#LORDLESS

[judithan-xing]

every now and then I'm reminded of the map I made in like 2017 for Lordless, when I was dead set on having it be a visual novel. Looking at it now, the scale of everything is messed up, but I guess it lends some charm to it.

Debating if I wanna redo it or if I want to just do some editing. Unsure.

[lordless-vn]

LORDLESS part 1 : OUT NOW

Free to play, Lordless is a soulsborne inspired visual novel that follows the life (and deaths) of Riot Felmer, Lord of the Wicked.

Part 1 contains:

The prologue and first chapter

4k+ wordcount

2 highly detailed CGs

Turn-based combat

Please reblog, this game has been a passion project of mine for years, with this iteration taking just over a year to fully put together.

https://judithan.itch.io/lordless

[shameboree]

been drawin with the good ol acrylic markers a lot lately but ive been too lazy to finish anything so heres a marinette ft an errant drop from my popsicle

[drulalovescas]

What is happening here 😭😭

[the-punforgiven]

Idk where I remember reading it but I remember reading somewhere that black knights were a specific class of knight who'd paint over their armor and coat of arms to signify they no longer served a king or lord and while I cannot find any evidence of that being actually true, I'd be lying if I said that idea didn't kind of fuck tbh

[sanctumofeld]

The Price of Freedom

I subjected @spellbladerogier to this, now I'm subjecting all of you to the pain of Wolfgang's 'True Ending'.

Read more for length:

Wolfgang does not know he is the son of two gods: Mekauros, God of Whispers, Secrets, Creatures of the Night, and Spiders; Yris, Goddess of Rivers, Rain, Medicine, and Dance. He does not know he is an Empyrean. The first time he goes to take the Elden Ring, under a promise he made to a young lady in desperation, he walks beside the first Elden Lord. He does not tell him of the oath, does not strain his already heavy shoulders with questions, but fights beside him…

He must sacrifice the girl, the young lady, at the pinnacle of flame, and is held back only by the Lord he followed. The one he loved. They go to defeat death, then an old friend, and then – His son, driven to madness over the ash they unleashed upon the capital. Over the great, golden tree that is roaring with great, devouring flames. In the end, they both perish, and it is only Wolfgang… He ushers in an Age of Dusk, in remembrance of his lover.

But no – no, this is not how the story ends!

He will not let it end here. He takes the rings, enacts the Law of Regression.

The clock turns back.

Reverses.

Start again.

Over and over.

The journey changes, the ending shaped each time by his choices, but they are always wrong. Not enough. For the bright and vibrant, aggrieved spellblade; for the mistress of the golden son, lying in her own deathbed; for the General with his lion’s red mane and the stars at his behest; the man who would never be allowed to be anything but a boy and the sister who adored him enough to rot away; the mother of the moon, last Queen of her name; the serpent family but more doting and loving than any other.

The dreaming, moon-adoring doll, the half-wolf who loved her; two brothers forever separated by the tale their house told in blood. The Warrior Jar so bombastic, his enthusiasm unquenchable, spreading then to a vibrant lad, so much smaller and fragile. The sorceress and her hunter, her guile and his honor, their intelligence and stubbornness matched.

The blacksmith at his post, abandoned by all, shackled by a duty no heart should bear. The spirit tuner who stayed by his side, golden haired, and timid, save for the souls in her care. The old man, devoted to his books, scouring for every scrap of knowledge and wisdom that could be seen and heard. The merchant, sitting by his fire, always ready to share his meager belongings as if they were not all he had. The old finger reader, steadfast in her belief, but knowing – and telling – him to follow his own path.

The maiden who handed him a golden ring, who turned his runes to strength, who would turn her own body to ash in offering, because she believed him worthy.

How can he be worthy when they are all gone?

Or… is this all he is worthy of? The cold stone of their graves?

This is not what he chose.

Over and over.

In another life, he finds his hands enshrouded in great paws, with a head of horns brushing his cheeks and jaws. He loathes the scars, the furrows left in his face, but caresses his ivory crown of jagged spires. His shame. And yet, Wolfgang loves him all the more for them. Is this a betrayal of his Lord? No, he has not seen him, nor met him, in this life. He carries the weight of hundreds, now thousands, and he will not fail again –

But fail he does.

And those hands leave him once again.

Through every life he is hunted, by the friends he couldn’t save, the two lovers he abandoned. Their voices follow him through the Mistwood, over the rivers, into the canyons. Sometimes, they whisper in entreating tones, and other times they roar, they hiss and coil. He can feel Serosh’s talons around his throat, Godfrey’s fingers in his hair, Morgott’s nails trailing over his ribs. Roderika’s palm in his, Hewg’s scales brushing his knuckles, Rogier’s warmth pressed to his flank. Diallos’s head in his lap, Blaidd’s shoulders upon his chest, Alexander’s stone and earth hewn grip on his wrist –

They were beside him, assuring him, and then tearing him apart. He cannot remember if he killed them or not – divining out some answer from their blood – no, no, he would never! Had… never… The roots that ensnared Rogier tighten in his lungs, rooting deep in the marrow between his limbs. Or… were they the lives in which they clung to him? Their weight, their breaths, their souls embrace him. Suffocating him. Roderika looks at him strangely now. He hasn’t found it yet, hasn’t discerned what it is, what stops the world, and allows it to twist on without –

He kills. And he kills. He touches Roderika’s hands with the same that murdered her husband – Kale – now nothing more than a bell he hands to the Twin Husks. Was this Melina’s fate? She regards him with weariness as well. The descent, the call, he can feel the flicker better than he can see it. Fire. A burning, grasping, hungry flame that writhes and yet whispers in hushed tones. Perhaps… That is the key?

He knows the descent. He assured Melina once, long ago, that he would never make it again. He broke the vow that day. But he will not the one he made to her:

“To the foot of the Erdtree.”

To the foot of the hell where they buried Kale’s people, where their song summoned something twisted and ancient, curled up in the darkness, but never lost to it. They should have known. He hits the bottom, the rubble whirling around his ankles, and his hands reach for the clasps of his gauntlets. Further, up along his breastplate, leaving a stream of armor from the drop to the mouth of the door.

The cardinal sin flays his arms, his chest, and something deep, deep in the darkened depths of his soul screams. He awakens with the fire, Frenzied and stinging, emblazed on his body. The world burns.

Melina keeps her promise.

But her eyes are different, milky and dusk laden, dripping over his face. His fingers twitch.

One more.

One last time.

The flame is snuffed, his fractured body mended, the runes abandoning him – whisking back to their bearers.

He knows he must wear a different face for this. The Black Knife armor serves its purpose, of an assassin, of a thief in the night. He will be the villain of this play. And all the while, in the form of an Exile, he will give the players their lines, and move the pieces across the board. They don’t know it’s him, none of them do, their memories sealed by time and the passage of ages. Not till the very end, when the outcast in a maroon shawl, hiding his face becomes the dark armored killer before their eyes. But he has what he needs, every rune that could mend: Death, Order, Curse, Moonlight, and then, and only then, is his born.

At the foot of the Erdtree.

He brings them all together, letting them carve their way into his flesh, rippling through his muscles.

But Freedom does not come without sacrifice.

“Is something wrong, my love?” Rogier blinked. He had… What had he been saying?

“Don’t!” His throat still ached with the force of it, pushing out between bloodied teeth, sticking to his tongue. Strange, the last time he’d said that with such vehemence had been when D had left him. Rogier swallowed away the word, the implication, the weight that plummeted into his stomach.

“No, no, nothing. I just…” What could he say?

“Feel like you’ve forgotten something?” Rogier blinked again, taken aback, but his lover didn’t seem the least bit surprised.

“How did you know?” Diallos gave a shrug, though there was something somber to the motion, to the lilt of his smooth lips.

“I… well, to be honest, I’ve been feeling that way too lately, but… I can never place what it is I’ve forgotten.”

Diallos and Rogier owned a florist and dress shop on the east side of Leyendell, across from Kale’s store that sold general goods for adventurers from boluses to arrows, and darts and healing potions, supplied by the ever resourceful and adept Blaidd. He made good money, what with his wife, Roderika – now carrying their fifth child! – being a spirit tuner, and her adoptive father being the best carpenter in all the Lands Between.

Blaidd married the Lunar Princess just four years ago, and they were expecting their fourth child, just behind the triplets. The eldest was just like his father, always ready for a bout but sweet-tempered to a fault, while the daughters were as vibrantly crimson haired as their mother and just as mischievous to their Grandfather Iji.

The wedding had been quite the spectacle, with Pastor Miriel overseeing the proceedings, and the entire Carian royal family in attendance, along with a few… special guests. Radahn had sung for his little sister, a touching ballad that was equal parts a roasting and a tune of adoration. Ranni had cried laughing and then just cried, before being embraced by her brother. He had assured her that every child would have their own stalwart steeds straight from his stables when they were old enough to ride. Rykard, although wheelchair bound, had made the journey from Mount Gelmir with a massive retinue, and was quoted as having been “quite thankful”, that his sister was finally going to give him nieces and nephews to dote upon, as equally as she had young Rya, his eldest daughter. Blaidd’s entire body had puffed at the implication, and Lady Ranni was struck enough to flush herself.

He had, of course, given his own gifts in splendorous fabrics and baby clothes.

Queen Rennala had apparently given him playful chastisement for his choice of words, but did admit she looked forward to more grandchildren.

King Morgott the Graceful had arrived shortly after the proceedings had begun, making a silent entrance, but formally apologized for being late to the bride and groom. The nobility had been giving him awful headaches, but he had said he wasn’t missing it for the world. He gave an enchanted cloak, embroidered with lace from Limgrave, and a few children’s toys from the makers of Leyendell. Amongst the more unusual guests were found Miquella and Malenia, the former of which had gifted gowns tailored for Ranni made by his own hand, and a music box with the most splendid, charming tune. Malenia had, of course, gifted a blade to Blaidd, and assured him that his pups could study under her when they were ready. That, of course, sent General Radahn into a fit. Any child of Carian blood would be studying the sword under him! It turned into a boasting competition which continued well into the evening.

Further down the road, an explosion burst forth from a brightly colored fireplace, spouting a myriad of powders and dust into the air in a cacophony of colors. The blast was so powerful, it actually dislodged his feet from the road. Everyone rushed from their shops, observing the commotion, but more than a few turned back to their homes or businesses, and shook their heads. Lady Sellen had been experimenting again. Her husband, Jerren, standing on the front stoop, groaned and rushed inside to roar: “at least take it onto the porch, woman!” And there went another shouting match.

Their second born, a four-year-old girl named Capella, walked out, and looked both ways. Rogier doubled over, clasping Diallos’s shoulder, who also broke into a fit of laughter. Her usually dark hair was blown around her head like a sunflower, bearing more colors than any rainbow he’d ever witnessed, and her entire front was splattered much the same. He walked over with his husband, patting it down for her, covering their hands in the colorful powder. Sirius, their son of six years, finally appeared, but was no worse for wear. In fact, he was dressed well in linen shorts and shirt, with his leather satchel bag thrown over his shoulder. He patted his sister, who still looked rather frazzled. Jerren finally came out to collect his daughter, shaking his head, and thanked them.

“Tell Sir Kale I’ll be needing a new stove. Again.” He gave a nod to Sirius. “Be home before ten, aye?”

“Aye, father.” The lad scurried into the street in time to catch a gaggle of other boys, shouting and carrying armfuls of food, towards the Roundtable Hold. Rogier paused, turning to watch them, and smiled.

“Reminiscing, my love?” Rogier gave a low nod, linking his arm with Diallos.

“Yes, I suppose I am.” The Roundtable was no longer necessary in their age of peace, yet Gideon Ofnir maintained his vigil as its leader. However, these days, he worked more on training new incanters and sorcerers, archiving their great works, and acting as a sort of librarian. Some days though, just some, he indulged the local children with legends, using his magics to let the children fling themselves into mock bouts with legendary foes of old. Turned out, the old bastard was actually very good with young ones, and an even better storyteller. It was quite the spectacle he'd heard, though he’d not managed to catch a showing himself.

Rogier turned his head, spying –

A flame, dancing on the edge of a cauldron. What?

Melina waved back to him, his own hand in mid-air. Her light, odd locks bounced as she strode, wavering in the breeze. She’d be going to the Roundtable Hold too then, reading her books in some cloister, laughing as Sir Gideon did his tricks and dazzled the children. Had she been taking lessons from him too?

“Excuse us!” Diallos cut under a load of stones, hoisted by a great Omen in thick, cotton britches, and a red wool sweater. He gave a gruff snort, shaking his head, and continued on his way towards the opposite end of town.

“Poor man, do you think he needs some help?” Diallos shook his head.

“I think he’d be more annoyed if we made him stop to put it down. Having carried a few heavy loads myself, I’m usually not in the mood to set it aside before its reached its destination.” Rogier gave a laugh then a nod. Besides, he didn’t seem to be having too much trouble with it and made it safe and sound to the outer embankment from what he could see. Were they still repairing that wall? It felt like it had been damaged for ages.

Wait – Still?

The world tunneled, then twisted, sloping into a series of gold and grey, a murky image of a shadow dragging across the buildings. His heels and feet slid at the same time, to the side rather than forward, an itching building into his ankles that erupted up into his knees. He could feel it, twisting. Writhing. Straight towards the center of his chest. But it was the darkness, the jagged splinter of stone that wasn’t stone, the skeleton and the body that jutted forth from his memory. Or was it a dream? What was –

“Rogier?” He shook his head.

“Yes, my love?” He just managed to bite back the quiver in his voice.

“Juno will be coming to dinner. He’s been gone so long, having had to guard that caravan from the north, but he’ll be back this evening! He sent word ahead. Apparently, the merchants gave him a bottle of spirits for his services, a special vintage from the Land of Reeds.” Diallos spoke in such warm tones, guiding his steps on a road he couldn’t have walked more than… ten? No, a thousand times. It must have been. “I’m told it would go well with a side of fish. What say you? I’m sure Lord – I mean, Sir Loux,” Rogier was fairly certain he wouldn’t like being called ‘sir’ either, or that ‘Loux’ was necessarily his last name in that sense, “is still open for business.”

“Yes, yes, quite right. I’ll go pick something up.” Diallos beamed at him, leaving his side at the crossroads, the imprint of his hand on Rogier’s sleeve in… red.

“The tale of House Hoslow is told in blood.” When had he first heard those words?

Rogier made the journey towards the entrance of the city, strides heavier, lighter, treading beneath a shadow, and then not. He was certain it was just the glare of the sun, the speckles behind his eyes, but the brim of his hat was too wide for such nonsense. His fingers, stained in blue and white and black, gripped tight to his forearm over the residual warmth Diallos had left through his sleeve.

Merri? Hadn’t Merri mentioned something about the Land of Reeds? Yes, she’d wanted to go, make a boat, and sail but –

Why hadn’t she? She wasn’t a young woman to be trapped, harnessed by either the wind or sea, but… She remained, still, in the Lands Between. He’d seen her, more than once, bothering her father, asking him about the world beyond. And yet, she had not gone to see it herself. Rogier caught her, sinking her toes in the dirt, squeezing them between the grains, biting her lip, and staring at the horizon. Why was she frozen?

Lord Godfrey, the first Elden Lord, had taken up his old moniker: Hoarah Loux. He lived by the sea, in a quiet, one room shack, nestled in a cloister of trees. It was said that King Morgott visited him often, no doubt asking advice on how best to rule the city, but… There were other stories, of something else shifting in the shadows to visit him. Someone else. But they were never seen. Always gone by daylight. No one bothered to figure out who it was, if it was indeed anyone. In their age of peace, there was no reason to spread cruel gossip of treason or coup d’etat.

The beast regent, Serosh, was his only companion these days, never straying from his side or the mantle of his shoulders. Rogier approached slowly along the beach, following the rocks down. He could see his back, the muscles roving as he reached deep into the surf, dragging a net up into his massive arms.

“M – “No, he was a Lord no longer. And yet, even as he turned his head, water glistening off his heavy, scarred brow, and over his wild silver hair, he thought he could see the glint just above his eyes of a band of silver and gold.

“Hoarah Loux! I come seeking salmon!” He did not smile, exactly, but there was the ghost of a smirk on his features. He dragged himself up from the shallows, hauling in his catch behind him, before swinging it over one great shoulder.

“Thou art in luck then, young spellblade!” Rogier hopped down a set of deep rooted rocks, dancing on the balls of his feet all the way to the shack, where the great Serosh laid out in the sun on a series of raised scaffolding. Godfrey bent down, reaching inside the mound of fish, and flicked his wrist to send one over to the lion. He caught it in his mouth without even opening his eyes, his great maw crunching down on all the little bones, swallowing the morsel whole. Rogier doubted that was much more than a small snack.

“I think two shall be more than enough.” He gave a small smile, one he had made time and time again, though for Lord Godfrey… Had he given more? The question comes, in the moments it takes for Hoarah Loux to select the fish he seeks.

“Shouldn’t you be… in the capital?” Not crouching upon its outskirts? Rogier gave a sheepish cough.

"My days there are done." He didn’t even hesitate in his motions, loading in the salmon with massive, scarred hands.

"So... why are you here?" Godfrey paused, raising his head, and turned towards the sea.

"I am waiting."

For whom? And yet, Rogier dared not ask, because his heart was in his throat.

Because he knew –

He was waiting for them too.

0-0-0

In other words:

Wolfgang lives through many, multiple lives till he goes mad, and does the Frenzied Flame thing. He is killed by Melina, but not before he hits the restart button. Again.

Afterwards, in this version, he collects every mending rune from every possible ending, even some I think aren't seen (maybe one from Rykard, or Mohg, or whoever else), which gives birth to his Rune. However, Wolfgang, through either guilt or grief, decides to give everyone a happy ending... but himself. As long as he stays away, no one will remember the hundreds, thousands of shitty past lives before, and they can just live in this happy utopia, worshipping their own gods, free and peaceful.

This, of course, comes with its own issues, but only because this means that everyone is doomed to stay in the Lands Between forever. Wolfgang, in the meantime, is journeying around the world, freeing people, helping others, and mending the land torn asunder by the Shattering and all that came before.

For characters who weren't mentioned: Marika, Radagon, D, Gurranq, Heysel, Atreus, Seluvis, Varre, Alexander, Jar-Bairn and Fia... I mean, depending, they got their own 'happy ending', but weren't mentioned. Lots of people already and I was losing steam because my throat hurts.

[eorzeashan]

i am so predictable bc mohgvarre has the same gayass lord and retainer devotion vibes as jadorre where even if not romantically involved the Little Guy representing this scary omen is the #1 supporter of their lord and enthusiastically being a little freak about it somewhere

[lordless-not-maidenless]

Since I've been busy with other hobbies, fanfics, and life in general, it'll be a bit more time before I'm ready to fully jump back in to working on this AU. But I will do my best.

Happy holidays and stay safe everyone!

[wraith-caller]

My totally unfounded hopes regarding Messmer:

He's not a heretic, he's a fanatic. Maybe he's even part of the reason snake and flame and dragon communion are blasphemy, because he used them all in such extremist acts. He talks to "mother", presumably Marika at this point, as though he's disappointed in her decision to allow Tarnished to rule. And someone(it may be Messmer but idk if the voices are the same, I'm bad at that haha) specifies "Those stripped of gold shall meet death in the embrace of Messmer's flame." If Messmer was especially hateful of the Order, why target Tarnished, who often choose not to ally with it as seen in the recusants and the bloody fingers? One is supposed to become lord, and if you want the Order to remain lordless, then sure it makes sense to kill as many as you can. But there's a preoccupation with the LACK of grace and gold, not a distaste for gold itself. I think that he's disappointed in Marika's decision to give the graceless lordship over the Order, that he's sort of a purist who sees this act, and maybe others Marika has committed, as heresy. We know she sought to examine her faith based on echoes from Melina. ("I declare mine intent, to search the depths of the Golden Order. Through understanding of the proper way, our faith, our grace, is increased. Those blissful early days of blind belief are long past. My comrades; why must ye falter?") This kind of questioning would be seen as absurd and even harmful to a fanatic. What need is there to examine anything, if you are so fervently sure the ones you follow are right?

We have every flavor of blasphemy and anti-GO sentiment already in the form of the other demigod children, save Morgott, accepting and revering the Order and Erdtree for what it is. So it'd be an interesting addition to this group to see someone on the opposite end of the heresy spectrum, someone so fervently devoted to the Order that he's decided even the one in charge doesn't know what she's talking about. Similar to the way extremists in any religion or political group may branch off and decide the person in power is getting it all wrong, that they aren't harsh enough(which is really saying something given Marika's, uh, proclivities), Messmer is fed up with what he begins to see as heresy from Marika and goes full tilt fanatic.

Some other interesting notes that help support this reading are kind of little and probably a reach but hey this is all based on nothing anyway so why stop now? There's a similarity between the confessor's insignia and Messmer's spear(saw it in this twitter thread). Confessors are Tarnished who hunt down other Tarnished that have strayed from the righteous path. Given they're Tarnished, Messmer is unlikely to care much for them, but the preoccupation with the integrity of one's faith and the role of executioner would be the points of intersection between these two.

There's also this, which supports the idea of Messmer as a fervent executioner, something noticed by this twitter user. The spears in Messmer's arena align quite well with whatever the giants have been impaled with.

Of course, this is all based on like ten seconds of character info from a 3 minute trailer, and it'll all likely be dashed to pieces with the next little breadcrumb we're given. Still fun to pretend I know what I'm doing in the meanwhile!!

[themisteriousentity]

Do you ever think about how perfectly the three house leaders embody the concepts of "past, present, future"? At least in Houses, it gets a little more muddled in Hopes

Dimitri heavily embodies the past and the way it can drag you down. He forgets the importance of the present and even when going to the officer's academy, he's only going to get access to church records to investigate the tragedy of Duscur, as evidenced by that one event where Dedue and Byleth happen upon him researching late at night in the library and he's investigating Arundel. Even by the end of Azure Moon, he's still not thinking about the future, only putting a stop the the present cruelty and focusing on trying to help that girl he knew in the past until he realizes he can't. It's not until the very end of the game that he breaks from the shackles of his past, but he's also never 100% in the present due to, in Azure Moon, the past never 100% being demystified, as shown by how those who slither in the dark are only eradicated in specific epilogues if you recruited the right characters + bought the DLC.

Edelgard easily represents the present. Her entire focus is on the events of her lifetime and the conclusions she came to based only on (incorrect) past and present information. She came to a conclusion very young and never waivered from it nor investigated it further and only looks towards fixing the problems of the present. The present is built upon by the past, and she perfectly shows that by holding onto past facts to influence the present, but she does not consider the long term future. A youtube video I watched but can't remember the channel name for (I will edit it in as a link if I can remember it) once pointed out that with a merit based appointment system, it'll fall apart as soon as Edelgard is gone and no longer there to maintain it. Not to mention that, like Azure Moon, Crimson Flower has the same issue of only borderline mentioning those who slither in the dark's ultimate demise, and we don't even get a satisfactory ending to that in Crimson Flower. (Side note, Silver Snow is better abut this but is not entirely relevant as that is a Lordless route).

Claude meanwhile is always looking towards the future, informed well by the past and present. He is, of course, aware and affected by the past and present, but like the future itself uses it to build the road to tomorrow. And unlike Dimitri and Edelgard, who have a single minded focus and don't plan for backups, understands that there's no guarantees in anything and is always planning contingencies when he can. And because the future is built from the past and present, he's also the character who most seeks out to demystify them in order to build that future, because even if you don't know a past event, it will still have ripple effect into the future. It's what makes it very important that, unlike Dimitri and Edelgard, Claude steps down from leadership of Fódlan entirely once he uncovers the full truth and realizes that, for all intents and purposes, his type of leadership isn't needed in Fódlan after what it went through and that his next best step is to go back to Almyra and start the next steps there. In fact, in Verdant Wind, they actually almost entirely take care of those who slither in the dark with the only remaining one being Cornelia, but even THEN he had a contingency when he came back to save Fódlan with the Almyran army in the epilogue. Even in other routes, he manages to always perfectly plan for both his demise and his victory, culminating (outside his own path) in Crimson Flower where he plans for his own death. He never stops thinking about the different twists and turns the future can take and plans for it.

This ended up a little bit Claude heavier but to be fair, he usually gives me more to think about.

[mcdbutgay]

zoeymau cheebs (click for better quality + transparent pics)

some hcs below ^^ also i love how they complement each other so much GODDD

APHMAU SHALASHASKA

- aphmau shows up at phoenix drop’s doorstep pretty much half dead. no one knows where she came from, and upon waking up she doesn't remember who she is, where she's from, nothing.

- vylad carried her here because he knew that garroth was stationed in phoenix drop and he knew that the village was in dire need of help due to it being lordless; however it doesnt get revealed until way later.

- aphmau gets carried into the guard station which is where she resides for a period of time. zoey, who was visiting phoenix drop at the time (she was a wandering 'merchant' of sorts, looking for a permanent place to stay) feels a weird presence coming from her, not magical but also not normal, and decides to prolong her stay, healing aphmau back to health with garroth's supervision.

- aphmau wakes up and is sooo grateful they took care of her and decides that as payment she’s going to help make this mess of a village better (also she has no memory of anything that happened prior or why she ended up here anyway, so it’s not like she has anywhere else to go.)

- so she fixes up the roads and helps remodel some of the houses (i feel like this version of aphmau is much less princess-like and more handy than canon aph) garroth is very grateful for this

- anyway uh i dont actually have a lot of stuff for her since i find aphmau to be somewhat bland?? ig thats bc aph is meant to be jess for the majority of s1 but yeah uhh that needs to change. this aphmau is more rough around the edges, not afraid to fend for herself and those she cares for, but also very kind and compassionate. also very bubbly at times, but around those she trusts. she’s actually kind of against the idea of having guards follow her around all the time when she first becomes lord (because she believes she can do everything on her own), but later realizes that its much better to have backup bc the world is dangerous tm

- anywayz she grows closer to zoey when she moves into her house. she finds her presence weird at first but quickly gets used to her company, and she finds that waking up to the smell of tea everyday is soothing

- she is often sent out to the woods to gather whatever herbs zoey needs for her magicks. this quickly turns into aphmau trying to find pretty flowers to bring back to her pretty wife as a gesture of love friendship. sometimes she gets scolded bc she unknowingly brings back poisonous flowers or something but zoey knows that she does it with the best of intentions and thinks its kinda cute in a way.

- also aphmau brings back zoey pretty items from her travels, usually rings, necklaces, or even pretty rocks. zoey keeps them all in her room and looks at them while working on magicks stuff

- sorta angsty but i feel like aphmau definitely feels guilty for being absent for most of levin and malachi’s childhood. way in the future i feel like she and zoey would either adopt or have a biological kid of their own that they can both be present for, now that aphmau is no longer a lord and zoey is just enjoying her last lifetime with her beloved wife.

- OH AND i find it funny that they end up together since, at least in my canon, irene and zoey were a thing way back when. so like after irene left this plane or whatever and reincarnated as aphmau its like zoey and irene found themselves again in another lifetime (more on that in zoey’s section, which i actually wrote first)

- god i really don’t have much to say abt aph lol uh she’s bisexual (fem leaning, which is why she doesn’t rlly feel anything for garroth or laurence but does get flustered around guys sometimes) and demiromantic (takes a WHILE for her to feel any romantic attraction. again its why she doesn’t feel anything for G and L LMAO)

ZOEY TALTATHEIL

- was a devout follower and close friend of irene 900 years ago. zoey, although she wasn’t part of the divine warriors, was irene’s right hand woman, and would help her with decisions etc etc.

- she was kind of like a guard but not really lol. i do feel as though she began to mess around with barrier magicks as a way to protect irene, despite the fact that it got her exhiled from her home. she’d do anything to protect her.

- they were overall very close, but due to circumstances tm they had to separate. they never saw each other again sadly

- (although there are some books written by scholars that state that at some point lady irene had a certain lady friend who she lived with and shared intimate moments with. wonder who that is :P)

- ((also irene did have a family at some point, and levin is of her bloodline. he has blonde hair and blue eyes, guess who else has blonde hair and blue eyes? garroth ZOEY (and yes also garroth but thats a coincidence imo) so i think they are at least distantly related but very much so regardless))

- enough about irene. in zoey’s long 900~ year life she’s travelled to many regions, learned about many different cultures, and met many people, some who she did settle down with at some point. due to her immortality, however, she outlived all her previous partners and since then has been afraid to settle down with anyone, afraid of losing them to time

- it wasn’t until she met aphmau and levin (and later malachi) that she began to change her mind. she began to raise her children when she was away on lord duties, and she got VERY attached to them. she treated them as her own, and soon became accustomed to the idea of having a family

- she also began to see aphmau in a more romantic light at some point during s1. she didn’t know when the change from platonic to romantic feelings began but it didn’t matter. what mattered was that she had been raising another woman’s children as though they were her very own, cooking for the 4 of them like a happy family, and literally living the life she had always wanted without even realizing it.

- anyways she sleeps with aphmau in her room despite having her own room. she uses her room more as a workspace for her magicks

- also (and this is less about zoey and more about elves in general) i feel as though elves start out with dark colored hair and with the years it slowly lightens up until it’s completely white (doesn’t matter what color; zoey’s just happened to be blonde which is why she has platinum blonde hair pre-timeskip. it obviously doesn’t change this fast, but zoey giving up her immortality did speed up the process by a LOT which is why the change was so drastic in such a small amount of time (for an elf))

- speaking of her immortality, i feel as though it was the main reason that drove her to, you know, actually become a thing with aphmau. they were practically married pre-timeskip but they never really mentioned it, both scared they’d ruin what they had. aphmau being trapped in the irene dimension was the thing that drove her to spend years of her life studying, trying to get her closest friend, no, her lover back; losing her immortality was the final push to make it official. losing her immortality mean that they’d both pass within each other’s lifetimes, which is something zoey had always wanted (that sounds morbid but imagine being immortal and outliving all your loved ones.. i feel as though one can only take so much pain before it turns you crazy)

- anyways enough angst. since zoey has lived so long and has been all over the place, she has countless stories to tell and levin and malachi always loved hearing them. post-timeskip she tells the same stories to the children of phoenix drop in her spare time. she loves being around children and overall just loves caring for ppl ^__^

- as for like sexuality hcs uhh i can’t imagine her as anything but a lesbian lol

[judithan-xing]

Riot Felmer // Cassandra Lake Ethanor // Fester

[lordless-vn]

look at my ghost, boy

[gaymurdersalad]

[ Hello everypony! Don’t mind the ritual robes. Dress for the job you want, ya know? And all I want to do is serve our lord and savior Godred!

I thought as a fun little thing to do in between sacrifices, I would give out some headcanons— well. These are my guys, are they headcanons? Not really. Uhm, facts, I guess— on how they do their holidays! Take ‘em or leave em, you’ll soon find I love rambling about the guys. You might regret this.

———

Peter and Caroline used to do the whole Catholicism thing, so they definitely did celebrate a good Christmas! However after the whole “disappearing for several years and coming back with a phone for a head” thing that Peter did, all faith in God was lost, but they still like to give eachother presents. The star on top of the tree is a grim reminder of a lordless plane. Except for the almighty Godred, mind you!

Steven sits alone in his restaurant with vague feelings of something or other. The establishment doesn’t even close— because why would it, it’s a Fazbender’s— so he has plenty of time to sit in an empty restaurant and think about nothing. Peter has invited him to Christmas but quoteth Steven, “That sounds great and all, but I’ve actually got my own plans.” Of which are trying to remember what the fuck a “Christmas” is and why it has any value to people other than market value. If it piques your interest at all, him and his boyfriend semi-celebrated but not really, as Steven was raised Christian {LONG since abandoned} and his boyfriend was Muslim. That’s all gone now, though, unbeknownst to the phone-man in question.

Dee spends time with the souls in the Flipside. She enjoys it very much, despite the grimness of it all. Even though she would much rather being alive and spending time with her family, she knows she has responsibilities.

Henry works. On stuff. He’s just sitting in his office right now, I could totally waltz in there and sacrifice him to Godred. Just pick that bastard up and get goin’. Oh, he’d be kicking and screaming, but he’s a midget with small hands and can’t do nothin’ against an ethereal phone creature with a complete and utter devotion to almighty Godred... Maybe after this.

Oscar doesn’t celebrate Christmas, and actually hates it. Finds every bit of Christmas decor annoying to his astigmatism and just grating anyways. Oh, fucking shit, the jingle bells never stop. Everything is annoying. He cannot enter his beloved coffee shop— Fazbucks; it’s like Starbucks but they don’t donate to stupid bullshit! The CEOs just spend the money on bribing health inspectors throughout Fazbender chains! What? No, no, they still pay their workers in faztokens— without being utterly assaulted by MIRIAH. Even if Christmas wasn’t annoying, he wouldn’t celebrate it anyways, because he’s Jewish. So is his family! Where the hell is his family? Where does— Where the hell does Oscar live, does he have a house? I- I’m realizing I didn’t get to know him that much, I think he just… Showed up here. You- Uhh, you get the point.

Dave has a ritual and has been performing this ritual for three years straight. First, he wakes up in the dumpster of the week, gets dressed, and climbs out of that disgusting sucker. Normal morning routine ensues, Y’know, he takes a couple random pills for the hangover and pops a thing of LSD if he’s feelin’ chipper, shaves with a switchblade he usually finds in the Fazbender Ballpits, and sets out onto the world. Since it is a special day— not in accordance to any religion, but to his own fucked up morals and values— he breaks into a liquor store and takes what he pleases! All assortments of liquors and cigarettes, and he stuffs them all into a duffel he usually manages to scavenge for beforehand. Once he’s a proper Santa Claus with a bag of stolen substances slung over his shoulder, he jacks a piece of shit car— he figures he’s doin’ them a favor, ‘cause who would want to own this shit box anyway?— and drives 90 to the Old Sport residence. Once he arrives, parking his car in the yard and fucking up the grass with those giant fucking tire tracks, Jesus Christ, Sportsy’s gonna have to fix that, he stomps up to the door with the duffel and knocks fifteen times with the palm of his giant fucking hand. If Sportsy don’t answer, more knocking ensues, probably followed by several obscenities and slurs. Eventually, Old Sport opens the door, and before the stout fucker can beat him with the baseball bat he stole from a bar in Las Vegas, Dave slips in and throws the bag down on the floor. Sportsy, after experiencing this for the past couple years, holds his head in his hands and groans. Loudly. Dave wraps Old Sport in this big hug, pickin’ him up off the ground all while Sportsy frowns in discontent. They spend the rest of the evening sitting on the couch boozing and watching shitty Christmas specials, and Dave crashes on Sportsy’s couch at 8 PM.

Until the arrival of Dave, Jack sits in bed. Don’t even bother to put on makeup. In the back of his head he kind of knows that the wretched purple beast will show up at his house, but he maintains a little hope that he won’t. He always does. He supposes it’s nice to have a day where Dave isn’t spending a day with him solely to recruit him into the whole kid-killing business again, but… Man, when the liquor hits, he realizes just how sad it is that his only consistent friend is a child murderer. Fuck. Once Dave crashes, Jack is usually stuck underneath him as some sort of pillow, and at this point, he’s so burnt out and sad and happy and bitter that he just lays there. Watching those shitty Christmas movies. He’s going to wake up with the worst headache tomorrow.

Legacy does not do anything special and David stopped trying to a while ago. Business carries on as usual. Maybe David would like to go out and do something or have Legacy sit still for one measly second so he could give him some kind of gift, but knowing the Orange Bastard, he’d likely reject it or throw it out. Maybe spending time with Legacy is a gift in of itself, David thinks, incorrectly.

———

Was that everyone? There are so many of the guys! Good lord, half of them are maniacs too. I couldn’t be prouder!

Well, I’ve got some sacrificin’ to do! Goodbye! Remember: Godred Loves You! ]

~ Mod Chribs

[jazz-kitty]

could i request some elias content pretty please….

but both of us were lordless, lawless men. he had no purpose to serve but fighting his own, and we found common ground therein