#benevolence +verity
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To Make a Fool of Death; Opening Scene
Hey friends!
I've finally typed up this draft of the opening scene, so I figured I would share it for everyone on here, so that you can finally get a sense of some of my more long-form writing, and I can post something other than a snippet! I've included the taglist and how to join underneath, if that's something you're interested in!
Word count: 1,502
Tw: mentions of blood, prominent character death, general vampire shenanigans.
The grass was thick with the scent of fresh rain, and the skin of the traitor-woman’s neck was cool in Verity’s hands. It hadn’t been long since they last sat like this, Verity standing over Benevolence, kneeling like a true worshipper. A saint. There was a time where Benevolence had worshipped Verity— had chosen her over all of the false gods that had been chosen for them at birth. That time now seemed eons in the past, and so much had changed. That version of Benevolence would look down on this one in heartache and shame, wondering what had gone wrong. That version of Verity would be able to forgive, to wipe away the blood staining her lover’s lips and neck, replacing the scarlet fluid with the most tender of kisses. But both of those versions were gone now, and in their places knelt a grinning traitor and a horrified would-be vampire queen.
Verity watched as Benevolence’s mouth split open wider, razorblades teeth on full display. Her heart ached to look into B’s intense red eyes, remembering the warm brown they used to be. How comforting and deep, those eyes that used to burrow their way under Verity’s skin and into her soul. Benevolence was cold now. Stiff. Her hands nothing like the ones that used to hold Verity. Caress her. Remind her that everything was okay and no matter how bad things got, at least they still had each other. None of that was true anymore, and the woman kneeling in front of Verity was not capable of such kindness. She was but a monster, plain and true.
A movement in the forest behind them diverted Verity’s attention, but not her gaze. A bystander, she assumed, there to observe Benevolence’s execution. As was their right, of course. Benevolence had gone too far, killed too many without express permission, and as her creator, it was Verity’s responsibility to handle the issue. She had made too many excuses for B in the past, blind defenses in a desperate reach to protect the woman she thought she loved. The woman she thought loved her. But excuses didn’t hold, and it was made known that if Verity couldn’t control her charge, they would both be punished for Benevolence’s mistakes. That was something that Verity had considered, to be sure. Part of her knew that it was possible that Benevolence would take Verity with her upon death, leaving her no more than a shell of who she once was.
But now, looking at the woman on her knees before her, Verity realized that the sacrifice would be useless. She didn’t even know who she would be sacrificing herself for, or if the monster that claimed to be her love would even give a damn. Benevolence’s eyes fluttered shut, long lashes brushing the tops of perfect pale cheeks.
“Are you going to kill me,” she whispered, her voice delicate like broken glass, “or are you just waiting because you get off on it?” She peered one careful eye open, the bastard child of a wink, and shut it again. “Do you even think you could?” Her smile was delicate now, more of a smirk than a grin. “I think you’re far too much of a coward to go through with it.”
“Benevolence, please.” Verity moved her hands from Benevolence’s neck to the sides of her face, some semblance of the way they used to hold each other.
“Do you consider me a monster?” The other girl leaned her cheek into Verity’s left hand, smearing blood across her palm.
“I didn’t.”
“But now?” She lifted her head up, opening her eyes and staring at Verity. Impatient. Expectant.
“Yes.” Verity’s voice shook, betraying the exact cowardice that Benevolence had accused her of. If it meant pausing the moment, letting Verity remember the feeling of Benevolence’s skin on her hand and cherish it, then she would claim the coward’s title happily.
“Have you made peace with all of it being your fault?” Her eyes drifted shut again, and she looked at peace for once. Almost as if she were sleeping.
“I don’t understand.” Verity spoke, her voice much more broken than she would have liked.
“What’s there not to understand, my love?” The question came out with a laugh, “You did this to me. I wouldn’t have done this if it weren’t for you. All those innocent people would still be alive if it weren’t for you.” Her voice rose, growing shrill, and her eyes sealed shut, tight and squinted. “I would have died a century ago if not for you! You made me!” She screamed, “YOU’RE the monster!” She released a painful sob, and Verity found her hands on Benevolence’s neck again, a silent reminder of the threat that loomed over them both.
“I never wanted this for either of us.” Verity silently begged for Benevolence to open her eyes, to look at her just one last time. She didn’t.
“Neither did I.” Benevolence wiped her face, smearing what must’ve been a bloody tear across her cheeks. “Kill me.” She said, her voice clear and strong, “I want you to live with it, and know that I did what I did because you made me do it.” She laughed again, manic, “Kill me, whore! We both know all you want is to wipe your hands of this and go back to pretending to be human.” The laughter didn’t cease, but lessened to a soft giggle. Verity felt the sting of the slap on her palm before she realized what she’d done. Benevolence’s head had turned with the force of the hit, but her expression hadn’t changed.
“Don’t assume to know how I feel about any of this.” Verity’s voice had lost any semblance of the fear it once held, “And if you truly think that, then you don’t know me at all.”
But Benevolence wasn’t listening. Her lips moved silently, and Verity realized that for the first time in over a century, Benevolence was praying. It was almost a comfort. Almost. For those brief seconds, Verity wanted to be able to pretend that her old love was still in there, somewhere. To travel back in time and erase all of her past mistakes. To pretend that Benevolence, her Benevolence, was just a wish away from being who Verity remembered. But it wasn’t possible. That Benevolence was human, and as this Benevolence had so fondly pointed out, human was something they could never be again.
“Benevolence Hayrick,” Verity continued over B’s silent prayer, “I, Verity Hayrick—“ it was a struggle not to choke on the name Benevolence had given her— “sentence you to death as punishment for your crimes. Aforementioned crimes include the following: needless and reckless murder of the innocent for purposes of joy rather than necessity, torture of more than one human, again out of joy, the flaunting of the aforementioned murder and torture to the public, thereby putting all vampires at the risk of reckless and painful exposure.” She took a breath, pausing to look down at the woman below her. Against all odds, Benevolence was crying. Rivers of blood ran down her face, staining her perfect white gown. “Have you anything to say for yourself?”
She shook her head, opening her eyes for the final time.
“Verity,” Benevolence whispered, as Verity placed her hands on either side of her head, “I love you.”
It should have been difficult, tearing the other woman’s head from her body. But it wasn’t. It cracked and shattered like stone, but to Verity, it wasn’t much more than tearing paper. The Vampire Benevolence Hayrick died with her eyes open and the ghost of a smile on her lips.
The sound that Verity made as the body fell to the ground was unholy, but then again, according to her former god, wouldn’t that be said for all sounds that escaped her?
She didn’t remember falling alongside Benevolence, but she ended up on the ground as well, cradling the disembodied head close to her chest. At some point, someone came to take the body away, to toss it into the fire that had been built during the conversation. Verity didn’t truly remember this either— not much more than the faint longing for the body, the feeling of not wanting to give it up, but knowing she had no other choice. She had been right. The loss of Benevolence had broken something within her, and she wept with a sadness she hadn’t felt in years.
She stayed in the clearing for much longer than she should’ve, letting her thoughts and memories consume her. She wanted to bottle them, save them forever so that she would never forget what had happened. What she had done.
Long ago, she had tried to convince Benevolence of the truth that she had known since the moment she was turned. B had always, always pushed back. But in her final moments, Benevolence had realized it as well. There was nothing left for Verity to be other than a monster.
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Thank you for reading! If you'd like to join the taglist, you can do so here! @athenixrose @bardic-tales @drowsy-quill @thelibraryofchaos @cyparissos @kittyphoenix12-xx @destiniescollide @aeipathys @fearofahumanplanet @cactus-motif @writeblrsupport @midnights-melodiverse @ninirito @antique-symbolism-main @annetilney @athenswrites @the-void-writes @wip-nook
#fool of death#writeblr#my writing#creative writing#my ocs#my wips#verity#writing#writer things#writing community#horror#romance#vampires#benevolence#benevolence +verity#opening scene#snippet#wipnook#tmafod snippet
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HAHAHA GODS GO BRRR
Irene, the Goddess of Life, is responsible for nurturing and protecting living beings.
Aziz, the God of Love, is a deity of emotion and connection.
Enki, the God of Secrets, is a mysterious figure who guards the hidden knowledge of the universe.
Esmund, the God of Protection, keeps watch over those in need of safety and security.
Sabir, the God of Time, controls the flow of time and determines the fates of mortals.
Kitsu, the God of Messages, is a messenger deity who carries important information between the gods and mortals.
Kul'Zak, the God of Travel, guides travelers on their journeys and ensures their safe passage.
Verity, the God of Judgement, is responsible for impartially weighing the actions of mortals and determining their outcomes.
Veda, the Goddess of Magic, wields powerful magical abilities and is respected and feared by many.
Isana, the Goddess of Determination, encourages mortals to persevere and never give up on their dreams.
Menphia, the Goddess of Power, is a strong and influential deity who holds great sway over the mortal world.
Adalie, the Goddess of Kindness, is a benevolent deity who promotes compassion and generosity.
Finally, Shad, the God of Death, is the end of life and the final destination for all mortals.
Each of these gods plays a vital role in the pantheon and is revered and respected by their followers.
#aphmau#aphverse#aphmau mcd#mcd#minecraft diaries#aphblr#Irene#irene mcd#aziz#aziz mcd#enki#enki mcd#esmund#esmund mcd#sabir#sabir mcd#kitsu#kitsu mcd#kul'zak#kul'zak mcd#verity#verity mcd#veda#veda mcd#isana#isana mcd#menphia#menphia mcd#adalie#adalie mcd
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ivan turgenev, fathers &. sons / hendrik kerstens / jonathan safran foer, extremely loud &. incredibly close / rooms with a view / abraham verghese, cutting for stone .
MELANCHOLIC REALIZATION : when parents’ judgement affect the offspring’s self-esteem, internalizing rude opinions because elders’ authority surpassed a scion’s excuses. never try to go against the says of your mothers &. lower your gaze when the father argues as an apology. when a young mistake &. parents’ high expectations reveal verities, what should be chosen ? CUT TIES, depart from a house, encounter your destiny in a new horizon, build a haven of dreams &. abandon olden blames. after pursuing many ways to locate, discover … IT IS FINALLY HERE. but then, despite prestigious efforts &. new-elected majesty’s eulogies, impostor syndrome begins to dwell within her creative being.
STOP LOSING : i’m the mournful lady, losing a diploma after not being aware of educative principles &. scholarship’s rules, after feeling underestimated by a lot of my pairs that will never lead me to a desire to contradict them with buoyancy &. my benevolent craftsmanship, how does isolating myself from everybody feel like ? ( unless handmaidens &. highness / the closest companions who keep secrets, diplomatic measures, innermost pansies, undisclosed desires &. more gave me courage, loyalty, hopes … but it ain’t enough. ) LESSON’S GIVEN &. SWALLOWED. the past’s a vague torrent of experiences, giving an opportunity to divert &. to continue the weave of personal choices. but then, layers of fear became me, only level-headed for my new cause as a wardrobe mistress : i disguise, therefore i hide, i conceal.
DEFINE HOME, PLEASE : impossible to answer because of familial tenets &. numerous disagreements before a meal, after not satisfying prides, then more ? what a tragedy. like clementine von radics said, ‘‘what is a home if not the first place you learn to run from ?’’ — overwhelmed with responsibilities &. this lack of welcome, the absence of encouragements &. the fear of disappointing, how to build a house of winsome memories ? liable to err remains a humane trait, but not everybody understands this reality, just up to gather triumphs &. refuse to accept imperfections. if parents never listens to soliloquies or laments, who will be the shoulder to cry on ? REMEMBER WHEN HER HIGHNESS CHOSE YOU, prestigious student, gifted lady, embrace your potential, your home is your usefulness … gracious goodness, where’s the saving grace ?
#RABENE TONSORT#( … ) little maiden who seeks &. disguises#( hc : ) rabé cares about others but forgets about herself
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roses
do you ever wonder
at the mind-utterings
of a rose?
or pondered at
the whispered wishes
the heartfelt, hushed loves
that are sung
deep within that nest of blood petals?
this tiny little dewdrop
that has now set itself on the edge of my paper
once hung over the edge of her dear friend's petals
kis't the tender, shielding nest which warms her friend's heart
and had the fortune
of leaving its heart
right next to her dear rose's
and so desperate is that little dewdrop
to sing of the whisperings she has borne witness to
that she has lost
the very body
that made those mutterings meaningful
simply to become
ink on my paper
and write her record
of her own accord.
this dewdrop says
that all that lovely rose wishes for
is to feel less lonely
to have her dear heart,
which she has shielded and nestled for so long,
finally find a channel
to flutter in
and find love
to melt into
a rose's heart is simple
and very delicate.
she only desires
to dissolve
into love's
deep
and vibrant
trance.
her heart knows naught
of the turmoil
that comes with love
the fear
that accompanies boundless affections
and the 'other'ness
that comes crashing into one's heart
riding
on the powerful waves
of unchecked yearning.
the dewdrop is no simpleton.
she has lived countless lives;
many as the vast oceans,
many as the tiny teardrops in terrified eyes.
she knows the endless joys
of rich and unique love.
she knows the many tales
and tapestries
that love has woven
through her blind, benevolent hands
yet, she also knows
the many fears
that love brings.
love's very blindness
and benevolence
become blessing
and curse
and toy with
the lives of those
who have too much love to give.
the loneliness
and the abandonment
that deep, blind love causes
is unbearably oppressive
and a root
for so many, many fears...
all creatures
have an instinctual, intrinsic, animalistic yearning
for deep, passionate love
but why are the creatures
for whom love is overflowing
and kindness is in verity
discarded by the very humans
who are characterised by
their yearning of this full, flowing love
so regularly discarded
and 'other'ed?
(inspired by my many fears of having too much love to contain or restrict in any forms. thank you very, very kindly for reading.)
#writing#aspiring author#poets on tumblr#writers and poets#poetic prose#poetry#oc writing#spilled thoughts#spilled ink#oc poetry#dark academia#lgbtqia#queer#queer community#lgbtq community
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[Spoilers C3E29] Seeing Red...
Or What in the fuck is up with that fucking guy?
*Points at Ruidus*
We got two Ruidusborn on the table now, folks. Let's see if we catch anymore by the end.
I know I said I would save this till tomorrow, but I can't sleep and might as well strike while the anvil is hot.
Firstly, before getting into possible connections and origins, I want to postulate if Ruidus is an actual threat or just the funnel for power for other entities.
Much of the lore around Ruidus is conjecture at this point, except what we have learned from the Grim Verity research and as was gleaned from Imogen's visions.
On the surface, its spur of rock is covered in swirling red storms.
It is obscured from magical investigation.
It randomly shifts position in the sky and flares at random intervals.
These flairs can cause, and often do cause, the premature birth of individuals who are then "fated" for lives of trial.
Now, many consider those born under Ruidus as cursed as with Alyxian, yet even he and as shown with Otohan, rose to great places of prominence regardless of whatever might have been thrown at them. There is also no concrete evidence, outside of what has been occurring with Imogen, that Ruidus even cares or takes an active role in complicating the lives of those born under its gaze. Even the idea that they are faced with lives of "ill fate" that consumes them doesn't fully track when you consider that what is likely the most famous Ruidusborn is the Raven Queen herself, and I'm not sure usurping the power of a divinity is a bit of misfortune.
Further complicating matters is that Ruidus, as of yet, hasn't shown any true evidence that the being is even sentient. It can offer boons, seemingly, and there is the argument that it influences Imogen with the voices in her dream, but the latter could simply be residual energy left from her mother and others' interactions with the Moon.
Furthermore, outside of the Grey Assassins, which so far as we know as of yet are not under any actual direction of Ruidus, the Moon hasn't actually done anything that purposefully malignant, outside of course the recent revelations about Fearne, the Feywild and it's intrusions there.
In fact, there are examples of it being almost benevolent in some of its actions. It warns Imogen of Bertrand's death and the possible belief that it saved Alyxian's life during his confrontation with Grummsh, which managed to save Marquet from utter devastation.
Its lack of effect on malignant curses such as Lycanthropy may also need to be considered.
I am curious to learn if Ruidus actually *wants* anything or if it simply acts in a fashion similar to the Luxon. The Luxon is not a conscious entity, at least it isn't anymore, but individuals still have access to its vast breadth of power, as seen with the Krynn, the settlers of Reaching Bluff, and possibly with Ashton. It is a power source, a font, and while Ruidus is influencing Imogen in some sense, it might not be a cognizant one.
Of course, her powers come from her bloodline. While Ruidus is claimed to hand out boons, which could be considered analogous to a Warlock Patron, or as Matt calls them, "Lesser Powers," we have yet to see examples of a Ruidus Warlock, though if we ever get a Marquet book that could change.
On To Origins/Connections:
* One I See Often: Ruidus is Tharizdun/Tharizdun's Prison
* Look, it's a typical war cry of Critters at this point. Tharizdun is behind every dark door, every cunning plot; hell, he could be the reason your grandma made raisin cookies instead of chocolate chips.
* We saw the Chained Oblivion sinking their dark tendrils into a lot of threads throughout Campaign 2, but as Matt eventually noted, those threats were not explicitly Tharizdun and Tharizdun only. They are an opportunist; they take any opportunity they can to push things in their favor. Cognouza, the Hungry Monsters in the early sections of C2, the Angel of Irons, and even the increased activity of the Avatar Trio, none of those were its original ideas, those events occurred, and it reached out to fan the flames. It is a force. So while I could see Ruidus being influenced by Tharizdun, I do not believe the entities are one for one.
* As for it being Tharizdun's prison, that one doesn't carry much weight for me, but I could be wrong.
* 2: Ruidus is an Alien Force Similar to Tharizdun.
* This idea seems to be collaborated by the write-up within Netherdeep and the idea that it emerged after the founding, but what this alien entity is is still an unknown, outside of it being a dark power that emerged from nowhere, whose origin was hidden by the Gods and well...at least part of that seems to follow. I would be solidly on this one if another reveal had not taken place in this episode.
* 3. It's the Meat Mash of The Two Missing Gods.
* There are two Gods that *vanished* from the Pantheon.
* I've seen people claiming that one must have been the Old God of Death, but the problem with that is that their existence is known about in universe. It is known the Raven Queen replaced someone, that they vanished as she ascended; even if the evidence of their existence is threadbare, they are at least recognized as part of the Pantheon.
* These Forgotten Gods are not remembered as being part of the Pantheon at all, except in the texts the Grim Verity stole.
* If their disappearance is tied to Ruidus, it could mean a number of things. They sacrificed themselves to cage the alien power and become Ruidus. Ruidus consumed them; they are still extant but trapped on Ruidus, acting on guards or prisoners themselves. There are a lot of ways this theory can go, and I find it deeply intriguing.
* Someone commented that Ruidus is the remnants of Ka'mort and Rau'Shan, and that they are the missing Gods. However, I'm pretty sure Brennan mentioned Ruidus being in the sky in Calamity, and they were Primordials, an entirely different branch of immortals than the Pantheon.
* 9, Eyes
* While I am uncertain if Ruidus had any part to play in the belief system that spawned Cognouza there are some interesting connections between the two entities.
* The prominent presence of the color red.
* Usage of Dreams as both warning, communication, and possible weapon.
* The Mind becoming a Weapon in the hands of their chosen.
* Physical Transformation, more blatant with those marked by the Somnovem obviously but Imogen is changing into something, and Matt's hints made it seem that the Gnarlstone could have expedited that change.
* And curiously and most notably, an interesting bit of storytelling that many have taken note of.
* 7 years ago, Ruidus flared to live at the birth of Fearne and has been growing increasingly active ever since.
* 7 years ago, Cognouza died at the hands of the Mighty Nein.
* While it could be a coincidence that one creature with power over dreams and the mind, dies right as another one begins to become more active, to quote a wise Firbolg, "There is no such thing as coincidence."
I think I've mixed together every theory I have found so far, and of course more information could render any or all of this utterly incorrect, but I am curious to see what others think.
#critical role#critical role spoilers#ruidus#cr fearne#cr imogen#somnovem#the mighty nein#bell’s hells#exu calamity
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Her lunch break may have extended well past the intended hour – but she wasn’t about to rightfully admit to any wrongdoing – she knew better than that. And she certainly wasn’t going to walk into the office with a shopping bag in hand – no, she had been smart and deposited it back at her apartment before returning. Still, to buy some goodwill, and hopefully smooth over any annoyance at her less than stellar work ethic today, she quietly placed a hazelnut flavored iced coffee on his desk, in addition to a new iridescent white dragon coffee mug before she strode back to her desk.
Eyne, lethargic with pronounced weariness, fixated on his accosting Lieutenant, her effervescent countenance, lips glisteringly caressed 'neath a diaphanous veneer of Rose-Rouge, exemplifying a jubilance entwined with proficiently coveted secrecies, with distinguishable scrutinization. She had been absent longer than the ordained duration of a standard lunch recess. Therefore, had he been cognizant, there was no repudiating the prominent verity of the actualization that she had been procrastinating somewhere - the shopping district, he'd comprehended by her simpering merriment ------ a populace locality he had not presented her authorization to wander amidst working hours. Not that it impacted him to any precarious degree, for he relished the quietened solitariness that her dearth attendance instituted in its wake. A serving of iced coffee was circumspectly descended from her extremity and then positioned atop his desk, greeting him vividly with influential intent to coax him into thwarting his attention, forsaking ink-embellished parchment, towards its hazel-hued representation. It doubtlessly succeeds its initiative.
Hereafter, a white iridescently ceramic mug, finely configured as a slumbering dragon, its scales intricately beautified 'gainst the natural benevolent lighting of their sunlit headquarters, an inkling of immaculate artistry was thereupon arranged, set there by the woman's feminine touch, along the impromptu offering's proximal flank. As foreknew of the commandant, by all who respires the hiemal zephyr treading within and throughout the Seireitei girdling barricades, he immediately, as in unhesitatingly, deems it as an unnecessary commodity, an unwarranted contribution from her excursion for his current mug, albeit old, was still serviceably adequate. - His Zanpaku-to may possess a transcendental deity parallel to the exhibiting mythological beast - but it did not signify that he was a figment, an attachment, merited of being reminded of through mundane universalities. Sheer brows furrow in perplexity, for he had not anticipated to receive anything 'pon her return. A gesture of utmost peculiarity yet one of permissible nature. This would benefit him, even if it was diminutive in quantity, in finalizing the fraction of documents that still awaited his written signature. " Thank you for bringing me coffee," he mutters. Its resonance is faint in magnitude, yet still capable of being hearkened from 'tween their stationed desks whilst seizing his caffeinated refresment." -- Matsumoto. "
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Gods of Hisui/Sinnoh (Part 1)
The Lake Guardians
#480 Uxie
“A Pokémon feared but also respected for stealing away the memories of evildoers. I have found records that suggest Uxie holds dominion over knowledge.”
Uxie is known as “The Being of Knowledge,” and it’s said that it’s emergence granted humans the intelligence to solve problems and improve their lives. Though usually a benevolent force, it’s rumored that it punishes evildoers by opening it’s eyes and stealing their memories.
#481 Mesprit
“Known as the Being of Emotion. In legend, this Pokémon was feared, as any who showed disrespect would have their emotions thrown into disarray.”
Mesprit is known as “The Being of Emotion,” and it’s believed that when it first flew, humanity learned sorrow, pain, and joy. It’s believed it’s spirit is untethered to it’s body, exploring the world while it slumbers at the bottom of Lake Verity.
#482 Azelf
“The dreaded Being of Willpower. Legends tell of this Pokémon manipulating the will of its adversaries and turning them into puppets of its own.”
Azelf is known as “The Being of Willpower,” granting people the determination to act, or stripping the willpower from it’s adversaries. Some believe that the Lake Guardians were born out of the same egg, and were tasked by Arceus to to keep the world in balance.
The Creation Deities
#483 Dialga
“This Pokémon is revered as a deity in Hisuian legend. The birth of Dialga was what caused the vast river of time to begin flowing in our world.”
Dialga is a legendary pokémon, and the ancient deity of time. It’s said that time began flowing when it was born, and that time is controlled by it’s heart beats. Clans have argued whether Dialga is the true manifestation of “the Almighty Sinnoh,“ or if that title belongs to Palkia.
#484 Palkia
“This Pokémon is feared as a deity in Hisuian legend. The birth of Palkia was what caused the walls of our world to disappear, creating a sky that spans for infinity.”
Palkia is a legendary pokémon, and the ancient deity of space. It’s birth is said to have replaced the walls of our world with an endless sky. It’s believed it can distort space to transport itself anywhere, and lives in a dimension parallel to ours.
#487 Giratina
“There is one Hisuian verse that tells of a powerful light creating a deep shadow. I imagine that this deep shadow is Giratina.”
Giratina is a legendary pokémon, and is believed to be the shadow caused by Arceus’ light. It was created with Dialga and Palkia, but it’s violent and rebellious nature led to it being cast into the Distortion World, an opposite reflection of our world. There it’s believed that Giratina is silently watching our world.
#493 Arceus
“It is the heavenly fount from which pours the light that shines across Hisui. Its luminance guides and protects all Pokémon. Hisuian mythology states that Arceus is the creator of all things.”
Arceus is known as “The Original One,” and the creator of all things. It’s said that it was born before the universe existed, and it used it’s thousand arms to shape all of creation. Seen as a protector, it’s holy light is said to guide all pokémon.
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"I do hope you won't mind me saying but you seem like a person who does everything with little to no effort. But, have there ever been things that you might consider challenging? "
╳ ┆ ░L░E░T░T░E░R░ — ❞ ( EYESOFCURIOSITY )
A swift visitation to the town would be brought upon by a fortuitous chatter with a demoiselle. Prioritizing his piece of work aside, the butler is readily inclined for a small chat. What could be more intriguing enough than to learn about them (humans)? – when he could spare some moment. Judging from the female’s outward appearance, she seemed to be a traveller of sort, and a curious one indeed if he would remark. It will be the first time they had both encountered one another, as Sebastian believes so.
A benevolent smile spread across his visage in a gentle lustre, stature straightened illustrating a poise ambience. ❝ — I shall take it as a compliment. You have my gratitude, Miss. My apologies for not being able to recall such a circumstance, but I believe this is the first time we have met? ❞ Head tilted to the side a tad; inquisitiveness portrayed in his gaze. There was a validity in her utterance, much so in her observation. @eyesofcuriosity seems to be an observant person, he thought. Yet, the genuine factuality of his façade is kept veiled. An impeccable talent. A sophisticated demeanour. A hush secret that is only known by his lord. Besides, it is only natural to feign and assume the most humanly traits possible in order to disguise the closest to a human being. Oh come, hush now.
Challenging? Well, if there is any, it would certainly be them - grim reapers. They had been nothing, but a meddlesome critter, where their presence merely occurs as an obstruction that trailed his path no matter wherever he goes. Verity which, although literally true, are nevertheless far-fetched for a human like her if he were to elucidate. If he were to describe grim reapers, it would be... ❝ — Hm, I guess the most challenging task would be dealing with unannounced boisterous visitors whom lack the sense of courtesies. ❞
#╳┆ IN CHARACTER (ᴬⁿˢʷᵉʳᵉᵈ ᴵⁿqᵘⁱʳʸ). ❞#eyesofcuriosity#My apologies for taking 1k year to reply#Thank you for the ask <3
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The lake guardians (Japanese: 湖の神々 lake gods), or lake trio, is a term used to describe the Legendary Psychic-type trio residing in the three lakes of Sinnoh: Uxie, Mesprit, and Azelf. They are meant to represent knowledge, emotion, and willpower, respectively. They are based on the Imperial Regalia of Japan: the Yata no Kagami (wisdom), Yasakani no Magatama (benevolence), and Kusanagi (valor). Parts of their names come from fantasy creatures: pixies, sprites and elves, respectively. The other parts of their names come from personal pronouns: you (Uxie), me (Mesprit), and us (Azelf).
According to legend, when Arceus created the universe it created Uxie, Mesprit, and Azelf, and therefore is believed to be their master and were given the ability to calm and control Dialga and Palkia whenever they were enraged. According to one of Azelf's Pokédex entries, all three of them were born from the same Egg.
As mentioned in their respective Pokédex entries, the Lake Guardians taught humans the ability to feel emotions, knowledge, and willpower. The Lake guardians are said to reside in three lakes in Sinnoh; Lake Acuity (Uxie), Lake Verity (Mesprit), and Lake Valor (Azelf). As mentioned in "A Horrific Myth", the Lake Guardians are known to drive humans away from them by either erasing their memories, causing them to lose emotions within three days, or cause them to lose willpower within five days.
#pokemon#uxie#mesprit#azelf#sinnoh#pokemon dppt#pokegraphic#my edits#spectredits#i haven't made proper edits in so long...
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To Make a Fool of Death; Benevolence's Final Diary Entry
So, I thought I'd share this, as the last scene I shared was Benevolence's death which was a looooong time after this was written. I think it's a lovely contrast between the Benevolence you've already been introduced to as opposed to the Benevolence that Verity originally fell in love with. It also introduces how this book is written in a kind-of epistolary format, because despite all the first-person sections being an implied journal entry from Verity, this is the first time we get an explicit mention to this scene being a diary entry!
Information on how to join the taglist is below, or you can simply ask to be added/removed!
word count: 487
tw: religion, burning at the stake, vague vampire shenanigans, not nearly as much as the first snippet
Dear Diary,
Constance and I are to leave tonight. I do not know what has happened to her, but I know that I watched the fire press against her skin and do nothing. I know that I watched her husband and all of the men in our village shout their terrible shouts and condemn her for being the witch they claim is destroying their livelihood. I watched all the women, clutching the babies that Constance delivered, sobbing and screaming and praying for her damned soul.
I suppose my soul will be damned then, too. Because I won’t let her go anywhere without me by her side. I cannot bear the thought of her alone. And so I won’t let her be. I know she’s a terribly sad girl, and I love her with every ounce of my being. Regardless of whatever change she went through, she is still my dearest friend.
Though, perhaps she is not Constance Audley anymore, as I knew her. I think it would bring her some comfort to leave everything behind and start anew. I could say the same about myself. I’ll propose this to her, I think. Changing her name and who she is, fundamentally. I am sure if Judith were less small-minded she would be sympathetic to Constance’s situation as well, and would suggest a lovely name for her. But Judith added flame to the fire this evening, and will be left behind as well. So that makes this my job. And it is a job that I will treat with the reverence it deserves.
I think I will present her with the name Verity. For truth. For everything she wishes she could be. For holding on to who she is throughout whatever comes of her future, however long that may be. For honesty, to herself about her situation and to others about where she has come from and where she is going.
It’s a lot more difficult to name a grown woman than it is to name a baby, because I’m terrified that she’ll object to the name, and I’ll have to start all over, but she might not.
I’ll offer her my own last name. Hayrick. So that she knows that she is not alone. So that she knows she has a family, even when she remembers her own, that family that abandoned her so easily in the face of tragedy.
I offer myself, now, to be her family, for as long as she’ll have me. For the rest of my life, if that’s what it takes.
It does not matter what I am leaving behind. None of it matters anymore. Not if she isn’t there with me.
If you find this diary, please do me a favor and burn it. I’ll have no one knowing the sins I commit from this moment on. None of it matters, anyway. We all end up in the same place.
Yours,
Benevolence.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Join the taglist here! Or ask to be added! @athenixrose @bardic-tales @drowsy-quill @thelibraryofchaos @cyparissos @kittyphoenix12-xx @destiniescollide @aeipathys @fearofahumanplanet @cactusmotif @midnights-melodiverse @ninirito @antique-symbolism-main @annetilney @athenswrites @the-void-writes @heinleins @galaxy-writer @sender-paulson @wip-nook @writeblrsupport
#fool of death#writeblr#my writing#my wips#my ocs#creative writing#writing#writer things#benevolence +verity#benevolence#verity#tmafod snippet
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Scaramouche!
"Of course, this assumption of
responsibility does not mean that we are not conditioned genetically,
culturally, and socially. It means that we know ourselves to be conditioned
but not determined. It means recognizing that History is time
filled with possibility and not inexorably determined-that the future
is problematic and not already decided, fatalistically."
- Paulo Friere
For as long as Loki can remember, tapestries have lined the walls of Asgard's palace.
When Loki was a child, the Allmother sat by his bed one night and explained the significance of the tapestries that lined the walls of their home.
“The Norns weave the tapestry that assigns our roles,” she told him. “So that we may fulfill our fate and serve Midgard as we are meant to.”
The tapestries stretched across all the walls of the palace, covering vast miles of golden wall with breathtaking imagery depicting life and death and love and hate and everything in between. They pictured Loki too, who moved from boy to tragedy to a vicious and cruel man.
“So I have a role too? And Thor?” he asked. She smiled at him with fondness. The Thor on the tapestries seemed brave and strong - Loki could never imagine his brother, still a boy himself, to become that hulk of a man someday.
“Of course, Loki,” she said. “We all have roles. I am a mother, and a magician. Thor will be a great hero. Your father, a beloved and wise king. This is what is sewn into our destiny, to be enacted until Ragnarok and again after that. In a cycle, unending and unwavering.”
He yawned, obscuring the nervousness bubbling in his chest and curling the silken covers around his shoulders. He knew what the tapestries said Loki would do. He had hoped that maybe - “What’s my fate, mother?” he asked quietly.
Her smile, previously relaxed, became firm and serious. His heart was racing, thinking of that man, and of the awful cruelty that was depicted to come at his hands. “We all have a part to play, my dear. And every story has a villain for a reason.”
--
Despite common misconception, Loki Laufeyson never lived in the moment. In fact, Loki found the moment particularly difficult to pin down. Once you begin to think “Hey, I think this is the moment!” it wasn’t the moment anymore, and Loki already had four tabs open on his phone about the relativity of time and he didn’t need anymore.
Loki lived in the future, which was why he was that very moment getting his fair share of serotonin from the Schrödinger’s Night Out with Sigurd and Lorelei he was planning.
“Sigurd definitely won’t come out if Lorelei isn’t,” he explained to Verity as he paced hurriedly around their absurdly fancy flat, which he paid for entirely and in return, Verity didn’t ask where he got all the money. “Which means I need Lorelei to agree first. One problem with that!”
“Lorelei hates you?” Verity asked, as she planted an orange tree in Stardew Valley.
“Lorelei hates me!” Loki agreed. “Which means I need to sweeten the pot.”
Verity glanced up at him suspiciously. “How are you going to do that?”
He grinned, and picked up a pen so he could start dramatically gesticulating. “Bisexual women! They’re always fascinated with me. And by the end of the evening, I’ll have established a system where I transport their attention from me to Lorelei and get her many dates. Like a Ford factory.”
She glared, turned back to her game. “You’re a walking hate crime.”
“Was that a lie, Verity?” he teased, collapsing on the couch and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She tried just barely to shrug him off. “Was it a lie when I said bi women are fascinated with me? Was it?”
Verity narrowed her eyes at him, but didn’t say anything, and in response he burst into cackles of laughter.
—
Lorelei claimed to be very insulted that Loki thought bisexual women liked him more than her, but he knew well that she knew well that she looked like the straightest girl alive and really, that was her own fault. Once Lorelei was a confirmed booking, Sigurd swiftly followed, because he’s nothing if not a simp, and thus Loki had now established the perfect evening. A pricey club, two people who could barely stand him, and himself.
Although he never really enjoyed it. He’d never planned to.
Anticipation was a drug, really. And as previously established, the moment was very boring indeed. And this moment, Loki found himself crammed against Sigurd, who while very attractive and an owner of some very firm abs, was covered in sweat, and only slept with Loki when he was desperate anyway. Loki squinted up at him, and tried to figure out if he was desperate tonight.
“What the fuck are you looking at?” Sigurd shouted over the music.
Loki smiled at him genially, and proceeded to turn quickly around and elbow his way to the smoking area.
The initial smack of fresh onto his face was divine. He closed his eyes and smiled in satisfaction, continuing to move forward. The music was more muted out here, and the sound of voices and laughter blurred into itself until nothing was anything anymore. Peace! The lights were all different shades of pink and green, and they cast an ethereal glow over the throngs of young people with cigarettes in their hands, all here, all living now.
Loki bumped into someone.
“Shit!” he yelped, watching in horror as her cocktail spilt down her crop top. “I’m so sorry! Oh my God!”
She’d flinched a bit during the incident itself, but the alcohol had seemingly tempered any stronger reaction than that. Lightly brushing at her (now soaked) top, she only laughed lightly and smiled at him. “No worries, dude!”
He pulled out his best prince charming grin (practiced in the mirror and finely tuned). “Please, let me at least buy you another drink.”
“I’m not going to say no to a drink!” she laughed shyly, and they traipsed inside to the bar. Sigurd seemed to have vanished, but out of the corner of his eye he could see Lorelei getting very close to the DJ, so maybe if Loki had any luck he was crying in the gents or something. Usual affair, really.
He bought them both mojitos, and they fought their way back through the crowd to return to the smoking area. “I like your necklace,” he said, because his mother had always said women liked having their jewelry complimented. Sif had later said that they didn’t, but Sif was as much a woman as Loki was a man, so her opinion didn’t count.
The girl giggled. “Thanks, it’s a crucifix.”
“Oh sorry!” Loki said. “I’m not from around here. That’s the catholic thing right?”
“Do you guys not have catholicism in Britain?”
Ugh, mentioning Asgard would dance a bit too close to the possibility of ‘Oh man, anyone ever told you you look like Thor’s evil brother?’. Loki chuckled instead and rolled his eyes. “I was pretty sheltered. It was like, a weird cult?”
“Oh wow! That’s so interesting.” She had a sympathetic sort of look on her face, and Loki quickly buried the irritation that bubbled up in his chest. The sympathy wasn’t for Loki anyway, just some fake man who grew up in a cult. Did he think Asgard was a cult? God, he was glad he didn’t have a therapist
“Yeah, I don’t really believe in it now, you know?” he lied easily, smiling at her. “It’s hard to have faith when it’s like, you never see any proof.”
She nodded understandingly. “Yeah, lots of people say that nowadays, what with superheroes and Asgard and all. I don’t know, I kind of think the fact I don’t have proof makes it more important.”
“Oh yes?” Loki asked. “What do you mean by that?”
She looked up at the lights, placed her free hand on the crook of the elbow of the hand holding her drink. For a second, Loki saw ancient and revered philosophers! He decided that they’d had it all wrong. Screw the forums, they should’ve done all their philosophising in smoking areas.
“It means something, you know?” she explained slowly. “Like, of course we believe in the ground and the sky and all. Those are right in front of us, we can’t deny that. Same with science, or aliens, or Asgardians. But believing in God requires a certain kind of faith. I’m going beyond seeing and believing. I’m just believing. God has a plan for me, and I believe in that.”
Loki nodded slowly. A fate? One set, but controlled by a benevolent creature and entirely unknown? It wasn’t true or real of course, but there was a beauty to it, that Loki, who’s path was clear and determined, appreciated. The alcohol (he and Lorelei made a habit of spiking drinks they bought on earth with Asgardian liqueur, so they’d, you know, work) was beginning to blur his awareness anyway. “That’s beautiful,” he said kindly.
She giggled, quickly touching her necklace and looking at the ground. “Haha, sorry! I study theology, it’s kind of a thing.”
“No, no!” Loki laughed, giving her a wide grin. “It was very interesting! Where do you study?”
They got into a long conversation about Sarah’s (her name, Loki found out eventually) degree, NYU dorms and a guy she hated in her seminars, before he noticed Lorelei making a beeline towards him, her hand around Sigurd’s wrist.
“Hey,” she said, before frowning at him and glancing at Sarah. “I’m going home with a girl named Angelica. She’s goth and plays bass. So you need to take Sig home.”
“I’m literally an ancient hero. Of legend,” Sigurd interjected.
Lorelei turned and glared at him instead. “Well, you need to take Loki home.”
“Oh well, come on then Sig!” Loki said loudly, ignoring his scowl. “Thank you for such a lovely conversation, Sarah darling. Have a nice night!”
“Thanks Luke!” she laughed, not being not obvious about checking Sigurd out. Oh God, she probably thought he was dating Loki. Yuck, how mortifying. “See you around!”
“Go get a taxi,” Lorelei told him, before wandering off to a girl with a septum piercing and docs, which Loki considered quite basic, especially for Lorelei.
They didn’t get a taxi. They walked five minutes until Loki ducked around a corner, ignored Sigurd saying “Aren’t we getting a taxi?” and grabbed his arm before dragging him through the spaces in between the universe and dropping him on the bean bag in his living room. A solitary pringles can rolled quietly and hit Loki’s foot.
“Ugh, you’re disgusting,” Loki muttered, kicking it away.
“I hate you,” Sigurd growled, pinching his nose and clearly trying not to throw up. Loki didn’t know why, it wouldn’t be any major downgrade from how the room was currently. “And I hate that. You’re such a fucking prick Loki.”
Time to make his exit before Sigurd regained enough strength to cause him bodily harm. “Bye honey!” he trilled, and Sigurd’s growl was cut off as he made his way to his own apartment. He didn’t wake up Verity, she had work tomorrow, so he just kicked off his shoes and climbed into bed, surrendering to unconsciousness.
--
Verity and Loki had moved in together for two reasons.
1) Loki spent most of his time at Verity’s. He had a separate shelf in her fridge for his energy drinks and his salsa, and a special place at the bottom of her spice cupboard for his snacks. He told Verity she had full ownership over all the snacks and could have them when he’d left, but she never did. Instead she got the little clip things she used and pinched the bags closed carefully, putting them to the side for the next time he came over. It was thoughtful, and Loki didn’t know what to do with it, so he never mentioned it. He got bored quite easily anyway, and most of his ‘friends’ had a very limited tolerance of him, so most days he found himself on Verity’s couch, playing Uno and eating Oreos.
2) Verity’s flat was bad and small and Loki’s was perfect and expensive, and if he spent all his time with Verity, they may as well hang out in his sketchily acquired penthouse. Plus, paying her rent made him feel useful. It was like a payment for all the little clips on his packets of Doritos.
He didn’t regret it. Except he thought that perhaps he might be as close as he could get to regretting it as he lay in bed listening to her pounding viciously at his door.
“Are you alive?” she yelled through the mahogany. He groaned just loudly enough to be heard, and she banged one more time for good measure before her footsteps quickly petered off towards the kitchen.
He sighed in frustration, rolling off his bed with just enough basic athletic ability to land on his feet. His vision blacked out for just a second, and his head very much rejected the idea of being on his feet. Had he shifted through space while drunk? That was so dangerous. He should have gotten like, a driving ticket. A magic driving ticket.
He stumbled into the kitchen and stared blearily at Verity. “What are you cooking?” he mumbled.
“Eggs,” she replied without turning. “Want some?”
“Hmm.” He stares at the clock. One in the afternoon? That wasn’t too bad. Verity must have just gotten in from work though, which made him feel bad. Oh, how he missed the days when he had no shame and also no friends. “No thanks, I don’t want to throw up.”
“I thought alcohol didn’t affect you?”
“Human alcohol doesn’t.” He sat down on one of the tall swivel chairs at their counter and spun around. Ow, oh fuck, that wasn’t a good idea. He grimaced and placed his pounding head in his hands. “Lorelei and I spiked our drinks with something we got from Asgard.”
“Huh.” Verity sat opposite him, eggs piled onto the plate she set down in front of her. She’d cooked the yokes, the heathen. “Did you have a good time?”
Loki stared at her. “I feel like I’m being interrogated by my mother.”
“Oh honey,” she teased, grinning through a mouthful of eggs. “Oh sweetie. Wear protection!”
Loki dramatically re-enacted retching, and she choked on her eggs. A just punishment for her crimes, he thought.
“Ew,” he moaned. “I had to see Sigurd’s flat last night. It was disgusting.”
“I wasn’t being serious?” she stared at him. “I didn’t know you actually slept with-”
“Ew, ew, no,” he interrupted. “I was just detailing how he’s far too disgusting to ever consider as a sexual object. I would probably sleep with Lorelei though.”
“As if she’d sleep with you.”
“I’m forever alone!” he cried “Like the meme!”
“If you think referencing memes from 2008 is going to help you get laid-” she got up, pulled the dishwasher open and put her plate in without washing it off. Awful dishwasher etiquette, and Loki was from a place where they washed dishes with magic, so she had no excuse. “-then I think you might be beyond help.”
“I’m waiting for the right person,” he mumbled, squinting in the light streaming in from their egregiously large windows. “Like America. I ship America and myself.”
“America’s a lesbian,” Verity said.
“I’m a woman sometimes!” He got up and opened the fridge. “It’d be perfectly possible if she could tolerate me.”
“Which she can’t.”
“Yeah,” Loki said in faux-disappointment. “Ergo, forever alone, I’m mister lonely, involuntarily celibate, and sent to the friendzone.”
He shut the fridge, no bacon in sight, and stared at the front of it trying to consider his next move. He could head down to the store, but also he couldn’t, because he couldn’t imagine bringing himself to put on something other than the shorts he was currently in that said ‘BAD WITCH’ in bright green, metallic lettering on the back (a gift from Kate) and also he was pretty certain a drink had been poured on him the night before, judging by the smell of lager and the way his fringe had congealed into a hard point overnight. He wasn’t in any fit state to walk down the street. He had standards to maintain.
Yes, he was an illusionist, but he was a hungover illusionist with a headache, thus he opened up DoorDash and ordered McDonald’s.
“Vee?” he called down the hall. “Do you want anything from McDonald’s?”
“Ew,” she called back. “No.”
He placed his order and looked back up at the fridge. They had a shared calendar printed out on that kind of slippy photo paper so they could use whiteboard markers on it and make sure to not double book having people over. Last time it had happened, Verity’s cousin had to top-and-tail with Thor on the couch, which was a weird experience for everyone, but mostly for Daniel. Currently, the calendar was pretty sparse, since it was early April, but Verity had written something in for Sunday. ‘Easter - Mom’s House’.
He stared at it, confused. He didn’t turn when he heard Verity’s feet pattering back into the kitchen. “Hey, I didn’t know you were religious.”
“Huh?” Verity had flopped onto the couch and was fiddling with the remote control, probably trying to turn on Dr Phil. “Not really, what do you mean?”
“You’re going to your Mum’s for Easter?”
“Oh I guess.” The Judge Judy theme song streamed from the TV. Loki stood corrected. “I don’t believe in it or anything. It’s just tradition.”
“Huh.” He glanced out onto the street. It was lively. They were in pretty central Manhattan, and usually when you looked onto the road it was hard to see a part of the path that wasn’t covered in black throngs of city goers. He sometimes wondered where they were going, had they plans, or were they just wandering, aimless and free? Loki had always thought it would be night to wander off and see where his feet would take him if he didn’t walk with direction or intention. “Had an interesting conversation last night.”
“Yeah?” Verity responded mindlessly, staring at the TV.
“About religion. With a girl in the smoking area.”
“Dude.” Verity leaned over, effortlessly butch. “Conversations about religion in a smoking area? I’m putting my foot down. Either you download Grindr or find a therapist.”
“Both of those options are severely limited by the fact that I am a divine being and a world renowned criminal,” he replied. “Do you think guys on Grindr are into my evil vibes, actually?”
“Guys on Grindr are definitely into your evil vibes.”
“Thanks Verity,” he said, turning and heading towards the door. “You always have my back. Maybe I’ll find a bae after all.”
He grinned at her sounds of indignation and headed to his room to sleep his headache away.
--
Loki had always been rather a superior child. He had no need for childish matters of ‘bravery’ and ‘heroics’, instead favouring his intellect and insight. His mother said he was a bright young man, thank you. So he cared little about Thor informing him he was too small and weak to spar with him and his friends. However, he had in return let Thor know that he would be instead spending some time with his very close friends, who Thor did not have an acquaintance with and who thought Loki was very cool and interesting indeed. Thus, appearances had to be upheld.
He peered around the corner of the great, awning entrance to the Bifröst control room. Lord Heimdall had his back turned, but Loki was not a fool. A child, but not a fool.
“Your Highness,” the Watcher called out, turning to face him. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
He inched forward, the tips of his fingers trailing the chilly gold-plated walls of the gate. “I was bored,” he lied.
“Very well.” Heimdall set down the Key and sat heavily down onto its platform. “Would you be able to keep me company during my break?”
Loki lifted his chin, glanced around himself and headed to sit beside him. “I suppose I can grace you with my presence, for some time at least.”
“Have you a full schedule, your Highness?”
Anger and indignation built in his chest. Loki whipped around and scowled at him. “I’m very busy.”
Heimdall’s playful expression sunk with practiced ease into something serious. “My apologies. Of course you are, my prince.”
Loki crossed his arms. He knew that Lord Heimdall knew all his business, all of everyone’s business, but it struck him like a spear to his chest to have been mocked over his… lack of desirability. How dare he? Loki may be a boy, but he was his prince. It was not Heimdall’s place to mock him.
He struggled to think of something dignified to reply, and the pressure of the silence between them built into a garotte that tightened around his neck. He daren’t look at Heimdall, imagining a mocking grin staring down at him. It was unlikely, and would be utterly out of place on the man’s face, but Loki would rather avoid the possibility altogether.
“How is your brother, your Highness?” Heimdall said to break the silence.
In a fit of rage, Loki slammed his palm against the platform. His eyes watered with the pain of it. “Why does everyone only care about what Thor is doing? How Thor is? I am not a vessel through which people may be updated about my brother’s status!”
In his anger he’d turned to glare at Heimdall, and was horrified to find the man’s face transformed by pity. Loki scowled in disgust, and stared at the wall in the opposite direction.
“I did not mean to imply anything as such, your Highness,” Heimdall explained carefully. “I merely asked out of having nothing else very interesting to say. Perhaps I should have asked how you are?”
Loki hesitated, glanced back up. “I’m well,” he mumbled shortly.
“That’s good to hear,” Heimdall replied, staring ahead, out the gates and down the Bifröst. Loki wondered if he saw that which lay in front of him with more clarity, or if what his tangible eyes caught was nothing different to everything else he saw. “Is there anything in particular you would like to speak about?”
Loki was silent for a moment. A topic had been weighing on his mind, one he hesitated to bring to his mother. A heavy topic indeed. “Heimdall?” he asked. “Why am I destined to be a monster?”
It had been a burden to bear, acknowledging what was written upon the tapestries spun deep in Nornheim. When mother had first told him of his destiny years ago, it had seemed like a childhood game, but everyday the gravity of his situation held him just a little firmer to the ground. All has its place, his mother had told him, and your place is important. It is against you that others will shine.
It coloured everything he did, and how others treated him. Thor still loved him as a brother, but everyday his pride in his own journey grew and Loki could only stand and watch as he looked on his brother with a little more suspicion, held him at a slightly further distance. Loki’s cruelty had been encouraged, not in a direct way, but in the ways in which his parents and carers were cruel towards him. Like a knife being sharpened.
Heimdall did not move. “Everything has its duty. Our world is not much but an elaborate play, and we act according to our roles so that the other realms may live in our image.”
“But why me?” Loki pressed. “Why can’t I be the hero?”
Neither mentioned what lay between them. A man and a child and a destiny for two corpses, having slain one another, to lie in the middle of their world as it burned.
“I’m sorry, my prince,” Heimdall said quietly. “Perhaps take some relief in the fact that you needn’t worry over who you will be. The Midgardians in particular struggle with virtue.”
“Really?” Loki muttered, head in his hands. “Isn’t it very freeing for them?”
“Not as such,” he replied. “In return for their agency, they are burdened with the duty to be ever kind and charitable to one another, or be damned for their failure to do so. It's simpler for us. Our fate is predetermined, and while you may be the villain, you are doing your duty as such and can rest easy knowing that it is a moral and just thing for you to be.”
Loki was silent for a second, staring morosely ahead. “But I don’t want to be the villain.”
“I’m sorry, Prince Loki,” Heimdall replied, resting a hand on his shoulder. “But the tapestries have already been spun.”
--
The Allmothers, in their omnipowetful ability to be incredibly annoying, always called him when he was in the middle of doing things. In this case, a lovely girl named Amelia who had told him he looked like Timotheé Chalamet.
She screamed, causing Loki to whip around with a curse only to find Gaia staring at him through his mirror, disgust on her face and her right eye covered by Loki’s Blondie postcard that Verity had bought him from some emo shop.
Gritting his teeth, he looked down at Amelia, who seemed to be sinking into some form of shock. “Oh man,” he said. “I’m so fucking sorry. Uh, I kind of have to take this. Another time maybe?”
She looked up at him in speechless horror before turning quickly and climbing out from under him. Before he could even look up at her he heard the slam of the door. He glanced up. Huh, at least she’d taken her shirt with her. Loki was a feminist after all.
With a sigh, he turned to face Gaia. “My Lady!” He greeted with gritted teeth. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
She held his gaze for a few awkward seconds.
“Okay,” he said. “I would say, if anything it’s your fault that you decided to just turn up in my mirror without any prior warning. Really? You can’t expect me to be celibate. I’m Loki.”
She graced him with a performatively regal sigh and a significantly less regal eye roll. “The Allmothers have a task for you to complete, Loki.”
“Don’t you always?” He grumbled, pulling a hoodie on to cover up some of his nudity. Amelia may have only lost a shirt, but Loki was already down to his boxers. He was a feminist, after all.
“There is a great treasure in the belonging of one of our own, one who dwells in the realm of Midgard.”
“In English?”
The Allmother paused. Her eyebrows furrowed. “Your first language is the tongue of Jötunheim.”
“It’s just a-, it’s just a phrase, okay? Anyway, can you get to the crux of it? I was busy.”
“You aren’t busy anymore.”
He threw his arms out dramatically, making sure his irritation was painted clear on his face. “Thanks for that, by the way!”
“We would like-,” she continued, gathering her composure. “-for you to retrieve the ancient sword, Gram. It’s power is too great for us to allow it to remain out of our grasp. We have waited too long already, and time is of the essence.”
“Gram?” Loki asked. “You mean Sigurd’s sword?”
“The legendary sword Gram does indeed lie in the hands of the hero Sigurd-”
“But Sig loves his sword,” he interrupted. “He’s going to hate me if I take it for you. That’s narc behaviour.”
“This is your duty, Prince Loki, to your people,” Gaia said sternly. “You are, and have always been, a narc.”
“Hey, fuck you-”
She was gone in the next second, and Loki was left staring at his face in the mirror, and the way the skin underneath his eyes was grey and sunken, which made his eyes pop in a sort of consumption-chic. He looked a bit like Maleficent, he thought in an attempt to distract himself from the dread of the task that now lay before him and the inevitable broken friendship (he didn’t have many to break left).
But without all the milf energy. Loki didn’t have any milf energy, which was probably the source of most of his problems
--
Often, Loki found the easiest way to avoid all of his issues was to pretend he was a funny, quirky little guy living a funny, quirky little life. Oh Loki, he’s the token evil teammate, the funny comic relief in stories about other people, relegated to side character (but hot enough that all the fan art and fic was going to centre him). This allowed him to get away with his faults, which were many and numerous, by playing them off as the work of that darned scamp, Loki. This situation however, was one that worried Loki, as Sigurd was nothing if he wasn’t two things; 1) absolutely unenamoured by Loki and everything Loki had going for himself, and 2) in love with that fucking sword.
Loki sat down cross-legged on his bed and contemplated the choices he could make here. He could take the sword, and try to manipulate the situation to make Sigurd look like he was overreacting. Take the sword to the flat and mess around while he showed it to Verity. But, he knew, Verity wouldn’t play along, because her moral compass was ever on the straight and narrow and anyway, she’d know he was lying.
Lorelei would side with Sigurd over him, because she didn’t trust the Asgardian establishment and they all knew that the tentative little bit of control that let them languish in something resembling a real life on Midgard rested on Sigurd having enough power that Asgardia would rather leave him alone than bother. Losing Gram would put that in jeopardy, and Lorelei wouldn’t trade a shoelace for Loki, nevermind her happy ending. He knew well enough that this theft would be unjust, would put all of the power into the hands of the already powerful. He knew this, and he knew that Sig and Lorelei? Wouldn’t hurt a fly, really. For all the three of them pretended to hate each other, Loki knew they were good people, and they just wanted to live their lives in peace.
He could simply refuse. Not take the sword, let the Allmothers deal with it some other way. He could say it was above his pay grade, which it was.
Except, he couldn’t. Not really. He had duties that Sigurd and Lorelei couldn’t possibly understand. That idea couldn’t push its way forward from the back of his mind, as if constrained by something, writhing back and forth to break free. Or was it? Or was that an excuse, a claim to someone that he was trying, still, to do the right thing, and that it wasn’t his fault when he failed to.
He sighed, and stood up. His wardrobe was a mess, but it was an organised mess, and anyway it was a bright, sunny day outside and he could find his dragon scale armour easily from the way it glinted in the light at the back of his slogan t-shirts.
--
Sig had moved all the dirty washing from his desk chair. Loki didn’t have high hopes that it was for any reason other than playing PC games though. Sig was really into, like, Call of Duty and Halo. Were they PC? Loki didn’t know. He preferred superior gaming experiences, like Professor Layton.
Lo and behold, Loki found the mysteriously disappeared dirty clothing on Sig’s couch. For a guy whose feats and adventures were written down in legend, he really had some drab taste in furnishings.
Loki moved silently through the flat, letting just a little bit of his seidr seep into his steps to cushion the noise. He didn’t turn on any lights, instead relying on a little bit of patience to let his eyes adjust to the dark. His Jotunn heritage, dare he say it, came in handy at times like this due to the Jotnär having pretty decent night vision. This was in order to do crimes and eat children, his nursemaid had informed him when he was small. Well, Loki was doing crimes, but the jury was out on the eating children bit.
Loki was an expert catburglar, tales of his stealthiness were scribbled on the walls of ancient Midgardian caves, the remnants of long extinct societies, all of which he had outlived. Thus, he cleverly noticed the Guitar Hero™ plastic guitar and stepped over it.
Loki knew one thing about Sigurd. He was paranoid. Thus, Loki had a suspicion about where he would put Gram, and if he was correct he knew this job wouldn’t be easy.
He eased open the bedroom door, and watched as the hero of the stories he had been told as a babe snored while laying on his front. Huh, great ass.
Loki mentally smacked himself. Bad!
His attention was then quickly snatched by the gleaming sword that lay against the left bedpost. Ding ding, we have a winner! Sigurd both expected his sword to be stolen and expected to have to fight off home invaders, and so he kept his greatest asset (other than his ass) right next to him in his most vulnerable times. Loki was his worst nightmare, well usually, but even more so at this moment.
He crept forward, stepping carefully over strewn clothes. Wait, was that Lorelei’s blouse? Ugh, he didn’t want to think about that. He’d much rather they remain entirely celibate in his mind.
Loki crept closer, and reached out to grasp the hilt of the sword silently.
“...What the fuck? Loki?”
He should have run, probably. Teleported, gone invisible, maybe should have even jumped through the window. That might have thrown Sigurd off the scent right? Prince Loki, God of Trickery and Harbinger of Ragnarök wouldn’t have just leapt through a window. Well, the window was seventeen floors up actually, so maybe a regular burglar wouldn’t have either.
Anyway, what happened was he stood stock still, unable to move a muscle or turn to face Sigurd, as if he were labouring under the delusion that Sigurd was a creature that tracked prey by movement. He looked like something out of Looney Tunes, which wasn’t fantastic for his dignity.
“Loki,” Sigurd snapped again.
He turned, and winced at the look of outrage on his friend’s face. Sigurd was sat up on his elbow, his other arm on his comforter. He looked like he was ready to attack someone. Loki was pretty sure he hadn’t expected it to be - well, Loki.
“What the fuck were you doing?” he said. “Were you stealing Gram? Why? For who?”
Ouch, that hurt. He may have been stealing it for someone else, but it was a bit upsetting that Sigurd had immediately disregarded the idea he was working in his own interest.
He opened his mouth. Closed it. “The Allmothers send their regards,” he finally admitted drily.
If anything, Sigurd’s outrage grew. “How- How could you?”
A bit dramatic, Loki thought. Sigurd leapt out of his bed, and Loki didn’t have the chance to step back before his shoulders were in Sigurd’s bruising grip and his back pushed hard against the wall. “You know what this means,” Sigurd said, his disgust evident. “You aren’t stupid, Loki. You know what you’re doing.”
Oh, that was it, wasn’t it? Loki wasn’t evil because he did evil things. He was evil because he knew they were wrong before he did them, and he did them anyway.
“I have to,” he mumbled weakly. Was that a lie? Verity would know. “I have no choice.”
“Yes you do,” Sigurd said, releasing his grip and stepping back, “Yes you do, you’re just too much of a coward to admit it. You’re so desperate to play happy families. I can see it in you, and so can Lorelei. All you want is to be useful to people, even if it’s for the Allmothers, who treat you like shit. You do their fucking dirty work and they kick you around and you love it, because you get to be part of their rotten little story.”
Loki stared at him, suddenly feeling utterly, entirely tired beyond belief. Sigurd could not tell him anything that he did not tell himself.
“You’re a coward. You’re a fucking coward who does everything the Allmothers ask of you. One moment you sneer at them up there, in Asgard, and pretend that you and me and Lorelei are all in the same boat, but the next moment you bare your neck to them. One day they’re going to ask you to hurt someone you really care about, and you know what? You’ll do it. They’ll ask you to hurt Thor, or Verity, and you’ll do it without a second thought because you’re a coward, Loki, and you always will be.”
His breath caught in his throat. “I wouldn’t hurt Verity.”
“Yes, you would. If someone put it on a tapestry you’d do it in a fucking heartbeat.”
“I see, well,” he paused, looked to his right to avoid Sigurd’s gaze. “I’ll let you get back to sleep I suppose.”
Sigurd reached out to grab him, but he was gone before he had a chance.
—
Received FRI 2:08
Verity: hey u coming back tonight or what
Verity: im assuming ur working
Verity: if u are there’s leftover pasta bake in the fridge. Ik you hate leftovers but its on offer. Im off to bed, night!
Received FRI 11:02
Verity: hey called lorelei to check in on you and she says you and sig aren’t talking. She didnt seem thrilled w you either. U ok?
Verity: call me if you get the chance ok
Received MON 15:47
Verity: yh ok this is cringe but please call. Im worried
Verity: you usually lmk when youre gone this long and sig was being suspicious
Verity: i asked him if hed seen you and he like laughed
Verity: idk maybe hed be more concerned if something had happened but u guys dont exactly have a normal expectation for health and safety in the workplace
Received WED 23:21
Verity: please call i’m worried
Verity: please
Received THU 18:54
Verity: you’re a fucking idiot
Verity: I hate you
Received THU 19:02
Verity: i didn’t mean that
Verity: sorry.
Verity: please do call. please
--
Verity wasn’t the only one texting him, which would have done wonders for his ego if it had been anywhere near still intact, but she was the only one who’s texts he kept re reading, scanning them obsessively and trying to convince himself he was doing the right thing.
The thing that nagged him though, was how would he know what the right thing was?
All his life, the right thing was whatever was in stride with where he was determined to end up. The path had been laid out for him - all he had to do was walk it. But, though the Norns had written out his beginning, his end, his great misdeeds and stories, they hadn’t written about things like whether he should get KFC or not, whether he’d be good at Mario Party or what dog breed was his favourite (alsatian). They had never had the name Verity Lewis brush their lips.
Because this world was untethered. It simply wasn’t important enough for the Norns to have seen. Did that mean that they were free, here? Was that bad or good? To Loki, who despite everything had spent an eternity comfortable in the knowledge that he knew what would happen, and that the future was clear to him as long as he could stand in the halls he’d grown up in and stare at the tapestries on the walls, the idea of absolute undetermined fate was deeply terrifying. It caught in his throat, wrapped around his heart, squeezed the warmth out of his chest.
But Sigurd was right, and so he had a decision to make.
There were people walking around under him, where he sat perched on the roof of a Soviet era apartment building in Brno. They didn’t know what would happen to them, how many kids they’d have, whether they’d marry or how they’d die. They didn’t know any of that, and that meant they could decide.
Huh.
--
He stumbled when he flashed in, and his hand reached out steady himself against the wall. The lights were off, but after a couple of seconds he heard a slight clutter from Verity’s room. Taking a deep breath he made his way to the kitchen and sat down at the bar. He didn’t bother to switch the light on, instead just collapsed into the chair and placed his head in his hands.
The lights switched on. “Loki?”
He peeked at her from between his fingers. Verity stared at him as if she couldn’t quite decide whether to be angry or happy. She was squinting (she wasn’t wearing glasses - she must have been asleep). He must have looked suitably miserable because instead of launching into a tirade she narrowed her eyes and slowly moved to sit opposite him, as if trying to tame some vicious creature. Apt, perhaps.
Their silence hung very heavily. “I’m sorry,” Loki eventually said, mortified to hear a crack in his voice from disuse.
She watched him carefully. “I forgive you,” she replied. Not ‘it’s okay’, because Verity found lying, even unconsciously, very difficult. “Can you tell me what’s up?”
By ‘can’, Loki knew that Verity was asking as if this was something related to his work for the Allmothers, but he found that even though this wasn’t any secret mission detail he was forbidden from sharing, he still found it hard to describe.
“I mean,” he muttered, breaking away from her stare. “Where would you like me to start?”
“Wherever you want to?”
He swallowed. “I had to steal something from Sigurd. Gram-” She opened her mouth and he jerked his shoulders defensively. “Please let me just explain. The Allmothers asked me too. I knew that if I did it it would put Sig and Lorelei’s relative safety at a significant risk. But,” he paused, bit his lip, horrified by the lump in his throat. “Even though I knew it was the wrong thing to do, and that all of you, all of my friends, would think less of me because of it, I had to do it. I had to do it because if I don’t do things that are wrong, that are bad, I am not filling the role that I am set out to fill, that I have always been set out to fill.
“There are tapestries, in Asgard,” he explained, a wobble entering his tone. “They’ve been there since before me, before my parents, before anyone. They were woven by the Norns, who see all of the past, the present and the future. They were woven so that we, who will be images of all the people of the Nine Realms and who will serve as a reflection of their large and varied communion, could know where we fit and what roles we are to play. And I’m a villain, Verity. I am the bad guy, because someone has got to be. There are people who actively choose to be bad and evil and selfish all over the shop, and someone has to represent them in the grand scheme of things. And, mainly, I have to keep everyone’s hands clean by making mine dirty.”
Her hands reached steadily out, grabbed one of his and held it between them. They were tears threatening to fall now, and they choked up his voice.
“So I do what the Allmothers ask me to, and I antagonise Thor, and I play my part as the bad guy of the story so that one day that story may be told to children as they are tucked into bed, so that they know that immorality causes you nothing but strife. I am supposed to have that strife, and through this my immorality is good and right, because I am an example.”
He paused. “Sigurd said I would hurt you, if they asked me to.”
“Would you?” she asked.
A second passed. “I don’t know. Maybe. I’d rather not risk it, but I thought you at least deserved an explanation for my sudden disappearance.”
She leaned back then, stared out their windows and onto the road beneath them, still busy despite the hour. “Do you want to know what I think?”
“Dare I ask?” he chuckled wetly.
Her voice was firm. “I think that’s bullshit. I know you’re telling the truth, that you might hurt me if your Moms asked you. But I think you don’t know that that’s not true, which is why it’s registering as right to me.”
He squinted at her in confusion.
“You believe it,” she explained. “Which is why it’s registering as true to me. But that doesn’t mean you would, it just means you don’t think you’re a good person, and that’s not news.
“You see yourself as some kind of cut-out character with one trait, a yin to Thor’s yang or some shit, but you only think that’s all real because people have told you it is. Who’s to say those tapestries are anything? I think that you - all of you Asgardians - are terrified of being unmoored, so you make up shit like this so that you don’t have to grapple with morality.”
He tried to interrupt, but Verity continued. “You’re all terrified of life, so you pretend it’s one big play you’re putting on for our benefit, with roles and lines so that you needn’t make ‘em up. But you know what? Why don’t you just try? Try to improvise. Break away from it all. Maybe those tapestries do mean something, but maybe they just come true because you all keep doing what they say.
“You’re not the bad guy in a play, Loki,” she told him, her voice full of emotion and her hand rubbing his. It was just enough to keep him tethered to reality, he thought. “You’re my friend. You’re funny, and flippant. You don’t like to talk about your emotions. You don’t have great self-esteem and you kick ass at Jenga. You’re playing a part, but you know the thing about actors? They have lives when they get off the stage, and you could too.”
--
His boots echoed across the ground as he climbed the short hill to his destination. It was dust, not dirt, that he trod on, and the air was stale and cloyed in his lungs. It was the kind of air that felt like it didn’t blow, but just hung in the air for eternity, older than you by indescribable amounts.
No one went here. It was unplottable by some working laid down long before even the beginning of Asgardian history. It had taken Loki four days to crack, because 1) he’d spent all of his non-eating, non-sleeping time in the last couple of days focused on it, 2) he’d already made a groundwork as a teenager before his mother had told him off for meddling in things he shouldn’t have been and 3) he was pretty fucking good. Really, the only reason he hadn’t touched it before was because as he became a man, he grew to respect the Norns. Things had changed.
“Hello!” he called, not surprised to find the three women staring at him, likely well aware of his arrival for at least eternity, or something.
“Liesmith,” Lady Verdandi spoke in a low, powerful voice. “You have come to rattle the chains that you feel resting upon your shoulders.”
“Yep,” he responded, popping the ‘p’.
“These chains,” Skuld said in a tight voice. “Are imaginary.”
“No actually,” he said, beginning to pace around the room. “You see, I don’t really care if they’re ‘imaginary’ or whatever. I actually am just here to let you know that I’m just going to be kind of doing my own thing from now on.”
“Your ‘own thing’?” Urd sneered. “ You do not have your ‘own thing’. The fate we have laid out for you is everything you are.”
“Everything I am is just a mask. A mask that you put on me!”
“Oh? That implies something on which a mask can be put. Is there anything under your mask, Loki? Do you even know?”
“Well, I guess I’m going to find out,” he ground out. They were sat down, staring up at him, and he felt unnervingly like he was still a child who had been summoned to his father’s study to receive an admonishment for troublemaking.
“You will find out,” Verdandi explained calmly. “That you are mistaken, and that you will play your part in the fate that will become and will end and will begin again, whether you try to fight against it or not.”
“So that’s it then?” Loki said softly, although his voice still echoed across the ancient walls that enclosed him. “There’s no path to grace for me. I’m your villainous fool, cast in this grand play so that your heroes may show their virtue in my vanquishment. I’m good when I’m bad, and I’m bad when I’m good.”
He paused, and stared her down.
“Well, I’m afraid I’d rather be bad on my own terms, actually.”
Verdandi had opened her mouth to say something else, probably something even more patronising, but before she had the chance Loki had stepped between reality and left Nornheim and its frigid, stale air behind him.
--
“Saw you coming,” the Watcher said when Loki stepped out in front of him.
Loki smiled. “Naturally,”
Heimdall sat tiredly on the Bifröst’s lock. Loki noticed with a sort of jolt that Heimdall was getting old. Maybe they all were. “What is it you would like from me, my prince?”
“Oh nothing really,” he answered. “I just thought I should let someone know that I will be unable to complete the most recent mission that the Allmothers have given me. In fact, perhaps you could let them know that I’m putting in my two week’s notice, so to speak? Although I’m not really giving them any notice, let alone two weeks.”
“Oh? Might I ask what has brought this on, your highness?”
Loki crossed his arms. “I’m trying this new thing called ‘making your own destiny’. All the cool kids are doing it.”
Heimdall nodded. He wouldn’t have been able to have viewed Loki’s conversation with the Norns, but he would have seen what Verity had said. “I wish you luck, dear child,” he said softly.
Loki’s smile turned quiet and genuine for just a moment, before he turned away and took a few steps. Wait! He had something else to mention.
He looked back at Heimdall.
“By the way, maybe I am going to kill you someday,” he said. “”But I promise that I’m going to try my damndest not to.”
With that, he stepped back into New York, and headed towards Dominoes to pick up their pizza. They were doing movie night, he and Verity. They were going to watch Legally Blonde. Loki thought about - What was her name? Susie? Sarah? He thought maybe she was right, in the end. Maybe it was a gift to believe in what can’t be seen, and thus a gift to follow darkened paths. But the path that brought him home felt warm and reliable, just like it always did.
#this is nothing#really its just an attempt to see if i can write something 5k+#so its not good#but hey#loki#loki agent of asgard#agent of asgard#verity lewis#loki fic
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maelstrom of sentient alignments invades the plane of existence, a disturbance that craves to reign in abysmal conditions. life’s a husk, encapsulating suffocating doubts, oppressive designs, countless reflections, materialistic happiness, a plethora of benevolent words &. more in a continuous loop — there’s no light without the darkness, undeniable verity in realistic fields, basically represents the official balance that individuals must accept, follow. true enlightenments possess various forms &. ought to be achieved if delving in tenebrosity plus luminary is willingly chosen, mainly in secret to ensure that nobody will hinder the diligent exertions without underestimating how risky will be the journey that leads to meanings &. enigmas, impugning humane traditions, challenging wits alongside conducting an examination of the hearts’ opulence. the adventurous destinations with impromptu surprises must be expected, putting symbolic values for the betterment of individualism because the journey gathers essential confrontations, regularly encouraging the fleeting wanderers to question social machineries that facilitate evolutions &. analyze prosperities. historical archives depict how reducing civilizations to a lump of minerals happens in political conflicts ( aristocrats enjoy banquets with feverish contacts &. pretentious flatteries, emotional savants who abandon promising careers to publish books &. denounce the hypocritical morals of societies, outlandish findings that madden geniuses with voracity &. curiosity ) a compound of woeful trajectories, esurient pursuits &. desperate interventions. the final logically resembles a chorus of vast divergences, often bitter to hear or reassuring to ken &. some foundations depend on scarce circumstances, with necessities not obligatory to adhere to or dramatic mistakes indubitably prohibitive to follow with a certain background laden with tragic events. the goal’s to educate souls, the apex of all palatial ideals, not to feed prides. days of researching for ancient scraps laden with impactful mysteries that exhaust one’s worried core broaden naive minds &. harden one’s demanding prudence, advising the body to pause before continuing to rummage, not hankering to waste fruitful progressions.
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AOS Khan headcanons
I felt the urge to get these ideas I have out into writing because of how little this is delved into in STID, and because the books and comics and things aren’t really canon. I did take some inspiration for his backstory from the Khan comic series and another couple of tiny little bits that I found on Memory Beta though. ^^
Childhood and Origins
- He was born in 1970, his birthday being February the 10th. His mother was Dr. Sarina Kaur, an Indian biochemist living and working in New Delhi, but he has no biological father of any kind because after months of theoretical research, Sarina managed to successfully conceive a child from just one parent. This was because of a project in which she was investigating the possibility of asexual reproduction in human beings like in some species of plants and insects, hence it was dubbed the Chrysalis Project.
- Whilst Khan was still in utero, his mother introduced some adjustments into his DNA such as providing him with the ability to better remember events from the early years of his childhood and adding a few different ethnicities into the mix. The European ethnicity became the dominant one, which is why he has a light skin tone, blue eyes and an English accent despite being born to an Indian parent.
- She named him Khan after one of her grandfathers, gave him his surname after the 15th century poet Singh el Bashir and chose his middle name as Noonien after Noonien Prasad, her boyfriend who died from cancer while she was pregnant with Khan and who would have been a fatherly figure to him.
- Sarina was very caring and benevolent towards Khan, who she would often call her beautiful boy. The fact that her son looked so different to her and that she’d originally conceived him for the purpose of scientific research did nothing to stop her from loving him very dearly.
- She later died when he was four years old due to an accident at her laboratory one day: it started a fire in which she perished as she tried to escape. When the now orphaned little Khan found out about his mother’s death, he felt frightened now that he was alone and ran off into the streets of the city, moving from place to place every night with no other possessions except for his blanket.
- After a few days, he came across a group of half a dozen other street orphans led by an older boy with a heart condition named Tanvir Acharya, who allowed Khan to join them, making him the youngest member. The ragtag seven would go around exploring the city together and would make their days of living homeless feel that little bit less sad, and over the next year Khan and Tanvir became best friends, to the point where they ultimately saw each other as blood brothers.
- After a year, Khan, Tanvir and the others in the group, and several other orphans, were kidnapped off of the streets by men working for a geneticist, Dr. Heisen, and taken to be turned into genetically enhanced “supermen” via DNA-altering experiments.
- Another seven years on, when Khan was twelve years old, he and the others at the facility they were being kept at were now all Augments and were still in the captivity of Heisen and his scientists. Khan and Tanvir hatched a plan for the both of them to escape and then come back to liberate the others later on: they dug their way out of the facility grounds through the floor and fled in separate directions, promising to rendezvous at this time later on when they’d go back for the others, with Khan going off into the Gobi Desert. However, Khan was recaptured five days later thanks to the use of his neural inhibitor implanted in his and the others’ bodies in order to inflict pain at the push of a button. Upon his return to the facility, he found out that Tanvir had also been recaptured, but that he had died due to the use of his own neural inhibitor inadvertently stopping his heart, his condition having “slipped the net” from his enhancements.
- After another three years, the teenage Khan, having become embittered towards Heisen and his scientists, and the others took control of the facility after working together to remove their neural inhibitors, and after Khan killed Heisen by crushing his skull, he and the other Augment children finally escaped and left to see more of the world.
Global Rule
- Khan and the group of friends and comrades he had by then, some of them being other Augments that had also escaped from their own facilities, took control of the Indian government in 1990 and established The Great Khanate, an Augment government power encompassing India, Nepal, Mongolia, the Western half of Russia and the Middle East. The world was also ruled over by six other Augment powers: Alexander Newton in charge of the Empire of Newtonia and Verity Cheng leading the Cheng Federation - these two being the Great Khanate’s allies and respectively encompassing North America and the Eastern half of Asia - along with Asahf Ferris at the head of the Ferris Dominion in South America, Ama Owusu leading the African Caliphates in the entirety of the African continent, and the Khanate’s enemies allied with each other, respectively the Oceania and European powers led by Bernard Maltuvis and John Ericssen called Maltuvisland and Pax Europa.
- While the Cheng Federation and the Empire of Newtonia adopted the same rules of benevolence towards their subjects that Khan did, with the African Caliphates also doing the same, the Ferris Dominion extorted money from its own, and Pax Europa and Maltuvisland committed many executions of human enemies and expanded their territories the most aggressively.
- Verity, Alexander and Khan all promised to back each other up in the event of a war against John and Bernard, as defensive border skirmishes were shared with these two; these were made more difficult by the start of the Eugenics Wars in 1992, which meant that for the next four years every Augment power had human forces working against them as well. Ama and Asahf preferred to stay neutral during Khan, Verity and Alex’s cold war against Maltuvisland and Pax Europa - they both basically sat back away from the chaos sipping tea and saying “This is fine”.
- While the other four’s identities were public knowledge - Ama and the others in the African Caliphates government were greeted as heroes for freeing the citizens of Africa from the poverty and dictatorships that they were living under - Alex, Verity and Khan all kept their faces and voices as leaders a secret, going by false names in public.
Personality Traits and Interests
- Although Khan has a cold ruthlessness towards his enemies who incur his anger, and even then he can still have a merciful side to some of them, he’s benevolent towards animals and children, as he knows that they’re innocents. He’s still also merciful towards people who aren’t directly involved in the activities of said enemies or don’t know what they’re doing, and as a result tries to avoid killing these non-direct accomplices if he can help it.
- He was taught about Hinduism from an early age, but he doesn’t really follow any religions.
- He likes the feeling of riding a horse, because of the freedom it grants of being able to ride through wide open spaces with nothing holding him back.
- He keeps it locked away underneath the surface and keeps himself cold and aloof around his enemies and strangers, but if you’re a person that he really trusts he can let his emotions shine through. Khan’s got a big heart, it’s just been tainted by his experiences.
- What he’s also got is a hidden fondness for chocolates and a disliking for spicy foods, the latter of which being ironic due to the fact that he grew up in India.
- He has a loathing for the scientists who turned him into an Augment, who took away a normal childhood that he could have had and also ended up taking his best friend away from him, as they and the ones working for the other Augment facilities around the world during the 1970s and 80s effectively dressed up their selfish goals of using supermen as human weapons in a facade of idealism.
- However, Khan bears no ill will to the rest of mankind and this is why he committed no atrocities towards his human subjects while leading the Great Khanate - the fond memories he has of Sarina, of the happy days before she died back when he was four, are a reminder to him that not all non-enhanced humans are selfish and that they’re capable of kindness. Khan loves her very much in return, which means that although he may become ruthless and enraged in the heat of battle, he’ll never take out this rage on the human race in general, as doing so would be an affront to the memory of his mother.
#khan noonien singh#khan#khanbatch#khan singh#into darkness#star trek into darkness#star trek#star trek aos#aos#aos khan#into darkness khan#star trek headcanon#stid
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43. Know Who Your Friends Are
Verity/Victor Rich
Taglist: @thoughpoppiesblow @vintagelavenderskies @wexhappyxfew @50svibes @tvserie-s-world @adamantiumdragonfly @ask-you-what-sir @whovian45810 @brokennerdalert
Camp Nano ‘21 Update #13.
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'Twas only when Verity heard Gene ask her to tell him about her childhood that she realized she'd been yearning to reminisce all day.
His unassuming request resembled her green flag, and she was off like a racehorse curving 'round a familiar track. On and on, she rambled, and each time she slowed, sure she was boring him, he encouraged her to go on. He asked favorable questions and chuckled and sighed at all the right places. She must have gone on for at least an hour, speaking of the wildlife and her schooling and her father's vocation. Halfway through the story of the Halloween blizzard, she flushed and trailed off, realizing she'd already related it to him months ago. Still, he asked her to go on, though the way he smiled let her know he remembered the whole thing from her earlier telling.
Gene's hair was pretty, swept about by the sea breeze. She wanted to run her fingers through it, for just a moment as his dark locks danced over his eyes, then cursed him in her head for not wearing his helmet. She didn't mean it, of course, her reaction was born of surprise at her own desires, not a true annoyance towards him. When she mentioned he should ask Liebgott for a cut, he laughed quietly, almost to himself, and simply kept watching the seagulls and the waves.
Strange, the way one's heart changed when it knew what it wanted from someone. Any time prior to last April, Verity would have thought only that Gene's companionship was simply wonderful and how glad she was to have him as her secret-keeper and friend. Well in tune with how she now saw him in a different light (which, to her continued timidity, seemed to grow just a little in luster every day), she noticed every little thing. The way his hand dropped from the balustrade and grazed her knuckles with his own. How she wished she had the nerve to take his hand, or that he would do it for her. The way the stillness between them- now undeniably awkward -turned almost painful the longer they stood there, looking at anything but each other.
Verity was the first to step back from the railing, muttering something that she herself hardly comprehended about the temperature, and making sure no further fight had broken out between their friends back at the bunks. Gene agreed that they should go check, and so accompanied her back down to the belly of the beast, then down the rows, zig-zagging until they reached Malarkey and Skip's bunk. Right above Skip lay Penkala, and above him was the berth, empty save for a pillow and blanket (shorter than her legs and torso; she could hardly imagine how Bull Randleman felt), in which Verity would seek rest tonight, a task she'd been chiefly unsuccessful at the past two evenings.
Liebgott had gone off to play cards with Tipper, Malarkey informed them, watching a loose thread from Skip's mattress swing like a pendulum with each gradual sway of the ship. Guarnere, they could all see in his bunk, leaning against one of the metal beams as he flipped through a paperback so tattered Verity couldn't make out the title nor the author on the cover or spine. Satisfied with the relative peace she'd returned to (and mindful not to greet either incendiary), she turned to ask Gene if he'd like to stick around, hear a song or two on her harmonica, but he'd gone without a word. Neither Malarkey nor Hoobler had seen which way he went, and they voiced as such though she hadn't asked.
Eugene Roe-
She decided to put the thought out there, just in case there was some benevolent deity willing to meddle in the affairs of her heart.
-please get out of my head. Or my heart. Or, preferably, both.
An audible sigh; Verity's harmonica sank in her pocket like the overweigthed tool of a fool.
I really like you, but I can't keep thinking about how nice you look in the sunshine. Not while we're going to war.
Maybe on some happier day, when we're on our way home again, I can look at you like that... and maybe I would catch you doing the same.
But not today. And probably not for many, many more days.
"You good, Red?" Hoobler asked, popping his head up from the other side of Malarkey's bunk. When had he moved over there? How long had she been standing in the same spot, staring at the rim of the nearest bedframe but not really looking at it?
Running her hand through her hair, she shrugged. "Yeah. Just a little sun-tired, I s'pose. The light's stronger out here on open water than on land."
Accepting her answer as simple as that, her friend turned away. Looking past him, she caught a glimpse of a dark head of hair sauntering past Liebgott and Tipper's card game. Her heart skipped, and she wondered if she should hate it for having such a reaction when the passerby clearly wasn't even Gene.
Don't leave me alone, but... leave me alone?
"Goddamnit."
Climbing up past Skip, then Penkala, she rolled onto her bunk and drew her knees up towards her. It was hardly five in the afternoon, much too early to sleep. She didn't feel much like playing her harmonica, or talking, or even reading Malarkey's magazine over his shoulder (he must have gone over it at least twice in her nearly two-hour absence, that's how bored he otherwise was). Penkala poked his head up from his bunk, holding onto the rim of hers to steady himself, and tilted his head at her.
"Sun-tired, huh?"
"Yep."
"Bullshit."
He pulled himself up, and though it took a little wriggling, managed to push her aside and sit on the edge of her cot. He swung his legs over the edge, waving down at Hoobler, who craned his neck so far up to see them, his Adam's apple bobbed out.
"I think you're homesick."
She gave a throaty laugh. "Yeah, sure. Me, who hasn't been home in over a year-"
"Exactly!" He threw his hands up and nearly fell off-balance, clinging to the meshed underside of the next bunk up for stability. "Why'd you hafta pick a bed up so high?" he griped, momentarily losing focus.
"I didn't," she reminded, "you and Skip did."
"Just Skip," he clarified, and when he heard his name a second time, their friend scrambled up from his bunk and poked his head up over the side of Verity's.
"What's up?"
"Rich here is in a funk," Penkala started to explain.
Hoobler's voice chimed in even before his countenance had joined those ogling her from all sides: "You can say that again."
"Fellas, I'm fine, I just need a good night's sleep-"
"Here." Skip reached under his shirt and withdrew a beaded chain. He held it out to her, leaning into the bunk so she could reach it. After a beat, thinking it rude to refuse, she took the pendant- a cross -in her hands and brushed her thumb over it. "You know why I carry that?"
"Because you believe God will get you through?"
"Well, yes, but I really carry it because it reminds me of all the good parts o' the church. Maybe I'm not the most religious man, but I'm good for one thing, and that's havin' a little faith." He shrugged. "Whether that's in the big kahuna up above or my buddies or my own two hands, feet, mind, and balls-"
Verity groaned and he lightly tapped the back of her hand with the cross on the beads.
"Or in my infallible sense of humor," he concluded with a grin. "Sometimes, Victor Rich, you just gotta have a little faith."
She glanced between him, Penkala, and Hoobler and was surprised to see they were watching her with sound understanding.
"You... don't mind that I fell out of religion?"
"Well, depends on how long ago-"
"I was three, and it was right after my Moms died."
Even Penkala, seated, seemed to straighten up. Skip offered an awkward chuckle and Verity flushed to realize he'd only been joking.
"That's, uh, a reasonable... reason," he resolved, tucking his rosary beads- she'd only remembered the name of them just now -back under his ODs. "As long as we know you'll look out for us in a fight-"
"Of course!"
Penkala grinned and punched her lower leg. "See what we mean?"
Verity's lips curved upward. "I think I am."
"We never doubted you, Red," Hoobler piped up, nodding knowingly at her.
As the others echoed their agreement, Verity's chin dropped to her chest, humbly honored by their faith in her as she'd been time and time again since she first arrived at Camp Toccoa. That scared girl had really blossomed (albeit falsely, to some degree) among these good, strong, kind young men. The encouragement of her friends, her soon-to-be brothers-in-arms, induced in her vast affection and appreciation for them. As Hoobler hopped down with a playful salute, the last to go, she hoped he could see her gratitude in her eyes.
From the way his own gaze and smile softened just then, he certainly could.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
#verity/victor rich#verity/victor rich ficlet#verity/vic rich#verity/victor rich 43: know who your friends are#in defense of chicanery#camp nano update#band of brothers#band of brothers oc#band of brothers ficlet#band of brothers oc ficlet#hbo war show#hbo war#hbo war show oc#hbo war show oc ficlet#hbo war show ficlet#hbo war oc ficlet#hbo war oc#hbo war ficlet#oc fanfiction#oc ficlet
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What did I do to deserve you? (Part 2)
Nagito sighed, placing the disgusting note onto the coffee table. He held his spinning head in his hands, taking a breather onto the couch. As he plopped onto the fuzzy sofa, he let out a tired sigh, both exhausted from racking his own brain and Hana’s atrocious experience that she went through today. Was his actions really not forgivable? Was he really the horrid monster that his classmates painted him as? He knew he was trash. A worthless piece of scum that didn’t deserve the love and happiness (Y/N) has given him. He was too stupid to have opinions, too arrogant to have dreams, and too pathetic to have the hope he dreamt of. (Y/N) has assured him that he was worth the world and so much more. Little by little, slowly yet surely, he has gained some degree of humanity. A glimmer of hope that he has dug deep within him. Something—someone—that showed him that he wasn’t the mere trash he was. Of course, he was still prone to have his rants about how trash as himself didn’t deserve Hana nor (Y/N). His former classmates—the ultimates that he held such an immense amount of respect for—augmented that verity
The pale father was at war with his conscience. His mind was a battlefield, his newly found self confidence was clashing with the horrors of the past. His apologizes….his known self deprecation…his passion for a brighter future…
Was it really that bad?
Nagito ran a hand through his ivory colored locks, gently tugging at a loose wave. He bit his lip, pondering what to do next. He could always go to the school and report bullying to the headmaster. Though…would it really help? Hope’s Peak Academy was a prestigious institute. Bullying was a rare occurrence. Or…at least what was reported of it. Should he tell Hana to ignore them? Eventually Hana’s classmates would grow bored of the tedious insults they used to attack Hana. Nagito shook his head at the second option, some strands of wavy hair falling into his green orbs. He knew how that actually played out from experience. He ignored his own tyrants, pushing forward with (Y/N), Hajime, and Chiaki by his side at least. Did they really stop?
Well…as long as Hana knows the truth about Nagito that’s all that matters
Right?
About to reach for his phone to call his wife, Nagito chewed over his options before yanking his hand back. (Y/N) was probably busy with an avalanche of work. After all, she was the ultimate (Y/T) back in high school. Her job was a major factor in the success that built her into the goddess that the platinum haired male worshipped everyday. He made a mental note to schedule a much needed date night with her upon her return. Right now, he had to see Hana. Nagito made his way towards Hana’s door, placing his warm hand onto the gold doorknob. The clicking of the turning knob filled the empty hallway, signaling that her door was unlocked and opened. His grass colored orbs peered into the room, first landing onto the bed. The little flower appeared to be asleep under her pink covers
Mumbling an inaudible apology, Nagito made his way into the florally decorated room, softly making his way towards the bed. With a kind touch, he tenderly placed his large hand onto Hana’s forehead, feeling some warmth from her body. He leaned down, pressing a hushed kiss between her eyebrows. He lifted his slightly chapped lips from her white skin, still close enough for his breath to fan above her plush skin. He smiled benevolently, admiring her sleeping form
“Darling…darling dear…my sweet flower of hope….me and Mama love you so much. We would never put you in harms way nor do anything that you risk your safety. You are our whole world and nothing can change how much we value your safety and happiness. That is all you have to worry about. Please don’t see us any differently. I don’t deserve the gift that my angel has given me. But I will continue to protect and love both you and Mama with every fiber in my being….if you still allow me,” He whispered in a mellifluous resonance, pressing another kiss of adoration onto her somewhat pudgy cheek before turning his attention to her dresser. He plucked a coffee colored teddy bear from the top, tucking it under her arm. As Nagito went back to the door to turn off the lights, he flicked on a moon starlight projector, the now dark room filled with muted colored stars and moons, plastered onto her walls and ceilings. He smiled one last time before closing the door in the same shushed manner that he placed his kisses onto his daughter
Little did Nagito know that his little flower was awake the whole time. A tear rolled down Hana’s cheek, as she hugged her teddy bear closer. However, her tear this time wasn’t of despair. She felt hope rise inside her small body, the same hope that her father has bragged about to her Uncle Hajime and Aunt Chiaki. The hope that could conquer any despair….
Her father destroyed her despair…..he brought back her hope
What did I do to deserve you, Papa?
#nagito x reader#nagito komaeda#nagito oneshots#nagito x you#nagito headcanons#danganronpa x y/n#danganronpa x reader#danganronpa goodbye despair#danganronpa oneshot#nagito komeada kin
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Clothing Custom Content (Links)
Please click the number in order for you to download. Thank you! <3
1. Newen Button Lace Kit Cardigan
2. RedheadSims Meganthee Top
3. Magnolia-c - Luna top
4. MMSIMS af July Top
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6. Newen Sleevless Frill Top
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8. Ean tied up sleeve shirt
9. Marigold Puff Sleeves
10. Newen Button Knit Sleeveless
11. Ean Deep V-neck Ruffles Blouse
12. Newen Frill Crop Top
13. Gorillax3 Lace-Up Cropped T-Shirt
14. Dreamgirl Winged top
15. Kenzar Sims Alexandra top
16. Dreamgirl Ruffle bustier
17. Volatile-sims Aquaria Set
18. Genius Quasar Shine Top
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22. Jwofles-sims Verity Top
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25. Serenity-cc Desire bralette
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30. Serenity Cassie
31. Magnolia-C Grace Top
32. Nitro Panic Sugar Top
33. Benevolence Luna Top V2
34. LSIM Honey Cardigan
35. Sclassy Igloo Top
36. Ari Jacket
37. Newen Shirts With Cardigan Set 1
38. BaddieSims Pixiel Collection
39. Palm Tree Half Sleeve Top
40. Newen Twisted Front Top
41. Newenwrap Ribbon Top
42. Simchia Greenboxshop tees
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44. Simpliciaty Tatiana
45. SCLASSY Plex Dress
46. Kenzar Morgana Dress
47. Kenzar Cindy Dress
48. Vitler Universe HMNALNS Dress
49. Vitler Universe Juicy Suit
50. BaddieSims Palm Angels
51. ICONIC - Late Que Eu Tô Passando Dress
52. Floraltaeny’s Ipanema Dress
53. Vitler Stormi Outfit
54. Lynxsimz Belt Up Dress
55. Lynxsimz Gucci Belt Dress
56. Sclassy Nostalgia Dress
57. Serenity-cc Sweetie Dress
58. Kiro Maya Dress
59. Newen Mesh Shirt & Dress
60. Rimings Sweet Pajama Set
61. Rimings Hip Outfit
62. Newen Denim Overalls
JEANS
63. Newen High-waisted straight jeans
64. Newen ZIP-IT Jeans
65. Newen Belt Destroyed Jeans
66. Magnolia-c High Waisted Skinny Jeans
67. Puresims Flare Jeans
68. Newen Belt Denim Shorts
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SKIRTS
70. Newen Wrinkled Denim Skirt
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72. Rimings GUCCI Belt Frill Skirt
73. Newen Unbal Belted Skirt
74. Rimmings Ribbon Square Neck Blouse
75. Newen Basic Sweat Pants
Newen Layered Top
76. Newen Twisted Front Sleeveless
77. Newen Highwaist Wide Pants
78. Rimings Short Jacket Dress
79. Rimings Off Shoulder Frill Dress
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