to worship you— until you have no need for anyone else.
Whatever your command is, he will follow. As long as he alone stands in your heart, as long as he alone can kiss the dirt off your feet, he will be content.
He only hopes that he can love you as you deserve.
Zhongli’s zealous behavior worsens to an obscene degree. He never falters in his fervent, almost fervorous veneration— it becomes excessive, almost actorly. Though his obsequiousness appears inflated, it is entirely genuine; he fawns a tad more obviously, smiling with dazed eyes when you kiss his cheeks or lips.
This has always been how he feels. He's only unrestrained, now. And even still, he hides the deeper parts of his worship, the servile and fanatic in him that wants to drool at your lap. It's hard to stop himself every time you sit on your throne to immediately drop to his knees.
Zhongli is happy to give and never receive. He is pleased with being yours, though it never clicks in his mind that the same is applicable to you.
You are not his, but he is yours. If you call yourself his, Zhongli melts. His face blossoms red and it permeates his cheeks for hours afterward. His hands slightly shake and he has trouble standing still in the immediate aftermath. All he wants to do is kneel, and say I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you—
If you'd like it, Zhongli would let you do whatever you want with him. Tear him apart with your bare hands, and shred him of any sense; it matters not as long as it's you.
You are everything, your love is everything. Even the softest of your kisses and touches have him breathless and numb, and anything else only serves to make him fall deeper into you.
Only with you is he easy to fluster. Anyone else, and he'd have punished them long ago, if not tore out their eyes for having seen him in such a state.
But it's you. You could crush his heart in your hands, leave him heartbroken and bitter, and Zhongli still would not find it in himself to hate you.
You are the lifeblood that runs underneath Teyvat’s cracked earth, the soft undercurrent that ties it together— and, if only you'd let him, Zhongli would worship you for it.
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The neoliberal era — the time when, we were repeatedly told, there was no alternative — has been characterised by a massive deterioration of social imagination, an incapacity to even conceive of different ways to work, produce and consume. It’s now clear that, from the start (and with good reason) neoliberalism declared war on this alternative mode of time. It remains tireless in its propagation of resentment against those few fugitives who can still escape the treadmill of debt and endless work, promising to ensure that soon, they too will be condemned to performing interminable, meaningless labour — as if the solution to the current stagnation lay in more work, rather than an escape from the cult of work. If there is to be any kind of future, it will depend on our winning back the uses of time that neoliberalism has sought to close off and make us forget.
k-punk: The Collected and Unpublished Writings of Mark Fisher (2004-2016)
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lostgoonie1980 · 2 years
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153. O Exterminador do Futuro 2: O Julgamento Final - Versão Estendida (Terminator 2: Judgment Day - Ultimate Cut, 1991), dir. James Cameron
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satoshy12 · 6 months
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Hippolyta's baby egg warrior
Years before Diana's birth in the Era of Myths Before Themyscira existed, Hippolyta had found the egg as she was in this temple; she wasn't sure who or why she took it with her. But she did, and she took care of him pretty well. And out came a tiny boy. She and her sister, along with her father, Ares, took care of him. As he got older, Danny started to collect women and girls who weren't treated well and "kidnapped" them to her island. This wasn't how she wanted to build Themyscira! But it worked pretty well. And it had been a good idea to take him with her as the war against the Giants started. Her child was in front of the Gigantomachy! And Daniil/Daniel did pretty well, until his defeat by the Dark Giants. She didn't trust what Hercules told her, but after that, she closed her island to outsiders; the war was won after all. + After weakening the Giants enough that Arion could later finish them off, Danny was pulled into the future. At least what he learned helped in his fights against the ghost in Amity Park.
But it had been a fun adventure, and he hates that stupid seal! Stupid Vlad and wanting to make him his son, and then losing the seal! That is why he ended up in the egg. + Modern time Wonder Woman was captured by a cult that seemed to plan to use her blood for a ritual. And after she escaped and had a few cultists captured with her friends, She had no idea what the captured cultist was talking about as she left to visit her mother. The legend said he was Hippolyta's son; she would know if her mother had another child after all. + In Amity Park Danny noticed the glowing as he fought Skulker and was like, "Not again!" Before he was teleported and away back in an egg, the cult was happy! They summoned the egg; all they have to do is incubate it! And then they have their own warrior! + And as later Hippolyta learned about her egg having been returned by Diana. She and a group of warriors were on the hunt to find the cult and take the egg before it hatched.
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Hii, I'm glad you're back . Even if it was for a few days you really left a place in tumblr not just for your work but for your presence itself.
I had a question for a while and I'm sorry if you answered it before and I seemed to not notice , if that's the case then forgive my ignorance but I was wondering , since sebek seems to respect his grandfather alot and has inherited the hate for humans from him and it's a known fact in self-aware au that the faes 'love' the overseer alot I must say.. does that mean that sebek also inherited his 'love' for the overseer from his granpa? If so how did green grandpa see the overseer, what made him 'love' them and how does he show it .
If you don't want to write this then feel free to ignore it , hope you have a great day and don't forget to drink water and eat well<33
Hi there Anon. It's so sweet of you to say that. I didn't think I would have made such an impression on anyone. But I completely forgot to write about Sebeks grandfather -_-
Well, better late than never.
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Self-aware au
WARNINGS: Jp-version spoiler (like, the whole thing!!!), (Platonic!) yandere themes, war, religion, unhealthy mindset, isolation, unhealthy family dynamic
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(Platonic!) Yandere headcanons
Ah yes, our local way too loud and loyal member of the reptilian family. No need to to worry about him. I mean, what could go wrong? (Hehe…)
Baul was not from the Valley of Thorns. Growing up in Sunset Savannah he did not grow up with the beliefs of the Faes (in other words, he was not part of a religious cult)
So imagine the huge shock he felt when he finally became a solider under the Draconia banner and started to become more and more like the other Faes
Well, for starters, yes, he wasn't indoctrinated into the whole church thing since birth but also wasn't raised to see you as an equal like the beastmen of the Savannah
You could say that he was a healthy mixture of both
Emphasis on the “was”
You see, isolation and being the only one sticking out (if we discount the humans invading the valley) does leave you open for a lot of things
If we count two (being the surroundings he was in) and two (his more or less unnoticed loneliness) together, we can see pretty fast where that led
Never mind his superior (and friend I mean come on they might as well be brothers) Lilia constantly rambling about the Overseer, savior of all, and how you accepted everyone in your kind embrace
Ok. Nice. Neat. Great. In the beginning, Baul wasn't very interested in joining any kind of religion
But the longer the war held on, the more he wished there was someone he could ask for help in his task of protecting those he deemed close to himself (you see the generational pattern?)
At some point, even the proudest of all can't hold on for forever
So he turned to you, the supposed God that was on so gentle
And goddamn that religious gaslighting and placebo effect worked damn well
Not only did he feel like there was someone there who supported him from somewhere in the universe (even though that was just him believing too much but let have him have some hope, ok?) but also he finally had a community
Whenever he would leave one of the many churches in the valley a Fae would approach, thanking him for protecting their home
Sooner than later did the former non-believer think of himself as your chosen shield of the valley
The war came and went away
If only the same thing could be said about Bauls new religious beliefs
And when he saw that grandson of his, cute little chubby hands that gripped a wooden toy sword tightly, he knew that his position as the valleys shield would not cease
Yes, even Baul would die one day. Fae or not, he was at the end of the day mortal
But that talent of his grandson would surely be of use to you, right?
If his younger self would see him like this, would it run away? Would it feel disgust at the thought that his future self would use his own grandson for selfish, religious reasons?
If only Baul knew that “God” didn't even know they were living beings that existed in a different world…
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bonefall · 4 months
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BB!Nightcloud
Nightcloud Woobification Army ASSEMBLE.
There's actually very little canon information on Nightcloud outside of how her ex-mate deflects blame onto her, which she is notoriously demonized for. So for Better Bones, I've cooked up a backstory from scratch! I feel this character deserves to exist outside of her romantic relationship, y'know?
Make sure to check the BB!WindClan Family Tree if you recognize any of the repurposed Missing Kits!
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Clanmew Name: Oogarhai (The period of time where the sun has set + fat cloud) Official nickname: Nico (NIghtClOud), Oogi (OOGarhaI)
Alignment: WindClan
Relationships: Ex-mate - Crowfeather Child - Breezepelt Family (all deceased) - Hillrunner (Mi), Downwind (aunt, bio-mother), Tawnyfur (sister), Crowfur (grandparent) Mentor - Addersong
Nightcloud is a controversial warrior of WindClan, and also among its largest, strongest cats. She continuously finds herself tangled up in nearly every massive conflict since the day they arrived at the lake, with only some of these events being things she ever had a choice to be involved in.
Though she yearns for a more peaceful life, her violent, stressful childhood following the WindClan Massacre carved deep distrust of outsiders into her bones. It lead her to the lowest point in her life, fighting for Mudclaw during the WindClan Civil War. The following years of distrust, Crowfeather's mistreatment, and the abuse towards her son, Breezepelt, made much of Nightcloud's life lonely and stressful.
In spite of that, she absolutely adores her son and stands by his side no matter what. After the secret that Crowfeather sired kits with a ThunderClan Cleric is revealed and he is banished for a few moons for dramatic, codebreaking behavior at the reveal, a "spell" that he cast over WindClan begins to lift. In his absence, Nightcloud is able to truly begin fixing her reputation.
Though Breezepelt still has a way to fall as a new POV in BB!AVoS, where his treatment as a Dark Forest trainee drives him to join Darktail's cult, Nightcloud's life begins to turn around after her mateship with Crowfeather crumbles. After participating in a secret plan to rescue her boy and several Kin members under the command of her future leader and son-in-law, Harespring, she is solidified as one of the most powerful fighters in the entire Clan and occupies a lofty position as one of its most reliable brawlers.
She's also developing a friendship with Willowclaw about it, which is neat.
Glossary
Upbringing
WindClan Civil War
Mateship & Abuse
Breezepelt and BB!AVoS
Trivia and Misc
Upbringing
The Mothermouth Moorland War came to a cruel and bloody quietus at the claws of Brokenstar's ShadowClan, ending a three-generation long conflict with an event called the WindClan Massacre. Along with the rest of their Clan, a pair of twins was forced into exile; Downwind and Hillrunner.
They looked out for each other, and ferociously protected the tattered Clan while living in the Tangle of Thunderpaths. It was hard, but they had each other and that was enough.
After Bluestar's champion, Fireheart, fetched WindClan to bring them home, Downwind soon gave birth to her first litter. A pair of sisters; one of them practically a little copy of her mother... and the other one who looked hilariously nothing like anyone in their family. The twin girls were named Nightkit, and Tawnykit.
They'd barely settled in before Nightstar and Crookedstar turned on them, attacking to try and drive them out AGAIN. If it wasn't for Bluestar and her reinforcements, ThunderClan's charity, they might have succeeded.
But this time, Downwind refused to run. Hillrunner saw her twin, limp, red, and ragged outside the nursery. The kits were too young to remember her, or to understand the significance of their new Mi's anguished cries that night. They came so far together, only for Hillrunner to lose her other half in the place where things were supposed to get better.
NOTE: On adopting the kits, Hillrunner is then considered their "Mi," a primary parent in Clan culture. Her biological relation as the aunt is superseded.
Nightkit and Tawnykit only knew Hillrunner as their Mi. They only know that Downwind was identical to her-- except for a scar across Hiller's nose.
Hillrunner was notoriously short tempered, paranoid, and easily offended. She shouldn't have been raising kits alone, but what choice did she have?
She was CONVINCED that she'd failed Downwind that day, and that something could have been done to avoid the WindClan Massacre. So she was dedicated to making sure her own kits were better prepared.
They knew the whole territory by heart by their 6th moon, and even major abandoned tunnels below the moor
Most apprentices don't learn how to differentiate individual warriors out of scent marks until a moon or two into training. Night and Tawny knew it before they became 'paws.
Ever trying to ask a question, or tell Hillrunner that they didn't want to do something, was "backtalk;" argue too much and she would hit them with a punishment.
Punishments, "lessons," were usually strenuous physical tasks, like doing laps, moving large objects, or being made to carry a stone in the mouth for hours.
The sort of thing, in hindsight, was probably meant to be a sort of "cover"... the Clan thought the 'Lessons' were harsh but 'understandable'. No one would step in.
If Hillrunner was angry though, she would also just straightup smack them. She was less creative when she was in a mood.
As an adult, Nightcloud will tell you how messed up it used to be... but sometimes she preferred when Hillrunner was moody. If she got hit, the creative "lesson" wouldn't be applied to Tawnykit too.
Because Nightkit got in trouble more often than Tawnykit, there was a sort of sour resentment between them, mixed in with the unbreakable sense of solidarity.
Tawnykit: "You got US in trouble. But no one else in the world knows what we're going through. I love you. I'm going to take this out on you when we're alone. I can't believe you did this to me, I can't believe our Mi did this to us. Can't you try harder?? We did nothing wrong. Why am I paying for YOUR mistakes?"
Hillrunner says she, "Just wants you to be safe. ShadowClan won't hit you with their claws sheathed! This is what real life is like! If you'd just LISTEN to me you'd know this is for your own good!"
The little family was "close," in the way that mice tied together at the tail are close, even as they desperately pull at the knot and gnaw at each other's flesh.
Hillrunner convinced them the world was terrifying, that they couldn't entirely rely on their clanmates, and the most important thing in life is Gan, blood-family.
"The ONLY ones who will turn out for you, who you can rely on, who will be there until the end, is your family. The only way you'll lose us is if you're not strong enough, and I'll make you strong. I promised. You'll see!"
When she finally became Nightpaw, Hillrunner continued to try and have control over her... but the new mentor, Addersong, would not be bullied. And he would not let his apprentice get pushed around either.
He taught Nightpaw that now that she was an apprentice, she was free to make her own choices.
If she needed him around when she confronted Hillrunner, he would be there.
And if she needed to be the one to do that alone, he would support that too.
But on one condition; he would never tolerate someone speaking down to his apprentice in front of him. THAT is a matter of his pride. Capiche?
That was a term she could handle.
She had always known that she didn't want to be like Hillrunner, and that one day she'd be free of all the torment she was put through, but Addersong was the one who showed her the way out. Protected her when others didn't.
It gave her a sense of newfound confidence, and freedom. Like maybe the world WASN'T so terrible after all. And maybe... there's people out here who are kinder and more loving than she was ever allowed to believe.
And then, Hillrunner died in a TigerClan attack
And she began to wonder if it was HER fault when Tawnyfur fell to BloodClan
And suddenly Addersong's lessons felt far away. And maybe that was a good thing.
Hillrunner tried to teach her that family, KIN, was the most important thing in the world, and Nightcloud began to reject that. And now they are all dead.
She didn't appreciate them enough while they were alive. And now they are gone.
So... she pushed Addersong away. He figured she needed space to mourn.
WindClan Civil War
While Addersong was composing Tiger's In A Heap with his buddies and others were baking Tiger-shaped tunnelbuddies to welcome relations with BloodClan, Nightcloud was joining the group that was critical of the decision.
Especially when Snapper and Leo-- sorry. They call themselves Snappaw and Brushpaw. When those two joined the Clan. Ex-BloodClan traders. Not to mention Pigeonflight's... charge, also acquired from BloodClan
Nightcloud felt like she was the only one who remembered that they fought BloodClan. That Clan cats died in that battle.
Until she found others, echoing the same feelings she did, and more.
Mudclaw was the most legitimate member of the group, organizing this group of cats with "concerns."
Those "concerns" started having weight when things began to sour in the Moor. The poisoning, the Mothermouth's collapse and the death of Barkface and his apprentice, Blackfur... eventually a warrior, Runningbrook, was SHOT by a human as if she was a grouse.
Someone called the two apprentices "jinxes," pointing out the bad luck they'd brought to them, and it stuck.
But Tallstar did nothing. Didn't listen to the concerns, and insisted that Snapper and L-- Snappaw and Brushpaw, that they were part of the Clan now.
Eventually they were all forced out of their home, and sent on a journey following Crowfoot and the other Chosen cats to a new land. Tallstar just continued to look weaker and weaker.
All around Nightcloud (and the cats who would eventually become the Rebels), the Journey was uniting the Clans in a way that was never seen before. Apprentices were trying out ancient recipes that had been untouched for generations. Warriors from WindClan were helping to carry kits from ShadowClan.
It was terrifying. It felt WRONG. It filled her with a sense of deep dread and unease. No one was enforcing the boundaries that made the four groups into Clans.
When they arrived at the lake, what would HAPPEN there? Would there even BE a WindClan? Or would they just get lured into forming the new TigerClan?
Through all of this... Mudclaw seemed strong, and sure of what needed to happen next. He was certainly more of a leader than the feeble Tallstar, who had allowed the jinxes to follow along on the Great Journey.
So when Tallstar was allegedly on his deathbed, and mysteriously swapped his deputy to Onewhisker, Nightcloud was one of the very first to call foul play.
It felt like an awful betrayal, to know that Firestar, one of the FEW cats outside of WindClan that Hillrunner spoke fondly of, could be trying to pull the wool over their eyes.
But just LOOK at the other witness-- Brambleclaw. Son of Tigerstar. This was a PLOT, and Onewhisker should be ashamed of himself!
Mudclaw jumped at the opportunity Nightcloud presented.
But... the newly honored Crowfeather came forth too, to calm the tension.
"Brambleclaw is a LOT of things and untrustworthy isn't one of them," Yet, he put up a smokey-black paw when his friend's eyes lit up, "But a change in deputy? To Onewhisker, of all cats?"
Onewhisker: "no offense, right? ...right?"
"So if no one here is lying, then Tallstar's brain fell out on the way here and I'm not going on ANOTHER journey to look for it. Mudclaw is the rightful leader of WindClan."
His endorsement of Mudclaw sent the Clan reeling. His own mother, Ashfoot, came forth to argue against her son, and his aunt Morningflower pointed out that Mudclaw was his mentor.
OF COURSE the two jinxes also argued in favor of Onewhisker. Leo had even joined in the first place because he wanted to be with him.
The compromise that the Clans reached, at ThunderClan's treacherous suggestion, was that they would wait until StarClan could sort the matter out and confirm the rightful leader.
But of COURSE ThunderClan felt like they could wait for StarClan. THEY had two Clerics, Leafstripe and Cinderpelt.
In the meanwhile, the Clan started to split in two. Those who were backing the feeble Onewhisker, and those who were supporting the powerful, charismatic Mudclaw.
Nightcloud refused to allow her Clan to fall into the claws of ThunderClan's ambition. WindClan could not be allowed to be seen as WEAK. Weakness invites invasions. Invasion invites death.
Not everyone that joined Mudclaw's side of the rebellion believed that ThunderClan was lying. Crowfeather believed it was the truth. Mudclaw himself did as well, though he didn't discourage beliefs that benefited him.
Nightcloud absolutely did believe that ThunderClan lied. And that cats outside of the Clan can't be trusted.
...and then.
Mudclaw started working with non-WindClan cats, namely Hawkfrost. The rebels were joined by reinforcements, given quiet support and aid, handed the knowledge that they would have extra backup if things got violent.
At first, Nightcloud was one of the most vehemently opposed to them.
At first.
But... Hawkfrost has some good points about all of the Clans needing to be strong and independent.
And he's right, that; "ThunderClan's plotting won't stop with one Clan. Tigerstar came from ThunderClan, after all."
And, if things go wrong... they will need the extra claws. They couldn't fight against the remainers alone.
"Hold on, who says we'll be fighting anything?"
Wide, innocent blue eyes, "You can't believe that ThunderClan will just let the word of StarClan shine through, can you?"
He's... reasonable. He's right.
So, in the BLINK of an eye, she and Crowfeather were surrounded by Thistle Law supporters. OPEN ones.
And Mudclaw himself didn't seem to mind all that much.
For Nightcloud, it was too late to have doubts, especially when Hawkfrost's lie made such perfect sense. When the Moonpool was discovered by that THUNDERCLAN Cleric, Leafstripe, Honored by the new name Leafpool, that was the last push she needed to ride into battle with Mudclaw.
ThunderClan had to be stopped at ALL COSTS before they installed a fake, sniveling little mouse to do all of their bidding. If Onewhisker had to die to prevent it?
Then... so be it.
They created a plan. Onewhisker was organizing WindClan to carry out a Muirburn, a carefully controlled fire to return the territory to heathland.
They would sabotage it, and throw him into the same fire meant to cleanse their new home. It would be symbolic, practically religious in its righteousness.
But CROWFEATHER betrayed them. Bolted to his friends in ThunderClan, that daughter-of-Firestar and the Tigerkin liar.
During the battle, Nightcloud leapt on Leo and went for a ferocious bite to the back of the neck. She was ripped off by another warrior just in time, taking a chunk of his scruff with her.
It gave him a permanent, gnarly scar. A reminder to Nightcloud of how close she came to killing him, and how much she hated such a kindhearted tom.
The tide of battle turned as the ThunderClan reinforcements came behind Crowfeather. In that instant, it was as if StarClan had torn open the sky, and the heavens were bleeding rain upon the burning moor.
Nightcloud fled along with the other rebels, and bore witness to StarClan's smiting of the false idol.
With a clap of lightning, a tree from the Gathering Island toppled down, crushing Mudclaw beneath it.
She stopped running, staring in breathless awe. The rain washed away the mud and the ash that clung to her pelt, and for the first time in moons, she felt like her mind was clear.
It was like, for a brief moment, the song of fear and anger behind her eyes forgot the lyrics, leaving her with cold reality.
"What have I DONE?"
That sabotaged Muirburn was one of the most short-sighted, cruel, evil things she can imagine any cat taking part in... but at first, her regret was just in the amount of destruction it had caused, not in the ideology she'd fought to defend.
The heinous act had caused the peat below the moor to catch on fire, and WindClan was playing Whack-A-Mole with the various little blazes that kept popping up in the area; and THAT was what initially made her regret her role in the Civil War.
But... she had to work next to Snapstorm and Brushblaze, just like any other Clanmates. Pigeonflight's daughter had also come into her own, Cranberrysplash. And ThunderClan continued to send aid to help with the reckless disaster she'd been part of.
She still grappled with a strong, immediate distrust of strangers... but it was tempered by the sobering realization she had while watching Mudclaw die.
And the shame, knowing that she'd been taking out her grief of losing Tawnyfur and Hillrunner on all these innocent cats.
Onewhisker's lenience... was mercy. All along.
She tried to punish herself for ever criticizing her new leader for "weakness." WindClan needed all the paws it could get to fight the fires and continue to feed the Clan, and Onestar was the cat who understood that.
He showed unfathomable kindness and wisdom by giving her and the other rebels no punishment.
She vowed to atone for it. She would not waste her second chance.
Nightcloud had been so busy trying to make up for what she'd done, fighting fires, building dens, and carefully rotating hunts to manage the prey populations that she barely registered that she didn't see much of Crowfeather after the night of the Muirburn.
While WindClan was gossiping, she was largely left out of the loop for being distrusted at the time.
When he came back, they started spending a lot of time together.
Mateship & Abuse
She liked Crowfeather. They'd been in each other's orbit since the Civil War, and she admired his judgement at nearly every turn. Mudclaw seemed like a good choice for a lot of people, but Crowfeather had seen when his true colors started to show. He made a truly heroic choice at the end. So when he expressed interest in her, it felt like she was going to be his next good call.
Nightcloud had so, so much to prove.
In spite of his absence, Crowfeather was a hero to the Clan. The warrior blessed by StarClan to bring them to their new home, a land of a thousand more stars, he who betrayed the traitors.
And in spite of that. He had a loneliness. He requested a name to honor the cat of another Clan, a lover he had lost on his mission
He is loud, passionate, and yet there seemed to be a niche in his heart he wanted to fill.
So... she wanted to be his missing piece, in service of the great love that binds a Clan together. To help him.
To prove she could mean something to someone, and be trusted in turn by a Clan that, rightfully, looked at her with suspicion.
but she didn't LOVE him so much as she RESPECTED him.
and he never saw her as much more than an in-Clan replacement for Leafpool, especially while he was secretly reeling from her dumping him and cancelling their elopement plans.
It didn't really strike her that they were mutually using each other; Crowfeather to affirm his loyalty to the Clan, and Nightcloud to prove she could love and be loved.
And neither of them were even accomplishing that. But, there's a difference between them.
While Nightcloud was trying, GOD she was trying... Crowfeather quickly grew frustrated that she was a person, and not just the perfect image of the "true love" that Feathertail and Leafpool would have given to him
So he started FINDING things to criticize about her. Reasons that he could use to justify why it's not HIS fault he's not happy, but hers.
She's clingy. She's too cold. She's less attractive when she's carrying their child. She's too demanding when she tells him to help out with the kit.
NOTHING she did was right, and meanwhile, even when Breezekit was young, Crowfeather was an awful Ba.
Depending on his mood, he was either too rough or too distant, a dichotomy he used to describe as Nightcloud being unable to make up her mind. Does she want him to help, or does she want space??
Problem is, you can't be fair with unfair people. When Crowfeather would say ANY of this, she would try to take his words in good faith
And Breezekit's formative moons were spent watching his mother twist herself in knots, trying to avoid whatever his father was complaining about that week.
But it NEVER satisfied him. It never COULD.
and worst of all...
Whenever she DID fight back, dragged down into explosive arguments after biting her tongue again and again, Crowfeather would ALWAYS bring up Feathertail. She's dead, and so Nightcloud could never defeat this ideal, NONEXISTENT image of this nearly perfect hypothetical lover that he could have had.
Crow: "And YOU don't even care. You CUT me, Nightcloud! I am being flayed and left to DIE from infection, and you don't even care."
Night: "Of course i care, I'm here aren't i?? Feathertail loved you, but I do too! And I'M in YOUR Clan, in case you haven't NOTICED."
Crow: "Oh you love me do you? I don't think you do. There's a reason I loved Feathertail enough to be so tempted away from my Clan, but YOU'RE such an awful person that YOU happily did ARSON."
Night: "I... I wasn't-"
Crow: "Wasn't trying to betray your Clan? Wasn't trying to make me feel like some kind of animal?? What WERE you trying to do, then?"
Night: "I've ALWAYS tried to make up for what I did, I was trying to-"
Crow: "To WHAT? To hurt me? Like you always do? All I wanted was you to see that I'm-"
Night: "Can you cut it out?! I wanted-"
Crow: "STOP Interrupting me, this is exactly what I mean! Feathertail NEVER made me feel this way, she would let me finish and listen to everything I have to say before trying to jump in. WHAT have I done wrong exactly? What IS it this time?? Hm???"
Night: "I-- Crowfeather I'm trying! I didn't mean to make you feel that way, and I'm not trying to fight. I just don't know what you want from me, I'm-"
Crow: "I say it over and over and over!! Are you stupid? I should have been with a rabbit, at LEAST it would have given me faster children!"
Night: "Can you stop being a CHILD for a minute and TELL me what you want me to do? In simple terms? Or is that just too much?"
Crow: "Fine. But im not going to repeat myself again. I don't deserve this, you're lucky I'm gracious."
When Breezekit became Breezepaw, Nightcloud had lost patience with this treatment. She still tried to be gentle with Crowfeather, but he was starting to force her into making a choice; Was she going to protect her son? Or was she going to keep endlessly trying to appease her husband?
In her head... SHE might "deserve" it. She knows she's "difficult." And that a lot of the things Crowfeather says about her are "true"
And if she's lonely, she "brought it on herself" by doing awful things. That's why she tries so hard to atone for them.
But Breezepaw is her BABY, and Crowfeather makes him feel like a little brat. Yells at him, finds reasons to pick on him, gives him the cold shoulder when he's done wrong...
At first, it looked like overprotectiveness, because she was often shoving herself between Breezepaw and his father, never backing up Crowfeather when he was punishing their son, and "downplaying" her son's rude behavior.
In reality, those were the actions of someone who was trying to prevent arguments from turning into abuse.
Those were things HILLRUNNER used to do with her, though at the time, she didn't realize that Crowfeather was in the same positions that her Mi had once been in
In fact, she continued to grapple with the deep feelings of shame, that she might be like Hillrunner when she was trying so hard to be different.
But the truth remained, that she recognized the same patterns that she was forced to be hyperaware of, and was trying to stop them before they escalated.
It took MANY years, well into Breezepelt's adulthood, AND well into her divorce, before she realized that.
Protecting her son was as reflexive as a hunting crouch. It was just something she did.
Unfortunately, Crowfeather was the one with power in this situation. And his immense sway was palpable. If he vented to a Clanmate about how hard it was to have a mate who undermines him and a son who defied him, they'd believe him.
So, Breezepelt started getting written off as "a problem kid" by the adults.
What changed... was Hollyleaf's reveal at that fateful Gathering.
She had been desperately trying to "atone" for what she'd done for years, guilty and shameful that she'd been complicit in an attack that had gotten cats killed and set the peat on fire. She kept proving herself, over and over, as Crowfeather held his love for an outsider up over her head.
And then she finds out he was HIDING this from her, ALL THIS TIME. There'd been ANOTHER MOLLY from another Clan she was being compared to.
Unlike canon; Crowfeather knew. He didn't need to be told. Hollyleaf looks just like his father Deadfoot. Lionblaze has his tail tip. Jayfeather is a miserable git.
They were born 2 months after Leafpool left him, choosing her Clan and her CLERIC FRIEND over HIM. He isn't stupid.
Emotions ran high and, right in front of his wife, at a PUBLIC GATHERING, he made another love confession to Leafpool. That she never should have abided her vow because she belonged with HIM.
Leafpool was fucking mortified. On top of her life crumbling as the secret was revealed, she was undergoing the cat equivalent of being cornered in a public space as an unwanted ex begs you to acknowledge your LOVE.
Leafpool is completely and utterly out of love for Crowfeather, not a SINGLE flicker of it left in her heart, but NIGHTCLOUD felt like Leafpool's tears were because she missed Crowfeather soooo much.
And after YEARS of being compared to FEATHERTAIL, only to find out she was being contrasted to LEAFPOOL all along??
And that Crowfeather really WOULD just break the code for any OTHER lover? Even "a treacherous, vow-breaking, abominable little [cat meow censor] FROM ANOTHER CLAN?"
AND A CLERIC?????
YEARS of trying to unlearn bigotry, keeping lessons about unity kept close in spite of the growing tensions between the Clans, having an open mind towards the people she'd unfairly judged, trying to atone for following Mudclaw... What's the point??
She was humiliated, embarrassed, scandalized. For moons she'd tried to appease him, and then he goes after HER SON, and then DOES THIS.
But something was different.
Onestar had enough of Crowfeather and his shenanigans.
By making a fool of himself at that Gathering, he made a fool of the WHOLE Clan.
Not only did he sire kittens with a Cleric, in a half-clan relationship, vanishing for a week to go on a holiday as the Clan was fighting peat fires, but he didn't even have the decency to NOT TELL AN ENTIRE GATHERING THAT HE DOESN'T REGRET IT.
Onestar snapped.
CrowFEATHER is an Honor Title. CrowFOOT was in respect to his deceased father, Deadfoot.
These names are both too honorable.
And even a DISHONOR Title is too good for this sort of behavior.
If he cannot behave like a Clan cat, then he WILL NOT BE ONE.
For one moon, Crow, no suffix, just Crow, would live on his own in total exile.
It was such a scandal that Nightcloud was horrified. The whole Clan had turned to look to her, see what she would do, desperate to know how she was reacting and what she would do next.
But... their tune changed.
They weren't looking at her like Crowfeather's ungrateful mate. They were curious about her judgement.
CrowFEATHER had convinced so many people that Nightcloud had been the problem, with his immense sway and influence.
But what he did was shocking and abhorrent to WindClan. Now he is just Crow, a rogue on the border.
And Nightcloud is as reliable as she always has been.
What really causes Crowfeather to begin to change here in BB, is that when he comes back... nearly everyone has been better off without him.
After a moon, Crow came back thinking that Nightcloud would snarl at him, or they'd fight, or she'd weep, or... something negative.
But instead, she greeted him. Cordially. Casually. With the tiniest little lilt to her tone that you only hear when you're forced to welcome someone you dislike.
For the rest of BB!OotS, they were together but... distantly. If it wasn't totally over, it was visibly dying.
They had a few more fights, public spats, but now that the Clan didn't seem to have Crowfeather's back...
He started to lose his nerve, and she stopped feeling terrible for things that happened long ago.
Now WindClan was following Nightcloud's lead on Crowfeather. When she was gracious, so were they. When she was pushed to snapping, they saw him like the unreasonable one.
But, honestly? That attention made Nightcloud uncomfortable.
She disliked the sway she now seemed to have over her ex-mate's reputation. She hated him and everything he did, especially in the few times that he would STILL try to deflect blame onto her, but... wielding that kind of social sway, after being an outsider for so long, it felt heavy and toxic in her belly.
Between OotS and AVoS, she realized that she's not like him. He reveled in the spotlight and influence he had over the Clan as a result of his power, adored attention and drama and being able to command it. Crowfeather would complain that life was so unfair, but he ENJOYED how the rules were applied so loosely to him, and how well he was treated because of the pain he'd gone through.
She doesn't.
In fact, she even resents the finicky opinions of her Clanmates. That earning their respect, in the end, was something she had absolutely no control over. She'd gone through so much for so long and so very few cats had ever had her back, and to be vindicated now of all times?
It was sour. Not comforting.
If she made any mistakes during OoTS, it was enabling Breezepelt's growing xenophobia in the midst of her own pain and frustration. She didn't KNOW that he was being recruited by the Dark Forest. If she did, she would have done something to try and stop him.
Breezepelt and AVoS
The worst part of it all was that none of this newfound reputation carried over to her opinions about her son. Breezepelt continued to be hated and distrusted because of his role in the Battle of the True Eclipse (BOTTE), where the Dark Forest killed so many warriors. He'd fought until the end of the night.
Of course she was disappointed in him. Of course she knew he'd done something awful. But she had too, so many years ago.
The fact he had also been a victim of Crowfeather's slander was disregarded in the eyes of WindClan, and for his role in the fight, Onestar gave him and his complicit friends Dishonor Titles.
Breezepelt became Dodderheart-- a reference to a parasitic type of bush, native to heathland, which strangle and kill the flowers. Harespring didn't get off without one. Darkseeker had sought his biological father in the Dark Forest, Mudclaw, and then the BOTTE had killed his Mi and biological uncle, Torear.
Nightcloud tried to encourage her son to follow Darkseeker's lead in seeking atonement, but he had decided that this meant; "My own mother had taken HIS side, that damn traitor who threw me under the boar so that he could save his own reputation, distancing himself from THE REST OF US so that he can climb the ranks! WELL!"
When The Kin arrived at the lake, lead by the mysterious Darktail, Nightcloud was powerless as the pied piper called forth cats of many Clans.
He appealed to everyone who felt alienated. Every HalfClan cat still dealing with stigma, every young warrior frustrated by the dogged separation of the Clans... and, especially, to all of the Dark Forest trainees who still lived.
It was a trap, and Breezepelt was drawn to it.
As the situation got worse and worse, Nightcloud could only watch from afar as Onestar responded with furious embargoes, aggression, and fury towards any type of contact with Darktail's cats.
Along with Brushblaze and Harespring, now deputy and having shed his Dishonor Title, she plotted ways to undermine Onestar's strict orders and try to reach her son.
And.... Crowfeather, too.
To her surprise, he wanted to help.
The irony was overwhelming. Yes Breezepelt, or Dodderheart, damn Onestar's pernicious name, YES he had been making his own choices for a long time, but Crowfeather knew full well who had set him on this path.
In spite of how he'd try to deflect the blame for seasons on seasons.
Hedgehogs took flight that day, because his response was, "You think I don't know that? ...that's why I'm here."
Someone else might have wanted to shove that back in his face, drink in every drop of smugness they'd earned, tell Harespring to kick him from the help efforts for causing so much pain in the first place..
...But Nightcloud isn't like that someone else.
Breezepelt was what mattered to her. Anyone who was going to help was another alibi, another mouth to carry herbs, another set of claws to fight by their side.
...is that what working with others really means, at its core?
Maybe it's not love that truly binds us, but a sense of duty. The commitments we make to each other, and the honor to keep them.
She loves her son. And by extension, she loves Heathertail and Harespring who love him.
But her Clanmates... she doesn't love them. Or Crowfeather.
And Crowfeather wasn't here out of love for her. Maybe not even love for Breezepelt as a person. He was here for honor. Repentence. To right a wrong.
Whatever reason he was here; it still meant he was HERE. To help.
In that moment, she thinks back to the words of Hillrunner. That only blood-family would ever turn out for you, and strength was what allowed you to keep them.
Looking over to Brushblaze, thinking to her Clanmates, she finally had the wisdom to see the words for what they were
It was the scared, broken philosophy of a molly who had lost everything a hundred times over, clinging to something that made sense, trying to scare her kits into never leaving her side.
Nightcloud was truly unlike her. Surrounded by allies of all kinds, united in their goal to rescue her son and other Kin captives and victims.
She was entitled to her reasonable distrust, but not held back by it. She never would forgive Crowfeather, but they could work together. For Breezepelt.
Hillrunner wasn't completely wrong about strength. It was an asset.
But so is faith.
After they'd brought Breezepelt home along with many others, bedraggled and shaken by their experiences, Nightcloud was absolutely shocked by how graciously Onestar seemed to be towards them.
She didn't question it at the time, but when Onestar spent his final life stealing a plan Breezepelt admitted was his own, to sacrifice himself drowning Darktail, it suddenly made sense.
After Harestar took power, she had cemented herself as one of his favorite warriors. A powerful, loyal brawler, who was willing to do anything under his command. Breezepelt had accepted at this point that he was never going to have a position of power due to his past; and that was okay.
She spent a lot of time with the grandkits Breezepelt eventually had with his mates, Harestar and Heathertail. For the first time in a long time, she's finally at peace with the family she's acquired.
Trivia and Misc
I'm tempted to swap Crowfeather and Nightcloud as deputy. I feel like Nightcloud makes a very interesting one.
At the same time though, I do like the drama of Crowstar and Squirrelstar as opposing leaders, so I'm still unsure.
For some reason whenever I think of Nightcloud, I think of ABBA songs lmao. Thank You For The Music, or maybe Knowing Me Knowing You.
As you can see, I split up Crowfeather's Trial and shuffled it around. I feel like for most of OotS, Nightcloud and Crowfeather are doing nothing but arguing and the development feels incredibly rushed because it's all in an SE, so I've pushed a major event back.
They also never actually describe their verbal arguments; so I'm using them to make my take on Crowfeather more clear. He's emotionally abusive.
Something that I often feel isn't done enough is abusers who are popular, and also funny. How devastating it feels for someone you love to mock you in public, and then a bunch of people laugh because "you deserve it."
Or just see you as the aggressor by default
Knowing you can't do shit about it because they're just more loved than you. Their word vs yours.
(especially when paired with trauma that makes you forget major details so you can't even recall any examples in the moment, so you just get painted as clingy and whiny)
All that said, there's a ton of abusive cats in BB, most of them never improve or get better, but Crowfeather will.
And from Nightcloud's perspective, that's a good thing. And I want to capture that deeply bittersweet feeling.
She's happy he's not so terrible anymore... but god, it doesn't undo any of the AWFUL things he did and said to her.
Anyway, I really want to fit Nightcloud's buddy Pickle in somehow, but I'm still working it out. Pickle was such a cute character
Hillrunner and Downwind are repurposed Missing Kits! WindClan is ridiculously tiny so I had to stretch it pretty thin.
I don't see a ton of Nightcloud origin stories, so the one I figured made the most sense was picking up on the observation others have made about her "coddling" behavior
In-canon, because Crowfeather is abusive to his kid, it suddenly implies that a major reason why Nightcloud is so protective of Breezepaw in arguments is because she's trying to prevent it from escalating into abuse.
Eventually I'd like to build out some more friends, and expand on her budding friendship with Brushblaze. Not to mention Willowclaw.
Maybe I should repurpose Crowfeather's Trial into an SE about Nightcloud... Nightcloud's Thaw, maybe. Something about a change that's a long time coming, so I can show her new backstory and how she reacts to all the changes in WindClan towards her reputation.
And that's Nightcloud! I think she deserves an AU where she gets to be a more fleshed out supporting character, as a treat <3
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phaedraismyusername · 7 months
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Happy International Lesbian Day! Here's some super brief book recs to celebrate
Books dealing with love, loss, longing and abandonment
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This is How You Lose The Time War is a short but beautifully written epistolary novel between two agents on opposite sides of a time war as they slowly fall in love.
Our Wives Under the Sea is one of the most beautifully written debuts I've ever read about a woman whose wife comes home wrong after they thought she'd died at sea and how it feels to grieve the loss of someone who's still in your home.
Lucky Red is a western novel about a young girl working in a brothel who meets her first female gunslinger and falls head over heels for her, and the consequences that come with loving dangerous people.
Body horror galore
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Camp Damascus is about a young woman living in a super conservative christian town built around the worlds most successful conversion camp and the horrors that are uncovered there when praying the gay away fails.
To Be Devoured is about a woman whose fascination with the local vultures turns into obsession and the urge to know what carrion tastes like overtakes her life and leads her down stranger and stranger paths.
Chlorine is about a girl whose entire life revolves around being a competitive swimmer, and how abuse, neglect, and obsession with being the best takes its toll on the young women caught up in these destructive cycles.
Flawed character studies
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Big Swiss is about a woman who has a kitchen floor reset in her 40s, moves away and starts a new life as a transcriber for a sex therapist and becomes obsessed with one of his clients before inserting herself into this poor woman's life.
The Seep is a speculative sci-fi set in a future where there's been a quiet alien invasion that has given people the ability to make almost any changes to their own bodies and what that world feels like to someone who doesn't want to partake.
Milk Fed is about a woman in therapy who feels cut off from almost everything until she meets another woman who triggers in her a melding of sex, hunger, and religion and where that takes her. Huge trigger warnings for ED content. It gets tough, y'all.
Fantastical wlw books
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Bitterthorn is an amalgamation of fairytales retold as a slow burn sapphic love story between a sad young girl from a cursed land and the evil witch who takes her as a companion in the latest of the generational sacrifices made to appease her.
All the Bad Apples may be set in contemporary Ireland but it is a fairytale following a young girl as she travels across the country looking for a sister she refuses to believe is dead and the people she meets along the way.
Gideon the Ninth needs no introduction on this site but for the sake of formatting - lesbian necromancers in space who find themselves in an isolated murder mystery plot. It's not a romance but it is a love story and this series will change your life if you let it.
Translated novels
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Boulder is a short character study following a free spirited woman when she accidentally settles down with the woman she loves and how love and resentment can take up the same space in your chest when life doesn't turn out the way you hoped it would.
Notes of a Crocodile is a cult classic coming of age story about queer teens in Taipei in the 1980s. It was written in the 90s so please keep that in mind if you choose to read it.
Paradise Rot is about an international student studying in Australia and her growing obsession with her housemate as they share a space that allows no privacy. I've never read anything that feels stickier.
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fiddles-ifs · 9 months
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🗡DEMO (COMING SOON!) 🗡CHARACTERS 🗡PLAYLIST
Rated 18+ for violence and sexual content. Trigger warnings will be provided at the beginning of each chapter.
The king is dead. Long live the king. Alandria is scarred from six long years of war. After a chance encounter in the field, heir-apparent Lisandro hires your mercenary band as security for his upcoming coronation. Now, you find yourself in the nebulous web of lies, schemes, and murder that make up Alandrian politics. When the future king falls deathly ill, it's your job, as the mercenary band's only healer, to figure out what's killing him. The king is dead. Love live the king.
🗡FEATURES
Customizable MC. Play as male, female, or non-binary; trans or cisgender; inter or endosex; customizable pronouns. Customize your appearance, and personality. Tailor your approach to patients -- do you rely on science and surgery, or magic and faith?
Four unique ethnic backgrounds. Alandrian -- the kingdom you find yourself in after ten years. Iskarian -- the expansive empire to the south, and the jewel of the world. Mani -- the nomadic people unwelcome in the north. Ruz -- hailing from the frigid, barren archipelago across the northern sea.
Who were you in your past? A peasant? A former noble? A monastic? Part of a cult? Each ethnicity has four unique origins to choose from -- each origin will impact the story in different ways.
Romance. Or not! Four romance options, two gender-selectable. Play as gay, straight, bisexual or asexual; allo or aromantic.
Solve a medical mystery. Save the king however you can.
Change the course of history. Your proximity to royalty puts you in a position to play the great game -- in fact, you have to, to stay alive.
POV Switches. See some parts of the story from the point of view of the ROs and other characters.
Keep your secrets hidden. They cannot find out.
🗡ROMANCE OPTIONS
Sibir Temyurinkai. [She/her, he/him, they/them] Your best friend for more than a decade. A mercenary warlord many people can't read. You have a lot of history. Maybe even too much. You make them vulnerable. Flavor of romance: friends-to-lovers, love epiphany, UST, shippers on deck.
Lisandro Abarcas. [He/him] The young king uncrowned of Alandria. He's hired Sibir (and therefore you) to be extra security for his upcoming baptism and coronation, but a mysterious illness forces you to play doctor. Flavor of romance: courtly love, Uptown Girl, savior complexes
Idali Abarcas. [She/her] Duchess of the northern province of Baqueria, second in line to the throne, Lisandro's older sister and vicious rival. A cunning, calculating opponent -- but she might be willing to work with you. Flavor of romance: Uptown Girl, Defrosing the Ice Queen, #girlbossmode, dancing with danger
Tesias. [She/her, he/him, they/them] A very mysterious masked traveler. They offer advice and information -- for a price. As a spy, you can't trust anything they say -- but you know they want revenge. And they want it now. Flavor of romance: [INFORMATION CORRUPTED]
🗡TAGS + LINKS
[TKP ASKS] [SIBIR] | [LISANDRO] | [IDALI] | [TESIAS] [DISCORD]
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