#and that’s why my companions are hostile towards her??

[dontmindme2600]

Idk if it’s just my game but every time I go to Girdershade to see the Nuka cola girl (I forget her real name lmao), some weird glitch happens where she’ll always be running frantically into the wall as if there’s an enemy nearby. The game will say she’s “fleeing.” This will happen for like a few seconds then she’ll suddenly stop and be normal again. But even stranger, I’ve noticed that if I bring a companion into her house, the companion will suddenly turn hostile towards her??? Like, while she’s fleeing. I brought Star Paladin into her house and she started shooting the nuka cola girl so I had to make her wait outside like a misbehaving child 😭 I think the game keeps acting as if there’s some sort of enemy outside even though there isn’t?? I can’t explain why my companions will just start shootings civilians though. And I’m on good terms with the other npc that lives in Girdershade too so I don’t see why the game would think he’s the nearby enemy. I just need to trade some quantum for some caps man

[hawkepockets]

actually. 🫷😀🫸 THOUGHTS ON AVELINE

i think aveline is a CORE da2 character, and her relationship with hawke is super super interesting. she’s hawke’s oldest friend in the game & by act 3, maybe the only enduring connection to their homeland & childhood besides the mabari. her voice, her bearing, her stated values are all very noble & movingly fereldan—but her actions both as guard captain & as a party member should be so profoundly disappointing to hawke almost no matter how you play them, which generates a powerful tension. imo it’s really poignant and adds a lot to the game’s central tragedy.

because how can hawke cut her off! but look at how she behaves: ignoring the serial killing & sexual assault of isolated older women and elf girls, baiting the arishok, slut shaming isabela, condescending to merrill. but how can they cut her off? the question is a privilege and a torment!

in this way i think she strikingly complements gamlen. like no matter what gamlen does and says to you, your love interest, leandra, the surviving hawke twin—he’s family and the only way into kirkwall. hawke is not permitted to sever those ties. and no matter what aveline does and says to you and all the women in your party, she remains your oldest friend and the only way back to ferelden, emotionally.

both aveline & gamlen will maintain a warm relationship with hawke as long as hawke tolerates their picking on those in proximity to hawke—but if hawke pushes back with aggressive dialogue options, both will tone match and became sour and hostile. aveline can be really quite awful to a red hawke, and will throw them to the ground and beat them at 100% rivalry. so there’s kind of an underlying challenge in both of these characters: how much will hawke, as gang leader & player character, put up with when it’s not directed at them?

of course, for all the nostalgia that seems to occlude av’s wrongdoings in kirkwall, she’s not really a childhood friend of hawke’s. she was a grown woman when they met, lothering was lost, and the moment was pretty heated thanks to aveline’s hostile templar husband.

and yet hawke is no more reliable & objective in their treatment of the past than varric is. and aveline is what they have! she’s standing in for all of ferelden, all of the past before the blight!

and likewise hawke for her! hawke is the only one left in act 3 who remembers wesley! aveline is the only one who remembers the dead hawke twin!

and as reprehensible as some of her decisions are, aveline’s grief for wesley and her enmity toward the old corrupt guard captain are sympathetic and her voice is sexy and husky and beautiful enough that. well im sorry i just lost the plot for a minute. uh

there’s also the act 3 subplot of the templars trying to take over the city guard, which sets up aveline as the only thing standing between kirkwall’s mages & absolute templar authority in the city. it’s literally her or cullen at his most brainwashed & violent. (to cullen’s credit he also thought it was a bad idea. but i won’t give him so much credit that i believe he’d turn down the position if aveline was removed.) between a knight-commander and a hard place, a pro-mage hawke has to choose the hard place.

so both of my playthroughs i’ve felt like hawke’s friendship with her is at the very least strained, if not completely ruptured, but they have to back her. how much that feels like fucking sandpaper may vary from hawke to hawke.

ultimately i just think she brings a lot to the table. i don’t necessarily understand why she’d be anyone’s all time #1 favorite companion, but you know.

[milksnake-tea]

━━ welcome, rover .

Waking up in a foreign world with no memories and hostile natives isn't what it's made out to be, especially when you have a sassy voice telling you to jump off a cliff.

self aware!wuthering waves au (kinda.)

contains: male!rover, elements of sagau, ooc!chixia, canon divergence, based off of beta wuwa

wc: 2.2k

a/n: i wrote this on the plane while having motion sickness so uh sorry if it's bad but i had a vision... this is based on the old version of wuwa btw !! where everyone was kinda hostile towards rover so that's why chixias more antagonistic bc i heard she was kinda mean in the og... rover might be ooc too bc honestly my experience w wuwa is... limited due to the lagging but i hope i did him decently enough !! if he doesn't have sass that's uhm. that's my bad. anyways self aware beams your wuwa

When Rover awoke on that new world, the first thing he'd seen was a heated glare.

Alright, maybe “glare” wasn't the right word. It was moreso wariness, or distrust. Narrowed eyes, hostile and defensive body language, and hands hovering above where he assumed was their weapons holster - it was obvious that to the locals, he was an unwelcomed guest.

He'd barely regained enough consciousness to comprehend the language - their words were twisted, alien, yet he could somehow still understand them - before he was barraged with an onslaught of interrogations: Who was he? Why was he here? What were his intentions? Why was he alone?

And of course, when faced with all of these questions, his recently wiped mind went blank - that tends to happen when you have amnesia. Unfortunately for him, that answer wasn't exactly satisfactory. It was painfully obvious from their expressions that no one believed him when he explained that he didn't remember anything, not even his own name.

The redhead was the most aggressive - Rover was sure she would've already started getting physical had her companion, a darker-haired woman dressed in blue, not kept her in line. While the others weren't exactly kind to him, they still remained civil… or at least, as civil as they were willing to be.

In the end, the third woman, this one with sharp eyes and presumably the medic of the group, managed to convince the other two that Rover was telling the truth after a brief examination. It was then, and only then that the interrogations stopped, and Rover could finally have some time to himself as the three women discussed what to do with him.

As the details of their conversation faded into the background (he heard a lot of fancy terms that he wasn't familiar with), Rover decided to take a look around.

He'd landed in the middle of a forest, which didn't strike him quite right - out of everything, the one thing he clearly remembered was being underwater. But as he surveyed his surroundings, only looming cliffs, thin trees and swaying grass greeted him.

He winced, his head throbbing suddenly. A stabbing sensation struck through his head like a bullet, and then there was warmth, spreading through his body like sunlight.

“..ey. Hey!”

Rover blinked. The redhead planted her hands on her hips, irritation evident from her scowl.

“We’ve decided what to do with you,” the woman in blue said softly, holding an arm in front of the redhead to calm her.

Rover tilted his head innocently, prompting her to continue.

“We'll take you to the city,” explained the medic. Her voice was just as frigid as her gaze. “There, the officials will examine and determine whether or not you're a threat.”

“I’m-” Rover started, but caught himself. “Okay.”

The medic nodded, then bent down on her knees. Noticing her outstretched hand, Rover realized she was offering to help him up.

He stumbled as she pulled him to his feet. His legs felt like jelly, pins and needles pricking at him as they slowly woke up. For a second, he'd thought he'd fall over.

But then the warmth came again, and this time, with a voice.

“Steady. Easy does it.”

Sudden strength surged into his legs, and he stabilized himself, the pins and needles fading away.

“There you go.”

He looked up as if expecting someone to be there, but predictably, all that met him was a vast blue sky.

“Are you looking for me?” He heard the voice laugh, a clear, bell-like sound. “Maybe do that later, you're making yourself look funny.”

With a start, he realized that the voice was right. The three women were giving him weird looks, and his hand was still intertwined with the medic’s.

Hastily, he yanked his hand away, a sheepish chuckle escaping him as he rubbed the back of his neck. The redhead scoffed.

“Yangyang, this guy’s got a screw loose or something…” she muttered to the woman dressed in blue. Yangyang sighed in agreement, turning on her heel and walking away.

“Bear with it for a bit, Chixia,” she replied. “We'll drop him off at the City Hall, and they'll take it from there.”

Chixia didn't look happy with that, but she relented nevertheless.

“Wow.”

Rover flinched as the voice spoke again, this time closer to his ear.

“They do not like you at all, do they?”

Obviously not, Rover thought incredulously, but can you blame them?

He'd noticed it a while ago - the three were clearly on edge. Something was going on on this planet, something bad. Having an unpredictable factor such as him probably wasn't helping.

“Good point.”

So you can hear my thoughts. Rover huffed as he pulled himself up a cliff, vines scratching at his arms. The route the locals had decided to take wasn't a kind one.

“Well, yeah. How else are we supposed to have our super-secret confidential shittalking sessions?”

Rover paused. What?

“Don't worry about it.”

No, what'd you say-

“I said don't worry about it. Now keep climbing, they're leaving you behind.”

Easy for you to say, Rover thought indignantly, but did as the voice said nevertheless. He quickly caught up to the group, the medic raising a brow as he fell into step beside her. Thankfully, she didn't say anything and only kept her gaze straight ahead.

“Hey, I'm not the one who's being marched to officials for an inspection. And I don't have a reputation I need to maintain.”

Rover hated to admit it, but the voice had a point.

What are you, anyway? He walked past a small pond filled with fish. His hands twitched with the urge to jump in and grab some, but his first impressions were already bad enough as is.

“I'm God, actually.”

Rover deadpanned, unimpressed.

“Jeez, tough crowd.” The voice shifted, moving from his right to his left ear. “But seriously though, I'm human, just like you.”

If you were, I'd be able to see you.

“Fair enough,” the voice mused. “But I really am human. I just… happened to wake up invisible and connected to you.”

Rover grunted as he vaulted over yet another cliff. Very convincing.

“Says you.” He could practically hear them rolling their eyes. “At least I remember what my name is.”

That one hurt more than Rover would've liked to admit.

“...Sorry.” Quieter now, almost meek. “That was out of line.”

Rover closed his eyes briefly, breathing in as subtly as he could before opening them again.

It's fine. You didn't say anything false.

“It was still insensitive.”

Rover sped up. It happens to the best of us.

The voice went quiet, leaving Rover to the slight howl of the wind and the sound of boots crunching against sand. But they hadn't left entirely, no - Rover could feel a presence to his left, subtle but impossible to ignore.

“So you don't remember your name, huh?” Chixia said suddenly.

“No,” Rover muttered.

“Guess that just means we'll have to give you one. Or I could just keep calling you ‘Weirdo’ in my head.”

Rover’s eye twitched. “Let's not.”

Chixia grinned back at him, but the smile didn't ease his nerves at all - on the contrary, it made them worse.

“Why not? I think it's pretty fitting.”

“Chixia,” Yangyang warned, which Rover was grateful for. Had he retaliated, things wouldn't have ended well for him.

Chixia shrugged, crossing her arms behind her head as she sauntered off.

“I must apologize for her.” Yangyang turned to him. To his surprise, she seemed genuine. “Chixia usually isn't that rude, it's just that, well…”

She trailed off, uncertain on how to continue. Rover shook his head.

“It's fine,” he assured. “I can tell that you're all anxious.”

Yangyang’s shoulders slumped. “Is it that obvious? But… yes, you're right. Life hasn't exactly been calm as of late, with Tacet Fields appearing left and right.”

“Tacet Fields?” Rover repeated, tilting his head.

“It's easier to demonstrate than to explain,” the medic cut in, stepping forward as the cliffs and trees opened up. Rover followed her gaze to a darkened field, corrupted by dark matter and with a star-shapped scar at the center.

Abyss-like creatures prowled the corrupted zone, covered in dark armor, scales, and/or fur. They spoke to one another in gargled gibberish with voices that sent chills down Rover's spine.

“Those are Tacet Discords,” Yangyang explained. “They’re born from the distorted frequencies that result from the Tacet Field.”

“Ew.”

Welcome back, Rover greeted, to which the voice didn't respond.

“They're ugly,” they commented instead, scrutinizing the Tacet Discords one by one. Rover silently agreed. “But there's a few pretty ones I can see, like that wolf.”

Rover stared at said wolf's sharp canines and ravenous glare. Pretty… isn't what I would call them, but suit yourself.

“There’s a whole swarm of them out there,” Chixia observed, breaking through their conversation. She stretched her arms as if preparing for battle. “Can't get to the city without getting through them first.”

“Hm…” Yangyang contemplated to herself, before looking up at Rover. “Say, uhm…”

She hesitated, not knowing what to call him.

“Rover.”

His mouth moved on its own as his voice mixed with the voice's. Yangyang blinked, startled.

“I… I thought you didn't remember your name.”

“I don't,” Rover spoke without meaning to, like a puppet on strings. “It just… came to mind.”

Yangyang didn't look convinced, but she let it go.

“Alright, then, Rover, do you know how to fight?”

The feeling of being puppeteered left him as the voice became separate once more.

“Yes,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady.

What the hell was that?

Yangyang smiled. “Good, because we'll need to clear that Tacet Field before reaching the city.”

He nodded, understanding the implications. “I'll do my best to fight alongside you.”

“I don't know what that was,” the voice replied, and sure enough, they too sounded unsure. “I just did what the system told me to.”

The system? Rover questioned, but received no answer.

Rover heard a pistol click behind him as Chixia readied herself. “Don't try anything funny,.”

“I won't.” Operating on instinct, Rover drew a blade of his own. Chixia chuckled.

“We'll see about that.”

One by one, the group jumped off the cliff, deploying a glider so as to land safely below. Rover was the last to go. As his feet skidded at the edge of the cliff, sending pebbles flying down, unease swirled in his gut.

“Hey,” the voice said gently. “Don't worry. I'll help you out.”

What… Rover furrowed his brows, frustrated at how little he knew. What are you?

“Like I said, I'm just another person who ended up stranded here. I have a feeling we're going to be stuck together for a while, so I suggest you get used to me.”

Then, Rover sighed, at least give me a name. You said you remembered yours.

The voice paused.

“[Name],” it finally said, the name foreign to Rover's ears. “That's my name.”

“[Name],” he murmured, feeling it roll off his tongue. “We should get going, the others are waiting. You said you'd help me, right?”

“Yep. Just jump off the cliff and extend your left hand up to glide.”

Rover paused. Aren't these called intrusive thoughts?

“Just do it.”

Taking a deep breath, Rover looked down at the jump before him nervously. Closing his eyes and mentally praying to whatever god was listening that he wouldn't end up a black puddle on the forest floor, he lept.

Mechanical wings unfolded above him in a series of clicks and whirrs, a handle extending down for him to grab onto like his life depended on it. Peeking open his eyes, he let out a sigh of relief, feeling a small breeze brush against his face.

“See?” Although not obvious, relief bled into [Name]’s words as Rover landed safely on his feet. “You can trust me.”

A small smile slipped onto Rover's face, the first since he'd woken up.

“I guess I can.”

The glider folded in on itself, replaced by his blade as he joined the others.

“Took you long enough,” Chixia commented, but for the first time, it wasn't with ill intent.

“Sorry,” Rover replied. “But I'm here now.”

“Enough chitchat,” Yangyang called up ahead. “They've noticed us.”

Sure enough, the Tacet Discords were turning towards them, snarls twisting where he assumed their mouths were. The corruption worsened, dark energy forming in black smoke.

“Let's see what you're made of, Rover,” said Chixia, expertly spinning her pistols. Yangyang had already drawn her sword, and Baizhi, the medic, had summoned a pearly dragon-like creature to fight alongside her. [Name] didn't say anything, but he could feel their energy beginning to seep into his muscles, ready to aid him in battle.

Rover pointed his blade towards the Tacet Discords.

“Let's go.”

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

tags: @sh0jun, @themoderatelyawesomeninja, @xphantasmagoriax, @rainswept, @lucensei

@akutasoda , @naraven , @scribs-dibs

[leaves-and-inks]

This was a funny line to get playing as my cowboy beast master ranger, Quinn. He may be a little idealistic at times and sure they should focus on the creché but these are important details!

[ID: Panel 1: Tav (named Quinn), Lae’zel, Astarion, and Shadowheart walk down the mountain pass towards the crèche. On the top left of the frame is a box with the text “somewhere in the mountain pass”. Quinn looks outward, enjoying the view and not fully focusing. Laezel scans her surroundings, carrying a couple of objects under each arm. Astarion looks tired and disinterested towards some bushes, and Shadowheart looks exhausted. A speech bubble from her mouth has her say “I didn't exactly dress for hiking mountains. Shame we couldn't procure some pack mules, or horses…”

Panel 2: Quinn on a plain background. He looks ahead, towards where Shadowheart would be if more people were in frame. He has an interested, excited expression, and an exclamation point next to his head. Parts of his figure overlap the background and the white paper.

Panel 3: Quinn on the same background closes his eyes and smiles turning more towards where the companions would be. A speech bubble coming from him says: “Why, I’d almost say it's a shame that the mind-flared ship didn't also pick up my- “ A speech bubble with harsher lines comes from off-screen, cutting off Quinn's thought, reading: “Horses?!” Parts of his figure and the speech bubbles overlap the background and the white paper.

Panel 4: All four companions are back in frame in the mountain pass. Astarion is in the center of the frame with an indignant expression, eyes closed and head tilted slightly upward. Shadowheart looks over to him from the right of the frame with an annoyed expression. Lae’zel, still carrying the object over her shoulder, looks to Astarion in between the two, also annoyed but mildly more hostile. Quinn is further back to the left of the frame, and he has a shocked and wounded expression. Astarion has a jagged, harsh speech bubble that says: “Perish the thought! Those ill-tempered beasts are prone to biting.” Overlapping his speech bubble and next to Quinn is a heart breaking.

Panel 5: Quinn looking distraught on a plain background with a dark vignette around him. He looks down, pushing his hat up his face and lost in anxious thought. Two thought bubbles appear from his head, one on the left and right. The left thought bubble has an illustration of the horse standing on the beach with the text “MAN” above it, except the horse is replaced with Quinn’s pain horse, and Quinn is also standing on the beach. The right thought bubble, which splits in half between Quinn and Astarion, has Quinn excitedly holding the noses of a paint horse and a mule standing on either side of him. The other half shows a pleasant Astarion looking towards him. On the bottom left of the game is the text: “Hells, he doesn't like horses?” and on the bottom right are two speech bubbles showing the conversation continue. One speech hubble is rounder, and has the word “Well,” written in it before devolving to scribbles. The second speech bubble is harsher, and is full of scribbles.

Panel 6: Astarion on a plain background looking over his right shoulder, a confused and worried expression on his face. A question mark is next to him. Parts of his figure overlap the background and the white paper.

Panel 7: Astarion and Quinn on a plain background, parts of both of their figures overlapping the white paper. Astarion falls back, leaning back and towards Quinn with a wary and concerned expression. Quinn looks down at the ground sadly.

Panels 8-10: Three separate panels of Astarion and Quinn on plain background. Astarion is on the right in each frame, and Quinn on the left. In the first frame, Quinn continues to look down sadly, while Astarion turns towards him nervously with a wobbly speech bubble saying: “Are you alright darling? You look… not quite yourself.” In the second frame, Quinn looks up with his eyes closed, taking in a deep breath. the words “*Inhale*” are above his head. Astarion looks towards him, but not directly at him, frowning, concerned, and wary. In the final frame, Quinn looks at Astarion with the wettest, saddest eyes, a shaking speech bubble and small text coming from him saying: “You don't like horses?” Astarion looks towards him and down slightly, mildly annoyed and his hands in front of him in exasperation saying with a slightly jagged speech bubble: “We’re walking straight into a horrid death trap and you’re concerned I don't like horses?”./end ID]

[talesfromawannabejournalist]

Furry Companion

welp here it is, ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce of the storyline of arc 1 written by @talesfromawannabejournalistand and @kittenfangirl20

also special thanks to @rius-cave for giving me some inspiration for the plot, and thanks to @helluvahazbins for giving me inspiration for the Hellhound character and her appearance from their own art.

@kittenfangirl20 see at end of notes

Lucifer knew there would be a day like this would eventually come. Since the moment Adam woke up in Hell as a sinner and fallen angel Lucifer had vowed have him protected and happy at all times. It was the least he could do after all he did to him. In the beginning it was easy to keep him entertained as he mainly stayed in his room. He stayed in the hotel all the time so he wasn’t worried too worried about it.

But now, especially since they officially got together, Lucifer’s been busy more with his work as King, he can’t be by Adam’s side all the time and Adam was wanting to go out more. Plus Adam needed someone, a companion. Sure he had Angel Dust but that was about it. It didn’t help that the other residents, beside Angel and Charlie, were outright hostile towards him. Lucifer swore that if it wasn’t Hell itself Adam needed to watch out for Vaggie and Alastor and maybe even Nifty but for a whole other reason.

In any event Adam needed a companion, his own hellhound, which is why they were both at a an adoption clinic with the head director walking past kennel after kennel of teens with her going on about the different potentials of each hound. Adam was growing bored and to be honest a bit annoyed at being dragged here by Lucifer. He thought this whole adoption process with Hell hounds was weird, they were treated almost like pets. Yes, they had an animal appearance but they were sentient just like the rest of the demons in Hell. As he was thinking about it in the corner of his eye a movement caught his eye.

There in the back was a young hellhound, who appeared to be female, she appeared to be 12-14 years old. She had the appearance of husky and wolf dog mixed together with dark fur and and long black hair that covered a part of her face. However, when she looked up he saw both her eyes as they flashed red and she growled at him.

Director: sir please stay away from that kennel specifically we’ve had incidents in the past where some male adopters got too close and lost a hand to her. Let’s just say she’s just too unstable to be a good guard for you

Lucifer: come on my dear I’m sure there are plenty others for you to choose from

Adam: yeah you go ahead Luci I think I’m just uh gonna go to the bathroom

Lucifer raised an eyebrow but ultimately shrugged following the lady in charge as she showed Lucifer the other hounds. Adam waited till they were out of ear shot then turned his attention back to the girl who was just glaring at him waiting for him to do something

Adam: um hi

She didn’t respond

Adam: my names Adam, what’s yours?

???: Lydia

Adam gave her a smile

Adam: it’s a pretty name

Instead of a smile she instead bared her teeth and scooted even further deep into her kennel

Lydia: the fuck did you just say!?

Adam: I said it’s a pretty name

Lydia: Get the fuck away from me before I tore open your guts for all of Hell to see!

When Adam didn’t move away from the bars she let out an intimidating bark

Lydia: what the fuck do you want!?

Adam: Nothing I just wanted your name

Lydia: well you know my name now you can go back to your royal boy toy and pick out a good hellhound, just just please go away and leave me alone

Adam stared at Lydia, even though she was telling him to go, deep down inside he knew that’s not what she wanted. Looking at her was like looking at himself when he was in a similar position not just when he revived here in Hell but when he was left abandoned over and over again in his life. Scared, confused, and lashing out at everyone because it was the only way to express how she was feeling. At that moment he knew that he couldn’t let her stay here. Exhaling he stepped away from the bars and crouched a little to make himself appear less intimidating to her. Adam: Lydia, you can say no to this, but…I can take you away from here, would you like that?

Lydia stood up from her cot and took slow small steps over to him. Adam could see her full height being at 5’7. As she got closer he could see her guard was still up until she was standing right in front of him. Lydia stared down deep into Adam’s eyes and even though she didn’t know why, she didn’t feel in danger by this sinner. In fact she felt her walls tore down as she saw nothing but earnestness in them as he seemed like genuinely wanted to help her. Tears started to form in her eyes as she looked down and gave her answer

Lydia: …..yes

alright Kitten, hoped you liked it now it’s your turn

[ohcorny]

i need to be a hater on main about scavenger's reign or i will explode. i cannot be alone in this.

now that it's being moved to netflix and people are talking about it again, all i'm seeing is glowing praise and absolutely no criticism of the writing. i will gladly agree with anyone that it's visually stunning. like, a+ in that regard no argument. great looking show, and the worldbuilding of the planet vesta is super cool and clearly considered. i like those parts! but that seems to be all anybody is responding to when they praise it.

the character writing is fucking ridiculous. i could point at any of them individually and go "what the fuck is this" but it's been months since i watched it and i don't like arguing a point i can't clearly remember. but it was the most egregious around ursula so i'm going to focus on her. her character seems to exist just to cause problems for no reason, to the point where she's also the only character we get no backstory on. we never see her in flashbacks on the ship, never learn what she did for it or why she was there, nothing about her at all. she is the only one.

and she is the #1 source of shattering my suspension of disbelief. you cannot tell me that she and sam were surviving together for a month on this incredibly hostile planet, working together every day to call the ship down, to figure out how the world worked and what was dangerous and what they could use.... and then tell me she would turn around and treat him the way she does.

spoilers below the cut

she is so hostile toward him all the time for no reason. she wanders off to go look at a weird plant in the middle of a bramble that crushes you if you don't get out the right way, leaving sam alone on the outside with no idea what she's doing or where she is or if she's alive. and when she comes out and he is VERY REASONABLY upset that she did that and isn't interested in hearing about the thing she saw, SHE gets mad at him and says she doesn't need him.

YOU DONT NEED HIM? THE GUY WHO HELPED YOU SURVIVE THIS ENTIRE TIME? THE ONLY OTHER LIVING HUMAN ON THE PLANET AS FAR AS YOU KNOW, WHO IS THE ONE WHO KNOWS WHERE YOU ARE GOING, AND HAS THE CREDENTIALS TO GET YOU INTO THE SHIP? you have been alone with him for a MONTH, he is your ONLY HUMAN COMPANION, and you think you DON'T NEED HIM?? BECAUSE HE WAS WORRIED ABOUT YOU IN A LOUD WAY?

this could be explainable if there was any real tension between them, or if we're given any reason to believe she actually could survive without him, but there isn't! she fucks up with the spores in the very first episode and would absolutely die if she was alone. sam is never anything but a good leader to her and keeps trying to look out for her, and any time he's "wrong" it's because he showed reasonable caution about the fuckplanet. he gets hurt by the egg parasite because he didn't want to climb into a giant animal's egg sac. reasonable thing to not want to do! when he and ursula get into that argument about her disappearing on him, he gets hauled off by the weird emu for the dramatic irony. because he was upset his only companion in the world disappeared. he never does anything wrong. it's never his actual character flaws that he gets punished for, it's only ursula's ~trusting your instincts~ shit that ever gets him hurt. she is ultimately responsible for his death but the show never acts like it.

so much of the show seemed to be drama for drama's sake. do not get me fucking started on kamen's creature. what was that thing's fucking problem. what was kris' fucking problem?

if i have to ask 'what is their PROBLEM' at every other character's choices, your writing is not good.

[xjulixred45x]

Can you imagine how interesting it would be to have Penthesilea as a character in Hades? more than anything because of her interactions with Achilles.

a little context: Penthesilea was an Amazonian queen who fought on the side of the Trojans in the Trojan War, she died fighting against Achilles, who apart from recognizing that she was a great fighter (having fight him face to face) HE FELL IN LOVE WITH HER.

obviously in a setting where Penthesilea and Achilles can get along, similar to Asterius and Theseus, who became friends after death and share a fairly strong bond. This is GOLD.

(although it would definitely be fun if she harbored some hostility towards Aquil over the war🤣 she's a daughter of Ares, what did you expect?)

Imagine if they had a friendly rivalry with their disciples or sparring together now that they don't have much else to do in death. Let them talk about what their lives were like, what they were doing or why they were in Troy, etc.

Achilles would practically be that meme of letting your muscular girlfriend crush your face with her arm🤣

Yes yes yes, I already know about Patroclus and everything, but what I want to say is IMAGINE THE POTENTIAL OF POLY.

and when you add Pat to the mix, you have some good drama.

Penthesilea would probably be the most impulsive of the group, who has already tried to return to Elysium several times either to meet this Patroclus or to see his Amazon girls. He is the one who tries to advise Achilles to be more open about what is happening (and happened) between him and Pat and would definitely tell him his hard truths.

Achilles is the most emotional in a way, even with how much he has calmed down and accepted his place in the Underworld, he is still someone who has a hard time expressing...certain things ("fear is for the weak"). although he is definitely the quickest to get ballistic for his loved ones.

and Patroclus is basically the peacemaker, the calm one, the relaxed one and above all the most in tune with his emotions (post reunion), and he is practically the only person who can handle both Achilles and Penthesilea. and on top of that when this melancholy man recites poetry. a total catch.

Put the three together and you have the traffic light trio. or the meme of "this is my boyfriend Achilles, and that is his boyfriend Patroclus"

simply Poly Achilles -Patroclus -Pentesilea😩

although of course, it wouldn't be my post without anguish :)

In the alternative where Penthesilea does not like Achilles, I can imagine that rather than resenting him for his death, she resents him for the death of several of her companions. The society of the Amazons functions as a BROTHERHOOD, so for Penthesilea it must have been horrible to see that none of her sisters managed to survive the war...

There is also the factor that although Penthesilea is considered a warrior, a HEROINE, really the only myth about her is that of Troy, nothing more. I feel like she would hope that she could have done more in the world, that she could have done greater things, instead of just being remembered for what she died for...

She feels that she was destined to be remembered for something BIG, and although she is remembered, it is not how she expected it...

ANYWAY, PENTHESILEA MY PATRONA.

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

[gunraekae]

love transcending time - aka ikevamp unnecessarily narrated

>ikemen vampire

>everyone x reader

>a/n: dont mind me just leaving my cave to post this

trust i have a headcanon style post in the works and uploaded sometime in the next week or so, i'm just a bit overwhelmed with term papers and stuff sorryyy

enjoy and have a wonderful day dear

Chapter II: The Banquet

At the foot of the staircase was the mysterious gentleman I encountered at the Louvre. He gave a pointed glance to the men. At the sight of him, a wave of relief surged through me and I ran down the staircase towards him. 

“It’s you!” I hurried down and stopped short in front of him. Suddenly remembering my composure, I clarified the situation, “Pardon, but do you remember me? We met in front of the ‘Coronation of Napoleon’ and you helped me.” 

 I was met with a warm smile, “Of course I remember you.” Alright, I can ask him about an exit—any exit—and I can get a ride back to my aunt. 

Before I could ask him for directions, my saviour “Leon,” stepped in between us. “She says she came here through your door. Did you bring her?” His tone, and the way he hid me from the prying eyes of everyone, all of it feels as if he was… protecting me. 

“I did not. I can give you my oath if you wish,” the gentleman mused, “her arrival is just as surprising to me.” 

“Then how did she get here?” Although the men didn’t seem hostile, what they were talking about still made me uneasy. What did they mean by “his” door? And why did they talk about “my arrival” as if it was an impossible feat? Where even am I? I don’t understand at all. Something is very wrong here. I just need to get out. At the new wave of apprehension, I remember my aunt. She must be so worried. How long has it even been? I rummaged around my pocket for my phone. 2:50 pm. No signal. What is going on? 

I found the last ounce of courage I had and interjected, “You’ve been very kind, but I really can’t stay. I was supposed to meet up with someone. We’re still in the 1st arrondissement, yes? Where the Louvre is? That door there, does it lead outside?” I asked my questions rapidly before anyone could interrupt me. 

His expression turned difficult, “Hmm… I’m afraid the answers you seek will only confuse you more.” My pleading gaze met the gentleman’s golden eyes. “This isn’t the place for a long discussion, however. Would you join me for dinner, chère?” I asked a yes or no question. Any rationality left in my mind crumbled, and it seemed to show on my face, as the gentleman hurriedly added, “Tonight’s banquet is a rare occasion for us. But afterward, I will answer all your questions. S’il vous plait.” With a sigh, I resigned myself to his wishes. After all, if there was any person who knew my predicament, it was him. 

Having owned a travel blog, I’d been to many hotels, from the hidden gems to the 5-star establishments, I’d seen it all. The gentleman’s dining room was unlike anything I’d ever seen. A stretching room with a long, clothed table with fourteen high-backed wooden chairs framing it. The mahogany walls had intricate wooden carvings around the high ceiling, and a warm atmosphere coated the room with the chandeliers and the candelabras. Four men were already seated. 

The beautiful pianist with the sharp tongue sat at the far end, secluded from the others. He was true to his statement from before—he truly looked displeased in being here. 

Around the centre of the table sat two men beside each other. 

“Must’ve been something pretty important to keep us waiting here. One second longer and I would’ve left.” The first man’s voice was familiar, being the Englishman’s companion in the hallway I entered. His husky voice, with the Dutch accent, matched his appearance—domineering and brusque. He had slicked-back, brown hair and steely blue eyes with a cold expression. He donned a long grey coat, fastened with gold accessories on top of a dark blue sweater, layered over a neat white button-up; basically, what a sensible businessman would wear if he was born a century ago. His tall stature and strong build were noticeable, with him being the largest of the men so far. 

“Now, now. Getting angry about dinner is not going to make the food come out any faster.” The second man seemed the exact opposite, being much easier on the eyes. He had fluffy blonde hair, and even though the two had the same blue eyes, this man was so warm, you almost couldn’t tell. His dimpled smile was almost angelic. He wore a shorter dark brown coat with a yellow sweater on top of a white shirt, but the most attention-grabbing piece was his long yellow scarf loosely wrapped around him. He was somewhat smaller than his presumed brother. 

“I have to be angry for two, mijn broer,” the gruff one said. The two Dutch brothers seemed close despite being polar opposites. 

The kind brother’s eyes landed on me, and he gave a welcoming smile, “Who’s that? Do we have a guest? It’s nice to meet you!” 

My uneasiness was somewhat alleviated by his warm character. He looked like the paintings of the angels I’d seen in the musée. A few words from him make me feel like everything’s better. We need more people like him. 

The fourth man was sat a little ways away from everyone, head down and eyes studying the piece of tablecloth he was fiddling with. He looked slightly younger than the others, his innocent cherry eyes matched his auburn hair. He wore a sensible white button-up with a grey vest that had a red lapel. A golden button of an apple was stitched to the collar, giving his otherwise professional outfit an almost adorable finish. 

His gaze darted around the room, briefly meeting mine then quickly returning to the tablecloth, “Whoever you are, have you considered sitting down? There’s a queue behind you waiting to get in, you know.” His voice was light and airy with a crisp English accent. 

The Englishman’s chipper voice greeted the shy boy, “Newt, old boy, you do care!” 

He bristled, “Can you desist calling me that wretched—!” “Newt” placed his hands on the table, as though intending to stand up. 

A disciplinary clap sounded behind me. “That will be enough of that, you two. I require good manners at my table.” The gentleman gave everyone a warning look masked by his cordial smile. “Let’s be seated. There’s a few empty chairs, but we’ll have to start the toast without them.” The butler had already snuck into the kitchen, presumably preparing the dinner. The Englishman sat beside the gruff Dutch brother while “Leon” sat beside the shy boy. He gave me a warm glance as if reassuring me that I was safe here. I couldn’t muster up a smile, so instead I gave him a timid nod. Meanwhile, the gentleman gently placed a hand on my back and guided me to a seat beside his, which was at the head of the table. 

The various personalities together seemed as if they wouldn’t mesh well together, but surprisingly, with everyone seated down, it felt like they were all a family. 

“A vôtre santé!” The gentleman raised a glass filled with golden champagne in a toast. A chorus of toasts responded to him by the men. While most of the men kept drinking, the pianist took one sip before quickly placing down his glass. Not quite trusting the gentleman from his elusiveness, but wanting to be courteous, I pretended to take a sip instead. I was too wary. Too much didn’t make sense. It should be almost 3 in the afternoon, and yet I was having dinner in a strange mansion. I should have been at the Louvre with my aunt, and now I’m dining with seven strange men. Interrupting my thoughts, the butler brought out the first course. To say the food looked like a culinary masterpiece was doing it injustice. It was a classic French spread, the sort that I had at the hotels but somehow even better. Still, I remained wary and didn’t make a move. Instead, I turned my attention to my companions. Who are all these men? They seemed normal, if not odd, but their appearances were so unusual. And they were all from different countries, so was this an international meeting of some kind? They don’t seem to be friends, but it felt like there was an ambiguous intimacy between them all. The gentleman, noticing my uneasiness, inclined his glass my way. 

“Let us toast to tonight’s most glorious and miraculous encounter. Santé.” His alluring gaze was comforting, if not off-putting in its warmth. “...à la vôtre.” With such a direct toast, it was impolite not to respond in turn. I timidly raised my glass to his. He finished the rest of his champagne, locking his gaze with mine. Feeling guilty and slightly charmed, I took a small sip of mine. Unfortunately, it tasted wonderful. 

I turned back towards the food laid out in front of me. My stomach quietly grumbled; embarrassed, I looked around hoping no one noticed. Wishing to justify my hunger, I rationalized that it would be insulting if I didn’t eat. I tried the terrine. Pheasant with fresh basil. And it tasted as exquisite as it looked. The bisque was delicious too. You can taste the crab. It’s thickened just right! I closed my eyes. Whoever made this food should be as famous as Gordon Ramsay. My increasing satisfaction with the food was noticed by the gentleman, and awkwardly, I chirped, “My compliments to the chef.” The butler from earlier, who dutifully stood by the kitchen’s entry seemed to relax from his stiff composure. 

He chuckled, “he’ll be pleased to hear that.” Whether it was the champagne or his ardent smile, my nerves considerably eased. Maybe he’s just a harmless nobleman and I’m overthinking everything. Really, if you looked at this scene objectively, I was having a perfectly pleasant evening. Wasn’t this the sort of romantic adventure I was looking for in coming to Paris? 

At the gentleman’s words, the men’s amicable chatter was silenced. “You’ve outdone yourself again Sebastian.” His disarming charisma powered over the room. He looked over the men and said, “I believe we should take this opportunity to introduce ourselves to our guest. I will start us off. Everyone has taken to calling me Comte de Saint-Germain.” Comte? A whole count? Maybe that explains this old-word aura he has. “And once again, it’s a pleasure to meet you, chèrie.” 

“Oh no, the pleasure’s all mine, Comte,” I mumbled, slightly flustered at his manners and my lack of it. I could feel the manor’s members’ eyes on me, and my face warmed at the attention. God, I’m making such a fool of myself. Le Comte de Saint-Germain next turned to his servant. 

“This hard-working butler and the chef of tonight’s excellent banquet is Sebastian,” he fondly introduced. The stern butler from earlier formally bowed. 

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he said. He spoke English with a faint Japanese accent. The butler Sebastian—how conveniently named. 

The Comte turned back towards me, “It occurs to me we haven’t heard your name yet. I’d be pleased to know it.” 

There can’t be any harm in telling them that. “I’m… MC,” I clumsily introduced myself. I avoided the eyes of everyone in the room, incredibly self-conscious and still apprehensive. 

“That’s such a pretty name,” the kind Dutch brother piped up. His angelic face, which was sat across from me, was the first to reply, “I wasn’t expecting someone like you to turn up here. I hope we can be friends.” I finally raised my head and met his eyes to be polite, and his expression looked relieved at that. “I’m Vincent van Gogh, I’m a painter. It’s really nice to meet you.” I almost choked on my spit. A painter… named Vincent van Gogh. Is this some kind of themed event? Hoping not to seem offensive at my clumsy actions, I mustered a smile back. He seemed too kind to deserve my stupidity. “And this is my little brother. Go on, Theo, introduce yourself.” 

“Vincent” gently nudged his brother, the gruff Dutch businessman. 

“Theodorus van Gogh. I’m an art dealer. Don’t confuse me with my brother.” 

“I’ll, uh, try my best.” They couldn’t be more opposite. I’m not confusing you two. “You’re not getting anything else from me. Introduction’s over.” To hammer in his point, he took a pocket watch from his coat and tapped it repeatedly, tap-tap-tap, to show that he had better things to do. How could Vincent be older? Theo had me pegged as the older brother with his seriousness. Realizing I was staring at the two of them in puzzlement, my gaze returned to the table. 

Sitting to the right of Theodorus was the shy boy, “Newt,” who was difficult to make eye contact with, the both of us too nervous. If he could’ve curled up into a ball to be swallowed up by the ground, he would have. That being said, doesn’t he live here? I had more of a reason to be afraid of him than he was of me. “I’m Isaac. Isaac Newton. I study physics.” 

“Nice to meet you… Isaac,” I choked out. A physicist named Isaac. They can’t possibly be serious. Despite the absurdity of this situation, I was still fearful of being deemed impolite. “Wait. Should that be ‘Sir Isaac—?’” 

Suddenly, one of the dining room windows burst open. To my surprise, a man climbed in from the outside. I flinched from my seat and quickly glanced around to gauge everyone’s reactions. To my surprise, not a single person looked even remotely startled. The man, who had dark hair and strikingly yellow eyes chuckled sheepishly as he struggled through the window. He had such an easygoing smile that betrayed his serious eyes. He had an old Taisho-style kimono, with a dark purple haori, black hakama, and an unbuttoned white shirt. “Well, well, would you look at that? I’m a little late, aren’t I?” He’d just about fully entered the room when his sleeve got stuck, “...In we go.” He pulled at it comically, his actions humorously exaggerated and ineffective. 

“God’s Truth, can’t you use a door?” Isaac sighed. 

“And keep everyone waiting? No, no, the window’s a much faster entrance.” He smiled, nonchalant about his sleeve still caught by the window. He caught my bewildered eyes. I sat back down, but couldn’t wrench my eyes away from the bizarre scene. “Oh, hello there, young one. Why, I’m happy to see you here. How’s your dinner been?” 

“It’s…good,” I sputtered out. 

“Isn’t it? Well, it’s a Sebas-kun meal, so you really can’t expect anything less. You wouldn’t believe how fast his cooking gets gobbled up here.” He nonchalantly mused and sat on Isaac’s right, who then slithered away from him. 

“Not to worry, you arrived just in time. We were just introducing ourselves to our new guest here.” 

“In that case, I’m Osamu Dazai, just a poor writer struggling to make his way in the world.” His eyes closed with his carefree smile, which made him all the more handsome. 

“Osamu Dazai. The writer. Okay.” I took a quick swig of my champagne. If I had to listen to the rest of these wild introductions I needed to be less sober. Should I have introduced myself as Marie Antoinette or something? I took a quick glance at the “van Gogh” brothers, who had started this odd chain of improv introductions. His smile seemed too innocent to be trying to fool me like this. Who the hell are these people? Is this some sort of prank? I glanced back at my now-empty glass. Was there something in my drink? 

Skipping several empty chairs was the beautiful and cold pianist I’d met earlier. The Englishman called him “Wolfie,” but I bet that’s probably short for—

“Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. Composer.” Called it. His character seemed the least to play along in whatever nonsense chain the others made up. Of course, the pianist would be called Mozart. 

“...Hello, Mozart,” two words I never thought I’d utter in my life. 

The cheeky Englishman from earlier, who was practically buzzing with excitement piped up, “I do believe I’m next! I’m Arthur Conan Doyle. Mystery writer.” I pursed my lips and looked down at the table, uncertain whether I should laugh or sigh. “And don’t call me Sir, just Arthur. As long as I get to call you MC.” I quickly glanced up at him, and his eyes twinkled with delight. He, I could see was capable of making up this joke. But then, did that mean everyone was lying to me? No, not lying. They have to be pseudonyms. I looked around once again at everyone. 

Vincent. 

Theodorus. 

Isaac.

Dazai.

Mozart. 

Arthur. 

They have to be. Maybe they have to use fake names to keep their real identities a secret for some important reason. 

“I believe that leaves you.” Le Comte’s silky voice interrupted my racing thoughts. Only my hero remained. My protector. He was the only one who was genuinely on my side. The one who wanted me to get out of here. He promised to answer my questions. I trusted him, albeit instantly. But he couldn’t possibly lie to me too. 

With his eyes that hid nothing, my saviour looked at me and said, “Napoleon. Napoleon Bonaparte… I’m a soldier.” 

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Beautiful Blood -- Sadistic Vampire Whumper Keeping Human Pets part 21

TW: violence, blood drinking, intimate vampire whump, forced servitude, sadistic vampire master

He glanced once at Morgan before his gaze dropped dejectedly to the floor, and he reluctantly trudged after Lily through the maze of white halls, head hung low as he mentally prepared himself for the task of being fed on. He could hear his own heartbeat fluttering in his head, like a caged bird, cold adrenaline already inching through his veins.

Asher almost crashed into Lily when she stopped unexpectedly to make a sharp turn, pushing a door open and striding confidently through it.

Asher followed suit and stared wide-eyed at the huge bedroom. It was so different from where Nyx had usually summoned him to be fed on, instead of a fancy couch there was a giant bed dominating the center of the room. Was he going to be laying on the bed while Lily fed? It seemed too... intimate. Asher felt embarrassed heat rise to his face.

Lily giggled with amusement which only made him blush harder. He wished he could disappear into thin air. "Aww, humans look so adorable when they're embarrassed!" She teased. "It's such an interesting phenomenon tied to our primal emotions. I mean, why the face and ears? Why don't our arms or hands turn red instead? Why must our feelings be put out on such open display?" It sounded strangely poetic when she said it like that, but Lily didn't expand any further on the topic, and gracefully climbed onto the bed and laid on her side, her head propped up in a hand as she patted the sheets invitingly with her free one.

"Come. Play a gamble with me, I'm a much better companion than Nyx in all regards." Asher didn't like the suggestive tone in her voice, nor the way she winked mischievously, as though it was the most entertaining thing for her to make him even redder.

"Won't... Won't I get blood on the sheets?" Asher rasped. It came out strained and thin, a weak protest.

"Don't worry, I can always replace them. And besides, I'm very careful when I feed." Lily elegantly flipped her blonde hair over a shoulder, eyeing him coolly with those quicksilver eyes.

Asher swallowed the terror rising in the back of his throat. Each step forward was a conscious effort as he walked stiffly to the side of the bed, quivering with gut-wrenching anxiety and fear so thick he was positive the vampire could smell it.

Lily yawned impatiently with a little drama. "Shirt off, please. You can keep the jeans on."

Asher was grateful to be allowed to retain even that small sliver of dignity; he didn't think he could handle being seen in only underwear while the literal blood was sucked out of him. He obediently removed his shirt and folded it over a chair he spotted, before padding over to the bed again. He felt so vulnerable and exposed like this, stripped bare by Lily's critical gaze as it swept over him, over the many scars left by Nyx.

Asher squeezed his eyes shut and clumsily climbed up and flopped down next to Lily, his breaths already short and shallow with fear and anticipation.

Just hurry... get it over with before I lose my nerves, he silently pleaded to nothing. Let it be quick, and painless...

His eyes flew open and he flinched when a cold hand barely touched his arm, reeling hard enough to almost fall off the bed if that same hand hadn't suddenly grabbed and held on to keep him from going over the edge.

"S-S-Sorry," Asher apologized as he righted himself, his teeth chattering with how hard he was shaking. He risked a glance at Lily's face, but didn't see hostility or anger at how he'd recoiled away, only a knowing sadness and sympathy, two things he never would have expected from a vampire.

After all, they drank blood to survive. How could monsters like that feel something as sophisticated as sympathy towards prey? It was like feeling bad for the plants humans ate in salads. He couldn't wrap his head around it. Weren't humans just cheap toys to vampires? Expendable entertainment?

He flinched with a startled whine when Lily took his jaw in her hand, like Nyx had done so many times before... but no familiar pain followed the grip, only softness.

"Feedings don't always have to be unpleasant, human. I'm sorry Nyx ruined it for you. But I can show you what good feedings can feel like... if you let me." Lily sighed.

"It's not like I have a choice though, right?" Asher choked out. She didn't answer, her silence speaking volumes. No choice, apparently.

Asher let out a shaky breath, going limp in defeat. The less he resisted, the quicker it would be over, he hoped. He expected Lily to attack cruelly at any second, take what she wanted -- he knew the effort of resisting his blood must be immense, after seeing how greedily Nyx always drank from him -- but Lily surprised him by kneading his bare shoulders with skilled fingers, working out the aches and tension.

Asher groaned, wincing as pain stretched through the stiffness. All of Asher's instincts told him to stay on guard, but he felt his body betraying him as it melted under the vampire's touch, his muscles slowly relaxing. His eyes fluttered closed, and he was so lost in the relief of her hands magically working away the knots in his muscles that he barely registered the prick of pain in his neck before something warm pressed against the skin over his pulse point.

Asher let out a soft gasp of pain and twitched in surprise, but managed not to pull away, and he felt Lily's lips curve into a smile of satisfaction against his skin.

"Mmmm...." She hummed quietly, taking her fangs out. "You doing okay?" She whispered, her breath ghosting over the shell of his ear. The wounds immediately started healing thanks to Asher's regenerate gift.

Asher shivered, then nodded. "Y-Yeah... M'good…”

Lily's arms were gentle as they snaked around his torso and pulled him flush against her, his heat against her icy-coldness, and Asher didn't pull away. "Glad to hear," Lily murmured.

Goosebumps erupted all over Asher's skin as Lily's mouth latched back over the half-healed puncture wounds, her fangs gently re-opening them and sliding in. It felt wrong, so wrong, but... not entirely unpleasant.

A low groan slipped out of Asher as her tongue swiped over his skin as she drank slowly, sensually. At first he was still stiff and apprehensive, but he found himself cautiously relaxing under Lily's delicate touches as she continued methodically massaging around his arms and shoulders while she drank.

And finally, like a dam that broke, all the tension melted out of him all at once, and he hesitantly returned her unusual affection, draping an arm over her midsection. Lily purred happily at that, and Asher could feel the vibrations deep in her chest, sending another shiver through him. His head rolled thoughtlessly forward to rest against her shoulder, his hair sweaty.

Asher's mind eventually started feeling light and fuzzy from blood loss, dragging him further into the pleasurable drunken feeling dulling his senses, a dizzying sensation that made his fingers and toes start tingling. But in the back of his murky thoughts alarm bells were going off.

His face twisted with a flicker of pain that was coming from more than just the teeth locked in his neck, and he instinctively pushed gently at Lily with a feeble moan in an effort to signal he needed a break, she might unintentionally drink faster than he could heal, which would kill him. After all, his blood was like an irresistible drug to vampires, he'd learned that the hard way several times. What if she couldn't stop?

But through the haze, he felt Lily's fangs detach, and she held him tighter against her. He sighed heavily, leaning into her coldness, the unfamiliar lack of warmth that came from being a vampire. It felt good against his flushed skin.

"You did wonderfully... are you okay?" Lily's voice sounded like it was underwater, warped and distant, a thousand miles away.

"T-Too... m-much..." Asher's weak voice trailed off into incoherent mumbling, and he distantly heard the vampire chuckle in amusement.

"Let me finish up, and then you can rest." Asher felt a light kiss on the side of his neck right over the healing bite mark as Lily licked up the last bits of escaped blood with a satisfied sound, making sure no drop went to waste. Then carded fingers through his hair reassuringly.

"It’s alright to let yourself drift off, human... you're safe with me."

Safe... Asher would have laughed if he had the strength. Safe with a vampire? Never. But... he couldn't deny the lack of threat he was feeling, the absence of danger. And he wanted to give in to that melodic voice, obey its every command.

Asher merely grunted his acknowledgment in his drunken, addled state of mind before letting himself float away, until all he knew was darkness... and peace.

Next up is finding out what happens from a vengeful Nyx's POV... as she fights to find a way to track Asher down and recapture him. Stay tuned!

⏪️ Back Next ⏩️

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @i-don't-know-sal

[malkavi-ann]

When the Truth Hurts. Chapter 4

Elden Ring: Shadow of the Erdtree fanfiction

Rating: Mature (May change in the future)

Relationship: F/M

Pairing: Messmer the Impaler/Original Female Character

Tags: Self-Loathing, Reference to Depression, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Memory Loss, Messmer is bad at feelings, Mommy Issues, Abandonment Issues, Mostly Canon Compliant, Canon Divergence, Tarnished never arrives to the Land of Shadow, Friendship/Love

Link to Ao3

Chapter 4: The Shadow Keep

Meanwhile, Messmer’s men were waiting for his liege to return outside. Some of them were having an idle chat, while others were watching the door closely, and Commander Gaius was one of them. Truth be told, he was concerned about Messmer’s well-being. They had known each other since they were serving the Golden Order in the Lands Between. Both of them suffered from afflictions that made their life miserable, and perhaps because of that their bond grew stronger as the years passed. When Marika ordered Messmer to wage war on the Hornsent, he personally appointed Gaius to lead his army into the Land of Shadow. All these years they fought their enemy side by side. When they weren’t fighting, Messmer would confide in Gaius about his fears and feelings related to his mother’s absence. Therefore, the albinauric warrior knew very well how deeply Messmer was concerned about this mysterious woman who could be Marika’s imposter.

Gaius’ thoughts got interrupted by a loud rumbling “oink” that came from his mount, a giant boar which he gently called his other half. “What’s that, Penelope? Have you grown tired already, my dear?”, he playfully asked his beloved animal. Penelope shook her head and grunted, expressing her disagreement mixed with concern. “Now, now, no need to fuss over me. I’m just a wee bit worried about my dear friend. But I’m sure he will be alright. He has been through a lot, but he’s a strong man.” The boar got quiet for a moment and then grunted softly as if she was trying to reassure her companion. “Ah, I do appreciate your concern, my dear.”, Gaius said as he patted his loyal mount on the back of her head. Penelope squealed with delight and finally calmed down.

The sun slowly started to set when two figures finally emerged from the hut. Messmer’s men sighed with relief when they saw their leader appear unharmed, but their demeanor changed drastically when their eyes fell on the female figure following Messmer. Many soldiers and knights in Messmer’s army were Marika’s followers who worshiped her with fervor. And so they were also hoping for their Queen’s return; however, nothing could have prepared them for what they saw: a visage resembling Marika but plagued with a mark of their sworn enemy. Morgana could feel all those looks filled with disgust pointed towards her and it made her skin crawl. She wondered what exactly about her presence had made these people so deeply upset. Messmer also took notice of how the attitude of his soldiers had changed once they saw Morgana. He stepped in front of her, his figure hiding her from the silent hostility.

“We shall take this woman to the Shadow Keep for further interrogation. No harm shall be inflicted upon her.”, Messmer announced. His men exchanged puzzled looks as they couldn’t understand why they should spare this imposter from death. Nevertheless, Messmer’s orders were not to be argued with, so they had to obey.

Messmer turned to Morgana, “You said you could awaken my soldiers from their slumber”. She nodded, “As long as they are moved away from the blood fiends, yes. Otherwise, the soldiers might attack them again once they’re awake”.

“Fair enough”, Messmer said. He ordered his men to move the sleeping bodies of the scouts away from the blood fiends. Once they were at a safe distance from the shack, Morgana closed her eyes and whispered an incantation. In an instance, the sleeping soldiers started to wake up, yawning as they were getting up from the ground. After they finally came to their senses, the envoy was finally ready to return to the Shadow Keep.

The journey back to the Shadow Keep was quite uneventful and mostly silent. Every now and then some soldiers would quickly look over the horned woman and exchange hushed murmurs of disapproval. It was getting dark when they finally reached the gates of the keep. One of the Fire Knights approached Messmer and Gaius, “My lord, where should we take the…uh…prisoner?”. For a moment, Messmer considered the options: there wasn’t a functioning prison in the keep as his army didn’t tend to keep captured Hornsent alive for too long. He was trying to remember if there were any spare rooms where Morgana could be kept under lock when Commander Gaius chimed in. “We could take her to one of the prayer rooms in the church district and put a couple of guards at the door to make sure she doesn’t escape.”

Messmer nodded, “That sounds reasonable. Thank you for your suggestion, Commander”. He then turned to the knight, “Take her to the prayer room and arrange guarding shifts. Keep an eye on her day and night.” The Fire Knight bowed slightly before heading towards Morgana, who was surrounded by the foot soldiers. Messmer and Gaius heard him give orders to the soldiers and after that, they took Morgana away.

”Well, that was certainly an unusual encounter”, Gaius said.

“Indeed. Out of all possibilities, I didn’t expect this to happen.” Messmer remarked.

“What exactly happened in that shack? And why in the name of the Erdtree did you decide to bring this woman here?”, asked Gaius.

”Let us speak in private. I do not wish anyone to overhear us. Come with me, my friend.” Messmer turned around and headed towards his chamber while Gaius followed behind him. After taking a brisk walk through the keep, they entered the Dark Chamber. The room greeted them with silence and complete darkness. Messmer made a slight gesture with his left hand and the candles around the room lit up with his flame.

“I was worried about you, Messmer”, Gaius began. “I know that your mother means a lot to you, but I still cannot comprehend why you kept that woman alive. She looks like a Hornsent.”

”Oh, believe me, my friend, I did want to kill her on the spot once I saw those wretched horns. To distort my mother’s visage like that? Such a blasphemy. And yet I couldn’t do it. Despite the horns, that woman reminds me so much of her. It’s like she’s back here with me.”, Messmer said.

”I see. Can’t say I blame you for that.”, his albinauric friend was always incredibly understanding, and this time was no exception. “In any case, my other question still stands: why did we bring her here?”

”She mentioned that she comes from the Lands Between, so I reckoned she might know something of the current state of affairs there. And perhaps she may have information about my mother too as she said she used to live at a palace.”, Messmer replied, his words filled with desperate hope.

”That is rather curious. But couldn’t you get that information from her when we were at the hut?”, Gaius questioned his friend further.

“The woman has lost her memories so she couldn’t give me any details about her life in the Lands Between. So, I thought that maybe with time she could regain her memories, and then we could interrogate her.” When Messmer was trying to explain his reasoning, he could feel that Gaius was hesitant to accept his explanation.

“Hmm, I suppose that could be possible. But what if her memory doesn’t come back? What are we to do then?”. It was clear that Gaius had doubts about this plan, and quite frankly, Messmer was also unsure if it was possible.

“In that case, we’ll get rid of her.”

Gaius nodded in response, seemingly satisfied with Messmer’s reply. “Is there anything else we should know about her?”, came another question.

Messmer hesitated for a few seconds: he needed to consider what information he could share even with his friend. Though they’d been close friends for a long time and they trusted each other deeply, Messmer was still afraid that Gaius would think less of him for his true intentions.

”Her name is Morgana, and she’s been afflicted by the Omen curse since she was born. That’s why I mistook her for a Hornsent.”, he finally spoke.

”An Omen? From what I recall, Omen folk are much bigger and more violent than this woman.”, Gaius remarked, and Messmer had to agree with his friend.

”Indeed, I found it hard to believe as well. However, since she comes from the Lands Between, and the Omen curse doesn’t exist in the realm of shadow, I’m inclined to trust her on that.”

The two men stayed silent for a while as both were processing the events of the day. Gauis looked at his friend intently: was there something Messmer was not telling him? While his reasons for keeping this woman alive had some validity, it seemed as if Messmer was trying really hard to convince Gaius that there was a legitimate need to bring her to the keep.

”My friend,” Gaius said gently, “if there’s something you wish to get off your chest, I’m always here to listen to you with an open mind. And I swear on my honor that everything we’ve discussed here shall remain a secret.”

Messmer smiled wearily, “Thank you, Gaius. Your support means a lot to me.”, he paused. “Now, if you excuse me, I wish to be alone for a while.”

“Of course, you must be exhausted, my friend. I shall leave you be. Rest well.” And with that, Gaius exited the Dark Chamber, leaving Messmer alone to ponder the events of the day.

Messmer turned his gaze towards the statue of Marika which was hidden in the shadows of the chamber. He still couldn’t believe that everything that had transpired earlier that day was real. Now that he was back in the Shadow Keep, it all felt like a distant dream. Yet, that woman was here, locked up in one of the prayer rooms of the keep. Messmer sighed heavily: now that he could think a bit more clearly, he realized how desperate and irrational his actions were. And, judging by his conversation with Gaius, his loyal friend remained doubtful about Messmer’s true reasons behind Morgana’s imprisonment.

Truth to be told, there was another reason why Messmer decided to bring her here. After seeing how much this woman looked like his mother, he simply couldn’t let her go. All these years he’d been yearning to see Marika once more. And when he looked at Morgana, he could almost see his mother right there in front of him. His common sense and rational thinking kept telling Messmer that he was wrong for hoping that this woman could somehow replace Marika’s presence in his life. Nevertheless, he chose to follow his heart. Was he really that desperate and weak? Just thinking about this situation made him despise himself even more.

”Pathetic.”, Messmer said out loud to himself. “You have always been pathetic, and you shall remain that way till your very end. Maybe you deserve to be abandoned by the one who you love most.”

He looked at his Mother’s stone visage once again. “O Mother, forgive me for my sins.”, he prayed silently. There was, of course, no reply, but Marika’s statue always watched over him with a smile. In his mind, Messmer preferred to believe that she would forgive him no matter what for her maternal love was unconditional.

* * *

Morgana was following the knight through the keep. She was surrounded by a couple of soldiers who kept a very close watch on her. Agreeing to come here was most certainly a mistake since everyone treated her like a dangerous prisoner. However, it was too late to regret her past actions. Besides, she didn’t have much choice to begin with. Maybe the man with the serpents was right, and her memory would come back to her with time. Or maybe it was all a ruse to get her captured.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the chatter between the guards. “We should take her through the Specimen Warehouse if we want to take a shortcut.”, one of the soldiers to her left said, addressing the knight in front of her. “I’m well aware of that. Now shut up and stick to your duty, soldier.”, the knight cut the guard off.

As they entered the Specimen Warehouse, Morgana was taken aback by how enormous this part of the keep was. There were multiple levels connected by stairs and elevators, and each of these levels contained hundreds of thousands of ancient tomes, scrolls, and stone inscriptions. Who knew what kind of knowledge and wisdom could be gained from perusing this collection? Morgana, who had been mostly looking at the floor on the way to her cell, started looking around the warehouse with excitement and curiosity. But the most astonishing thing about this place wasn’t its size or its extensive amount of books. It was the mummified specimen of animals and even people whose bodies were covered with horns. Their corpses were either suspended by the chains or displayed on large platforms around the library. The mere sight of these dead creatures was both breathtaking and terrifying. An eerie thought crawled into Morgana’s mind: would this be her fate if she didn’t regain her memories? Would she be murdered, mummified, and put on the display? Thinking about it made her sick to her stomach, and the sliver of hope that she’d had before began to wane. Disgusted by the morbid sights, she averted her gaze and tried to concentrate on the positives: she was still alive, and there was still a chance, though slim, for her to reach her goal.

Morgana was so consumed by her thoughts, that she didn’t notice that they’d reached a stone platform that took them to the lower levels of the keep. As they made their descent, the air changed drastically: the warm scent of parchment and leather of the books was replaced by a stale odor of something cold and damp. When the platform came to a halt, Morgana realized why it smelled so putrid: this level of the keep was surrounded by murky water.

“Thank Marika, we’re almost there.”, one of the soldiers murmured, avoiding being heard by his superior. “Can’t wait to bugger off and get some bloody rest”. The guards were obviously not happy with their duties. But it seemed that the knight didn’t hear - or pretended to not hear - the soldier’s rumblings. Soon enough they reached a wooden door tucked away in the corner of the building they were in. The knight opened the door and gestured for Morgana to enter the room. “Get in.”, he ordered sharply. Morgana obeyed silently and walked into a dimly lit prayer room. The door behind her slammed shut, and she heard the sound of keys rattling in the keyhole. She was now locked in a room that had no windows except for a tiny opening in the door with iron bars that separated her from the rest of the world. In a moment the rattling stopped, and Morgana could hear the sound of footsteps that grew fainter and fainter as the knight with the soldiers were making their exit from the building.

Morgana looked around the room, which was now her prison. There were a few benches and a couple of chairs that faced an altar adjacent to the back wall. As there were no windows, the only source of light was candles placed on the wooden holders. Most of them were almost completely gone, sitting in the solidified puddle of wax, while some were still giving off feeble light. It seemed as if this room wasn’t frequented by the keep dwellers and therefore was as solitary as its only occupant.

Morgana wanted to consider her next steps, but she was too exhausted to even think. There was no sign of a bed, and the chairs were too small for her. “Looks like sleeping on the floor is my only option. Good thing I’ve already gotten used to it”, she said to herself. She took off the cloak and threw it on the cold stone floor to make it slightly less comfortable to sleep on. When Morgana finally lay down, she whispered a quick prayer to the Formless Mother. Even though her sacred seal had been taken away, saying a prayer brought her a sense of comfort. Feeling slightly better, Morgana closed her eyes and drifted into the world of dreams.

__________________________

Note: Hello dear readers! First of all, thank you for your patience! I know it's been a while since the last update. Unfortunately, I didn't have much time to work on this chapter the previous week due to some IRL stuff. I also felt a bit uninspired, so that sucked. Anyway, I feel like I'm getting a bit better at writing longer chapters. I also realized that I really enjoy describing the characters' interactions with their "pets". I think it shows their kinder side of personality well. Speaking of the pets, I couldn't find any info about Gaius' boar gender, so I just decided to make it female lol. Finally, thank you all so much for the likes, comments, and reposts. I really appreciate your support, and I hope you enjoy the new chapter <3 Until next time :)

[murfpersonalblog]

IWTV S2 Ep3 & Ep7 Musings - Loustat Ep4 Revisit Pt3 - The Great Laws & Claudia

I've already discussed Les' hostile attitude towards the Great Laws & religious cults (Pt1 & Pt2), which the show AND books lay out VERY clearly:

But for some reason, people keep acting like Les GAF about following the coven's rules about not Turning children; and that he was oh-so-concerned about Claudia's wellbeing (LOL) when he told Lou he didn't want to Turn her--

CERTAINLY not cuz HE wanted 1132 to just be LOUSTAT's coven: the Louis-and-Lestat show, not the Louis-Claudia-Lestat show, and DEFINITELY not the Louis-Claudia show ("I can see where this is going"). Lou was desperate to have a baby--but Les ain't want no effing kids! 😅

"Anything for you, Louis."

Les LOVES Lou, and Les HATES coven life that follows the Great Laws, which is why he never got with Armand in the first place. All Les wanted was to BREAK those medieval AF rules and live lavishly in the Savage Garden: in a beautiful home listening to beautiful music admiring beautiful art wearing beautiful clothes guzzling delicious blood with the people he loves most (Nicki in Paris, Gabrielle in Cairo, and Lou in NOLA--in the Prince Lestat trilogy Les gets his wish when Gab & Lou finally move into the Lioncourt Chateau in Auvergne).

Lestat just wanted a comfortable HOME & a loving FAMILY,which he'd NEVER had as a human, growing up dirt poor in that crumbling ruin of a chateau with his abusive father & brothers & negligent mom.

Lestat's idea of a "family" differed starkly from Lou's idea of one. To Les, Family = Marriage; finding a Blood Spouse to "be my companion [in the Dark Gift, finally], [in the church, on the altar];" "we should make this our anniversary."

But for Louis, the night of their "anniversary" (the 1x3 race riots) was also the same night he finally had a child: Claudia. To Lou, Family = Traditional Nuclear Family Values (parents & children).

Loustat got Vegas Married without ever responsibly negotiating the terms of their relationship together: what Les wanted, vs what Lou wanted. Making Claudia was something Les NEVER accounted for, but he went along with it SOLELY to keep Louis with him & make Louis happy. There IS that kernel of truth in the coven's scripted lies (although I highly doubt what we saw in the "flashback" is (f)actually how her Turning went down--the truth's somewhere between the extreme poles of 1x4 and 2x7).

I've already said over & over that I DO NOT believe Les argued against Turning Claudia cuz "the Great Laws forbid it." IMO, this is a false memory; the coven gaslighting, which neither Lou nor Claudia can ever corroborate/fact check, since Lou's brain is literal swiss cheese, and Claudia was dying & darn near unconscious the whole time.

The ONLY one who'd have a clear memory of that night is Lestat, but we only get his POV thru the Trial's rigged script--the only time Les goes fully OFF SCRIPT is the Ep5 revisit. But IF it's true that Les DID mention the Great Laws to Lou, I know for a fact he never bothered fully explaining wtf they were, who makes/follows them, & what happens if you break them. We know Lou doesn't ask follow-up questions, so he'd never UNDERSTAND the GLs, just like lou didn't understand who TWMBK were when Les namedropped them in 1x7 and Akasha in 2x8.

KNOWLEDGE IS POWER. And there are times Les either:

deliberately withholds intel to PROTECT his coven/family

the gag order Marius put on Les about TWMBK & Akasha; the ONE rule he ever actually kept (until QotD)--which the 1x7/2x8 scenes bafflingly contradict, even while confirming what a frikkin BRAT Les is that he can't even follow ONE effing rule)

deliberately withholds/drip-feeds info to CONTROL his coven/family

not warning Lou about sunlight hurting vampires in 1x2, cuz he knew Lou'd HAVE to come crawling back to him

not telling Lou about the Mind Gift in 1x2 "And you gon' sit on that skill for how long?! You gon' make me beg!?"

not explaining the Great Laws in 1x4/2x7

not teaching Claudia anything about the Little Drink; more gently helping her process Charlie's death in 1x4; instead chokeholding her & forcing her to watch as he hypocritically tells her not to be around humans even while he's busy shagging Antoinette LOL

not teaching Claudia anything about making vampires in 1x5; more gently explaining that she's too tiny & doesn't have enough blood to make fledglings of her own; instead of making it all about insulting/demeaning/controlling Claudia's efforts to find love

not warning Claudia about the dangers of making revenants in 1x5 (so she & Lou wouldn't be blindsided in 2x1); instead making it all about insulting/demeaning/controlling Claudia's efforts to find love

not warning them in 1x5 about EXACTLY which European vampires are "vicious," and HOW; instead making it all about insulting/demeaning/controlling Claudia's efforts to educate herself & learn about the history of her species

not warning Claudia in 1x5 that he heard Bruce still thinking about her; instead making it all about traumatizing her in 1x6 to insult/demean/control Claudia's efforts to find a safe environment & supportive community

ineptly withholds info (cuz of his trauma/bad communication skills)

not talking about Magnus until Claudia finally pressed him in 1x6

not explaining to Claudia in 1x6 that the Cloud Gift is Advanced Vampirism she's still too young/weak for (but by this point he'd already ruined his relationship with her & killed her trust in him, to the point that she wouldn't believe "more of his lies" anyway, so....)

not running to Louis & Claudia FIRST when he got to Paris, to warn them that Santiago had woken him up in NOLA, planning a Trial (IF we believe Santiago that this really happened; and that Les didn't go to Paris all on his own looking for Armand, like in the book)

FrankFreezy on Youtube pointed out that Lestat uses/withholds knowledge as a way of control:

"Interesting to see how quick Louis is to tell her about all her powers and benefits, because to him he's not holding that information over her head as a means of control as Lestat did him. And to him when he's teaching her you can tell there's not that airiness there it's very honest and plain," (4:41 - 5:10).

"In episode one after he changed him the next morning like he could have easily told Louis that if you step out the sun is going to burn you. But he intentionally let Louis go out because he knows Louie is going to suffer and run back to him. You know, as his like Saving Grace or his protector -- she kind of alluded to it: he don't give straight answers.... But see the way Louis is like talking to her like very gently very calmly; he's not holding anything over her head; not trying to like seduce her in any way.... I see him as him pouring kindness into her as a way to maybe connect to his humanity again, cuz he did say she was his light and redemption," (12:07 - 13:00).

Likewise, Foxtaco on Youtube said something SO poignant about Loustat's dynamic in 1x5 (wrt to Les only ever reading the first 10 pages of books to pass himself off as cultured & seduce bibliophiles like Louis under false pretenses): that "Louis is able to finish some sh*t, but Lestat just passes sh*t on (14:08 - 14:14)."

Lestat is an irresponsibly pisspoor Maker who never finishes what he starts, and leaves everything for Louis to figure out on his own--just like we see in 1x2 when Les didn't warn Lou about sunlight hurting vampires; and just like we see in 2x3 about Les never warning Lou about the Great Laws.

Les never explains things or educates his fledglings properly, then gets mad at them when his TWO bibliophile Black fledglings do what Black people have always done when white people gatekeep information/knowledge/education from them: finding their own communities to learn on their own; only for white ppl to burn them down (X X X) or delegitimatize them (Les mocking Claudia in 1x5 for reading European "folklore anthologies;" mocking Lou in 1x2 for reading books off LES' bookshelf that hipped Lou to eating animals).

The tension between race & education is hilarious, cuz Lou & Claudia get bit in the arse even when they DO follow prescribed (white) codes of conduct: the Whites-Only colleges Claudia went to that wouldn't even let her read in the library, about the first vamps coming from Europe (which is incorrect cuz AR's vamps actually come from Egypt, LOL); and the books Les bought FOR Louis by a bunch of dead white men, some even younger than Lestat himself LOL.

Les exhibits irrational anger at Lou & Claud when they exert agency to learn for themselves (even when he insists that he's the head of their household and Lou's just his "fledgling"). But their education is always gonna be flawed, cuz there's crucial things only LES knows.

He KNOWS Claudia wants to know where vamps come from, and he knows the answer--Marius' gag order is understandable; but it's inexcusable that Les didn't tell her about the Theatre/coven, and to stay away from Paris SPECIFICALLY). He told her that "the vampires out there are vicious" only AFTER she'd already run away & been SA'd by Bruce! She didn't KNOW BEFOREHAND what was out there.

Les relies on his fledglings always having to learn the HARD way, struggling & suffering with no one to guide them, just cuz that's how HE was raised & how he was made--his "father's temper" back as a human, and his "maker's temper" as a vamp.

Les always wanted a comfortable & loving him, but perpetuates the exact same cycles of abuse he experienced & never processed. He ridicules Lou for his "timid child-rearing & compromise;" then SPITEFULLY uses corporal punishment to teach his stubborn fledglings a lesson when they refuse to trust/listen to his BAD advice.

So when Les is sitting all high and mighty on that fancy AF chair/throne during the Trial, given a place of privilege & immunity/impunity as he's allowed/encouraged to give the WORST answers to LEADING questions deliberately designed to CONDEMN Claudia & Louis to death for breaking rules HE never explained to them as THEIR MAKER/FATHER, you bet your arse Imma side-eye TF outta every word coming out of Les' mouth.

[amethystinam]

attendre l'aube ✹ (tav & shadowheart)

⟡ characters : tav (gnowee) & shadowheart ⟡ content : enemies to friends ; sharran shadowheart ; fluff (i think?) ⟡ words : ~ 970 ⟡ notes : since shadowheart is gnowee's best friend in her canon, i thought narrating their beginnings could be a good idea ♡ ⟡ warning : english isn't my main language, so i apologize if there are some mistakes! be kind :)

Odd.

Within a few days, the Emerald Grove already felt like a… safe place. Perhaps thanks to the other tieflings? Or to the peaceful landscapes they were surrounded by? Anyway, Gnowee was fine, and it was enough for now.

« Why are you smiling? »

She found her way back in reality, facing Shadowheart. The dark young woman was staring at her suspiciously – without any true hostility, though. As a cleric, moreover from the Light Domain, Gnowee shouldn’t have understood. She should’ve trusted the world, searched for this tiny spark everyone hides… somewhere. Yet, she didn’t.

She had never been able to be an ingenuous kid.

« Lost in thoughts. » she answered with a little smile. « This place is kind of relaxing. »

« I’m not so sure. » retorted her companion. « We must be cautious, remember? Don’t let your god’s sun blinds you. »

Gnowee remained silent, deciding not to react at her last comment. She was able to endure it. Lathander perceived how much she loved Him, how much she cherished His dawn – no need to initiate a conflict. Shadowheart was just trying to test her.

They were sitting near the Sacred Pool. Behind the defensive ramparts, the chosen of the First Druid Kagha were singing around their precious Silvanus idol, creating beautiful green lights similar to nebulae. Of course, Gnowee knew this, the Rite of Thorns, was about to provoke a tragedy – still, the scene was hypnotizing.

« I don’t know how to convince Kagha to stop this foolish ritual. » she suddenly said.

« We don’t have to. » reacted Shadowheart. « Zevlor and his… clan, or whatever, have to manage to leave the Grove by themselves before it’s closed. Our time is too short to help every weak person we meet, Gnowee. »

« It’s the right thing to do. Don’t let your goddess’s darkness blinds you. »

« Get lost. »

Shadowheart confided her, quite quickly after their encounter on the beach nearby, that she worshipped Shar, Mistress of the Night. Even if it was totally opposed to Gnowee’s convictions and beliefs, she decided to… no, not really accept it. Ignore it, more likely. As her new “mate” said, their time was short anyway. They had to work together, in order to get rid of their tadpoles.

« I won’t fail my kin. » insisted the tiefling. « They deserve to arrive at Baldur’s Gate safely if it’s the place they could finally be happy. »

« You’re so sweet. » ironized the other cleric. « You know what? Go and do what you want. But don’t expect me to help, I’m not their damn mother. »

« Alright… What will you do, meanwhile? »

« I’ll search after this famous healer, Nettie. Let’s meet at camp when we’re done, okay? »

Gnowee nodded.

« Take care. » she added before entering the Pool.

She knew without hearing it that Shadowheart grumbled at her words. Still, she didn’t said anything mean, which was progress. Despite her apprehension towards Shar, Gnowee was really worried about Her amnesic worshipper – no matter for how long they knew each other. There was something in both of them that echoed since the first time, and she truly wanted to discover what it was.

Maybe the pure darkness Shadowheart carried could accept a touch of Lathander’s light…

« Kagha is an awful person, once and for all. » complained Gnowee when they returned to camp much later. « Can you believe she was about to hurt a child? »

Shadowheart didn’t respond, focused on the campfire. Apparently, it was her turn to be lost in thoughts…

« Are you okay? » tried the tiefling. « We can speak of something else, if you want. »

That wasn’t in her habits to initiate a conversation. She indeed really wished to learn more about her companion… But, moreover, she felt painfully lonely without her adoptive family and her cat, stayed at Waterdeep. She missed the Spires of the Morning, home, so much.

She needed some gentleness – even if it came from a Sharran.

« Nettie attempted to poison me. » abruptly confessed Shadowheart.

Heavy silence.

« I explained our condition to her, did my best to be honest… And she took a damn toxic branch to slay me. »

She looked at Gnowee, who saw tiny tears shining near the edge of her eyelids.

« I-I can’t remember who I was before the mission Mother Superior gave me. All I can tell is that Lady Shar is my only compass in all that mess. Yet… »

A deep, obviously well-known sorrow changed briefly her sweet face, making her lips trembled while she fought against it.

« She doesn’t talk to me, never. I nearly died today, but I didn’t… deserve a single word to guide me, reassure me. I even killed the druid, hid her body, hoping my reliable blades and my faith would-… »

Gnowee blenched.

« Y-you didn’t have any other choice, right? » she reacted with fear.

Every life was sacred to the Lord of Birth and Renewal. It wasn’t the appropriate time for this, but she couldn’t help it.

« It was me or her. » sighed Shadowheart. « I couldn’t risk being infected by wyvern toxin. »

« Wyvern toxin? » repeated Gnowee.

« You surely aren’t familiar with poisons, are you? »

« Not really. They’re not part of our lessons in Lord Lathander’s church. »

« I could teach you. »

« Hmm. What if we just… admire the night instead? »

The other cleric appeared perplexed, while Gnowee felt her own embarrassment grow. How was she supposed to cheer up someone like Shadowheart? And why did she suggested such a silly thing first?

« Seriously? »

« W-why not? » she shyly confirmed, though. « Aren’t you a dark’s worshipper or something? Surely it’ll please your goddess. »

« While it won’t bring you anything. »

« No bother. I’ll… wait for dawn with you. Just a matter of perspective. »

Green eyes to orange eyes. And that was it. Different kinds of loneliness, pain, trauma – they’d have to comprehend through their journey.

Their weird friendship had just begun, at the exact moment when night and dawn are about to meet.

[dross-the-fish]

Victor and Adam Creating the Bride: part 2

Written from Adam's POV: Warning, some gore. Gets dark towards the end and I incorporated dialogue from the book itself.

....

 I watched her taking shape on the table, forming from loose bone and flesh into a woman under my hands. I had asked Victor to make her hideous as myself but as I carefully worked the needle through her skin, tenderly tightening the seam that extended her mouth I couldn’t help but feel that there was beauty in her features. It did not escape me that my stitches were neater than Victor’s, perhaps because I was unhurried. In the labors of my handiwork, I had newly discovered in myself the virtue of patience and it served me well. I considered that the presence of patience indicated that I still had the capacity to possess fine qualities worthy of the praise of my maker and secretly hoped me might take notice.

To my chagrin, he did not. Victor continued to remain ignorant that I had any virtues at all, every gesture of goodwill I presented was rejected and he scorned my conversation at every turn.

Such was to be expected, I supposed…

Yet still a bitter disappointment it was when the food I set for him went uneaten and I was forced to dispose of it. Rather than see it go to waste I would set it outside for the animals, birds and squirrels gratefully picked at the bread and a fox fed on the meat.

Unable to speak to Victor I spoke to my bride, though I knew she could not hear me I found comfort in our one-sided conversation. In my wandering I had heard couples whispering endearments and I began to refer to her as “my darling” and “my sweetheart” perhaps she would like these little epithets for they sounded very soft to my ears and I wanted so much for her to have softness rather than scorn when she woke.

At night, once Victor slept, I would read poems aloud, just in case there was some sleeping spirit in her flesh that could hear my words. I knew this, perhaps, to merely be wishful thinking on my part but I could not deny myself hope.

There was something beautiful in this, in the process of creation. Mapping every detail of my beloved with careful fingers and handling the joining of her limbs and skin with the utmost care and delicacy. She could not feel pain but I needed to be gentle with my treasured companion. I had never been allowed to show tenderness, to caress and care for another, and despite my resolve that she should be ugly she was growing beautiful in my eyes. There was pride in every seam and love in every crack of her bones as I brought the pieces of her together.

Sometimes Victor seemed careless with her and it took everything in my power not to chide him for handling her roughly. Still, I was glad for his company, even if my maker hated me he still toiled by my side and sometimes I could compel him to speak with me. Once, very briefly, he came very close to smiling before he remember who I was and who he was and the resentment that followed that momentary lapse was greater than it had been before.

Still, after my deprivation even these crumbs had seemed a feast and I took every scrap of joy I could when the moments of peace between us presented themselves. Perhaps that was why I felt no need to hurry, because once we had completed my bride there would be no more of these brief instances.

But I would have her then and I would no longer need Victor. I must be content. I swore that would be content and I would keep my word and retreat from mankind forever.

As we neared the completion of my mate, I sensed Victor growing anxious. His hostility towards me had only increased and my attachment to my mate seemed to upset him for he had begun to snap at me whenever I spoke to my silent bride.

“She cannot hear you! Cease your damnable chattering!”

I had cringed away, though it was not in my nature to be meek I worried that lashing back at him might incite him to renege on his promise to me. Indeed, I had become paranoid that he was searching for a way out of our deal.

I had seen how he looked at his companion, the gentle poetic youth he kept by his side. Henry, he was called, I had seen him watching the sea before we had left for our makeshift laboratory. I considered the benefit of mentioning this to Victor and perhaps indicating that it would be detrimental to his dear one’s health should he go back on our bargain.

I could not describe my feelings for Victor Frankenstein. A longing for his approval and a deep-seated hatred that made me want to hurt him over and over again until he was as broken as I was. My father, though he refused to hear the word uttered from my lips, could not escape his obligations to me.

Even God gave Eve to Adam before he cast them out of his grace.

So too, my father owed this to me and I would not be denied.

The days stretched on until finally she was whole and all that was needed was the spark. The breath of life that would waken her to me. I had been outside, gathering more wood to add to our fire before a storm brought a soaking rain to dampen it too much for use. It was then I chanced to look in the window. Victor was standing over her, his alchemical instruments at the ready as the storm crested above us. Suddenly he looked up from his work and into my face. For the first time he gazed at me and there was an absence of hatred, something almost pitying in his eyes and I felt myself smile at him, wanting to reach for him. Either to comfort or be comforted by him I knew not.

The moment broke.

Something in my face must have frightened him for he recoiled with such panic that I was startled.

Then he grabbed a large, blunt, cleaver from a hook on the wall and before I could scream out in protest, he brought it down on my mate. He chopped at her in a mad frenzy, like a man possessed.

I rushed into the cabin, yanked his arm away and wrenched the cleaver by its blade from his hands, not caring how it bit into my own flesh.

“What are you doing?! Stop this! STOP! YOU PROMISED!” I screamed shaking him so hard that his arm was in danger of dislocating. I dropped him and surveyed the damage, hoping there was something salvageable in the ruin of my mate.

I sobbed when I saw the extent of the destruction. Her head was nearly severed, an arm had become detached, her innards spilled from her split belly and hung, wet and ropey over the edge of the table.

When I turned to confront Victor again, I saw him throw his journal into the fire. It seemed he was determined not only to destroy my bride but to keep from me the method by which I could hope to make another. I shoved him hard, not caring where he landed and reached into the flames to try and salvage the book.

The fire licked at my flesh, so hot I drew back. Bracing myself for the pain I reached in again and pulled the smoldering pages out, smothering the flames with my burnt hands. Futile, the book was scorched beyond use.

I rounded on Victor, not caring that my hands were blackened and still smoking when I reached for his throat. I wanted to kill him, I meant to kill him.

He was maddeningly calm, shutting his eyes and tilting his head back as though he would welcome my lethal embrace at last. My hands stilled on his neck, leaving hot black finger prints on the white of his skin.

No.

No, I would not end this here.

Chest heaving, tears running down my twisted face I withdrew. He meant to desolate me. To render me hopeless and eternally isolated. I would not grant him the merciful reprieve of death. I could not stay here, the sight of him was driving me to madness. If I was to leave him alive, I had to go.

With a howl of anguish, I fled.

I returned some hours later to find him, sitting in the wreckage of our work. He seemed to have been waiting for me.

I railed at him, and he at me, in the heated exchange of our words I grasped him and lifted him so his face was before mine.

“Slave,” I growled, no longer had I the desire to call him father. My teeth were mere inches from his cheek, flecks of my spittle wetting his skin, “I before reasoned with you but you have proved yourself unworthy of my condescension. Remember that I have power! You believe yourself miserable but I can make you so wretched that the light of day will be hateful to you. You are my creator, but I am your master-obey!”

He rebuffed me again. He was resolute that he would not return to our work. How infuriating that this sickly little man seemed to find his spine at the most inconvenient moments.

“Shall each man find a wife for his bosom, and each beast have his mate, and I be alone? I had feelings of affection,” I stressed the word and shook him a little, “and they were requited by detestation and scorn. Man,” so I consigned him as one of my enemies, no more father, nor maker, nor even Victor, simply man now. His kind had declared war upon me so to would I deliver it back, “you may hate, but beware, your hours will pass in dread and misery, and soon the bolt will fall which must ravish from you your happiness forever.”

I continued with my threats for some time, he trembled a little but did not break under my abuse.

“Man,” I said again in a sharp hiss, the word a curse and a brand upon him, “you shall repent of the injuries you inflict!”

“Devil,” he shot back at me with equal venom, “cease; and do not poison the air with these sounds of malice. I have declared my resolution to you and I am no coward to bend beneath words. Leave me; I am inexorable.”

I dropped him, deriving some small satisfaction in watching him claw for purchase at filthy floor and struggle to his feet. Though my anguish seemed endless his had only begun. As I glanced once more at the sad heap of lifeless flesh and bone that had once borne all that had been my hope to find love in this world, I vowed that my revenge would be tenfold.

The ruin I left in my wake would be of such a magnitude any who heard of it should weep for Victor’s fate. As I turned to leave, I issued one final warning to him.

“It is well. I go; but remember, I shall be with you on your wedding night…”

[quicksilverdrabbles]

At Rorikstead

Gaia: We have arrived.

Lucien: Your digital map really is something to behold, Gaia. Even though the landscape and civilization is completely different from the first era, you can navigate it so efficiently.

Gaia: That would be thanks to my Observers. *two small drones materialize at both of her shoulders, round and much smaller than her head* They fly about Skyrim, invisible, and send me the data they find about the land's people and cities. They are very advanced compared to normal Observers, much like myself against typical Gynoids. I made them myself.

Xelzaz: How interesting. Are you able to speak to them at all?

Gaia: Yes. On a certain level, I can communicate with all Dwemer machines. I can only control the ones I create with my own hands and technology.

Taliesin: How does that work on a moral level? A machine controlling other machines, I mean.

Gaia: Similar to a general commanding her warriors. They are well aware of what they fight for. They fight for me, because I gave them life.

Taliesin: I see..

Lemkil: *in the distance, his crops, he shoves Sissel to the ground* Stupid brat! Look at you! Snivelling in the dirt when you're supposed to be working!

Sissel: *crying, sitting on the ground at her father's feet* I-I'm sorry, Papa! B-Britte took my- *hic* my shovel and I-I couldn't do what you wanted me t-to without it!

Lemkil: I don't want to hear your excuses! Time and time again you waste daylight standing around doing nothing but cry and survive off of what I earn!

Gaia: *turns toward the source of shouting, spotting Lemkil* Hostile Lifeform Detected...

Lucien: What? In Rorikstead?

Kaidan: Look there. Bastard.

Xelzaz: Indeed. What should we do, Gaia?

Gaia: ... Wait Here.

Inigo: You are going to confront him alone?

Gaia: If I must. Kaidan, when I direct his attention, see to the girl.

Kaidan: Aye.

Gaia: *nods, walking towards Lemkil and Sissel, her irises fading from yellow to red as her expression falls to a glare*

Lucien: ... *breaks away from the group and walks alongside her* If I may.. You look upset, Gaia.

Gaia: I am not upset. That Nord is a threat to the people of this settlement. He must be detained. Go back with the others.

Lucien: What if you need backup?

Gaia: I never do.

Lucien: Really? What about that one time with the Dunmer-

Gaia: *grabs Lemkil's shoulder, pulling him back just as he slaps Sissel across the face* Pardon me.

Lemkil: Huh? And who the hell are you?

Gaia: My name is Gaia. It has come to my attention that your are mistreating this child. Please step away from her.

Lemkil: What does it matter to you, huh? You some sorta hired thug? I bet that screwy wizard hired you into scaring me away from this worthless brat, eh?

Gaia: No wizard has done anything of the sort. I am here of my own accord. *her grip on his shoulder tightens* And I recommend you follow your given orders and Step Away. Or else I am afraid I will have to use force.

Lucien: I quite think you're already using force.. *watches as Lemkil winces under the pressure of her grip*

Lemkil: Get the hell off of me, you bitch! This has nothing to do with you!

Gaia: On the contrary, your endangering of a human life, especially a child, has everything to do with me.

Kaidan: *sneaks behind the group and lifts Sissel up, shushing her when she cries* C'mere, let me see. It's okay.. *brushes the red mark on her cheek with his thumb* ... Gaia-

Gaia: Yes. Take her somewhere safe.

Lemkil: Wait! You son of a bitch, don't you dare touch my daughter! Get your hands off of her!

Gaia: Please do not refer to my companion in such a vulgar manner.

Lemkil: I'll say whatever the hell I want! You aren't guards! You have no authority to do this to me!

Gaia: Perhaps not. All laws in this era, however, are.. very loosely enforced.

Xelzaz: Gaia.

Gaia: Xelzaz.

Xelzaz: I took a moment to ask some of the townspeople about this man and his two daughters. It seems to be a relatively common occurrence. Why nothing was done about it is beyond me.

Gaia: I see. *switches her grip from his shoulder to his neck, grabbing him by the base of his throat and forcing him to the ground* So this is merely a regular day for you, hm? To abuse your children?

Lemkil: It's none of your business, I said! What I do to my daughters is my business!

Gaia: Wrong Answer. *her free hand grabs the arm he slapped Sissel with, tightening her hold until a loud snap comes from his wrist*

Lemkil: AGH! What are you doing?! St-Stop it! Please!

Gaia: How quick you are to beg. Would you like me to break it? As of now your wrist is only dislocated.

Lemkil: N-No! Let me go!

Gaia: Why do you hurt your children?

Lemkil: T-They killed my wife! She-she died bringing them into this world!

Gaia: Should you not have cherished what your wife left behind, then?

Lemkil: I-I-

Gaia: Too Slow. *the hand around his wrist rises to his bicep, closing around the middle and squeezing, the limb snapping quickly*

Lemkil: A-AAAHH!! STOP! PLEASE- LET ME GO!!!

Gaia: Goodness, you're loud. Have you learned your lesson?

Lemkil: YES! Y-Yes I swear! Please, you don't have to do this! I-I'll be better, I promise!

Gaia: Good. Now listen here. *pulls him forward, her face inches from his. Frost creeps up from her fingertips and spreads at every point of contact between them* You are a disgusting man, incapable of caring for and protecting what your wife gave her life to bring into this world. You do not deserve to be a father. You did not deserve to be a husband. If your wife could see what you have become in her absence, she would take her daughters and leave you.

Lemkil: ...

Gaia: And if you ever harm this little girl again- *stops, staring into his eyes. Sees fear, but not remorse. Panic, but not guilt.*

Lemkil: *whimpers, gripping the hand around his throat in terror, broken arm dangling uselessly at his side*

Gaia: ... No. That is an outcome I cannot risk. *drags Lemkil up by the throat* Taliesin.

Taliesin: Yes?

Gaia: Cover our tracks. Ensure the guards to not follow. *turns and walks away, avoiding the main roads and routine patrols. Lowers her arm and drags Lemkil behind her, unwavering despite his struggles to escape*

Taliesin: ... Of course. Please do try not to make too much of a mess, though

Lemkil: N-No wait- please-!

Gaia: Shut up.

Lemkil: I-I swear! I won't hurt her anymore, I promise! Please you can't- You can't kill me! PLEASE!

Kaidan: *sitting in the field covering Sissels ears as Gaia drags her father away, cradling the trembling girl to his chest protectively*

Inigo: *trailing close behind her passively* I know a good place some ways away.

Xelzaz: *walking at her other side* I'll have to make a potion that eliminates the stench.

Lucien: *walking at Inigo's side, looking unnerved, but unopposing* What of the other girl? She was mistreated too..

Gaia: Britte was a victim as much as Sissel was, but she weaponized her pain. She shouldn't remain with her sister. It is better for both of them.

Lucien: And the father?

Gaia: ... Some things are better off eternally gone.

~

*distant screaming*

Rorikstead Guard: Hm? What on earth was that?

Taliesin: *changed back into his Thalmor robes, a hood covering his dark hair* Nothing to be concerned with, citizen. Move along with your patrol. To investigate would be to interfere with official Thalmor business.

Rorikstead Guard: O-Oh, I see. Forgive me.

Taliesin: *watches as the guard walks away* Gods, I've always hated saying that.

Kaidan: *carrying Sissel, now asleep. Walks out from behind a nearby house* Guess it does have some uses, though.

Taliesin: Yes, I suppose so. *sighs, wiping gently at a streak of dirt on Sissel's face* She's filthy. Makes me wonder if he made her sleep in a pigsty...

Kaidan: Should we wait for the others?

Taliesin: ... No, let's go back home and wait for them there. I'm of a mind to think if we wait they'll just return covered in blood. We don't want to risk her waking up to that.

Kaidan: Worst possible outcome, aye?

Taliesin: Hmph, you really are starting to sound like Gaia.

[sundogsandrainbows]

STORY SUMMARY: Trust is a delicate flower that needs to get nurtured and time to grow. Even more so love. A tale of two disparate Wardens forced together, of finding a way to overcome the distrust, and their own painful past in the time of the Blight. Very in-depth, character-focused exploration of the Dalish origin/warden, of all DA:O companions, and their relationship dynamics during the Fifth Blight. Follows and expands on canon events; AU in some ways. Multiple POV's, origins, and pairings. Slow burn af.

CHAPTER SUMMARY -- BRIGHTER THAN THE SUN : Next morning in camp, Lenya is hungover and Alistair sleep-deprived. But together they navigate their companions and (partly unaware) feelings for each other as they get ready to get back on the roads toward the wilds.

CHAPTER EXCERPT:

[...] With a smile toward her, Alistair picked up his prior abandoned bowl to help himself to a second portion. Oh no, the coin. Lenya winced with every scoop of the ladle in the pot. What if he ate his coin by accident and choked? Shit, would she end up killing her own and only fellow Warden?

“Um–”

“... because you are a good person.” Alas he was too caught up in scraping out what was left of the stew and his words to notice her distress. “And fiercely loyal to the people you care about, ready to help them in every way possible.” 

Yes, yes, wonderful. He knew her too well by now that her whole keeping-others-at-arm’s length-through-hostility -act wasn’t working any longer, nor was needed with him. But damn the stew – “You don’t wanna eat that, lethallin!”

Sitting down with the bowl in his armored hands, he frowned up at her. “Why? I know Zevran cooked it, but it is perfectly fine and–” Taking a spoonful of the stew, something distinctively round and metal had landed on it. Wow, lucky. Guess the token wanted to quickly return to its owner, thankfully now where it was noticed in time in a less chokey way. “Why is there a coin in my stew?” 

“...Surprise?” Lenya offered, but as expected Alistair wasn’t convinced… and very confused on top of that. “Well you startled me and I dropped it in there.”

“I… um, see?” Removing one gauntlet, he used his bare hand to fish it out of his bowl and shook it clean from the reddish stew. “Wait…this is mine. I’ve searched for it, thought I have lost my token… but here it is, in the stew, no less.”

“Sorry?” She shifted from one foot to the other. No point in sitting down again anymore. She needed to get ready for the road, pack her things and all that. Ugh. “I’ve found it on your bedroll and I have had it ever since. I meant to return it to you but well you startled me and–” 

“It’s all good.” Alistair brushed it clean with a bit of snow and instinctively flicked it in between his fingers. “I did find it after my first skirmish with a few darkspawn, right after my Joining.” Rubbing a thumb over its surface, he chuckled at the memory. “Must have shrieked like a little girl upon encountering them too, ah good old times.” Given he was only a Warden for half a year longer than her that remark was a bit weird yet so very relatable at the same time. Ostagar already felt a lifetime ago, not to mention regarding any sense of normalcy in their lives. Now fighting and killing was their everyday, as easy as breathing, and a darkspawn encounter was more of an afterthought and inconvenience than horrific. “One of the genlocks Duncan felled had the token on it and… I liked the runes on it. So I kept it ever since as a sort of lucky charm.”

“Right. With all the shit that happened, it doesn’t seem like your lucky charm is working, though.”

“Oh?” Tilting his head a little, Alistair’s mouth formed a warm smile that definitely reached and matched his earthen hazel eyes. “But I have met you, Nel. So I’m thinking I’m plenty lucky, actually.” 

More than that, the warmth of his lingering gaze had been kinda transmitted into her cheeks, as heated as they were right now. Gosh, this human and his damn honesty. [...]

[CONTINUE READING] ||[READ FROM THE BEGINNING]

[howtodrawyourdragon]

A Familiar Face

Summary: Years after losing the love of her life, Astrid sees a familiar face she never thought she would see again.

Rating: General

Warning: /

Words: 1 143

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Characters: Astrid, Stormfly, Hiccup, Toothless

Pairing: Hiccstrid

Author's Notes: The Httyd side of Tumblr has been talking on a God of Dragons AU, an AU that I quite like. So I decided to share one of my own!

Constructive criticism is appreciated.

Enjoy!

XOXOX

For many years now, Astrid has been the chieftess of Berk and she’s been a Dragon Rider for much longer. She has seen many things in her life, been through a lot of bad and a lot of good, her body itself is a storybook. She considers them the reason why she is the capable warrior and leader that her people need her to be today.

But this… this is a first.

It happens at the end of a battle. The Berserkers were under attack by a hostile tribe and the Hooligans responded to their call for aid, honoring their alliance. The enemy was numerous and strong, but they were still both outmatched and outnumbered by their warriors, their dragons and their Dragon Riders. Their attempt to plunder the Berserkers was cute for sure, but in the end they had to admit defeat. The Berserker Chieftess, Heather, captured their leader.

Their spat was about the dragons. Just because the Berserkers have a few, having adopted Berk’s human-dragon utopian lifestyle, they were mistaken for being them. The thought of it makes her scoff, her late-husband didn’t dedicate his entire life to his mission of helping humans and dragons co-exist just for another tribe to be given that glore, whether it was on purpose or not.

Cleaning her axe free of blood, Stormfly pads up behind her and picks at her braid.

“Stormfly,” Astrid greets her dragon, her most trusted companion. Swinging her weapon over her shoulder and turning towards her to hold her chin. They’ve survived another battle together and she can see that the other Dragon Riders have as well, it does her heart good. The twins are a little signed, but nothing that they haven’t survived before.

Astrid realizes the reason she and her friends are still alive is in part due to the help of the wild dragons in the area joining the fight. It’s not an entirely uncommon occurrence, it’s happened on occasion in the past. Astrid is just glad that their unlikely friends could somehow tell the difference between the Hooligans, the Berserkers and the enemy for once. If humans fight in a territory they consider theirs, dragons tend to think every human is an interloper, even if they’re Dragon Riders.

No matter, it means they can all go home alive and relatively unharmed. Besides a sore shoulder where she took a bludgeon, she’s okay. She has her pauldrons to thank for that, her right one is bent out of shape.

Stormfly begins to chirp and squawk, her wings flap and flutter, head bobbing as if greeting. Out of nowhere, any hint of tiredness seems to have disappeared as she’s suddenly excited.

“Stormfly!” Astrid attempts to ease her dragon, wondering just what has ruffled her proverbial feathers. The Nadder seems to be calling out to something or someone. Astrid turns to look at who or what it is. When she realizes the source for her dragon’s excitement, she feels her heart halt behind her breast.

Up there, up on top of a cliff, she sees a dragon she hasn’t seen since before she became the chieftess of her village. A black and intimidating creature rare in the Barbaric Archipelago; a Night Fury. And Astrid swears she recognizes this one.

“Toothless?” The name slips past her lips before she can stop it, she hasn’t said it out loud in years.

The Night Fury looks her way and there’s no mistaking it. That’s him. It has to be him! One of her boys!

That’s when she sees the unmistakable figure of a man kneeling next to him, looking down from the cliff at the battlefield below with interest.

At the sight of him, her heart is torn out of her chest all over again, old wounds bleed and the iron chieftess of the nigh unbeatable human-dragon tribe is moved to tears.

Not even the distance between her position and the top of that cliff can dispute it. That’s Toothless and the man next to him is Hiccup.

She doesn’t know how it’s possible.

Years ago, decades ago, her husband and his dragon left their village together with her mother-in-law and her dragon, the Stormcutter Cloudjumper, on a mission and none of them ever returned. There were no letters, search and rescue missions turned up nothing, neither allies nor enemies had any idea where they might’ve gone. Valka and Cloudjumper eventually turned up, but even they had no idea what had happened to Hiccup and Toothless.

And now here they are.

“Hiccup,” a crack in her voice, a couple of steps closer, Astrid can’t find the strength to climb up on Stormfly’s back. She should be going right up there, question him, hug him and never let him go. Hug them and never let them go.

But something stops her and that something is the details.

Astrid is no longer a young woman. She has matured, she has wrinkles and a couple of gray hairs, though time has only aged her like a fine wine and she finds she’s stronger than she was back then.

But Hiccup… it’s as if he hasn’t aged a day. Perhaps, it’s the distance, but it’s truly as if she’s gazing up at her young husband, who she lost before they could start a family. They just barely got to celebrate their one year anniversary.

Stormfly calls out again, head bobbing, and Hiccup looks over. Their eyes meet and Astrid is even more convinced that she’s staring up at familiar eyes.

But there’s… no response. No flash of recognition on his part, not a hint of softness in his features, no attempt to say anything to her, even his attire appears guarded.

Not one single battle injury can ever compare to the pain and confusion she feels. The only comparison was the devastating realization that she was never going to see the love of her life ever again.

“Hiccup!” So she takes the first step, she calls out to him and finally there’s something of a reply.

He stands and backs away, Toothless growling.

“Fishlegs! Heather!” Astrid turns to the battlefield behind her, hoping she’s not the only one to see this, hoping to get someone’s attention, alert them. But they’re somewhat isolated, they’ve ended up quite far, friends looking her way, but incapable of seeing what she’s seeing or understanding what she’s shouting. Tuffnut cups both ears, Ruffnut is waving her arms while Snotlout is staring. Fishlegs is the only one running over.

By the time he reaches her, Hiccup might be gone.

So she climbs up on Stormfly back, intending to urge her dragon to go up to where she spotted her lost love. But when she looks up, the cliff is empty. Hiccup is already gone and so is Toothless.

And just as suddenly, she can’t stop the tears or the sobs from coming.