#the war kickstarts
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Another alternative Effloresce pov. Azriel, as the slow moving shitshow train wreck his life is is quickly becoming a fast moving shit show train wreck.
I cannot tell you how much I love this one!
So, I would say across all my fics Azriel is a character who is the most consistent? Especially since almost all of them were written before acosf TERRIBLY let us in his actually creepy little headspace, and I've additionally chosen to keep my made up shadowman as he is.
Effloresce Az is basically Starlight Az but SADDER. He's Daylight Az without a kiddo and husband, Shoreless Sea Az without the absolutely beneficial retirement, and man is he TIRED.
You're Azriel, and your job sucks. Your inborn skillset leaves you zero other options, and you know this. It's better to be the left hand of power than in a cell for life, but you know what? Sometimes you can only do so goddamn much.
You're Azriel and that's kind of all you've got. You're one of a kind, literally. Alone forever in that. But you love Cassian. You play the little games with Mor for harmony. You respect- alien, ancient, different, probably what you'll feel like in a thousand goddamn years if you live that long- Amren.
You see the good in Rhysand, limited as it is to personal things, but you also see the vast potential for failure.
You see him listening to this CHILD OF A GIRL- who seems nice, yeah. You're worried about her, frankly. The Courts of Prythian revived her and will not just let that go- but that doesn't mean you think she has, shall we say, good ideas.
You watch Cassian spend days arguing against this.
You rock up over the wall and realize these two mortal, innocent women have probably been taken captive by Spring. Your orders are a mistake, you have a war to fight that has nothing to do with these people, but you're here, and you might as well do some good.
You move to neutralize the threat.
Lucien Vanserra does not act like a vassal of Spring. No, not even at Autumn prince. You can drown fire in the dark, but you can't swallow the sun or an ocean of flame without end.
That doesn't matter either, because this determined little slip of blond sunshine just fucking stabbed you. And for the first time in maybe decades, you just want to laugh. You've fucked up, clearly, but you're okay. (You can live through so much worse than letting a human woman stab you to feel safe.)
You hear Cassian coming, and you know.
It doesn't matter what Feyre is saying. Has said. You're Azriel and you can't not know or not hear- she's wrong or she lied. You have a High Lord sweating blood to protect a stunningly, dangerously charming woman and you have her sister, who feels less like delight and more like a dream.
You're a shadowsinger, whose providence is secrets and these two woman are shrouded.
You're fucked, essentially.
You know they're not really human.
You know they're hiding, and Feyre is going to break that right open if Rhysand has his way, no matter how many times you point out that the Queens want nothing to do with Prythian's fae.
You're Azriel, and you've always been smart enough to stay quiet when you have no orders forcing you to do otherwise. You're polite. You're frankly, horrified. You have no idea what to do with the Archeron sisters acting like you're nothing to be afraid of.
You know, before Cassian knows, that every wind that has ever carried him had lead him right here.
(You remember what that felt like. The fear, the euphoria. You were young and stupid enough to consider it simple rightness, your extra senses on your side, pulling you toward the correct choice in fealty. You didn't know what it was until too late. You didn't know and you never even got to know or got to mourn. You didn't have the right to mourn a girl dead too soon, who would have never been anything but your queen had she grown old enough to wear a crown.)
(Dead before the start, just like you.)
You decide, immediately, you cannot let what happened to you happen to Cassian. Nesta Archeron might be a compelling power, might be a fighter with ash in her hair and a cunning mind, but Shahar was a High Lady born. Not even that could save her.
You understand the instant way you like Elain is magic, whether she knows it or not. (She does not). Real affection follows quickly, you are, despite all magic to the contrary, as Illyrian as Cassian. You cannot not know. You like Nesta too- if only for her ferocity. Her bleeding, present fury.
They treat you like a person.
Fearlessly.
Easily.
You watch as their sister breaks their hearts, cracks already laid. You watch Rhysand act more and more territorial, and of course you know why too. You watch Lucien Vanserra safeguard the lives and livelihoods of hundreds of humans and you understand this, here, is a Court too.
A better one.
You quietly, a secret, kill their father.
You bind yourself in blood to a favor, and use it to unshackle the Archeron bloodline and their vassals from the Queens.
You watch Nesta Archeron kneel in the snow, watch Elain Archeron pull a knife on a High Lord of Prythian over human lives, and think, with dread and barren exhaustion, you're making the right choice.
The hard choice.
(How many noncombatants died in Sangravah? In every city Amarantha occupied? How many servants in the Hewn City every year? How many Illyrian children in the starving north? How many deaths were Azriel's fault, because Rhysand didn't care?)
(The Archerons would rather die with their people than live. Were educating their maids. Sending their kitchen boys to university. Taking in the orphans of other estates, having never forgotten what it was to be forgotten, hungry and alone.)
You're Azriel, and you can't not know how badly this is going to hurt.
#FAST MOVING TRAIN WRECK AHOY#I only covered what's posted because the next chapter is truly#THE BONES OF MY SOUL IN MY HANDS THE WORLD ON FIRE AND I HAVE NOTHING LEFT TO GIVE BUT MORE DEATH#from Az's POV#he takes finding Shahars remains NOT WELL#plus you know#the war kickstarts#Cassian continues to act basically insane in a good way#And Nesta and Elain just keep raising the goddamn bar he was trying to ignore even existed#The Shahar stuff is actually really important#he does not tell Rhys#EVER!#Bones are literally he closest he's ever going to come#they weren't in love#they didn't even know each other#HE DIDN'T KNOW UNTIL SHE DIED#and of course#Rhys made that entirely about himself#Az just. I think he likes Feyre in this impish way canon always wants Cassian to (but then Cassian put her on such a high altar it failed)#but also? is too deep in the shit of it all#not to be like: she's a really powerful symbol#but she shouldn't be in charge????
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My favorite space twins are up next!
Still salty about not really seeing Luke train Leia too much in the sequels...but there's always the EU.
Prelaunch page for the kickstarter is live now and you can follow to be notified when it launches on 5/14!
#star wars#luke skywalker#leia organa#princess leia#sw art#sw fanart#kickstarter#enamel pins#skywalker twins#space twins#luke and leia#original trilogy#sw legends#sw eu#starwarsblr#starwarsdaily
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Hi! I'm Shannon (@fiatluxillustration), a small artist and pin designer based in Southern California. A long time lover of scifi, bad movies, and everything from a galaxy far far away. I have backed many projects on Kickstarter over the years along with running a droid themed campaign. Help produce several new hard enamel pins for the shop!
Unlock one jumbo pin and two mini filler pins over 30 days!
If the campaign is successful, extra pins will be available in the shop at a later date for $75 (Kickstarter has an exclusive presale discount of $55).
If a stretch goal is currently locked that you are interested in, don't fret! Pledging helps designs become available for selection once the funding period has wrapped. Pledge for all the items you want regardless of the lock status.
Pledge today!
#kickstarter#kickstarter art#enamel pins#pin design#enamel pin design#naboo#artists on tumblr#fanart#tumblr artist#digital illustration#star wars fanart#tumblr art#digital art#artblr#star wars art#star wars#naboo handmaidens#queen of naboo#the phantom menace#queen amidala#jar jar binks#anakin and padme#anakin skywalker#star wars merch#star wars shop#star wars pin#star wars pins#attack of the clones#naboo art#anidala
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[LAUNCHING MARCH 5TH] 6am PST
Forgot to post the Jedi series charms so I'll post it together with Mando! It's almost time for the Kickstarter to open. It was a pleasure designing all of the charms, especially for characters that don't get as much love.
#star wars#fanart#cal kestis#merrin#nightsister merrin#bode akuna#dagan gera#trilla suduri#second sister#the mandalorian#din djarin#grogu#acrylic charms#kickstarter#fai art
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I made a space cowboy Kickstarter campaign here!! If you wanna join me in my cowboy brainrot 🤠
#the Mandalorian#mando#Kickstarter#space cowboy#din djarin#cowboy rex#captain Rex#western au#marshall djarin#Bona fett#cowboy clone wars#cowboy Star Wars#western Star Wars
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the uh... the absolute brainrot from him... I can be your Commander, General......................
#gw2 art#gw2#guild wars 2#lucilaeh#nephus#general nephus#soto spoilers#secrets of the obscure#i want him to pick me up and hold me in his claws Q_Q#specifically luci here tho bc it was my partner that kickstarted the brainrot for me anyway--
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the kimono outfit padmé wears might be my favourite in the film and i lament how little screen time it gets every damn day
#padme amidala#queen amidala#sw tpm#the phantom menace#tpm#star wars#bluevelvt art#my art#gotta actually do stuff for classes now not gonna sleep cause i have two late assignments and tomorrow is last day i can turn them in#not to mention all the time i’m going to have to spend on stuff for all my finals in the next three days#this is i’m letting this be my kickstart for drawing and last thing to draw for myself for a bit#just idk throw me in a lake
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Quietly releasing the last of my multipacks from Megacon here! Three prints and a sticker of the Best Boys. You can follow the link or search for FunfettiGetti Shopify 💜💛
#kalluzeb#alexsandr kallus#garazeb orrelios#star wars rebels#star wars#every tag haha I’m raising money to pay for Stitch’s pet insurance renewal this month so if it tips your decision#do it for my anxious Labrador#also let me finish shipping my Kickstarter and then it’s time for the Kalluzeb trans charity auction fundraiser!!#because fuck terfs always
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Unmasking a Warrior! (about 2 weeks into Dad Squad)
Abel raised his (much cleaner and sharper due to his new companions) Sword and sliced into another Bokoblin with a huff, where were all these monsters coming from? Though he had been with these strange new men searching for their sons, a scarce fortnight Abel could admit that having such skilled companions was beginning to grow on him.
Far to his left he heard the awful sound of the Fierce Deity’s huge blade rend another limb from a guardian with almost disgusting ease, considering how many were mowed down in seconds when . . . No time to think of the past while an arrow flew far to near Abel’s face for comfort. He turned to check on Rusl and was nearly blinded by the flash of light coming from the direction of the Fierce Deity. Abel felt his stomach swoop as he spared a glance in the direction of his friend(?) only to see a conspicuous lack of the 12 foot warrior. He had no time to check on the state of his companion since the monsters swelled around Rusl and him, forcing them on the defensive while they struggled to keep their heads in the tide of battle.
—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Link gasped in pain as his knees hit the ground. Looking up he saw smears of color and far too bright sunlight assaulting his vision. He squeezed his eyes shut to block out the pain, as the ringing in his ears faded enough to make out the sounds of . . . monsters squealing?
Oh no, the last thing Link remembers is putting on the near burning mask as he was surrounded by turncoats, which he knew the deity would have no problem getting rid of. The fact that the sounds around him were clearly of monster origin was . . . off.
He tried to stand up and almost tasted dirt as the world spun and smeared in confusing colors around him, the pounding of his head suddenly demanding all of his attention.
He managed to squint at the slowly coming into to focus trees around him as his head quieted to a dull roar. Then a unusual looking lizalfoes crossed his blurry vision, with something wooden clutched in its talons. Squinting harder, he was able to make out bright red and blue on the wood in the monsters grasp. A jolt of panic ran through him at the realization for some reason. But the only piece of wood with markings that vivid he could recall was-
Sprite! His cry came out whisper quiet and raspy from how dry his throat was. When was the last time he'd had water? Didn’t matter right now any way, with the shot of adrenaline to his body, he remembered Putting on the mask, having it sear against his face, and a voice whispering that they would both be safe? That might have just been Link’s imagination since the Deity hadn’t been very emotive when he had interacted with them before.
Link staggered to his feet, using a nearby tree as leverage to keep from falling over once more, feeling weak from however long he had been hosting the Fierce Deity and shaking from the adrenaline that was helping him stay upright at all.
He was in bad shape and he knew it. Only a small dagger on his person, that he would be lucky to keep hold of with how badly he was shaking, a headache ferocious as though a nail were being driven in with every labored and raspy breath, exhaustion clinging to every corner of his body, only being held back by worry for the smaller Link who he would have seen already if he had been saved.
Looking down showed a shorn branch that was about as tall as he was. He managed to grab it, and started moving after the lizalfoes as fast as he could, uncaring of how the thump of the branch was surely giving away his position.
Luckily for him, the lizalfoes was paying little attention to it's surroundings and went down with one good wack to the back of the head. (Link is going to idnire that he fell onto the monsters still very solid body from the hit) he managed to scramble away from the lizalfoes with the mask clutched to his body and hide in a bush before the monsters angry screeches sounded.
Link looked down on the clearly ancient Wooden mask, pristine looking as always and traced the marks that had begun to cling to Sprites face for short periods after taking it off near the end of the War (and how his heart burned for the child that was so used to fighting a War god could cling to his form at all)
The realization that he had no clue if the long term effects of wearing such an object hit Link and he grimaced. He pulled the knife out of his boot and brought it to his face. His eyes had bags under them that resembled bruises more than anything else, his cheeks which had been compared to apples more than once were now sunken in and drawn tight over prominent check bones. But all the clear signs of malnourishment and no sleep were overshadowed by seeing his hair.
It had gone from a brilliant golden sheen that looked like sunshine had graced his head, to the pale yellow of a wilting dandelion, that had made the mistake of growing in the shade, it's color and life both doomed to fade without intervention. Link was brought out of his musings when he heard a call.
"Fierce! We could really use your help on this one!"
It wasn't desperate, not yet. Link forced his arching and exhausted body up and limped way to the treeline, where he was able to see a fairly large group of monsters surrounding . . . Something. He squinted and was blessed with a brief clear view of the commotion. 2 hylians both fighting with blood soaked swords, sporting various injuries that would need attention soon the way the battle was going.
The sight of them sparked a flurry of fondness? In Links chest. He felt the need to help well up in him, but even he could admit that in his current state he would be more of a liability than an asset. He brought out the mask with trembling hands. This was the only useful weapon he had, but the consequences. . .
He spared a glance at the cursed thing and did a double take because the masks expression seemed to shifted slightly, with one perfectly sculpted brow millimeters higher than the other.
" I can't fight as I am, but I think putting you on might get me killed too." He whispered
The mask in his hands jumped in temperature before cooling rapidly. What was going on??
On the field the shorter man cried as he was stabbed in the thigh and without wasting another second in thought, the warm mask was slammed on his face.
_—--------------------------------
Abel cried out knowing that he might have just ensured Hyrule's total destruction. Just as Hylia had abandoned her people in their time of need, so too had the Fierce Deity left him and Rusl to die, desperately searching for their sons. Rusl crouched closer over head with his shield held to try and cover Abel, but he could tell from the tension in the others back that they both knew how unlikely survival was.
Then Abel was blinded momentarily by a bright Flash of light, by the time he managed to blink the spots away only the rapidly dissipating bodies of the monsters were left, and standing as though the hoard about to overwhelm the two mortals were merely an annoyance, was the Fierce Deity.
" Thanks for the save." was Rusl's mild reply to the sudden appearance of their missing Companion.
Abel felt the ground tilt, and only realized he had been scooped up like a child when his cheek touched soothing cool metal.
“Apologies. . . It appears I have miscalculated, I will be better prepared should my connection to this world be severed again.” Abel could barely feel confused before sweet unconsciousness took hold and he knew no more.
#Dad Squad#abel#rusl#fierce dadity#this is what kickstarts Fierce's questions on the care and keeping of mortals#plus eating and sleeping#Abel goes from tentatively trusting FD#to mostly travelling with him to keep an eye on him since he now dissapears randomly#to take care of Wars XD#Rusl is trying to be open#even though he knows something is up#nan writes
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Yes, Ragnarök is about a "coming of age" story for Atreus, but he's still going out on his own at fifteen. He's still going to make mistakes and run to Kratos and their little makeshift family for help. There's nothing wrong with this, but I feel like even the game is acting like he's finally an 'adult' by the end. He's definitely more mature, but he's still a very sheltered kid, and his quest to find the giants is going to be his biggest test.
Cause, like, Asgard really wasn't that big of a place and he was out of his element. He's totally going to get himself involved innocently in another god's business in an attempt to help (maybe involving another father and son) and it will spiral out of his control because he is also Loki, the catalyst for everything.
#god of war#god of war ragnarok#atreus#calling it right now that's what is gonna kickstart the next arc and bring kratos back#be nice to atreus he tries his best
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19! :)
19: sea change
In the last few days of the year 200, Torr kills the Emperor. In early 201, a war breaks out.
It’s not wholly unexpected, at least not by those who know where to look. The Emperor’s death is no small blow to Solitude, the city that sent him off on a voyage he would only exit under a pall; especially considering that the guard had patted itself on the back for successfully foiling an assassination attempt right before his ship left, only for his throat to be slit under their noses, anyway. The head of Skyrim’s Penitus Oculatus appears to have vanished. No-one reports seeing anyone out of place on the boat until they started stumbling over the bodies. The Empire mourns through all the official avenues as the heir prepares for succession; Solitude’s government is busy trying desperately to smooth it over, putting out excessive bounties on the assassin that failed and scraping up intel on the one who succeeded. Not that there’s anything much to find – it’s a locked-room murder, and every logical suspect has an alibi that holds up to interrogation. There are no leads to follow.
And Windhelm is a powder keg.
It always has been, ever since the Great War, as long as Torr or any of his kids have been alive. Short-fused and disillusioned, crowds moving hot as blood through its winding stone streets, it’s always been something tough, hard-throated, splintered into careful lined sections. Torr walks whatever lines he wants, but not everyone has the energy to straddle them; not everyone can. The upper city is all harsh-cut stone and ice, the bricks ancient, the crowds in a hurry, even though none of them seem to know where they’re going; the Grey Quarter is where the snow runs when it turns to slush and the walls are stuffed with rags. The planks keep snapping with dry rot, sharp and gaping as broken teeth. They need to be filled to keep the cold out. The Cornerclub keeps the fire roaring. Talres goes there to work most days and doesn’t come back up to the house until the streets are empty. No-one knows it’s going to happen, not exactly, but there's no way anyone couldn't know. There are a lot of people who have been waiting on an opening, and all eyes are pointed elsewhere.
With little fanfare, the Jarl and his entourage leave Windhelm.
The city stops being a fuse and starts being the wreckage after it’s blown. Torr is told that there’s a span of a few weeks where Talres stops leaving the house completely. Katla gets arrested again and weasels out of it on her own. The ill-drawn posters of something approaching Torr’s face stuck up over the walls of Solitude are covered up with announcements and calls to join the Legion. Windhelm floods with bodies ready for the rebellion. Aventus’ house is already crowded; in a few months, Torr hears, it’s nigh impossible to walk in for the bedrolls and blankets spread over the floor. The city has never been a warm place in any sense of the word; Torr’s siblings are inundated with more kids and more kids with nowhere else to go. They don’t know if Solitude is much better; they look different now than they did on the night of the assassination that wasn’t and then was, hair cropped shorter and uneven, face gaunter, the weight they’d managed to gain over their comfortable months in Falkreath sloughing off them like a spider’s old skin, but even so it’s a bit much to step foot in there so soon, some of the bounty posters still mouldering on their posts. One of the kids says something about needing a whole other house. They’ve only got the one. Still, it makes Torr think.
(Skyrim has one orphanage, a little wooden hall down on the banks of Riften’s canals. And now there is a cursed house in Windhelm.)
Torr doesn’t go to Solitude. They only occasionally go to Windhelm. When they’re not on business, they stay on the outskirts of Danstrar; the Pale, all frozen winds and snow high enough to ice a horse’s knees, is an unappetising enough target that aside from an announcement of alliance with Windhelm’s Stormcloaks the war has not truly reached them yet. Which is ironic, considering.
(If prompted, Torr probably could have seen this coming – Torr, who spent years with his finger on Windhelm’s pulse, moving through the people and hearing endless talk about the government. It was going to happen sooner or later. And of course the Empire reeling from the assassination of its Emperor – the first since around the time of the Oblivion Crisis, which no-one is anxious to repeat, and the reminder of which put plenty of important people quite on edge – is enough of an opportunity to weigh heavily in sooner’s favour. If he’d thought about it with his blade set beneath the hairs of the old man’s beard, he would have known he was setting a war in motion. What Torr doesn’t know is if he would have cared.)
(Probably not. He still doesn’t, after all. Not enough to regret anything.)
Dead winter bleeds into spring; a little ice melts, and the sea begins to change. Torr’s shoulder aches when the weather is bad. There are clashes on the roads, outside cities, described in newspapers and word of mouth. Cyrodiil ships off heaps of soldiers to spill into Solitude’s ports. The house in Windhelm is overrun. But the nightshade kept in the temperate corner that Babette has transformed into a garden begins to bloom months early. The tides still come in and out.
The old Emperor is dead. Skyrim is tearing itself apart. Torr cleans his knife after use with a soap that smells like lavender and tries very hard to dredge up any guilt.
#don't know if this makes any sense at all! but here you go#I think I've mentioned before how in my timeline the emperor's murder precedes the civil war#it's so. nothing. in-game in a way that doesn't make sense#so having it be a weak moment for the empire that ulfric takes as an opportunity to kickstart his rebellion felt more coherent#which means that in a roundabout fashion torr is responsible for the civil war. oops#so here is an unedited ramble about their feelings on That.#or the lack thereof as the case may be#(the war would have happened anyway eventually. torr is just the reason that it happened Now)#anyway#oc tag#torr#the elder scrolls#tesblr#skyrim#tes#fay writes#my writing
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I won't lie...it took me a while to warm up to Rebels, but now Kanan and Ezra have one of my favorite relationships in all of Star Wars.
This quote in particular gets me everytime because it sums up how Kanan just gets it and lets go of his attachment and in turn, Ezra does not let him down.
I just love them so much 😭
Prelaunch page for the kickstarter is live now and you can follow to be notified when it launches on 5/14!
#kanan jarrus#ezra bridger#star wars#caleb dume#star wars fanart#sw rebels#rebels fanart#ghost crew#star wars rebels#sw fanart#sw art#kickstarter#small business#star wars merch
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My kickstarter has launched!
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For folks who’ve been wondering when I was going to finally release my own RPG, wait no longer! Take up arms in the name of the Plastos Federation (or one of its member nations), and hold the line against the dangers that threaten your fellow resinous peoples! Whether you’re in the trenches fighting the colossal insectoid creatures known as the Vespoids, or you’re ferreting out graft and sabotage within your own organization, there are all sorts of genres and styles one can bring to the table... and you can get your minis by the bucket!
#army men#TTRPG#Kickstarter#gaming#DND#Dungeons and Dragons#5E#creative commons#RPG#support#tactics#miniatures#war gaming
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HAWKEYE - Clint Barton & Kate Bishop
Marvel United (Board Game)
Kickstarter Promos Box / Civil War Expansion
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gay people never flirt normally it’s always:
“Sena, always disappointed, always unhappy! How can I get you to smile for me? Should I just destroy every single thing that doesn’t please you, every single person you don’t acknowledge? Even if it’s some filthy desire, whatever it is, show me! I’ll make it into the greatest work of art, show all the world and have it be praised and admired as something beautiful! If you’ll be satisfied with that, then I’ll devote my all to it. Even if I make an enemy out of the entire world, I’ll be happy as long as you’re together with me...”
#izuleo#enstars#but i think “hellish idol boy game” is more accurate#leoizu#okay but like seriously#leo are okay???#eichi didnt just start a war he also kickstarted the therapy industry#yes i am reading checkmate for the umpteenth time#yes i still cry over it everytime
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