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Excuse me, but could you not try to steal my post?

The original is over here, with my caption and just over 4000 notes

I’m glad you enjoyed the content but I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t try to take credit for it, thanks

THE ANATOMY OF A CARBUNCLE

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me, rubbing my filthy WoL muse all over tumblr: does this displease you RP community????? Doe s th i s dis s sssplea se y o u?????

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We have been on this journey for some time now, and we have learnt much of the fleshlings’ world--of our world.  It has not been easy; life outside the colony is strange in ways the Storyteller could not have prepared us for, and so much is still unknown to us.  We often find ourselves confused by the fleshlings’ bizarre customs, and we can see they are confused by ours in turn, though we are slowly adapting to their ways.  We know the fleshlings can tell we are different, and they are afraid of difference, but we have met many who are kind and willing to teach us.

Though we miss the colony, and our home in Loth ast Vath, we are glad to have set out on this adventure.

We just hope the Deftarm hasn’t caused too much trouble in our absence.

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I’m going to hell

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strangefellows replied to your post:Plunge

I HOPE YOU KNOW BRAN IS GOING TO HOLD A GRUDGE

G O O D

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Plunge

“Go, it’ll be fine, they’ll need y’more in the Mists.  We’ll meet up when y’get back to save the day.”

Tallyn stumbled over a large piece of stone, barely noticing the ache in his shins as he hastily picked his way over what remained of the Steps of Faith.  Dawn had broken over Ishgard, and with it Nidhogg’s final demise.  A fearsome battle was waged between the dreadwyrm and the Warriors of Light--the people Tallyn had, grudgingly, come to acknowledge as family--and after what felt like an age, Nidhogg was laid low at last.  Estinien was freed, the wyrm gone, the war of a thousand years of vengeance finally--finally--over.

“You cannot shake me that easily, Stella.  We agreed that I would be watching your back, and that is exactly what I intend to do.”

It was a battle he was never meant to be a part of, and one he could never have prepared for--that Tallyn still breathed, he felt, was a miracle.  He clambered over another chunk of broken rock to where the rest of their ragtag team had gathered, to lick their wounds and assess the situation.  The injuries he had suffered in the fight were minimal; small bruises, at best, and perhaps a cracked rib at worst.  Certainly nothing compared to what some of the others had suffered.  Tallyn had never underestimated them--the Scions or his sister--but until now he hadn’t been able to comprehend the kinds of dangers they faced.  He understood now, and fighting for his life on that scale...it shook him.

“’M not tryin’ to shake you.  ‘M serious, you’ll be more help in the Mists with ‘Velgr than y’will be here.  Don’t worry, ‘M gonna wait for y’on the sidelines, promise.”

“I’m not going to win this, am I.”

“’Fraid not, vhenan.”

As he passed what few temple knights remained alive, limping home on their comrades’ shoulders, and neared his group, one broke off from the herd and approached Historia, and in words carried faintly by the wind, he heard a name.

“...Demistel...”

“Saesa dareth, Stella.  Manka tivol marte a’lle, Amin il-sinta mani umaya.”

“Mela lle, vhenan.”

Tallyn’s heart quickened, and he ran to intercept them.  “Please!” he said, putting up a hand to beg a pause while he collected himself.  “Ser, you--you speak of Demistel?  Please, tell me your news immediately.  She’s my sister, I--I haven’t seen her since we joined the fighting, please--what is it?”

He had looked, he had scoured the length and breadth of the Steps, hoping for a glimpse of that silver-white hair, but Tallyn’s eyes had seen nothing.  Only bodies he didn’t recognize and survivors long since returned to the safety of the walls.  A cold sense of dread had taken root deep inside him, seizing his muscles and filling his ears with a wordless roar that said the worst had come to pass, but he still clung to hope.  Please, not her, not her...

The temple knight looked to Historia, as if waiting for some kind of signal, or proof that he wasn’t lying--that he really was her brother.  He held his breath until the knight nodded, and turned to him once more.

“My lord,” he said gravely.  “It pains me dearly to bring you these tidings, but...your sister...  She was lost to us in the battle.  I am so sorry--”

In a blind rage, he grabbed the knight by the shoulders and slammed him into the broken wall, hard enough to crack the stone.  The knight yelped, and blood from a freshly staunched wound trickled down his armor, but Tallyn didn’t let go, only gripped harder.

“You lie!” he thundered, eyes aglow with equal parts fury and aether.  He felt himself being pulled away, forced from his continued assault on the injured man, and he violently shook the others off.  The knight sank to the ground, one arm pressing against the newly reopened wound, and shook his head.

“The horde broke through our defenses!” the man said, rapidly forcing the tale out lest Tallyn attack him again.  “She was--your sister was in the open.  She was protecting one of our own when the wyvern hooked its claws into her and took flight.  We tried to save her, but the wyrm flew too fast!  Last we saw...she’d injured the beast, and the two of disappeared into the mists below.  I am sorry--I am so sorry--but there was nothing we could do!”

Tallyn stayed very still for a moment, hardly daring to move or breathe.  The dread knotting inside him had spread, growing until his whole being was numb with it.  He felt nothing, and heard little, and after a long moment of silence, three words, no more than whispers, left his lips.

“She’s not dead.”

He heard protests, muffled by his own shock, telling him not to give in to denial, that it was folly to believe--

“She’s not dead!” he repeated, louder this time, voice just cresting a shout.  He turned to face the group, face alight with defiance and desperate hope.  “Until I see her body, lifeless, before my eyes, I will not accept that she is dead!  I will find her if I have to tear this entire accursed mountain range down around me, and I will not suffer anyone to get in my way!”

Proclamation made, Tallyn left, turning abruptly on his heel and striding away from the battlefield, back to Ishgard.  And when he was out of sight, he dropped to his knees, letting out a wordless howl that echoed back through the air until it eventually became too faint to hear.  Only when his pained scream was spent, did he get back up and keep walking.

He would not give up on her--he could not give up on her.  Stella had survived more impossible odds than this, and Tallyn couldn’t bear the thought of losing his sister.  He would find her, whatever it took, and he would bring her home--

--or die trying.

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Deep Breath

“Are y’insane!?  No!”

Tallyn squared his shoulders and faced his sister defiantly, refusing to quail under her intense glare.  “My mind is made up,” he said in a calm, slow voice--a direct contrast to Demistel’s fiery tone.  “I am going with you to face the horde, and nothing you say or do will sway me.”

“You’re not goin’ swivin’ anywhere near ‘em!” she snapped, volume rising to just under a shout.  “’M not lettin’ y’risk yourself for a cause what isn’t yours!”

The corner of his mouth twitched into the ghost of a frown.  He knew that she was aware of how hypocritical she sounded, but the knowledge didn’t do much to smooth over his irritation.  “And I suppose I should turn a blind eye when you do the same?” he said, an edge creeping into the words.  “I should stay silent when you put your life in jeopardy time and again--for a people who don’t even acknowledge your deeds?”

He struck a nerve, for Demistel seemed to shrink a little at his retort, but she hadn’t yet given in.  If anything, her tenacity only grew stronger.  “S’not the same--”

“It is exactly the same, Stella!” he barked, all the frustration he’d been holding in now beginning to bleed out.  “You cannot expect me to stay behind forever!  I can't keep watching you run off to fight gods, monsters, and sodding Twelve knows what else--without ever knowing if you’ll come back!  I am not a child anymore, and you can’t keep sheltering me like this!”

“You’re green!” she shouted.  “You’ve never seen a real battle!  All the books in the world can’t prepare y’for what’s out there, an’ I can’t afford to babysit y’the entire time!”

Tallyn scoffed at this insult, and shook his head.  “I don’t need a babysitter!  I am perfectly capable of defending myself, and I refuse to let you do this alone!”

“I can’t lose you!”

He paused, eyebrows raised in mild shock.  Demistel’s voice had broken on those last words, and now he saw tears streaming down her cheeks as she fought to regain some composure.

“Y-You’re--you’re all I’ve got left,” she said past the lump in her throat, and sniffling between the words.  “Can’t risk losin’ you--won’t risk losin’ you.  Not now, not ever.”

A deep sigh was all he could muster as a response at first, then, before she could protest, he pulled her into a hug and rested his cheek on the top of her head.

“You will not lose me,” he promised as he stroked her hair.  “I am going with you--you can’t stop me--but I swear you won’t lose me.  Please let me protect you just this once, Stella--please--and I promise that we will both come home alive.”

Her silence was as close to an agreement as he was going to get, and Tallyn found himself in that moment praying.  Praying to the Twelve, to Hydaelyn, to anyone who would listen that he would be right.

Just this once.

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if you hold a trash can to your ear you can hear the dragon age fandom

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If you roleplay a ship with me,

You will get— Adequate ship building time. Realistic obstacles for them to overcome. Sweet fluff. Sexy smut. (if you want) As much action as I can manage. Tons of angst. Possibly random drabbles. Occasional gif/photo sets, or manips. @ tagged in all kinds of things. Headcanons about anything and everything. Completely sick of my ass.

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I’m overcoming my stage fright

I’ve never recorded myself playing anything before, and the audio really sucks bc I recorded it on my cellphone and there are a lot of mistakes but I’m pretty proud ;w;

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Vath/Gnath have no gender pass it on

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Thoughts on the Gnath

Semi-randomly (I recently reread Serpent’s Reach and it got me thinking) it occurs to me that if the Gnath (and thence the Vath) are actually insectoid in nature, then sight would probably play a vastly secondary role to taste and scent for them.

Thus the clouds of incense we see rising from Gnath settlements are their banners, giving those that have ranged afield a marker to return home.

Thus they likely recognize each other not by markings or garments but by scent or taste.

Yes, I am proposing that Gnath/Vath kiss to say hello.

Shut up it’s cute in my head.

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Further thoughts on the Vath

We know that the Gnath are one-minded, whereas the Vath have pulled out of the hive structure and developed individuality. Going back to my earlier theory of taste/smell being of crucial importance to their species, this leads to some secondary thoughts:

As a hive-group, the Gnath have largely the same biochemical setup, averaged among all individual units through constant message-passing, group feeding, and long-term proximity living.

As a collection of individuals that have spent varying amounts of time on their own, each Vath’s personal biochemistry has shifted away from the norm of the hive, based on what they’ve eaten and what experiences they have been through.

Thus, and as a specific example, the two Vath that bicker over each other having “terrible taste” in regards to their preferred foodstuffs.

Each Vath is an individual not only psychologically but physiologically and chemically, whereas the Gnath are likely to be so biochemically similar to each other that they could almost be clones, and almost certainly could only be told apart by relatively trivial differences such as scars on their carapaces.

Thus, Vath that are relatively “mature” in their individuality might start to develop things like carapace colors, horns, or similar cosmetic shifts from the base Gnath phenotype.

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@areasoningelezen [x]

She took a hard swallow before walking in, setting her bag aside by the door frame before closing the door behind her. “I suppose… you know by now that I’ve kinda just.” She walked over to take a seat on the bed, head in her hand as she attempting to find the words for it.

“I’ve lost the reason to honestly fight here in Ishgard. These aren’t even people that welcomed us in open arms when we all first arrived. Hells, I doubt they still do considering what’s happened recently…” She shook her head as she shifted her gaze back at Demi. “I’m… I’m heading back to Gridania.”

The lump in her throat that formed when Gaelle started talking only got harder to swallow as she went on, until it stuck fast with those last words.  ‘I’m heading back to Gridania.’

“Y-y’sure?” she said, forcing that lump down as far as it would go in order to even speak.  The question answered itself--Gaelle wouldn’t have said something like that as a joke--but part of Demi still held out hope that it was just a trick.  She didn’t want Gaelle to go, she didn’t want to lose anyone else, even if all it meant was a longer trip to see one another.  The leaving was where the pain was felt.

“S’not...so bad here, yeah?”  Another question that already had an answer.  The protections of House Fortemps and Aymeric only extended as far as keeping them safe from assault, but the people of Ishgard still hadn’t warmed to their ragtag little group--far from it, in fact, and Demi knew that firsthand.

“...S’a long way from here to Gridania...” she finished in a mumble, half-hoping that would convince Gaelle to stay.  “Wailers wouldn’t take kindly to Fluffy crowdin’ their skies...”

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There was a very heavy sigh as Gaelle shifted her bag, lifting up her fist at the door. Seemingly worried for a few moments before actually knocking on the door and opening it slowly. "Demi... you got a minute... or ten?"

She shut her book the moment she heard the knock, but half a moment of silence passed between the two women before Demi said anything.  Half a moment to try and parse Gaelle’s tone and posture, and to brace herself for what sounded like bad news on the horizon.

“Yeah, always, s’up?”

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