#anyway I should make up new lore for them sometime. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gold-rhine · 3 months

Text

What the guard dogs are for

There are some things you never want to hear your secret years-long crush saying, such as “I’m getting married,” “I think we should stay friends” or “I’m the destroyer of the present order, the one who shall judge all gods, and the foe of humanity.” Wriothesley’s very bad, no good day of trying to unravel conspiracy theories, fumbling a tea party with Chief Justice and learning Teyvat’s ancient history and vishap lore from the leading expert lector.

Genre: angst and misinformation campaign

Characters: Neuvillette\Wriothesley, Enjou

Warnings: sfw in a sense that nothing even remotely sexy happens, but there is dissociation, ptsd episode, brief mention of self-harm, and Enjou doing same thing he does in canon, which is not quite gaslighting? Anyway, let me know if you feel any other warnings need to be added.

Chapters: 1 out of 2. Wordcount: ~8k

With his morning tea, Wriothesley riffled through the reports as usual. Nothing was marked urgent, so he started with the most boring part, - the official ones. The production numbers, coupon consumption statistics, everything is prepared for Neuvillette’s upcoming inspection, which was mostly a formality, but he would want it to go as smoothly as possible.

Reports from the surface informants. Traveler stirring up a ruckus with the research institute… Well, about time, that pit couldn’t go on forever pretending that massive explosions are just a part of science routine.

Next, creatures called “vishaps” appeared recently in Erinnyes Forest. These vishaps are apparently a lesser form of dragons, and connected to Liyue vishaps, also lizard-like creatures, though in Liyue they are aligned with geo, not hydro. Non-hostile to humans, aside from one accident. But in that one they fought back against the hunters sent by nobles to capture them as novelty pets. So the only regrettable part was that they didn’t get the nobles, only their lackeys. For shame.

Next, there are gangs with new lingo going around, which generally was a good thing to pay attention to as they usually ended up in Meropide. Wriothesley frowned, reading the lingo translations, as he suddenly felt old. “Trendy Zaytun Peach” was something he’d got called for taking it up the ass a lot in his days, but now it’s a hip and cool nickname with the youngsters.

Informal internal reports. Victims of beret society are rehabilitating fine, preparations for the wedding are underway. Good. Albert, a new guy from the shop, is sending him tea. Quite good tea at that. Obviously a bribe attempt, though he didn’t ask for anything as of yet, so it was basically free. Everything was fair in love and bribes as far as Wriothesley was concerned. You could throw everything at the feet of your beloved as to the feet of your targeted bureaucrat, and receive nothing and you would have no claim to complain. Now, the fact he wouldn’t take it into account when making decisions about their proposals, and sometimes would even consider it a negative, was a different matter altogether.

He perked up reading the last report. There was a new conspiracy, whose agenda was not very clear, as they were more careful than the others, but the gist was something against Neuvillette, so Wriothesley was tracking it for some time. It was hard to get anything concrete though, as they were pretty good at keeping a low profile, but now apparently one of the members by the name of Jacque got into the Fortress on unrelated charges, and he was reportedly not the brightest shank on the block.

Wriothesley made the arrangements.

Half an hour later, he happened to stroll by when Jacque was being beaten up by three guys in the shadowy corner.

“Hey, what’s going on here? Leave him alone!” he said, walking up to them.

“Oh yeah?”, said one of the bullies, turning to him. “Well, make me!”

They were paid double for the pretend fight. It might have been an overkill, usually Wriothesley would go for just scaring them off without combat. Especially because anyone who’s been in the Fortess for some time or had a head on their shoulders would understand that nobody would try to openly fight the Duke outside of the fight club arena. But Jacque was as fresh as they get, allegedly stupid, and it was Wriothesley’s first chance at any info in two whole months, so he decided to make it as impressive as possible.

He went as easy on the guys as he could, they theatrically threw the fight and retreated.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, kneeling next to the guy in the corner and putting his hand on his shoulder for emphasis.

“Yeah, yeah, I think I’m fine,” Jacque muttered, shaking his head.

“Why did they attack you?”

“They don’t want me to spread the truth...” Jacque said with heavy emphasis. “But uh, thanks for helping me out.”

“No need to thank me. I feel bad enough that honest folk like yourself get picked on in MY Fortress. That’s not how I want to run my place, so it’s only natural that I stand up for you.”

It took a moment, but finally the guy gasped.

“Your fortress? Are you… the Duke?”

At least he knew what “Duke” is.

“Yeah,” Wriothesley grinned, turning up the charm. “And allow me to get you a couple of drinks to compensate for the rude welcome you’ve received so far.”

He got them to the Coupon Cafeteria, where best meals were already arranged, and generously poured alcohol into the poor guy, listening to the story of his life and misfortunes that brought him to the Fortress, nodding empathetically. He didn’t ask about Neuvillette at all, to not spook the target, trusting that he will come to this anyway, and finally his patience was rewarded.

“You know, you’re good!” the guy said drunkenly after some time, clasping his hand on Wriothesley's shoulder, which he beared stoically, grinning with all friendliness in the world.

“You know, they say we can’t talk to you because you’re bought by that lizard, but I think you’re a good guy. You just don’t know all the facts!”

“Which are?”

The guy leaned closer to him and lowered his voice to a dramatic whisper. “Neuvillette is an evil dragon!”

Wriothesley choked on a laughter, which was way too obvious to turn into cough even for the dunce this stupid.

“No, you don't understand! Dragons were enemies of humanity that Celestia conquered. But they come back when killed! They reincarnate! He is a hydro dragon who was reborn in a human form so he could more easily trick us!”

Wriothesley blinked, remembering Neuvillette standing under the rain, and the old children’s song. “Hydro dragon, Hydro dragon, don’t cry….”

“He put our rightful archon Furina on that trial, right? No one else saw the verdict, so he pretended she was declared guilty. He forced her to abdicate and took the power for himself!”

Wriothesley realized long ago that Neuvilette, of course, was not human. It was clear to any idiot who talked to him for longer than a minute in an informal setting, not to mention a lifespan of at least five hundred years. But there were a lot of options other than “evil dragon”. There were old gods who did not receive archonhood, but instead decided to serve the archon, like Liyue’s adepti, and he always assumed Neuvillette was of the same kind. But the idea that Iudex was some kind of evil monster with a grudge against humanity was ridiculous. Especially when he showed up at the Fortress and saved the entire Fountaine and Wriothesley’s own hide from the flood.

“Really?”

“Yeah! We should restore our true archon Furina to her rightful throne!”

Furina’s insurrection? Interesting. Wouldn’t peg her for someone capable of this type of conspiracy.

“And did Furina herself give us her blessing?”

“She can’t speak publicly, as this monster threatens her.”

Hmm, inconclusive on Furina’s involvement.

He spent more time with the drunk Jacque, trying to get more details, but couldn’t get much more than unhinged ramblings on how evil the dragons are and how insidious it was for a dragon to pretend to be a human. He had to leave to prepare to Neuvillette's arrival the next day.

_____

Neuvillette stepped out of Opera Epiclese into the rain and slowed down his pace to prolong the sensation. It was a bit of what humans called guilty pleasure, as he felt guilty from inflicting rain on humans for his own pleasure. Though from his understanding, humans felt guilty because they saw this pleasure as something bad for themselves. Even if often this supposed harm made no sense to Neuvillette. Eating too much food until a human's stomach hurt was at least understandable to see as such, but he heard one of palais’ secretaries say that romance novels were her guilty pleasure. How could humans feel guilty for something as simple as reading? He stopped and asked her why she would feel guilty for reading, because melusines kept telling him that socializing with humans is very easy, you just need to ask them questions about themselves and let them talk about what they like. Well, it didn’t seem to work, as the secretary stumbled, started hyperventilating and emanated levels of panic and anxiety comparable to someone in the defendant’s chair. Sensing human emotions did not actually help Neuvillette in communicating with them, as he could not discern the reasons. He asked her if she perhaps came into possession of any cursed texts? He could generally sense the stench of corruption and there was nothing on her, but there was always a possibility that it was a curse he could not register. She panicked even more and vehemently denied. At this point he decided to give up on socializing, as it was obviously very distressing for humans, but felt obliged to tell her that if she ever did read anything she felt was cursed, to inform him. He hoped it would assuage her fear of reading. She thanked him, stuttering, and after that day avoided him at all costs.

The rain was a compromise solution in any case. Neuvillette always felt a bit strained and uncomfortable in his body, but after obtaining full dragonhood and most of the memories of past lives, the human shape felt downright stifling. He now remembered thousands of years of being something much bigger, long coils that could easily crush the spire of Opera Epiclese. Now, when he looked at his own reflection, it was hard to comprehend that this small and ridiculous frame was actually him. In addition, all of his memories and instincts called him to be submerged in water. But even with his poor understanding of humans, he realized that seeing the Iudex floating in the river would alarm humans much more than him standing under the rain. So rain was the closest solution he could get at his position.

He summoned rain instinctively, to be as close to engulfed in water as possible. It was a bit embarrassing that even humans noticed it and composed a rhyme, even if that rhyme was inaccurate. He didn’t cry, as vishaps didn’t cry at all and even his current human shaped body didn’t have tear ducts. The closest he could pinpoint to human experience, as he understood it, was being stressed and desire to be comforted, for which water was his best remedy.

And currently he was quite stressed, looking over the Fontaine laws in an attempt to revise them. The current system that treated justice as theater was clearly imperfect, which he realized long ago. But he never saw himself as authorized to change it, as humans were the responsibility of the archon and even without it, he was well aware he didn’t understand humans, so he knew it wasn’t his place to question the human justice system, to which he was only a temporary guest. But now, as fontanias became part of Teyvat after his decision, and so, a part of his responsibility as Teyvat’s god of life, even if the usurper tried to deny him, he couldn’t ignore the need for change any longer. The problem was that he did not understand humans any better, so it was very stressful to try and restructure their systems of governance.

He extended a hand, catching raindrops on his palm, when he noticed a silhouette near the elevator to the Fortress, and stopped himself from visibly controlling the weather.

Wriothesley caught his eyes and grinned, approaching him at brisk pace, umbrella over his head.

“Greetings, Monsieur.”

“Good morning, Your Grace.”

Wriothesley always somehow managed to make a “Monsieur” sound more impactful than Neuvillette could “Your Grace”, despite one being a noble title and another just a polite greeting.

“Would you like to…?” Wriothesley extended his arm with an umbrella, without actually covering Neuvillette with it. In the past, as a part of playing a role of “normal human”, Neuvillette accepted such offers, though there were not many aside from Wriothesley who dared to approach him with it. But now, as he was a full-fledged dragon, at the height of his power and influence in this land, surely he could afford to discard this role? Surely he could afford to be himself at least in this?

“No, thank you,” he said, smiling and trying to sound as cordial as possible, so that Wriothesley would not think it was a slight against him personally. “Don’t take it as offense, but I actually like being under the rain.”

The Duke smiled back, shaking his head.

“No offense taken, but why didn’t you say it last time? I felt like an idiot forcing you under an umbrella.”

“Really?” Neuvillette perked up, falling in step with the human. “You could tell that I…”

“Hated it? Yeah, for sure.”

“....prefered not to have an umbrella.”

Wriothesley let out a low, guttural bark of laughter that somehow got to the dragon despite him not being interested in humans in general.

“Not only I could tell I disturbed you, but I had to walk on the flowerbed to get to you, and then I trailed dirt in the Palais while everyone here glared at me for the audacity. Meanwhile you walked on the same dirt, but stayed pristine!”

“I’m sorry for…”

“Hey, don’t apologize. I’m just kidding, don’t worry.”

Neuvillette met the greyish blue eyes of thawed ice directly and sensed that he was truly not bothered, which didn’t make much sense. But Wriothesley was one of the very few humans who was not scared in the dragon’s presence. He was, probably, the only one who emanated only positive emotions at their meetings. Neuvillette mostly encountered negative reactions in his daily life at the trials, so he could not tell apart which positive feelings exactly that he read from Wriothesley due to the lack of exposure. But perhaps…

“I wouldn’t want you to feel unwelcome at the Palais,” Neuvillette said after a short pause.

Wriothesley grinned with a careless shrug.

“Then I will be there, even if the rest of your bureaucrats make faces. As I said, don’t worry.”

Neuvilette frowned, but didn’t see much point in pressing this further. After a confrontation with Navia, the dragon realized that his lack of understanding of humans hindered him, instead of making him truly impartial. Especially now that he was de facto in charge of the entire Fontaine government. And practice showed that only direct interaction with humans could give valuable experience, as watching from the Iudex seat did not allow him a nuanced understanding.

So perhaps, if Wriothesley was a rare human who was not scared of him, and he proved rational and trustworthy in the years they knew each other, Neuvillette could confide in his true nature and maybe ask for advice in understanding humanity?

“Perhaps staying for some tea would make up for this past offense?”

Wriothesley stumbled for a moment.

“Seriously?” He sounded as casual and ironic as usual, but the surprised burst of positive emotions from him was bright and obvious. “After all these years you finally decided to deign my humble office with your presence?”

“It’d be a completely unofficial visit, of course.”

“Sure, sure. It was never my secret plot to bribe you with a tea party, trust me, even I realize my tea is not that good.”

His voice was ironic, but for a moment Neuvillette could see his crooked grin turn into a genuine smile. So, reassured that he was not imposing, Iudex nodded and followed the human into the Fortress’ entrance.

_________

The inspection itself was mostly a formality. The Court of Fontaine technically had no direct authority over Meripode, but it provided guards and substantial resources, and so it had a right to oversee the use of these assets. The actual budgeting was done on the regular in behind the scenes reports though, as the data was not visible in the in person visit. Still, it was a time honored tradition that got Neuvilette to show up regularly.

“Take a seat. It will take me a minute to make tea.”

Neuvilette gracefully sat down on the visitor’s chair In Wriothesley office, folding his hands on the cane. He still sat with a ramrod straight back and perfect posture, but there was a certain lightness to him today, which was hard to put into words.

“The inspection is over, yet you are still nervous.”

Wriothesley knew he had a poker face good enough to cover it, yet Neuvillette saw it anyway. He had theorized for a long time that the Iudex could sense emotions, but usually he would not acknowledge it directly like this. “I wasn't nervous about the inspection to begin with. But inviting a high and mighty Iudex himself to the tea for years and then disappointing him when he finally accepts would be a devastating faux de pas. They will mock me on the first pages of all the papers tomorrow.”

Neuvillette frowned slightly.

“I must underline that I’m not here in any official capacity, and I would hope I’m talking to Wriothesley, not the Warden or the Duke. If you agree, I would ask that we leave the titles at the door.”

“No, of course,” Wriothesley, who had fantasized about leaving titles at the door and then clothes on the floor for actual years, said quickly, frantically recalculating how he could turn the tea party to wine tasting, which best wines he had confiscated in his storage and how he could make turning on the gramophone and then maybe leaning against the edge of the table in front of Neuvillette look natural and smooth. “Absolutely. I was just joking anyway, don’t mind it.”

“Ah, I see. I apologize, I’m unfortunately prone to missing humorous intent, so I appreciate your clarification.”

With how far the Iudex went out of his way to assure people of his good intentions in informal situations, Wriothesley really didn’t understand how everyone found him so intimidating. Especially because he very often had to interact with assholes in positions of power who did try to intimidate him on purpose and the contrast was very apparent. Neuvillette projected an aura of power without really wanting to, and then tried to over-explain himself to make others feel at ease. His earnest awkwardness was something like the clumsiness of a huge beast like an elephant trying not to step on the gaggle of kittens at his feet.

“In any case, there is nothing to be nervous about. After all, tea is liquid, and it’s really hard to make liquids unpleasant. So far I think only Fonta truly managed it.” Neuvillette drummed his fingers on the table and glanced at Wriothesley. “To be frank, if crimes against water could be prosecuted, Fonta would receive life in prison.”

Wriothesley snorted. “So no sugar in your tea, I take it?”

“No, thank you,” Iudex said politely and then, after a short pause, “And to clarify, I was not serious. There is nothing wrong with people liking sugary drinks, of course. I was just making an attempt at a joke.”

He really was horrendously bad at pretending to be a human. How could anyone hear him talk and still believe he’s a scheming manipulator was beyond ridiculous.

“No, I got it. It was a good joke,” The Duke grinned, placing a teacup in front of Neuvillette and sitting down across the table with his own.

Neuvillette gave him a graceful nod with a little smile and picked up his cup, giving it a swirl before tasting.

“Hmm. Interesting. Poignant. Bitter,” he said thoughtfully, tilting his head.

Wriothesley was about to mention that this sort was not usually bitter, but Iudex continued.

“Not by nature, but forced by circumstances. Not nearly enough water to be nourished, so it had to adapt and conserve strength, letting leaves seen as unimportant to die and concentrate on survival of the main branches. But there is not just hunger… there is a dream of rain. An ache of something not ever known, but yearned, longed for, without realizing what it is. But then…” Neuvillette closed his eyes for a moment. “It happened. There is a memory of luminous joy of water not gathered by mere drops, but drank in full, overwhelming, a feast after a life of fighting for scraps of morning dew. It had tasted rain at least once in the end.”

Wriothesley put his own cup down, leaning forward in disbelief.

“No way. This was a harvest from a drought year and it’s normally a mild sort, considered unusually strong in this season. How could you know this? Are you cheating?”

“You’re welcome to test me with other samples,” Neuvillette said with an air of a magnanimous ruler granting a boon and put the teacup down with a delicate clink.

“Oh, I’m taking you up on your word, trust me,” the Duke grinned, but then paused. He didn’t want to spoil the mood, but he remembered how strongly Neuvillette felt about the perceived melusines conspiracy. Wriothesley had to tell him about the evil dragon idiots just to make sure he’s not thrown off balance later. That’s what the guard dogs are for, after all.

“Actually, before we move forward with testing your psychic tea reading abilities, there is something concerning official business that I think you should know. And then we can forget it completely.”

Neuvillette inclined his head with a small smile.

“There is a small group of conspirators, - and I must reiterate, it’s very small - who operate on the ridiculous idea that… uh, that you’re some kind of an evil dragon who schemed to overthrow Furina.”

Neuvillette's smile froze.

“You don’t have to worry about it, really. It’s negligibly small, and well, anyone with a working brain would not believe that you’re a monster in disguise.”

Iudex was silent for some time, not meeting Wriothesley’s eyes.

“Are melusines implicated in this?” he said finally.

“No. No, there’s no connection to them in this stupid theory.”

“Good. That's good. They do love living with humans so much.”

Wriothesley suspected that Iudex was taking things kind of out of proportion again.

“Listen, it’s really nothing…”

“No, no, I understand. It would be so unacceptably horrifying for humans to learn their ruler is a… monster.”

Neuvillette's voice wavered, but his face was impartial, strict, previous lightness gone completely. Wriothesley saw his hands tighten their grip on the handle of his cane a moment before he abruptly stood up.

“I must apologize for impropriety, but I have important business in the Palais which was inappropriate for me to neglect for so long. I must beg your leave to depart.”

Wriothesley stood up too, scraping to understand what he did wrong.

“Wait, it’s not…”

“Thank you for your time, Your Grace.”

Wriothesley shut his mouth, the title feeling like a slap for the first time in his life. The formality and politeness somehow only made it worse. He took a deep breath and willed himself to sound calm.

“I hope you have a nice evening, Monsieur Iudex.”

Neuvillette left in what for his usual dignified pace could be considered a hurry. Wriothesley followed him without being seen, partly to make sure he doesn’t get bothered by inmates and partly on an instinct to investigate.

At the Fortress’ entrance, he watched Neuvillette walk under the rain, lifting his head upward. The blue strands of his long hair glowed and so did his coat-tails. They extended, shining brilliant bioluminescent blue, trailing behind the Chief Justice, in a moment looking like fish’s fins, then the next - as colossal snake’s coils. Sea waves crashed against the ridge without any wind, rising high, reaching to a lonely glowing figure of Iudex. With bated breath, Wriothesley watched Neuvillette extend a hand, as if catching raindrops - and rain stopped mid-flight in the air, lingering over his palm, waves frozen cresting over the earth. The raindrops gathered in a shuddering spheres, and then stretched upwards, against all laws of gravity. Wriothesley’s heart skipped a beat as Neuvillette closed his fist and the rain flew backwards to the skies.

Wriothesley stormed back into his office and frantically searched through the reports, pages flying about, until he found the one about vishaps. He looked at the photos, seeing similarities he would never look for before. The dark blue color of vishap’s hide was nearly identical to Neuvillette’s attire, but that was small beans, easily written off as coincidence. Their eyes, bright magenta with white vertical slice of a pupil, resembled Iudex, but there was room for debate, as his eyes were much paler, lilac merging into gentle blue instead of a bright pink, even as white vertical pupil was so similar. What really struck Wriothesley after all this, was actually the little blue feather at the side of the head of both vishaps and Neuvillette. It was identical and looked so… deliberate. It had to be chosen and placed precisely like this.

Still, this was not enough. He needed more evidence. He needed… he needed answers.

He walked to Jacque's block as quickly as he could without alarming inmates, but when he got to the conspirator’s room, Jacque was sleeping on the bed and a man was sitting on the chair next to him, reading a book. He looked up when Wriothesley walked in and stood up, clumsily dropping the book. He was tall and gangly, had dark hair, Inazuman features and light brown eyes behind the glasses.

“Who are you?” Wriothesley was really not in the mood for playing games.

“Well, my organization caught wind that you are interested in learning some… historical information, and our poor Jacque is really not the best source, which is why I’m here to answer any questions you have,” the man gave him a groveling smile. “You can call me Enjou.”

“Not here. In my office. Follow me.”

When they got there, Enjou whistled musingly.

“Uh, what a nice office! Must be a pretty sweet gig. I wish I had an office instead of slinking in dump ruins all the time.” He sighed theatrically. “So, I assume your main questions are on the vishap situation. I…”

“Wait,” Wriothesley said, walking up to one of his wall cabinets. “You can’t expect me to just believe you on your word.”

“Oh, of course, of course! You’re free to rough me up a bit first. Maybe a little bit of torture? But only a little bit, I’ve got a glass jaw, haha!”

Wriothesley didn’t live so long as an undisputed champion of fight club to not recognize a freak who gets off on pain. He grimaced, walking up to the table where Enjou was already trying to rifle through the papers. He stopped with an apologetic grin and put his hands up. Wriothesley put a glass vial on the table.

“Drink.”

Enjou raised his eyebrows.

“Are we dining and wining first or?...”

“It’s a truth serum,” it was a secret project of the Sumeru Akademiya, before the sages were overthrown. Dendro Archon reportedly could read the thoughts of people, and sages were trying to replicate the effect at least partially. Wriothesley came into possession of it after using his network to get the sages connected to the needed people in Fontaine institute, as Fontaine was at the cutting edge of mech technology and the sages were apparently building an artificial god. Didn’t pan out for them, but the serum worked. Wriothesley was sure of it, because he tried it on himself first.

“Oh! How exciting! How does it work? Will it perhaps burn my insides in agonizing pain if I lie?”

“Drink,” Wriothesley said through gritted teeth.

Enjou smiled and drank the vial in one shot.

“Well, nothing is burning so far, but the evening is young, haha,” he said, smacking his lips.

Wriothesley took a deep breath.

“Why are you here?”

“Huh? What do you mean? To explain the history to you, as I said.”

“Because of the goodness of your heart? What’s your agenda? Your goal?”

Enhou cleared his throat.

“Well, first of all, I do believe in uncovering and spreading so-called “forbidden” knowledge. But with your particular case can you really question my agenda? I didn’t come to you first. You were the one who sought us out. I didn’t even want to be here! I was doing my own thing without knowing about you, to be honest! But, well, I am in an organization with some unfortunate morons who thought that recruiting a convenient idiot and then sending him into underworld prison to make sure he isn’t heard is a great plan. And then when the Warden takes note of the idiot and gets him to blabber, these same morons go, Enjou, you have to get there, because you’re a vishap expert! Ugh.”

Enjou shook his head in seemingly sincere frustration.

“But um, yeah, I’m not trying to recruit you or anything. We know how you’ve disposed of House of Hearth agents and how you generally obstruct Fatui’s activity, and we just don't want you to do the same to us. Because we’re not your enemy! So I’m here to provide you with the necessary context to see that.”

Wriothesley drummed his fingers on the table.

“Okay. Start talking about Neuvilette and vishaps.”

“Well, Neuvilette is a Hydro Dragon, that should be obvious. To clarify, Hydro Dragon here means Hydro Dragon Sovereign, because technically all hydro vishaps are hydro dragons. If you didn’t know, which is understandable, as you’re more of a fighter type and not a bookworm like myself, haha, vishaps are primordial elemental creatures, original rulers of this land and mortal foes of humanity. Long before Archons, there were Dragon Sovereigns in charge of each element. Then there was a war with Celestia, specifics of which are not widely known, but we do know that Celestia won, dragons were largely eradicated and the huge chunks of powers of Sovereigns were taken from them and given to the Archons. Hydro Sovereign was killed.”

Enjou made a dramatic pause, before leaning forward with a grin. “But you see, vishaps reincarnate. Neuvillette is a Hydro Sovereign reborn in a human shape. There was actually an Inazuman prophecy about it, recorded in the Byakuyakoku Collection. That Hydro Dragon will descend in a human form, and it specifically mentions a cane. This really baffles me, to be honest. How could they predict the cane? Why does he even need a cane? Surely not because of any weakness, he’s an immortal dragon, 500 years is very young for him. And the records say when Neuvilette took his position as the Iudex some 400 years ago, he already had a cane. Was he born with it? Like, had he sprung fully formed, with a cane? Did he pick it up as, I don't know, honorary agreement with a prophecy? Or were his fashion choices actually predetermined to the degree that the prophecy knew them millenia ago?”

“Get back on track,” Wriothesley growled.

“Oh, sorry. Hmm, this serum works by forcing you to spell your thoughts out loud, yes? Well, then it’s not my fault I’m even more blabbering than usual!”

Wriothesley clasped his hands together and said slowly, carefully watching Inazuman’s reaction. “Even if he is a hydro sovereign dragon, as you say, this alone does not make him evil, as your conspiracy claims.”

Enjou fixed his glasses. He really had the hands of a bookworm, no work calluses or fighting scars. But there were spots of reddened, peeling skin that looked like burns that didn’t get to fully heal before getting burned again.

“Did you miss the “mortal foe of humanity” bit? But okay, sure. This is Fontaine after all, presumption of innocence and all that. I mean, I can’t read his thoughts to tell you under oath that he’s evil, so don’t take me to court, hehe!” Enjou grinned, clearly pleased at his own joke. “But I can tell what I know and ask some questions. My first question is why, after losing a war and presumably being killed by Celestia, would an ancient dragon god want to serve a servant of Celestia? The Archon, who rules with what is actually his own power? Unless he had some sort of agenda, perhaps? And come to think of it, why would Hydro Archon put a mortal foe of humanity into a position of such institutional power?”

“Are you implying Neuvilette forced Furina to give him the position of Iudex?”

“Well, I wasn’t here!” Enjou raised his hands defensively. “But why else would he become the Iudex?”

“There are higher beings and gods serving archons in other nations. Like Liyue adepti serving Rex Lapis.”

“Morax was known as the prime of the adepti. None of them could compare with him at strength. Same with yokai and Baal in Inazuma, she was the strongest by far. It’s natural that they would accept servitude. But here…” Enjou glanced at Wriothesley with a sly smile. “If you had to make a bet on a direct fight between Neuvillette and Furina, who would you bet on? Come on, I know tales that her own court would not listen to her until the Iudex tapped his cane.”

Wriothesley couldn’t really argue with this. When the Primordial Sea started breaking out, he himself sent for Neuvillette and didn’t even think to ask the actual Archon.

“In that case, why didn’t he just kill her immediately? Why would he play the judge?”

“Well, you see, he would not get his power back from just killing her. It would just pass to the next Archon. No, the Hydro Archon had to destroy her own throne. And running out the ruler requires a long game, as you know very well yourself, You Grace.”

Wriothesley kept a calm face, but something must have given him away, as Enjou grinned predatorily.

“Next set of facts and questions. You know of the infamous Archon trial, of course? When it was revealed that fontanian people are actually oceanids, given human shape by the previous hydro archon, Egeria? And the prophecy of the flood works because Primordial Sea waters dissolve fontanians into their oceanid forms. Well, the flood actually came. Why were fontanians not dissolved?”

“I’m sure you’ll tell me that.”

“Hehe, yes. It was because Neuvillette turned them into real humans with his powers of Hydro Sovereign. How generous of him, yeah? The question is, why did it take him so long? It’s been 500 years, and yet fontanians were made human only minutes before the flood.”

Despite a feeble bookworm posturing, there was a shadow of unhinged madness in his eyes, dangerous enough that in any other case Wriothesley would cut contact. But the stakes were too high right now. He needed to get all the information he could out of this lunatic.

“You might also remember that on the same trial it was proven that Furina is not a Hydro Archon. And I can tell you that the actual Archon, Focalors, was in the Oracle machine the whole time. Sorry, I’m not even trying to pronounce that full name, haha!”

The urge to punch this bastard was overwhelming, but Wriothesley kept himself in check, mostly because he could tell he was being baited into it and he didn’t want to give the piece of shit the satisfaction.

“Anyway, Neuvilette had an audience with her right after a trial, and as result she killed herself and gave him power back. You see, Hydro Archon doesn’t have the ability to turn oceanids into real humans. All of you were just… things, playing at being humans,” Enjou said with a smirk that looked more fascinated than mocking. “But Hydro Sovereign, the original god of life, does have the power to do so. And he also, conveniently, has control over the Primordial Sea, which you, Your Grace, already know as he stopped the flood in your own Fortress.”

Wriothesley raised an eyebrow and Enjou smiled with a shrug.

“Again, I was not there! But I do know Hydro Sovereign controls the Primordial Sea, and that there is an entrance to the Sea in the Meripode Fortress. I also know that there was some emergency in the Fortress, where inmates were told to run as close to the surface as possible, and then Monsieur Iudex visited and the disaster was somehow avoided.”

Wriothesley frowned.

“If he was really a mortal enemy of humanity, why wouldn’t he just let the gates of Meripode break and the flood happen right there and then? We would all be gone and he wouldn’t need to lift a finger. Instead he ran to help when I… when the Fortress called.”

“And what would that achieve? He still wouldn’t get his power back,” Enjou shrugged dismissively and then smiled, almost wistfully.

“No, you know what I would do if *I* was the Hydro Sovereign with an ability to take human form? And if the Archon who held my power hostage was relatively weak AND had the prophecy involving a flood of the Sea I control? Well, I’d infiltrate human society, take a position of high authority and make sure the humans not only see me as the personification of law and justice, but also respect me more than their own Archon. And when the prophecy deadline is coming up, I’d make sure I have people loyal to me in some key positions. Such as Royal Duelist… and the Warden of the Fortress.”

“He didn’t make me the Warden,” Wriothesley gritted out.

“No, but he did make you the Duke, didn’t he?” Enjou smirked with a wink. “Our sources say the Court was not thrilled to give the highest noble title to you. And if the Iudex did not throw his own weight behind it, it would have never come to pass. How generous of him.”

It was true, Wriothesley’s own informants reported that the Court loathed to give him a title, let alone as high as the Duke. Neuvillette was the only one who fought for him and fought hard, because usually Iudex’s one word was enough to make a decision, but here the stalemate lasted for two months. They wanted to compromise and give him the viscount, but Iudex wouldn’t budge, so in the end, they caved.

Wriothesley never asked Neuvillette for the title. Neuvillette never mentioned what he did for the Warden and never dropped anything even as close as a hint of asking anything in return.

Unless you see it as a part of centuries long game, where mundane favors didn’t matter, but being called first to the access of the Primordial Sea did.

“Ah, you’re starting to get it, don’t you?” Enjou sensed blood in the water, like a proper shark would. “Then I would orchestrate a public court hearing to absolutely discredit the current ruler and corner the actual Archon. And when Focalors is forced to talk to me…. I would make a bargain. Saving the lives of all fontanians in exchange of getting my full power back and Focalors dying. Isn't it ironic that the dragon playing human was the one to turn human-shaped water things into actual humans?"

Enjou leaned back against his chair, grinning with satisfaction.

“And then I’d have an entire country loyal to me as a ruler, which would make a great foothold to use for attacking Celestia.”

Wriothesley took a deep breath.

“You really expect me to take you on your word? You might believe it yourself, which will pass the truth serum, but the word of a lunatic is not evidence.”

“Oh, of course not! I would never expect you to take my lowly word for it. Instead, why don’t you take Monsieur Iudex’s word?”

Enjou made a dramatic gesture of spilling a heap of conches onto the table. Wriothesley raised his eyebrows, when the other man poked one of them awkwardly.

“Now that I have reclaimed one of the Seven Authorities from the hands of the usurpers, I have regained my true form,” a calm voice that was undoubtedly Neuvillette, said out of nowhere. “I am now a fully fledged dragon, powerful enough to judge the rest of the gods. My final destiny is to judge the Usurper-King in the heavens above.”

“This could be faked,” Wriothesley said automatically, just to argue, but his heart already fell.

“You wound me! These are his words, and I spent an entire night fishing them out for you, I’ll have you know. It’s quite hard to capture this. You’re welcome to listen to all of them and see for yourself.”

Almost against his will, Wriothesley reached out and touched one of the conches.

“…I shall fulfill my vow to judge all of The Seven in turn, even if the sky should fall and the ground give way.”

Wriothesley took an abrupt breath through his teeth. Enjou sighed and stood up.

“I think it’s better for you to listen to this alone. After, you’re welcome to reach out to us, but please don’t make any hasty decisions. I’ll see you soon, Your Grace!”

Enjou walked down the stairs, and by the time Wriothesley got to them, there was no one there. The Duke couldn’t bring himself to focus on that though. Instead, he walked up to one of the wall cabinets and took out a bottle of whiskey he was saving up as a possible gift.

He didn’t bother with the glass. He fell down into the chair in front of the conches and clenched his fingers on the bottle, icy veins springing up from under them. He took a sip and touched another conch.

“…my grievances with the usurpers have yet to be settled... They owe a debt of blood that shall not be forgotten.”

He drank, staring blindly into the distance, and listened, and the quiet words burned worse than whiskey sliding down his throat. He caught himself on a familiar thought. “This can’t be happening. This is too monstrous.” The same feverish thoughts he had when he discovered the truth about his foster parents.

As if by now he shouldn’t have learned that nothing is too monstrous in this world.

“As a survivor of the dragon race who has regained my full dragonhood, I must fulfill my oath and obligations even if it means returning all the water in the oceans back to the heavens.”

It really did sound exactly like Neuvillette. Wriothesley tried to find the lie, something that sounded fake, but not only the voice, but the cadence and word choice fit. And it sounded calm, impartial as usual too. And then there were hydro vishaps appearing in Erinnyes…

Fuck, was it really that easy to fool him? Was he really this big of a fool? He learned to distrust sweet words and warm smiles, and he was so sure that he wouldn’t get caught in the same lies ever again, even if he sacrificed his ability to love for this. But all it took was a seeming opposite, direct and harsh, too cold and intimidating to appear manipulative, but endearingly awkward just sometimes, just enough to make him believe that… That there was something true and clear in this rotten world. That he could trust in *someone*.

“Nothing will stop me from rendering judgment on each of The Seven.”

He went through all of the recordings, frantically at first, wanting to find contradictions, then, when none were found, numbly re-listening to the few that hit the worst.

“…also the destroyer of the present order, the one who shall judge all gods, and the foe of humanity. “

Wasn’t it too obvious in hindsight? Why would the Iudex stake his own reputation on Wriothesley’s title? How could you not see it coming? Oh, because you thought you “deserve” it for turning this dog-fighting pit of a prison into something with a modicum of fairness? Because you thought he recognized your redemption? Gods, what are you, fucking fourteen again, did you learn nothing, why would anyone ever care about you, you naive goddamn idiot?

Soon, the bottle was somehow almost done. At this point he was running one recording on repeat, mindless and purposeless except for repeating slashes of pain, familiar rhythm like the knife on his wrists years ago.

"Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, don't cry." Whoever had penned that rhyme, as well as the Fontainians who came to believe in it, must not have known the Hydro Dragon all that well, considering that they thought the Hydro Dragon could cry. What did they take said Dragon for, some sort of bleeding heart who grieved for humans and the heavens alike?”

If this was true… If this was true, then Wriothesley didn’t just get fooled himself. Then he helped a monster take control of the country and potentially use it in war against heavens.

He clenched his hand and it took him a moment to realize he broke the bottle he was holding in it. That pain from glass pieces in his palm felt small and distant now. But at last, it spurned him into action.

If this was true, he only had one shot. He’d already told Neuvillette of the dragon conspiracy, like a good little idiot eager to please. And any tyrant worth his salt would make sure to take him out after his, especially now that he outlived his purpose in giving access to Meripode vaults. He might have some time because of how oblivious he was, dismissing the conspiracy openly, but it couldn’t be long.

He couldn’t take his time. He couldn’t hope for the better. He had to act like it’s the worst option possible. More than anything, he needed to confront Neuvillette, dragon Sovereign or not. He had to fix this, no matter the cost.

He realized he needed leverage. Brute strength was out of the question. Even before the flood, Neuvillette absolutely destroyed Fatui Harbinger in one flash, quicker than anyone in the audience could see what happened. Wriothesley would put himself against Harbringer with no hesitation, but he wasn’t an idiot. If this was how powerful Iudex was before, then after allegedly gaining his full power, there was no way Wriothesley could threaten him. No, he needed something else.

He took out the paper and wrote a note, taking care to not stain it with blood. Fortunately, he held the bottle in his left hand, so he could keep it out of the way.

“....and so confess that I, Wriothesley, Warden of the Fortress of Meripode, killed Chief Justice, Iudex Neuvillette.”

He finished the note and carefully put in his signature, then folded the paper into an envelope and closed it with his personal seal. Then he walked up to a safe, one of the hidden ones, and punched in a code. When the safe opened, he rummaged in it for a moment, until finally taking out two vials.

This was sold to him as the poison that could kill a god.

#rhine writes #rhine writes light #neuvillette #wriothesley #wriolette #genshin impact #enjou #i had a lot of fun with enjou here #anyway let me know what you guys think

107 notes · View notes

bloo-the-dragon · 7 months

Text

I've been seeing some people express concern for Bloodmoon on this post SO i'm going to throw in some extra context and Bloodmoon lore to clear some things up

Honestly i probably should have done this a long time ago BUT ANYWAYS-

The sudden change for them was very.. shocking to put it kindly. A very drastic change but after the initial shock Bloodmoon is very euphoric - Just happy and whimsical and freed because they're in a new form that just feels right even if they havn't fully come to terms as to why yet.

But existential crisis still boils under the surface and it's not til sometime later that it breaks out.

This is Bloodmoon shortly after the transformation -

- cheery, silly, happy. Sun and Moon arnt worried for too long because they seem happy (and in a way they're kind of flattered that their fae friend decided to take a form similar to their own - they've met many kids who dressed up like/wanted to be like the glamrocks afterall so this isnt too odd for them)

This is when the existential crisis/questioning moment really hits home

(happens while they are out too which only quickened it what with anxiety being around people and all)

Now the reason they changed in the first was because they realised they had fallen in love (platonically) with Sun and Moon. Their shapeshifting specifically is very emotional based and will trigger usually when high emotion is felt. This is the biggest physical change they have ever had however, and the most impactful.

And why did they turn red like the Bloodmoon you might wonder? Well 1. Lunar Eclipse, or Eclipse vibes specifically and 2. Have you ever heard of the red string? ~

But yeah right after the change they would be too caught up in the euphoria of feeling whole and comfortable in a new body and identity to really acknowledge the panic beneath the surface. And the crisis kicks in over time because they had been very much the non-partnering type before and never saw theirself ever truly falling for anyone (again even in a platonic sense)

They would talk to Sun and Moon after this, and while feelings would not be outright admitted there would absolutely be understanding there and acceptance which is all they really need. They become qpp's over time after that.

Also i mentioned in the tags of my last post that this is basically irreversable and thats because the only way it could be reversed is if they stopped loving Sun and Moon (which ofc they could never)

They loved them enough to make them part of theirself - and in a way Sun and Moon do the same when they get tails installed to match (I'm a sentimental sap and tails are fun)

They're robots too so one thing that they have in common with a fae is they can also alter their forms to an extent ;D tho in this case they just wanted to have tails so they could be more like Bloodmoon.

Both parties adopting pieces of each other into their respective selves/identities out of love shared for each other.

The sillies

#fnaf #fnaf security breach #five nights at freddy's security breach #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf bloodmoon #bloodmoon #fnaf sun #fnaf sundrop #fnaf moon #fnaf moondrop #jester bots and dragons #bloo's art #bloo talks #not tsams #oof i went a bit ham there HFDJKFG i hope this makes sense :'D #big ol' lore dump #now i go to bed

209 notes · View notes

moonchild-in-blue · 8 months

Text

Vessel and the New Lore

So the new messages got me thinking and connecting dots. I don't know coherent this will sound, but I think there's something here? Anyways. Something about the relationship Vessel has with himself vs. The Mask.

I thought it'd be interesting to link the parallels between the Room Bellow show and the Fall For Me video messages, with the new ones and the album. Long post ahead so I'll put a cut somewhere.

(This is the second time I'll be writing this cus tumblr decided to be a hoe and deleted my entire draft so if it seems weird, you know. Pro tip: never use the app for long posts.)

Disclaimer: I'm in no way endorsing or encouraging any type of discourse about Vessel's irl identity and/or other [Redacted] and such. Unfortunately I do know things, but not everyone does. Respect the band; don't spoil it for others. If you know, keep it to yourself.

So, starting with the first message:

Mask: Why am I here? What is my purpose in all of this? Vessel: Your purpose is twofold. You protect me, from them, and you also protect them from me. Mask: How is it that I serve to protect anyone from anything, that makes no sense. Vessel: In order for all of this to work there has to be a certain boundary in place. They need to be able to project themselves onto this, without anyone else's identity getting in the way. In turn, I need to be able to show my true self to them in a way that does not compromise their ability to connect. Mask: So that's what I am? A boundary? Vessel: Yes.

We have here a confirmation of what he has told us many times before, either indirectly or not. The Mask/the Vessel persona serves as a way for him to connect and engage with us, while keeping both parties safe. We get to project onto and take from him some sort of comfort and catharsis, without any external factors to influence and skew the way we interpret his music, and He gets to expose and deal with his pain and negative thoughts in a protected environment. Who he is is irrelevant, we're merely here to share and understand each other.

Through the anonymity the mask offers, he is free to be as vulnerable and open with us as he wants, while keeping his identity safely stored away. The Mask serves as the physical reminder of how much we are allowed to know about him, and in return, how far he can (or should) expose himself without compromising his true identity. By living as Vessel and forgetting himself, he is ironically free to bare his most fragile and imperfect parts of himself on display (much like how we're all infinitely more honest about our struggles behind a fake online name than in irl.)

(curiously, this seems to be a contradiction to Higher's second verse, which feeds into the idea that Sleep is not the protector Vessel sometimes claims Them to be - "With all that you believe / You still refuse to shelter me")

From the Room Bellow:

"I experienced a great deal of pain in my life, however I do not believe I have suffered as you have suffered. Perhaps that Is another reason why we are here. At the very least, we have all suffered."

Lore wise, we are told time and time again that Vessel is a "sacred guardian", a messenger, a weapon, a tool - a physical vessel - for Sleep and Their message. He is the answer to Sleep's necessity for connection with us. And for that to work, he willingly gives up his identity for Sleep. For us.

Mask: I don't believe you. I believe there is more to it than that. I believe you are afraid of something. Vessel: We are all afraid of something, are we not? Mask: What is it you are so afraid they will see? Vessel: That I am exactly like everyone else. ... Vessel: I think I am afraid of becoming you. Mask: What does that even mean? Vessel: My life is becoming gradually consumed by you. Before long, all that I am will be contained within you. Then, one day, when I no longer wish to wear you, there will be nothing else left.

"I am afraid, are you afraid? I want to understand what it is to let go." (Fall For Me)

At the end of the day, Vessel is just some guy - he fears, and aches, and bleeds the same as us. We're equals. But as Vessel, he can't allow himself to crack, to break the illusion. As Vessel (and to connect to the lore, as the vessel of a god), he poses as someone we can look up to, someone who's there to carry our pain for us, almost like a symbiotic relationship of sorts - we feed on each other's emotions and energies.

From the Room Bellow:

"To love oneself is not the easy task we are sometimes told it is. (...) My own path towards greater self acceptance is paved with the art that I create. It is a path I continue to stumble down at the expense of everything else."

Without getting too much into it, it seems Vessel/Sleep Token were created as a sort of coping mechanism to deal with whatever it is that He went through. And he seems to have achieved that - he escaped his former self and became "Vessel", someone who's allowed to cry and rage and let his feeling loose. Someone who receives praise and comfort for it, someone who is finally understood.

Except that somehow, that same safety the Mask offered him backfired. Because how can you tell what's you and what's not? It appears that the lines between Vessel vs. Him have blurred beyond recognition. Because "Nothing lasts forever", so once ST ends, and Vessel is no longer a necessity, who does he become? Can he go back to his old self? Is there even a self to go back to?

Do you ever believe that we can turn into different people? It's getting harder to be myself. Do you wish that you loved me? Could we ever release? Is it better to just not feel?

I think it's worth mentioning DYWTYLM. Usually when I listen to it, I just interpret as being about self-love/esteem, suicidal thoughts, insecurities, yada yada yada, BUT! I think it kinda fits this right?? Like a conversation between Vessel and Him, the guy behind the mask.

And really, if you think about it, I think this dialogue is the basis of what TMBTE is. It's Vessel facing all these different facets of himself, the past versions, the ugly sides, coming to terms with them and learning to move on. And in the end, we see he finally does realize, albeit somewhat reluctantly, that there is more to it, than he can "be someone new", even if it means he needs to shed and let go of past versions of himself.

(of course, this is putting aside the whole trilogy and the story we've been told about Sleep/Vessel/Whatever romantic entanglement he was involved in. i'm merely giving this some other meaning and choosing to look through a very specific lens. call it a parallel universe if you want)

It's him accepting that although there may not be a version of himself to come back to, his Eden so to speak, there is finally something more waiting for him. But I'll get more into it later.

Also worth mentioning, this part of conversation-

Mask : Do you think they want you to cry? Do you think they like it? Vessel : Not as such, I think they just want to know that I am feeling something, feeling what they are feeling, perhaps. Mask : Do you think that this amount of crying is healthy for you? Vessel: I don't know. But at least I feel something, if I don't feel anything than why would I even do this?

-seems to be directly co-related to those lines on DYWTYLM. He wonders if maybe would be better not to feel at all, as if really asking himself, "should I continue to live as Vessel?", because that is his/The Mask's function.

(I almost forgot to mention the "Smile back at me" / "I can only ever see them smiling. That's good, I want them to smile." co-relations, but you see where I'm going right?")

Mask: It seems you have forgotten who you are. Before you had me you were nothing. All of this artifice, all this pathetic conjecture about your identity, it is nothing but a manifestation of how short-sighted and solipsistic you have become. I lifted you from misery and obscurity. You would be better to become me. You are nothing without me. You always were nothing without me.

"I am nothing without this music. I am nothing without this mask." (Room Bellow)

Sleep is a dickhead. And there it is - another confirmation of what we all assumed, of what he has also told us many times before in different words. Vessel, or better yet, Him, struggles with imposter syndrome, and a part of him seems to believe his worth is exclusively tied to his ability to create music and perform. Because who matters is Vessel, not Him. The praise and adoration, the glory, belongs to solely Vessel (in-lore, to Sleep).

He does not matter. He is insignificant. He is nothing.

So it makes sense to see how much he wishes to be someone else. How dependent he on his Mask (on Sleep). He can't shed that new identity away, because somehow, it became is ONLY identity. And yet, he knows that one day that must happen. And from a creative/artist standpoint, when you expose yourself the way he does into your art, almost bleeding into it, if that outlet is taken away, you really are left with nothing.

(yall, read the poem "about the PEN conference" by Bukowski).

"The truth is, I am ugly, I am inadequate, I am lost. I am no God." (Fall For Me)

And can I just say, how incredibly heartbreaking it is to hear him talk about himself like that? I have so, so much love and respect for Ves, it's almost ridiculous to think he is only worth the weight of his mask. I would give him a million hugs if I could. Whether or not he still believes that, I hope he one day can look at himself the way we do, and be proud and happy of the amazing human that he is.

I also think that, and this is just me rambling, their sudden explosion to fame must've taken some sort of toll of sorts. It must be SUCH an amazing feeling to see this many people connect and dedicate themselves to something you created, to be able to read between the lines of you thoughts, but it must just equally as scary. Suddenly there's SO many eyes on you, demanding and picking apart every gesture. Viciously clawing at the mask for a glimpse of the fragile soul within. It must not be easy to cope - and this goes to everyone in Sleep Token. They have to deal with so much unfairness, it's disgusting.

Vessel: You. Are. Wrong. In the end, my fractured sense of self was only another piece of fuel for the fire that burns in the eyes of these people before us. They too are pained. They too not know who they truly are. They are each stood alone on a stage of their own. And yet, they are here. United by that sense of never truly belonging. They see something beyond their own bleak horizons. And they reach for it. Together. So let us join now. To reflect their joy and to serve as a conduit for their anguish. To swallow their fear. To Worship.

"So for now let me serve as a living drama of your pain. If we are to be submerged then let us be submerged together." (Fall For Me)

And this is the part that really breaks me. He knows how much we need this, how much we rely on his music, on his words. He fights against his own claims that he has no value - he serves a purpose and that purpose is to serve the audience. Us. To take our struggles, our desires, and make it his own. To basically serve as a sacrifice for our well-being. To suffer, to feel together. To serve as a living drama of OUR pain.

"I will smile through the agony for you".

Because in the end, we're all equally broken. Because that's what the Mask is for, the anonymity, the mystery, the band - for us to "project ourselves" onto him, onto them. They are vessels, servants, worshippers of a god who shelters them; much like how we interact with their music, much like how Vessel thinks his purpose is for.

(and I could expand on this weird worshipper vs worshipee cycle, but i'm tired and i can't ramble on for too long. someone more clever than me feel free to expand)

(a post edit: peep that "fire that burns in the eyes of these people before us" vs "those eyes like fire, I'm a winged insect, you're a funeral pyre" parallel. Vessel sacrificing himself to us, for us. Performing and being Vessel as something he cannot but feel compelled to do.)

From the Room Bellow:

"We are here to silently collect. To project ourselves onto one-another. We are here to remember. We are here to forget."

WHICH BRINGS US TO EUCLID.

No, by now The night belongs to you This bough has broken through I must be someone new

If we are to take the messages as a complement to the album, then this definitely marks the "shift" in Vessel's perspective. He CAN be more, and he NEEDS to be more. To be new.

The night does not belong to god - it belongs to US. To Him. Not just Vessel, but Him. Obviously this is all speculation, but it really feels like he's ready to let go of so many things, and move on. To renew himself, to stand up and fight. To finally "bite back". He doesn't seem to be completely changed, as there are things he still seems to hold on to (just listen to Euclid). But it´s different now. The "vicious cycle is over."

"They see something beyond their own bleak horizons. And they reach for it. Together. So let us join now."

Vessel seems to emphasize the "collectiveness" of what Sleep Token is and represents quite often. So in a way, it´s him saying "We´ve all suffered together, we've all experienced so many things together, so let us reach for something better as one. Let us all become new. You are not alone in this, and neither am I, so hold on to us and be happy."

WHICH IS!!!!! JUST!!!!!

I think this shift represents something important. My guess, like many others have said, is that Something Big is going to happen in/after Wembley. I don't know what, I don't know if it's truly the end of the road for ST, as many speculate, but something is definitely going to happen. Whatever it is, I hope this is a positive change for them, and specially Vessel, and I am just so so grateful to be part of this amazing community of ours.

(if you read the whole thing, I love you and thank you and I'm sorry. My brain was itching real bad and this had to be let out. Don't take this a proper analysis or whatever, this is me squeezing excess water off the old rag that is my mind)

#unhinged moment #damn you vessel and your cryptic messages #if it reads weird i apologize #there's a lot more i wanted to say but i forgot. the 1st draft had much better takes but alas #sleep token #sleep token vessel #sleep token worship #long post #insomnia thoughts #sleep token lore #darya is unhinged

195 notes · View notes

syzygyzip · 3 months

Text

The Soul Still Burns: Analysis of the Lords of Cinder (DS3)

What follows is a short essay on the Lords of Cinder from Dark Souls 3, exploring their symbolism on spiritual and metatextual levels. After that is a related reading of Slave Knight Gael, the final adversary of the Dark Souls trilogy.

The Lords of Cinder are in many ways the primary adversaries of Dark Souls 3. This title they share, “Lord of Cinder,” refers to a personage who has rekindled the first flame, keeping the cycle of light and dark going.

Cinder is a substance which continues to burn without the presence of fire but does not reduce to ash. So euphemistically, it seems that the Lords are somehow stuck in their process of purification, and the game suggests that the world is stuck along with them; this is why it is the Ashen One’s task to “set them upon their thrones”—to hurry them along and thus allow the world to follow its natural decline. As individual characters, each of these Lords represents a different attitude that complicates and prolongs the cycle.

Through these stubborn Lords the game is commenting on at least two things. On the metaphysical level, it reflects the Buddhist idea that certain attitudes keep people reincarnating over and over again, unable to extricate themselves from the material world of suffering (samsara). While on the metatextual level, the game is suggesting that certain attitudes keep players coming back to Dark Souls again and again, starting new games, making new builds and revisiting old files.

The idea there on the metaphysical side finds an easy analogy in Buddhist doctrine: the “three poisons,” the three root causes of suffering. These are hatred, greed, and delusion. What’s interesting is that these essential vices also fit pretty easily onto the different types of players that are being caricatured by the Lords. We’ll break these correspondences down in a second.

But First: Why Do They Correspond? So we have these sets of three. Three lords, three poisons in Buddhism, three types of Souls players. How convenient. When we analyze art, we sometimes ask, “Huh, is this structure really there, or am I projecting it into the material?” And if the structure is really there, baked into the work, that doesn’t mean that it’s due to developer intention. Archetypal forms sometimes show up in work via an unconscious influence, be it due to the cultural milieu, personal psychology, or some a priori biological disposition of the human being.

And the thing about Dark Souls is that it’s an unusually honest piece of art, in that its creative team allows their own free associations and intuitions to show up in the work without too much self-censorship or questioning. They make space for a mystery to show up on its own terms, and in leaving its riddles unanswered, there is more space for discovery by the people who play it.

It should also be said that cultural ideas persist for a reason. Beneath the ethics and ideology of the people who originally named the Buddhist “three poisons,” there may be something timeless, something perennially descriptive of human nature. If that is the case, then it would make sense for this same triplicity to unfurl itself in other cultural products. So for one reason or another, these three poisons, these addictions, show up diegetically in the characters and are also expressed in player psychology.

I say all this just because sometimes I feel very aware of the disconnect between much of Souls lore discourse and the broader field of mythological study. Since we are gamers first, there may be this tendency to want to “solve” the lore, but that’s not what we’re doing here. Myth functions because it elaborates our experience of the world through affective resonance; it attaches images and characters and stories which help us anchor our own prelinguistic impressions of the world, cultivating our sensitivity there.

Anyway, let’s look at these Lords.

Abyss Watchers Poison: Hatred The lore of the Abyss Watchers is pretty clear: they have an obsessive fixation on the abyss, and are ready to raze an entire town if they suspect abyssal encroachment. This obsession has literally possessed them, as they are now “abyss touched.” Gaze too much into the abyss, etc. They carry such strong contempt for the disavowed object that they don’t care what comes between it and their sword. This is clearly demonstrated by the fact that they are a brotherhood yet are unhesitatingly slaughtering themselves again and again. Hatred has made them blind, and has also caused them to resign their individuality (they are identical, mere instruments of a transpersonal grudge). They cannot die, their hatred keeps them locked in combat.

Type of Player: competitive | Interest: combat The Abyss Watchers are a representation of PvP addicts. They have no powers other than tenacity; they perform the same combos repeatedly. When you are really gripped by a PvP binge in Souls, you often end up doing the same thing again and again. The fight takes place in a mausoleum, on top of many chambers filled with human remains. The fact that this boss fight is instructional about combat, specifically about looking for tells (a cloud of dust always signifies the end of their combos) might be another clue. There is no limit to how good you get at Souls PvP; every foe is an opportunity to improve timing and strategy. You can just keep stacking anonymous bodies under yourself.

Aldrich Poison: Greed Aldrich invokes the concept of supremacy many times: he is in the supreme area from Dark Souls 1; in the supreme boss room of that area; he wears as a crown the former supreme lord of that area. This is because he devours lords; he tries to take prestige upon himself through acquisition and incorporation—greed.

Type of Player: completionist | Interest: content Aldrich is a commentary on completionist players. He is someone who “plays the game to death”, acquiring every object, reaching every achievement, devouring the soul of the game through taking everything into himself. He becomes bloated by consuming as much of the game’s content as possible. The old God whose likeness he has adopted is Gwyndolin, who was, in narrative terms, the one pulling the strings in the land of the Gods. And in gameplay terms, he is a secret boss. So on both counts we have someone who is elusive, and exists more or less at the boundary of the gameworld. When a player tries to see every last little morsel of a game, they become somewhat like Gwyndolin, a manipulator of a virtual world. If you know too much about a game, you have the risk of being less immmersed.

Yhorm Posion: Delusion In Buddhism, the poison of delusion secretly underlies the other two poisons, as the impulse toward hatred and greed are ultimately born of some false view about reality. This is akin to how the profaned capital sits below the rest of the kingdoms. To beat Yhorm you essentially have to “play pretend” with him, picking up a fake super-weapon, or fighting alongside Siegward, a knight who appears to be somewhat deluded about the state of the world, enthralled in the same fantasy as Yhorm himself.

Type of Player: lore researcher | Interest: meaning The profaned capital is full of statues—fixed images of myth; and empty goblets—treasures with no utility. Not to mention the area with the swamp which is full of symbolic imagery, but serves no narrative or mechanical purpose. The entire profaned capital challenges us to make sense of it; it is the ultimate temptation of lorekeepers in DS3. It throws at us a disproportionate amount of reference to DS2, which is famous among Souls players as the least thematically sensible Souls game. The Greatshield of Glory is found right outside Yhorm’s room, in a conspicuous room full of treasure, and yet it is a very impractical shield and offers very little lore value. If a lore-minded player picks it up, it directs them to a legendary personage from the War of Giants, which raises far more questions than it answers. The same is true of much of this area—the Eleanora, the Monstrosities, the Profaned Flame itself—they are all there to get you to speculate. These are the players who come to Souls games again and again, trying to find the “ultimate meaning.” They seek the grail, claim to find it, and then chuck in a pile with the others.

Yhorm's story also imitates the primordial Artorias myth: forsaking his shield in preservation of something more valuable. Other than that Yhorm is largely a cipher when it comes to biography, with a void for a face, which itself epitomizes what must remain at the center of mythology and storytelling: mystery.

Sit Down and Seek Guidance So we have the three reasons that people become fixated on Souls: the combat, the achievements, and the mystery. But there is a fourth lord of cinder boss, who is conceptually apart from these three: the Lothric Twins. They represent yet another kind of person who must keep playing Dark Souls: the developers. Lothric is striving to produce “a worthy heir,” a proper sequel to Dark Souls 1. The Princes are bound to their chamber as the developers are bound to their project, as that is their curse—“but you may rest here too, if you like.” In this context we can see their duality as the dual nature of having to work on the game and also play it to death. The privilege and the loftiness of the promise of a great piece of art (Lothric), and also having to go back "into the trenches" of the work itself (Lorian). Notably, neither of them can walk, they just teleport around. They are stuck at work, trying to bring the new world into being. Also I can’t go this whole essay without mentioning the obvious: that the Ashen One is bringing Lords to their thrones, and we players and developers have to assume our little chairs and couches when we access this world.

Playing Beyond the Point of Pleasure Of course the most extreme example of someone stubbornly remaining in the world no matter what is Slave Knight Gael. He is looking for pigment, which seems to be a euphemism for the substance of humanity (the Dark Soul). He wants to give it to the painter, the world-creator, so that a new world can be made. He is willing to indulge in a wasteland of abject violence for as long as it takes in order to renew something. Ironic that he is probably only prolonging the current world in his obsessive drive to recycle it faster.

Let’s examine the relationship between the figure of the painter and her relationship to Gael. That she is a spiritual entity is obvious: we never see her touch the ground, she is always in an upper room and lifted on a piece of furniture. Among other things, she is a clear metaphor for life springing eternally. A creative child who continues to paint despite kidnapping and imprisonment. She is the heart of the painted world, itself a place that symbolizes the idea of the representation of reality.

I want to make sure this is clear, because it is a bit of a kaleidoscope to consider. Any subject in Dark Souls stands for many things, but something that the painted world specifically represents is the very concept of representation. So of course the places in our imaginations are painted worlds, but so is this physical world of appearance, the maya of mundane reality. Not to mention that a work of art is a painted world, and the game we’re discussing is a painted world. When a work of art is able to recreate itself in itself, we can see this funny effect of mirrors reflecting mirrors infinitely. This results in seemingly inexhaustible symbolic content—there is so much potential to find meaning and create connections. Because Moby Dick represents a work of literature; the Tempest represents a play; Twin Peaks represents a TV show, these works can offer extensive insights not only into their medium but into the nature of reality. In these and other examples, the representation of the medium within the work may or may not be a single subject, but since Dark Souls is formally a game about levels and level design, the painted world is the heart of its self-reflexivity. The painted world can be pointed to as the summary of this fractal device. And the personification of that device, its ambassador to the player, is the painter.

The miracle or divine child is also an archetype familiar to us from Lothric, in their struggle to produce the “worthy heir.” Reality seeks salvation through the appearance of grace. They want it in a clear, incontestable form—to be able to point at it and say, "thank goodness we went through all that, because look, now here is the meaning, here is that which validates all that came before." In the world of Dark Souls 3 the religion of the masses is the Lothric stuff; meanwhile knowledge of the painted world is much more obscure. Lothric’s religion is obviously regulated and hierarchical, while Gael’s devotion to the painter is highly personal and private: he carries around a scrap of painting; he prostrates to a hidden idol in a small chapel; he considers the painter his family. He is emotionally close to the object of his worship.

But whether it’s Lothric or Ariandel, they are anticipating the divine child to redeem the world. As an archetype, the child ultimately represents surprise. The possibility of being delighted by life in its creative novelty. The child as an archetype appears in our own behavior when we do something without any sort of contrivance or mental interference, doing something in the world which doesn’t seem to have come from who we conceive ourselves to be. This is miraculous. Such an action enchants the world, and there is no explaining it, even if it may weave all kinds of stories around itself, retroactively framing things that have led up to it as portents or promises. (Though not exclusive to him, this trait is well-known in characterizations of Christ, and DS3 is clearly indebted to Christian iconography, so do with that what you will). Regardless of the specific cultural invocation, the divine child is a personification of something that happens within the human spirit. TFW you are renewed by a fresh and spontaneous engagement with life.

The grace of the miraculous often comes to us through play. Play is more of an attitude than an activity; the feeling of play may come to us through making a painting, or chatting with a friend, or moving around in a video game. We can play video games idly, competitively, experimentally, creatively, studiously, whatever, the feeling of “play” can show up regardless. We can sit there playing a certain game from a certain motivation, and feel totally rote and joyless, and question, “Why am I doing this?” Or we might sit there and play the same game with the same motivation, feeling totally lit up by it, its purpose to us obvious and self-validating. We are not even questioning why we are doing it, we are enjoying life.

This is really the ground that the miraculous tends to land on. Grace, meaning, and an immanent love of life are more likely to show up when we are in flow and not exercising our capacity for self-assessment. But like everything in life, we mistake the images and objects around us for the feeling of grace. Any given object might only be the catalyst once; it’s not about the object. This is extremely easy to see in cases of acute nostalgia; adults chase enchantment through collecting Zelda memorabilia or going to Disneyland, in pursuit of what kindled their spirit as a child. It was never really the game or the character that was doing it, it was what they were able to access within themselves.

So anyway Gael has yet to realize this. He thinks the Dark Soul is out there in something else. That it will be yielded as a drop if he just kills the right enemy, or 10,000 enemies, or goes to the right place at the right time. You can see that this is something of a synthesis of all the other Buddhist defilements: there are elements of completionism/greed, violence/hatred, mysticism/delusion. There is even the suggestion of the developer of these games again, in that Gael is a “slave,” forced into participation in the world to assist some creative apotheosis. (Isn’t it funny that his weapon is a worn-down executioner’s sword?—whether the person coding or the person playing, we are all “executing” command after command). The thing that really keeps him on the wheel is something beyond any of the player types and their vices; it is almost some sort of pure, amoral automatism, a churning drive that on one side resembles wanton nihilism, and on another side single-minded piousness. Is one disguised as the other, or has Gael somehow stepped beyond this binary? Yet another dichotomy in Dark Souls that begs to be reconciled, but whose tension creates the opportunity to participate creatively in its expansive mythology. When things are held apart we can move between them.

To really understand Gael, we have to contend with the question of a person’s relationship to their own soul, since that relationship is so plainly suggested by Gael and the painter. (This question, by the way, is much elaborated in Elden Ring, with its repeated foregrounding of the image of the maiden or “consort”). If we were to see Gael and the painter as partitions within one person--whether she is his soul, or his inner life, or his better nature, whatever—then in any case Gael is the side which goes out into the world and experiences it. He is the creative extension into the world as its active participant and realizer. Yet he is clothed as the warrior, the executioner. While the one who is dressed as the artist, the painter, just stays in her room and imagines the world—but this is where the magic of creation is really felt. We involve ourselves in life, or in a game, but we are only really changed and renewed when that exterior experience is “brought home” into the inner life. We do something “in the game,” but the act of “painting,” in renewing the world through our creative interpretation, is a decidedly interior experience.

#dark souls #dark souls 3 #lords of cinder #game entrainment #dark souls analysis #dark souls lore #ariandel #slave knight gael #the painted world

74 notes · View notes

inthelittlewood · 9 months

Note

Hey Martyn! So, I got into your lore because of Grian's Life Series, and now I'm just trying to find some stuff out. Anyways, I understand most of it, though I do have a couple questions.

What actually are LOOT shards/crystals? I know that they're soke aort of corruption in games of sorta, but how do they get there, how to they affect the game, and also how to disable them. It's just something I'm wondering about since I know you have to find the one piece, of treasure, but how does it actually help?

What are CHEST agents? I know that they're something almost as evil as Cruppy, which is really saying something, but what actually are they?

Are there any extra lore bits in Rats SMP that you can't get anywhere else? I just wanna know if I should grit my teeth and watch it sometime, when I'm done catching up on the VODs of Pirates (can't make it to streams for personal reasons, alas).

If you've come up with it, is there any way that the Watchers lore from the Life Series ties into the datastream hopper lore? Those two just seem a little incompatible to me - hopping the datastream, being captured by mysterious godlike entities... Or are they just two separate universes?

Do you plan on posting the New Life streams on your vods channel?

Who in Pirates is p!Martyn closest to in each faction, overall?

Also, I think you may have mentioned it on stream, but did you take the faction quiz and if so, which faction did you get? I kid you not, when I took it I got Kestrels all three times (with changing the answers to stuff that I would still do, but different than first time, I mean). Had to change it up just to see all the different faction descriptions...

Ok, I think that's it. Sorry if I have bad formatting btw, I'm typing this out on phone. Thank you for taking the time to read my questions! Absolutely love your work and lore, while at the same time having the humour some don't. Keep on doing an amazing job. Hope you find your one piece, of treasure.

Have an ice day!

That's something I want to unveil in the next lore drop, so I'm really sorry to say SoonTM but this lore doesn't have all that many secrets atm

2. C.H.E.S.T agents work are avatars controlled by human operators working for C.H.E.S.T and its evil underbelly. They're a known and trusted public computing corporation but the public doesn't know the full extent of their goals and resources

3. I try to be pretty concise and unavoidable when I do my lore stuff, so you should be able to find the Rats segments in this playlist with ease: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL3MFbfp1zo8dooC57HqfbizRoc07PdlFQ

4. Maaaaaaybe, people have noticed some parallels / links and all shall be revealed one day for sure, even if I'm like gonna quit doing videos and streaming, I'd just lore dump whatever isn't revealed so it's out there ha

5. A lot of my New Life streams are me just doing the grindy parts of the SMP and with the server being somewhat inactive I want to save the crossover / collab content for the videos - I'm not sure people would flock to a 3 hour vod of me painfully and slowly building an outpost or hollowing out a mountain to make a factory ya know?

6. Kestrels - probably Sausage, with Oli as a close second. Herons - Owen or Water. Owen has an inquisitive gene like Martyn and Water likes all things musical. Nightingales - Ros is so different to Martyn that it makes for some wholesome and chaotic interations, you never know which you'll get. Kites - Bek is basically the only one he's interacted with, he had a little banter on the seas with Kuervo but it was brief

7. I did! I surprisingly got Kestrel, or I guess, not surprisingly huh?

#itlwlore #piratessmp #pirates smp #scurvyblr #inthelittlewood

190 notes · View notes

the-boy-meets-evil · 7 months

Note

Hi. In honor of Jewel, I’d like to request something with Seokjin and his d*ck resting on the counter lmao

pairing: best friend!seokjin x gn!reader genre: friends/idiots to lovers, humor, fluff word count: 1245 & 2 texts rating: mature (because they're talking about the dick perch, there's no smut) warnings: they talk about the dick perch, they're both kind of menaces, jimin makes a brief background appearance a/n: this is the first request i got for @ugh-yoongi's birthday drabble event and i completely lost it. i also hope it's not just me that thinks this is funny. but it's okay if it is 😂 also i promise there is literally no angst, the title is just something they tease each other about fun piece of jewel lore: we (i) tried to get this picture screen printed on a cake for a surprise bachelorette party for jewel. not only did the bakery not understand the assignment, but the cake wasn't even good. so, a definite fail, but the thought was there.

There’s a lot that you’ve just gotten used to during your friendship with Seokjin. That he’s always going to ask you to taste some new recipe he’s trying when you come over for dinner. That he’s always going to have the absolute best wine and turn his nose up when you show up with something cheap. That he uses the perfect meal to say the things he can’t. That he’s actually the best cook you’ve met without ever taking any classes. That you can’t interrupt him when he’s in the middle of playing a video game without getting a lecture or it actually being an emergency. That he doesn’t feel at home in large groups and, despite all his charm, he would rather be off to the side. Or, better yet, home in his pajamas. That, in some ways, he never fully grew up. That he’s always going to be there for you in his own way, even if he doesn’t have the words. That his laugh is always going to be one of your favorite sounds, even if it’s also completely obnoxious.

But, worst of all, you have to accept the fact that he is always going to be painfully hot no matter what. It didn’t really bother you the first time you met him. He was charming and dorky and had the worst sense of humor (that had you barely able to breathe from laughing). No, it wasn’t until a group of you had gone out drinking and you crashed at Seokjin’s apartment that you truly realized the unfairness of it all. You woke up feeling like death warmed over, make-up smudged with bags under your eyes and hair going in unnatural directions. Seokjin, by contrast, came walking into the kitchen bare-faced and still looking like he was photoshoot ready. Talk about irritating.

That’s not actually the worst of it, you realize, when you get a text from your best friend. He’s dying his hair, a feat you told him would be better left until you could get there to help him. But he’s also stubborn, sometimes, so he carries on anyway. The proof is in a picture that he sends to you showing him in the bathroom with gloves on and purple on his previously bleached blond hair. You’re considering if his hands have always been that big or if the gloves make them look bigger when you notice something else. Something else that looks...big. Something else you definitely should not be looking at.

He’s fucking with you. He absolutely has to be fucking with you. Because there is no way that he has his dick fully resting on the counter without noticing it. And there’s no way that it’s just a fold in his pants. There’s also no way you’re going to admit to your best friend that one of the first things you noticed was the outline of his dick resting on the counter. You’re pretty sure you don’t even want to think that word again. So, fine. If he wants to post that photo exactly as it is, who are you to stop him?

Ten minutes later you get the notification that he’s posted the picture to Instagram, which is much less time than it usually takes him to pick the right filter and the right caption. You only know because he turned your notifications on for him one day and acted affronted that you might turn them off. Even still, as your little way to regain some semblance of control in the friendship, you wait until you like it. It’s the small things.

However, when you do go to like it, you see a much higher number of likes than normal, along with several people commenting heart eyes or fire emojis under it. One comment sticks out, though, from yours and Seokjin’s friend, Jimin. All it says is: hyung, i’m not sure you thought this out before posting. You snort to yourself immediately because leave it to Jimin to just come out and say it. You can imagine the text conversation as you sit there. Can almost hear Jimin’s real laugh and Seokjin’s reaction. When your own phone rings, it startles you out of the thought.

“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?” Seokjin nearly screeches before you finish saying hello.

“Hi to you too,” you respond.

“No, sorry, was that what you meant when you said I should crop it?” Seokjin carries on.

“I’m missing several pieces to whatever you’re trying to ask,” you answer even though you do know what he means. You’ve known Seokjin long enough to know that he texted Jimin and to guess at how that chat went.

“Please don’t act dumb, you already liked my photo,” he starts.

“Because you forbid me from turning off your notifications and missing out on, to quote you, your incredible hotness that’s a gift to us all,” you interject.

“And I know you must have seen the comments, so you saw Jimin,” Seokjin carries on like you hadn’t interrupted.

“Jimin says a lot of things,” you counter.

“Well I called him and he informed me that you can clearly see my dick outlined through my pants on the counter. And then when I said you suggested cropping the picture, he laughed for a full minute before telling me to call you and hanging up,” Seokjin explains.

You curse internally. Just like there’s a lot to get used to with your friendship with Seokjin, there’s even more to accept with your friendship with Jimin. He’s actually really grounded and reliable. The kind of person you can tell anything to. The only problem? He never forgets and makes damn sure you never do either. Case in point: your crush on your best friend.

“Well?” Seokjin prompts when you’re quiet for too long.

“Well what?” you ask.

“Were you looking at my dick in the picture? Is that why you suggested I crop it?” Seokjin continues on, unashamed.

“Ew, don’t say it like that,” you deflect.

“Say what like what?” he asks.

“You know, your…just don’t say it like that,” you stumble.

“You can’t even say it,” Seokjin barks out, obnoxious laugh making you pull the phone away from your ear.

“That wasn’t what I was looking at anyway,” you lie.

“You’re a terrible liar,” Seokjin says, but it’s soft in a way you’re not used to. “But hey, I actually wanted to try this new recipe if you wanted to come over for dinner.”

“Seokjin, are you asking me out?” There’s something about the softness in his voice that makes you bold. Makes you think maybe you’re not in this alone.

“What? No, of course not!” he nearly shouts, voice pitching up at the end.

“You can’t even say it,” you tease back.

Seokjin grumbles on the other end of the call. “Fine, you don’t have to.”

“I’d love to come have dinner with you, but only if you admit it’s a date,” you offer.

“It’s not a…actually, yes I’ll call it a date if…” Seokjin starts.

“Yes, Jin, I was looking at your dick,” you say quickly. “Okay, see you tonight for dinner!”

You hang up the phone before he can say anything else and have a moment of satisfaction imagining his face. It’s so easy to see the way he’d look at his phone, the way the blush on his ears would give him away. You think, for the first time in awhile, this might all be okay.

#jewel's birthday drabbles #seokjin drabble #seokjin fluff #seokjin fanfic #seokjin x reader #seokjin x you #jin fanfic #jin fluff #jin imagine #seokjin imagine #jin x reader #jin x you #bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts scenarios #kvanity

101 notes · View notes

monstersdownthepath · 1 month

Text

A pair of new deities

Well, sort of new. One of them is entirely original, but the first one is actually based on a comedic aside found in Agents of Edgewatch: Assault on Hunting Lodge Seven, where he's listed among a few of the notable names to try and miserably fail to take on the Test of the Starstone. In both cases, however, these deities are involved with the Starstone, a bit of lore I've not really touched before due to my preference for cosmic horror.

In reality, both of these could be full articles on their own, but I feel like they're not 'big' enough to get two individual pages. Maybe one day I'll change my mind. For now, though, here's a look at Veelich, the God of Failure, and Wittiby, the God of Familiars.

VEELICH, THE UNWANTED Chaotic Neutral God of Failure, Outcasts, and Falling Forever In Bottomless Pits

Domains: Chaos, Darkness, Luck, Protection, Void Subdomains: Caves*, Shadow, Curse, Imagination, Solitude, Isolation* Favored Weapon: Club Symbol: A hole or trench with a goblin hand reaching out of it. Sacred Animal: None Sacred Color: Green and yellow *Followers of Veelich can modify either the Darkness or Void Domains with the Caves Subdomain, and the Darkness Domain with the Isolation Subdomain.

Veelich the Unwanted was once known as the unluckiest goblin in all of Absalom, if not the Inner Sea, or perhaps even the world. Not a day went by that he didn't stub his toe, slam his fingers against something, spill his drinks and food, bump into the wrong person, or open his mouth and accidentally insult the very wrong person. To many, it felt as though he couldn't have possibly been doing it on accident; no one alive could be so cursed! Certainly, he was doing this for attention! But Veelich repeatedly insisted, sometimes tearfully, sometimes full of fury, that he wasn't doing anything on purpose, and near as anyone could tell, he was being genuine. Things just happened to him, constantly, and perhaps his only solace (or perhaps his true curse) is that he hadn't been killed for it yet.

That all changed when he tried to take the Test of the Starstone, so people thought. Like every aspirant, Veelich had to first make it inside the cathedral, and to do that, he had to first bypass the bottomless pit which surrounded it. Like so very, very many aspirants before him, the first challenge proved to be insurmountable, and to his credit, he did go all out on his attempt. He had purchased a powerful potion of Jump to heroically leap into the air, a sturdy parachute to glide the rest of the way, and a sturdy security line attached to a powerful, magic stake in the ground in case his luck went sour (as it always did), and even a Ring of Sustenance to both avoid the risk of food poisoning AND assure that his goblin appetite didn't force him to do anything stupid once he finally got into the cathedral.

What he did not know was that his Jump potion was on a discount due to being largely expired, its effects not nearly as dramatic as they should have been, his parachute wasn't secured properly, and a citizen passing by as he set up had accidentally dripped some savory sauce on his safety line, attracting the attention of a voracious rat. Even if none of those incidents had occurred, the sheer number of good luck charms he had brought with him in the hopes of stabilizing his cursed luck would have weighed him down anyway, but fate did not have to work especially hard to send him screaming into the darkness, Ring of Sustenance assuring he wouldn't even die quickly, never to be seen or heard again... For about five or so years.

It was, perhaps, more surprising for Veelich than it was for the first of his unintentional Clerics, Oracles, Antipaladins, and the like to find out that he had achieved a measure of divine apotheosis as he fell endlessly in that pit; he had gotten so used to talking to figments of his imagination as he fell that it took his devoted several months to convince him that they were real, and that he had actually succeeded in his goal of becoming a god... But not in the way he had wanted. In a cruel cosmic jest, the cruelest yet, his attempts at becoming the God of Overcoming Adversity had cemented him as the God of Failure, a figure of mockery and a target of endless jokes, all of which he gets to hear every time someone mentioned him by name. He doesn't even get a proper divine realm, instead having been transported, at some point, to a dark pocket of the Maelstrom that perfectly imitates the pit he spent his final few years as a mortal falling through. His divine portfolio doesn't lend itself to any particularly major miraculous acts; he's mostly a sponge and scapegoat for misfortune and curses, which he then passes onto his followers so that they may then pass them onto their foes (provided they don't perish miserably from the influx of cursed power).

It's not all bad, though. In a way, his bad luck never actually killed him, and though his power isn't especially impressive when compared to that of a proper Ascended, it DOES give him hope that one day, he will be able to find out who or what worked to make him so miserable in his mortal life.

As a proper god, Veelich can grant Boons to any creature taking the Deific Obedience feat, but he does not possess a dedicated Prestige Class such as Feysworn or Diabolist. Boons are typically gained slowly, achieved at levels 12, 16, and 20, but by entering the Evangelist, Exalted, or Sentinel Prestige Classes as early as possible, they can be obtained at levels 8, 11, and 14 instead. While normally a full god would grant three sets of Boons, Veelich isn't powerful or especially creative enough to come up with more than one. Perhaps, in time, he will.

Obedience: Either find or create a hole deep enough to hide your entire head inside, then do so. Spend at least half an hour making casual (though one-sided) conversation about what's been going on in your life so Veelich gets some respite from the deluge of frantic prayers, then you may devote the remaining time to redirecting any misfortune or accidents you have suffered or believe you will suffer to him. Benefit: Gain a +4 sacred or profane bonus to saving throws against curses, and to Climb and Athletics checks.

Boon 1: Cruel Irony (Sp): Gain Jump 3/day, Create Pit 2/day, or Curse of Befouled Luck 1/day.

Boon 2: Curse Sponge (Sp): Common faithful believe Veelich will soak up all their bad luck and misfortune, but you know that prayer isn't enough. Sometimes you have to roll up your sleeves and do it yourself. Up to three times per day, you may cast Accept Affliction as a spell-like ability, except you may use it on any creature within 20ft rather than as a touch spell. If you've absorbed at least three separate afflictions from another being with this ability (whether it be all in a single casting, or one affliction per casting) within the same 24 hour period, Veelich redirects a portion of your suffering; once within the next 24 hours, you can cast Bestow Curse as a spell-like ability.

Boon 3: Screaming Into the Darkness (Sp): Once per day, you may give a foe a taste of what the God of Failure had to deal with. This acts as using the Maze spell as a spell-like ability, except instead of sending a victim into an extradimensional labyrinth, it sends them falling into a bottomless pit inside of which flight--magical or mundane--is impossible. As such, the victim does not make Intelligence checks to escape, but must instead succeed Climb checks (DC 15 + 1/2 your Hit Dice + your Charisma modifier): the first to catch themselves and stop from falling, then 2 additional successful Climb checks for each round they failed to stop themselves from falling (thus a creature that fell for 3 rounds would need to make 6 successful Climb checks to fully emerge from the pit). A creature that fails to escape the pit reappears at the location they disappeared from falling at terminal velocity, taking 20d6 bludgeoning damage the moment they hit a solid surface.

--------

WITTIBY, THE SAGE OF SMALL MAGIC True Neutral God of Familiars, Cantrips, and Arcane Study

Domains: Animal, Community, Knowledge, Magic, Strength Subdomains: Animal*, Cooperation, Education, Arcane, Resolve Favored Weapon: Quarterstaff Symbol: An animal-patterned spellbook with a pearl clasp Sacred Animal: Any familiar Sacred Color: Lime green *Followers of Wittiby may select any of the Subdomains under the Animal Domain.

Disparagingly called the Undeserving God by many, the tale of Wittiby is a strange one, a story tinged with hubris, tragedy, and lost friends. They were once the proud assistance of an archmage, a familiar created from a beloved pet and instilled with a grasp of the mystic and the arcane. Who their archmage was, and what shape they had before their ascension, are both memories that were lost to them during the trauma experienced within the Starstone Cathedral.

No one is ever prepared for the Test of the Starstone, no matter how great their power. The archmage was no different, confidently striding across the bottomless pit with a powerful Wind Walk spell and deftly avoiding the pockets of dead magic sent up to stop them before throwing open the cathedral's doors as though they were the doors of the mage's own tower. All the while, Wittiby was on their shoulder, cheering them on as the doors closed behind them, sealing their fates.

What, exactly, happened within the cathedral is something they will not say, though they obviously remember it with perfect clarity. All they reveal is that their beloved archmage, whose name was taken from them, survived every trial the Starstone Cathedral placed in their path... every trial but the last one, in the Starstone's own chamber, which took their life. Though, by all accounts, the archmage appears to have been a haughty, self-aggrandizing blowhard, their final act was one of pure kindness, sealing their beloved familiar--pet, associate, friend--in a bubble of force to protect them from the terrible backlash of arcane severance to try and teleport them out of the Cathedral, wishing only for Wittiby to escape the cathedral and the rest of their life free, but fate had other plans in store.

Someone touched the Starstone that day, after all. It just wasn't the one who opened the door.

When asked what possessed them to do such a thing, Wittiby claims that they planned to use their divine powers to turn their archmage into their Herald, restoring them to life. It was not to be, though, and for such a selfless wish, the familiar's cataclysmic ascension event tore all records of who the archmage was from reality so thoroughly that no one who was there the very day they strolled into town could even recall the mage's face or name. Going even further, Wittiby's form became protean and chaotic, shifting between dozens of animals in the span of minutes, to rob them of the shape their master gave them. All they have left is their master's spellbook, bereft of details of their life but cover-to-cover full of immense arcane knowledge.

Whether this apparent cosmic cruelty is some form of punishment from the Starstone itself for trying to bypass its rules, a price paid by all Ascended that they simply do not speak of or cannot remember (Wittiby's arcane bond to their master may be the sole reason they recall anything about them), the fate of any being to make it to the center of the cathedral but who failed the final test or, as many sneer, the price paid for Wittiby all but literally riding their way to the Starstone without doing any real work, is the subject of conjecture... even by Wittiby theirself, who isn't yet sure if they even deserve their position.

Still getting used to their place as a new god, Wittiby's dour mood has yet to fully lift, but they find joy where they can in their new duties as God of Small Magics. Every time an aspirant caster learns a new cantrip, casts their first spell, and forges (or deepens) a bond with their familiar, the world gets a little bit brighter for the Shapeless Sage. Their time as a god is a mere handful of years, their faithful a scant handful in number, knowledge of their very existence all but unheard of beyond Absalom, so time will yet tell what sort of god they will grow to be as the passing years heal their wounds and scars over their memories. For the moment they are content performing small blessings to protect mages and their bonded allies from danger when they can, and putting hopeful casters on the path to discovering and mastering their first spells.

As a proper god, Wittiby can grant Boons to any creature taking the Deific Obedience feat, but they do not possess a dedicated Prestige Class such as Feysworn or Diabolist. Boons are typically gained slowly, achieved at levels 12, 16, and 20, but by entering the Evangelist, Exalted, or Sentinel Prestige Classes as early as possible, they can be obtained at levels 8, 11, and 14 instead. While normally a full god would grant three sets of Boons, Wittiby is too new to divinity to offer more than one.

Obedience: Practice magic with your familiar or animal companion for at least one hour. If you are not a caster or do not have a familiar/animal companion, spend at least one hour either researching magical theory or caring for an animal which trusts you. Benefit: Whenever you, your familiar, or your animal companion performs the Aid Another action, your target gains an additional +2 sacred or profane bonus to their check.

Boon 1: The Essentials (Sp): Gain Magic Missile 3/day, Levitate 2/day, or Tiny Hut 1/day

Boon 2: Hedge Wizardry (Su/Sp): The blessing of the God of Small Magic gives you mastery over the smallest magic there is: cantrips. Each time you complete your Obedience, select three cantrips from an Arcane caster class (Magus, Sorcerer, Summoner, Witch, or Wizard). You may cast these cantrips at will as spell-like abilities for the next 24 hours. In addition, once per round as a swift action, you may cast any level 0 spell you know (be it a cantrip, knack, orison, etc) with a casting time of 1 standard action or less, including the ones gained from this Boon.

Boon 3: Constant Companion (Sp): The pain of losing one's treasured companion can be crippling, and Wittiby seeks to alleviate that pain as quickly as they possibly can. You may cast True Resurrection once per day as a spell-like ability, but only to return a creature's bonded companion to life. This includes familiars, bonded mounts (like that of a Paladin or Cavalier), animal companions and, if need be, eidolons. This does NOT include hirelings or cohorts gained via Leadership. You may use this ability to resurrect bonded companions other than your own. Using this ability as an excuse to repeatedly send bonded companions into danger against their will is seen as an abuse of Wittiby's gift and may provoke their wrath.

#original concepts #Pathfinder

46 notes · View notes

becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 1 year

Text

Doctor Who, but Chronologically 26

It's 1913 and fuck me but this episode fucks like a rabid rhino as it's time for Human Nature.

Holy.

Shit.

And it kind of makes sense! Remember when the Tennant Doctor talked to Jackson Lake? And told him about how Time Lords sometimes store memories in fob watches? And then remember how Tecteun and the Ood had a fob watch they used to be a dick to the Whittaker Doctor? And she was maybe going to open it? Fob watch! We know all about these!!!

So, we start with Tennant and Martha, sprinting into the TARDIS to escape "The Family". These, it transpires, are aliens made of lurid green gas who can possess people, so we're off to a simply fantastic start right there in terms of saving the budget. To escape them the Doctor turns himself human, and gets Martha to basically guard him in The Past because as a human he remembers nothing, which

A) means we are treated to David Tennant's acting changing to being Subtly Wrong, right down to the way he smiles, which is unsettling as fuck; and

B) fucking sucks ASS for Martha because she's now a black maid in a posh white English boarding school and this episode is not interested in portraying posh white English boarding schoolers in 1913 as anything other than raging cock-heads who make you glad there's a world war around the corner to wipe two thirds of them out.

Although I say English. That's St Ffagans, that is. With some exteriors up by Llangors. I know my Welsh historical sites.

Anyway, Martha yeets herself bodily up the rankings with this one. She's capable, and clever, and marooned in a fucking awful time as a bodyguard for a man who doesn't remember her and treats her like shit, and she is so achingly alone. She's stored the TARDIS in a shed, and she goes to it for some normalcy, and to dream of going home. She's made friends with Jenny, another maid, and their friendship is sweet and wholesome, the only bright spot left, and the whole thing would make you weep if only, um, Freema's acting was good.

(I'm sorry I adore her but she is just... very hammy)

So it's very depressing when Jenny becomes an alien host.

BUT it's also an AMAZING SCENE, because Martha has managed to source some afternoon tea for them to share, and Jenny comes in and is Weird, and Martha doesn't just notice - in a move that had me going "Well THIS scene was written by a Welshman," she looks Jenny in the eye and says "Okay, shall I put some gravy in the teapot? We could have jam and herring." And Jenny falls for it just as a changeling would, and Martha gets the fuck out. Incredible. Martha for the win. Everyone should know their changeling lore. Martha clearly does. Good girl.

Although shout out to the Family actually; the Daughter is a little girl with a red balloon and the same nursery rhyme backing track as the sinister little girl with the red balloon in Remembrance of the Daleks who turned out to be possessed by a Dalek or some shit, which is very cool, although these little girls with red balloons and sinister nursery rhyme backing tracks are about as good at acting as each other, which is to say, not really. BUT the Son is played by what's his tits off of Game of Thrones, you know the one? Played the little blond inbred lad who loved dragons. He's fantastic in this! Plays it with just the right amount of menace and charm, it's great. It could easily have become hammy and undermined it, but it's just great. Who knew you could sniff in a frightening manner and make your eyes glow with the Power of Acting alone?

Um, what else, what else... oh yeah, the Doctor as a human is a trembling virgin who gets a girlfriend played by Jessica Hynes. He falls down some stairs because he's so flustered about asking her to a dance. He literally starts saying "Um, I've never..." before kissing her, as though that's at all news to anyone watching.

Anyway, plot-wise, the Doctor dreams of his real life and has written it all down in a dream journal, which he insists on explaining to every woman who looks his way with the tediousness of people who keep dream journals everywhere. He keeps the fob watch on the mantlepiece. He has left a list of instructions for Martha, of which number 23 is to open the watch as a last resort.

But, one of the students in the boarding school is that kid from Love, Actually who later was an American chess player in the Queen's Gambit (side note, I swear like half the cast in the Queen's Gambit was British and putting on lacklustre American accents). Turns out this kid is Mildly Psychic in the way that people often are in RTD's era because why the fuck not, and so he has, in fact, stolen the fob watch because it spoke to him. Occasionally he opens it and learns about Time Lords, but that means the Family can smell the Doctor. This means Martha tries to open the watch, only to find it missing.

So they all go to the dance, which is in the old Oakdale Working Men's Club, and my dad used to go drinking there. It's in St Ffagans now. They're moving the Vulcan there just next door which is fun, because I used to go drinking in the Vulcan, so it'll be two generations of us moved to a museum. I've forgotten what I was talking about.

So they all go to the dance. Unfortunately, this includes the Family, who are armed with a heady mix of alien guns and extraneous scarecrows. In a cliffhanger that lets down the rest of the episode, they grab Martha and Jessica Hynes, and tell a very confused Doctor that he has to change back from human or pick which of these women to kill. It feels a bit needlessly stapled on, tbh. But it's nice to see Oakdale Workies again.

Anyway I think no new questions? Other than "How will they get out of this?" but the second half is next even on this batshit watch order, so we can ignore that one. That's fun. However we do still have a fob watch hanging plot thread for Whitaker, so there's that.

The list!

“She” (an unknown person) is returning (perhaps River returned as Missy. Maybe Me? Maybe Clara???!)

There is something on Donna’s back

An entire planet, Pyrovilia, just… disappeared, somehow. (Maybe because the TARDIS is exploding??? Saturnine was also lost, and that WAS because of the TARDIS exploding. The lion man’s planet was also lost but he was a bit of a knob about it if I’m honest.)

Amy is maybe dead (she’s not)

The Doctor has been cubed (he’s out, but how?)

River is possibly blown up (unless she’s Missy)

The TARDIS has blown up (It’s fine now. Except it’s sort of melting now because it’s corrupted, but it’s fine again)

The universe appears to have ended (the universe is back again)

The Doctor has employed(?) Nardole (And Nardole was “reassembled???”)

There’s a vault in the TARDIS and it contains Missy but we don’t know why (sometimes she knocks for the bants)

What has happened to all these companions and where are the new ones coming from?

There’s an immortal Viking girl now. Her name is Me and she’s now looking after the people the Doctor abandons

What’s With The Silence?

Why was Rory entirely unconcerned by the entire world suddenly going silent when that is Not Normal and should have been, at the very least, extremely disconcerting?

What did the Doctor do to Queen Lizzie One?

Who is Captain Jack Harkness? (Is he the one who gave the companions a warning about the lone cyberman?)

Why is Amy seeing a one-eyed woman in a vanishing window?

What’s with the Doctor’s future involving getting shot by an astronaut?

Is Amy pregnant and why is it inconclusive?

Who is Sarah-Jane Smith?

How is the Doctor Bill’s teacher and why/where does he have an office?

What is going on with the Cyber War and the Cyberium???

Who did the Doctor lose to Cyber Conversion?

What happened with the Other Cyber War?

What happened with the Third War that deleted the void?

Why does Rose seem particularly important?

What’s with the Weeping Angel statues, and why can’t you blink at them?

What order do these Doctors go in? (Eccleston, Tennant, uncertain, Smith, Capaldi.)

Which companion just… forgot the Doctor, and how?

Yaz and Vinder are about to die as Mori/Mwri/Muuri

There is a Lupari shield around Earth.

What’s a Time War?

What’s the Rift?

What’s Bad Wolf?

What happened with Amy’s pregnancy?

In which war did the Doctor become a war criminal, and how?

Who is the Master?

Why has Amy forgotten Rory?

Is Rory plastic or not?

Why is the Doctor sulking on a cloud?

How exactly does the Doctor have a cloud?

What exactly happened with Strax to, uh, tame him?

Which friend killed Strax?

Which friend brought Strax back?

Where did this lesbian lizard and human couple come from?

What happened with Clara as Souffle Girl and the Daleks?

How does Clara actually join?

Why so many Claras?

Why is Missy apparently in robo-heaven?

Why is probably!Missy pushing Clara and the Doctor together?

What is Trensilor and what happened there?

Who is Handles?

The Doctor is about to be dissolved by a beautiful geode man

The universe is being crushed by the Flux

Will the Doctor open the fob watch? (NEW INFO: he also needs to open a fob watch as Tennant, but this presumably won't count.)

Sontarans are invading Earth again

Who is Kate?

Who is Osgood? Another name of Clara’s again?

The fuck is the deal with the Grand Serpent

#doctor whom #and yet we are continuing

263 notes · View notes

raven-at-the-writing-desk · 1 year

Note

Does the "This is all a dream orchestrated by Malleus" relate to the Yuuverse with all the Yuus repeatedly going through the story over and over again? I have seen people theorize that every time a Yuu fails, a new one starts over and I'm too sleepy to actually relate this theory to the new events that just transpired.

I think you’re talking about two popular but different theories? 🤔 (Though now it definitely seems like those two theories are converging into one…?)

There were some that believed in the time loop theory. Some powerful entity (usually said to be Crowley) summons new Yuus every time the Yuu from the previous time loop fails and/or dies. It is said that the resets usually occur when Yuu is killed by an Overblot, with the most common “death by Overblot” owing to Grim. Some also embellish the theory with ideas about Crowley’s motives and whether he is a good person or not.

There is an extension of time loop theory—the “Yuu is dead” theory; in “Yuu is dead”, the player character is theorized to be someone who died while crossing the road (yup, an isekai classic; the manga and light novel Yuu all got transported at a crosswalk), and Crowley summoned them into Twisted Wonderland after their passing to serve his own needs. Sometimes people will point to Yuu emerging from a coffin and/or Crowley avoiding the topic of bringing them home (since it’s impossible due to their “dead” status) as proof of Yuu being dead. Both time loop and Yuu is dead theory primarily stem from the many iterations of Yuus across various official TWST media (the manga, the light novel, etc).

Others believed in the dream theory, in which (much like the original Alice in Wonderland), everything in Twisted Wonderland is just a dream that someone is having. There are variations of the dream theory depending on who the dreamer is, but the most common ones I’ve seen assign the designation of dreamer to either Yuu (who has been having prophetic dreams in the main story) and Malleus (whose Disney counterpart is strongly associated with inducing sleep). Sometimes dream theory also includes evidence backed up by Silver, who appears to have some kind of vague association with Yuu and their dreams. It is worth noting that some fans do not like dream theory because they feel that it devalues the experiences had and the relationships formed if nothing was “real”.

As I said before (given what we know of the most recent main story update), it seems like people are now combining different aspects of those two theories to make a new one. The update is still pretty fresh, so I haven’t yet had the time to read up and acclimate myself with the various time loop-dream theory combinations.

One thing that I will note is interesting is??? I remember Yana saying a few years ago that we should treat TWST’s events and vignettes as AUs separate from the main story, and at the time I thought it was to make things easier for the writing team (so they didn’t have to worry about timeline stuff). But now???? I’m wondering if every event and vignette was actually a part of the dream world… The evidence is (sort of??) there!!

I normally wouldn’t include gameplay mechanics as part of a theory (since I compartmentalize meta from the story/characters/lore), but I feel that the gloves are off for this since Malleus initiated what was essentially a fourth-wall break at the end of 7-37 (booting us back to the main screen of Twisted Wonderland after forcing everyone to sleep). The part where he casts his spell is even named “Forced Game Over”, which is very on the nose for a character who is not tied to technology other than being really bad at using it. He also says a lot of foreboding things about how “it would be better for fictional characters to stay as they are forever” (not an exact translation, I’m just generalizing).

AnYWAY, my thought is??? Are the events and/or vignettes meant to be the characters dreaming (not that Malleus necessarily created the dream world, but the dream world is like their collective unconscious and/or everyone having individual dream/their own iterations)???? Because Malleus promises to send them to a world where they can be “heroes”, a place where they can find “happy endings”, where no one has to leave. Most events and/or vignettes have very carefree vibes to them or just generally non-serious conflicts. They’re usually full of tales of carefree school days.

The vignettes and events also being part of the dream world also explains why Lilia (whose magic was supposedly waning is still able to use his quite proficiently), and why some characters who would normally be somewhat hostile towards each other seem more mellowed out in some events (ie Epel and Vil having an amicable relationship in the first Halloween event when they didn’t learn to get along until episode 5, which takes place in late winter). It would also explain why sometimes main story happenings are referenced in vignettes and events, but the vignette and event happenings are not mentioned in the main story. Characters are bringing knowledge of reality into the dreams, but when they “awaken” from those dreams, they cannot recall all the details from them.

Another detail that’s pretty suspicious is the animation that plays when you’re Groovying a card 👁️ 👄 👁️ What covers the screen when you do??? That’s right—thorns, just like when Malleus casted his unique magic. Was this TWST’s indirect way of cluing us in that the whole damn game was just a dream?????? The title whenever we boot up the game was staring at us in the face with the “answer” all along: Twisted Wonderland. A dreamy place full of wonders—but just that, a dream.

xbsjsvwisview. JUST SoMETHING TO THINK ABOUT, I DuNNO 🤡 Sorry for sounding like a college professor lecturing on Disney pretty boys—

313 notes · View notes

steponmeinejghafa · 1 year

Text

Little Disturbance

Summary: Alina and Aleksander are in a meeting, when you decide to disrupt it very, very, very politely. Which later leads to a nice, fluff-filled evening.

Darklina x Fem!Child!Reader

Warnings: None. Unless you count tooth-rotting fluff!

Age: 5

Note: For the sake of the story, Baghra is alive, and both the Darkling and Alina rule Ravka.

———

To be honest, sometimes your grandmother was a bit…dull. As much as you loved hanging out in her house, eating food every waking moment, it did get a bit boring. She had no interesting books, apart from Grisha hand manuals, and some books on lore so ancient it hadn’t been translated.

Granted, she told you stories of your father when he was younger, but even stories could keep a five year old entertained so much.

“Nana,” you said, looking up from your game with a few dolls Aleksander had made for you, “When can I meet Mama and Papa?”

Baghra, who was reading by the fireplace, replied, “They’re in a meeting, child. You are not to see them till the Palace’s dinner bell goes.”

“But I wanna check if they’re okay!” You whined, leaning forward to catch at her skirt with your small hands.

“If they weren’t okay, then we’d have known by know,” sighed the woman before nudging at your hands with her own. “Stop that fiddling, child.”

You did want to meet your parents, so you made a very logical decision when your grandmother wasn’t looking.

You stood up from the floor where you’d been playing and made a run for it.

You dashed down shortcuts and pathways, laughing at Baghra’s exclamations for you to stop.

You avoided Zoya, swerved around Genya, even tripped up poor Feydor, who was trying his best not to dirty his new boots, all to get to that meeting room.

You found the massive double doors which you’d been asked to never step inside of when they were closed, and pushed them open with all your might anyway, ignoring the guards who exclaimed at you to stop.

You went unnoticed as you closed the well-oiled door carefully, and you noticed your mother’s familiar kefta as well as the bun she wore whenever she had an official meeting.

You heard your father talking authoritatively and resisted the urge to run to him, and instead walked over to your mother.

Alina gasped softly upon feeling someone tug at her kefta sleeve, and laughed softly when she saw you grinning up at her. She quickly lifted you up and placed you on her lap such that you were facing her, asking in a low voice, “Did you sneak from Nana’s house all the way here?”

“Yes,” you grinned and nodded. “I escaped.”

“Oh, yes, my little escape artist,” she chuckled, kissing your nose. “Why? We’re you bored?”

“A little,” you nodded. “But I wanted to make sure you and Papa were okay!”

“Darling, if something happened to Mama and Papa, then you’d know immediately,” she said, turning you on her lap so that you faced the rest of the council members.

“I was missing you, Mama!” You whined, leaning into her.

“Alright, little one,” smiled Alina, squeezing you a little. “Be very quiet while this meeting goes on, okay?”

You nodded and listened to your father talking, catching his eye and smiling as he shot you a wink. He looked at Alina, who shook her head, then nodded at the board which had the map of Ravka on it.

One of the councilmen, Igor Romanov, raised his hand and inquired, “Er, sir, why is there a child in the room? I believe she is too young to be listening to this conversation and,” he glanced at Alina, who was coping at you as she let you play with her fingers, “Seems to be a bit of a distraction.”

“Councilman Romanov,” said your father, his face set like stone, “I appreciate your…concern, but as long as I am not distracted by the child, I don’t think any of you should pay her any mind.”

Feydor then burst into the room, panting as he apologised profusely, “I am so sorry, sir. I will escort her to her rooms if need be—“

“There will be no need, Feydor,” said Alina turning in her chair a little to face him. “Thank you.”

“Of course, my queen,” he bowed and excused himself.

“Now, as I was saying…” Aleksander’s voice continued what he’d been discussing earlier, and you slowly began to nod off in Alina’s arms, your father’s smooth baritone voice calming to your ears.

The meeting ended shortly, and Alina smiled and cooed at your sleeping figure, as your held her hand tightly as you did. Once the councilmen emptied out, Aleksander walked over and kissed his wife’s head, then yours, which startled you awake.

“Papa!” You squealed, reaching out to hug him.

“Hello, moya malenk’ya printessa (my little princess),” he smiled and lifted you off Alina’s lap, swinging you up and placing you back down again, earning a laugh from you. “How was your time with Nana?” He placed you on his hip, your mother walking beside him.

“A bit boring,” you admitted.

“And why did you come to the meeting room after Mama told you not to?” He asked, eyebrow raised, but a smile on his face.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay!” You said, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“I-“ he faltered for a moment, caught Alina’s eye, and proceeded to burst out laughing.

“Papa! It’s not funny!” You frowned. “Mama, tell him!”

“Aleksander,” said Alina, pausing her laughter and putting on a mock-serious glare. “Y/n is right. We could have been seriously injured. She can protect us, you know.”

Aleksander wiped a tear of laughter from his eye and said, “Ah, yes, of course my love. Indeed, indeed.”

The three of you went to the main palace, where you greeted the doormen happily, who simply bowed and stepped aside for you all to enter.

“Mama,” you asked, eyes on the doormen with their stony faces and blank eyes. “Why don’t they say hello back?”

“Oh, they’re not supposed to, little one,” Alina replied, gesturing for Aleksander to place you down. “There are rules for everything and everyone here.”

“That sounds boring,” you said, running around them. “I don’t like boring things.”

“Then you must bear with your Nana, because she loves you very much,” said your father, ruffling your hair. Alina gasped and hit him on his shoulder, earning an ‘ow’ from his end.

“That is your mother, Aleksander,” she scowled.

“Yes, yes, sorry, my love,” he nodded, rubbing the place where she’d hit him.

Alina scooped you up from where you were running around and said, “Someone needs to take a bath,” she placed you on her hip and smiled at you, “My little one smells like smoke and cloves. Did Nana decide to have you help her cooking lunch?”

You nodded, “Yes!” And giggled as you pulled out the pin which kept your mother’s hair up, earning a gasp from her when she took the pin from you.

“And I though I’d be the one to do that tonight,” Aleksander whispered in his wife’s ear, making a blush spread over her cheeks.

“Aleksander, please, there is a child present,” she chided.

She took you to their room, placing you on the bed and picking out a nightdress of your choice as Aleksander tickled and laughed with you.

“Thank god, no more meetings for another two days,” laughed Alina as she took you to the bathroom, Aleksander sitting on the bed, reading a book.

“Mama,” you said, reaching for the laces of your dress. “I heard from Genya that there’s going to be a travelling circus and carnival coming to the town tomorrow ! Can we go?”

Alina helped you with the laces and smiled, “Well, if you do your lessons properly tomorrow without trying to escape, then maybe we can go.”

“Yes!” You squealed, sitting in the tub and letting her bathe you quickly, singing a soft Ravkan song to keep you occupied.

“There,” she said, tying your hair in a braid. “Now my little one’s much fresher.”

You nodded and smiled, running into your parents’ bedroom, leaping on your father with a bright grin, making him laugh and place his book away.

“Mama said we can go to the circus tomorrow!” You squealed. “You’ll come with us, right?”

“Of course, little one,” he nodded, kissing your forehead. “Family day.”

“I’m gonna win a crow figurine this time for sure!” You said, turning your stag figurine in your hands, which Alina kept on the bedside table before you’d bathed.

“What all have you won so far?” He asked, picking you up and taking you to your room, Alina close behind as she talked in a hushed voice to a servant who’d handed her a letter.

You pointed at the shelf on your bookcase which was full of animal figurines from a long time of your father and mother helping you win them at every carnival which came to town.

“I’ve got a stag, a lion, a lynx…” you rambled on, naming every single animal on your shelf, placing the stag on its place carefully.

“What do you say to a puzzle before bed?” Your father asked after having listened to your long talk about different animals.

“Puzzle!” You grinned. Aleksander knew you loved puzzles. The picture ones or the brain teasers which one of his Durasts would make almost every day, you and him always sat and solved them together. If he couldn’t do it because of work, he’d solve two with you the next day.

He pulled out two paper packages from his kefta pockets, placing them in front of you. “Which one?” He asked with a smile.

You thought for a moment and pointed at the one on the left, which he handed to you, and took the right one for himself.

You opened it to find a simple cube of interlocking pieces, one of which you took out to disassemble the whole cube.

Alina sat next to you, pulling you into her lap as you started to figure out how to solve your puzzle.

Aleksander had a wooden six-point star, which he took apart and began to try and reassemble, while Alina and you both ganged up on him, her helping you with your puzzle, while Aleksander struggled with his.

“That is not fair, you cannot use your intellectual strength to defeat me!” Complained your father.

Someone knocked at the door, and Alina placed you off her lap to open it.

“Aleksander,” she said, seeing Feydor, “It’s for you.”

Aleksander placed down his puzzle and sighed, ruffling your hair as you continued to try solving your puzzle.

Alina sat back with you, listening to you talk about random things as you took apart the puzzle for what felt like the tenth time, grumbling in frustration.

“Papa,” you whined, “I can’t solve it!”

“Just a minute, moya malen’kya printessa,” he said, before glaring back at Feydor.

Alina noticed their interaction becoming more and more heated in whispers, and decided to step in.

“Is everything alright?” Asked the Sun Summoner, frowning slightly, standing next to Aleksander.

“I have to go to Novyi Zem,” he muttered. “Tonight. The governor needs me at a meeting for their economical security matters.”

“At this hour?” Asked Alina, her brow furrowing further. “Can’t it wait? You promised Y/n about the circus and carnival.”

“I’m afraid this matter is a bit too grave, and can’t be avoided,” sighed Aleksander. “And I think the two of us will have to go.”

“Sadly yes,” said Feydor. “The governor has requested both of you to be there.”

“Oh for Saints’ sake—“ scoffed Alina. “We have a child to take care of, doesn’t anyone understand that?”

“Nannies are something I can sugges—“ Feydor began, but was cut off by a glare from both your parents.

“I refuse to be some absent parent in my child’s life for the sake of convenience, Feydor,” said your father. “Inform the governor that Alina and I will be able to make it day after tomorrow, due to personal matters.”

“Mama…” you whined trudging over to Alina and tugging at her kefta, “I need help with my puzzle!”

“If you both could take this conversation outside, I’d appreciate it,” your mother said authoritatively. She took your hand and sat on the bed, helping you with your puzzle.

“Do you and Papa have to go again?” You asked, pouting as you looked at your mother with big, watery, e/c eyes.

“No, no,” she shook her head, pulling you into her lap for a cuddle. “We are not going anywhere, my love.”

You sniffled and buried your face in her now-open hair, your small hands fisting in her kefta’s soft fabric, relaxing a bit when she rubbed your back soothingly.

Aleksander rushed over after having told Feydor what to do, and immediately asked frantically, “What’s wrong, Y/n, my love?”

You mumbled and hid your face in Alina’s neck, and she explained that you were upset because she and him might have to go away for a trip again.

Your father took you in his lap and said, “I postponed the meeting to day after, so we can go to the carnival and get you your crow figure. We are going to have the best day in history, I promise you that.”

You nodded and yawned, nuzzling into him as he patted your back gently to lull you to sleep.

“She’s a Papa’s girl for sure,” laughed Alina, caressing your hair.

“Absolutely,” nodded Aleksander as he gently placed you down to lay on the bed.

Before they could leave, you caught Alina’s hand and opened your eyes with a pout.

“Mama,” you said tiredly, “Sing, please.”

Laughing softly, Alina lay beside you, propping herself up on her elbow as you curled up into her relaxing as she began to stroke your hair. On your other side sat your father, who’s hand you held firmly.

Alina began singing Ravkan lullabies, and Aleksander accompanied the ones he knew. You slowly fell asleep, and Aleksander soon realised he was the only one singing, as Alina, too, had fallen asleep, with you curled into her an her arm draped protectively across you.

He smiled and placed a blanket over the two of you, before pausing upon feeling your hand tighten over his. He lay down too, feeling warmth bloom in his chest as you snuggled closer to him.

And so, your evening concluded, with you asleep in your parents arms, a true image of tranquility.

———

Hi! It’s me, Anne! I hope you like this one, please feel free to request!

#alina x darkling #the darkling x child!reader #Alina starkov x child!reader #darklina x child!reader #fluff #shadow and bone

142 notes · View notes