#anyway more elvene content for you guys

[butteredfrogs]

🌱🧝‍♀️🏹

[olessan]

Disappointed that DD2 has no canonical male romance options? HELP FIX IT!

In Dragon's Dogma 2 you can choose almost any NPC to be your beloved/romance option, like in the first game. You can literally pick anyone, including random road guards, to shower gifts upon and raise their affinity.

However. Only two NPCs are canonical romances.

Ulrika and Wilhelmina, both human women, have unique romance quests and scenes that conclude intimately (without any platonic option). Those are the only NPCs in the entire game that have them.

No hate on the girls, they're among my arisen's best buds, but having them be the only two with fully fledged romance arcs in the entire game is a bit absurd.

Pre-release marketing highlighted Ulra, Wil, as well as Guard-Captain Brant, Prince Sven (who tbf seems pretty young), elven siblings Glyndwr and Doirieann, and Empress Nadinia of Battahl and her Guard-captain Menella (who I assumed were a couple). Any of those characters should also have had unique scenes like Wil and Ulra, but they don't. That effectively makes Ulra/Wil the canonical options.

None of the npcs care about the arisen's gender. The main issue is that there are no male options with equivalent romance quest. There's nothing but crumbs for the guy enjoyers, which is somehow a step back from the first game where there was at least Julian.

There are three dudes who would have been strong candidates according to their plot importance:

Brant is the arisen's first and most important ally in Vernworth,

Sven could have been DD2's Aelinore (young noble in need of help) and could've caused loads of plot drama,

and Glyndwr is your introduction to the elf culture through his curiosity.

Do they get unique quests beyond their initial ones? Nope.

Anyway, we can potentially influence some getting added officially instead of as mods:

Capcom has released a player feedback survey.

The survey has questions on what you like, dislike, and would like to see in future content updates. It runs until April 21 and may well influence the future additions to the game.

I laid it on thick about them adding more quests and romance quests, and also about a Bitterblack Isle-type expansion.The more people that bring it up these issues the better.

Go forth, arisen <3

[thechaoticdruid]

Seriously, now!?

Astarion x Named!Tav

Plot: (Set in late act 1 early act 2) After causing a scene, embarrassing and being shouted at by their own resident wizard, Winnie storms off alone to sulk. Her monthly bleeding is upon her and is making everything seem so much worse! But perhaps her vampiric lover can make it all better?

Warnings/content: Period comfort fic (because I needed it), emotional MC, soft Astarion, Galeshaming (I'm sorry for constantly bullying Gale), Winnie is honestly being a bit petty, but Astarion doesn't care really, he's on her side anyway, angst, fluff, comfort, a wee bit of smut at the end, oral (female receiving), MDNI, possibly ooc moments, possible grammar/ spelling mistakes.

After finding only disappointment and danger from their failure at the githyanki creché, Winnie and her merry band of weirdos were now turning towards the mountain path that would lead them onward to Moonrise. They'd run into a little confrontation on the way, had to fight some undead baddies and then met face to face with the famed 'Elminster.' Winnie had no idea who he was, nor did she really care. All she was concerned with was that this guy came into her camp ate all HER cheese and then told her friend his ex wanted him to go kill himself. Needless to say the young druid was not that impressed. Despite dreaming of being a wizard as a child, Winnie had never heard of this man before. The village she was born in had been pretty cut off from the rest of the world so all the stories of heroes from all over were never told to the children living there.

"I can't believe you! Picking a fight with an old man." Gale exclaimed looking over at Winnie with disapproval.

"Last I thought you said the old man was the strongest wizard in the world." Winnie tilted her head in confusion.

"That's no excuse to get into a fist fight with him! Didn't your parents teach you to respect your elders?!" Gale shouted.

"My Gran taught me to kick ass if someone takes what is mine. Especially my food." Winnie huffed and crossed her arms. Granted Archdruid Winnifred the first was known for being a crazy old crone with a fiery temper and some outdated views. She also seemed much too calm when her husband apparently died in an owlbear attack.

Ah, but Winnie still missed her.

"Oh come on wizard, Winnie's little show was absolutely hilarious! Ahaha!" Astarion giggled. The elven vampire had been watching the chaotic scene unfold with a shit eating grin the entire time. The fact that the druid used none of her powers or weapons just made it all the better. Hells she even bit the old man.

"Hilarious!? She attacked one of the greatest wizards this world has ever known over cheese!!! A child has more restraint for gods' sake!"

"Oh, suck my dick!" Winnie snarled, quite literally making a wolfish growl at the bearded man before stomping off. Gale rubbed his temples before slumping off to his own tent.

"Winnie is rather eccentric at the best of times, but usually not this vicious." Shadowheart piped up, stepping over to join the vampire spawn.

"She has a temper, but I agree she's been acting more irritable than usual. You wouldn't know anything about this would you fangs?" Karlach asked looking over at Astarion.

"Must you assume whenever something goes wrong it's my fault?" Astarion crossed his arms.

"No one is accusing you of anything yet, but you have practically been glued to Winnie's backside as of late." Shadowheart raised an eyebrow.

"Just wanted to know if you knew if there was something going on." The tiefling female added. Astarion rolled his eyes before looking over in the direction of where Winnie had wandered off.

"Oh there is something going on, not that I'm the type to gossip about a woman's personal matters." Astarion ran a hand through his ivory curls.

"Fangs, we all know that's complete bullshit." Karlach looked at him with an unamused expression.

"Well, not about this! It's different. Even I have limits you know." Astarion murmured. He was well aware of Winnie's predicament, and if he had been completely honest he definitely would have gossiped about this sort of thing if it had been anyone else. "But perhaps I can go and calm our feisty little wolf down." The high elf suggested, hoping to keep the others from asking any more questions.

"Alright I'll go try to console Gale I think he's screaming into his pillow again...." Karlach mentioned before her and Shadowheart walked off.

Astarion looked over to where Winnie had wandered up, finding her curled up on her bed-roll under some trees. Winnie whimpered and groaned, clutching her lower stomach in pain.

"In a spot of bother are we?" Astarion looked down at her.

"Leave me alone Astarion!" Winnie snapped before covering herself in her blankets.

"Oh come on, don't be like that. I'm only here to help." Astarion sat down on the bed-roll next to her. "I know you're still mad that the mean wizard yelled at you, but if you want I can go and break his legs? Would that make you happy, dear?" Astarion practically cooed, a small smile formed on his lips as he ran a hand over her back.

"Maybe...." Winnie mumbled and glanced up at him. Astarion smirked, "I thought so." He gently caressed her head.

"I'm.....Sorry....I...I haven't been myself lately...." Winnie confessed before wincing again in pain.

"I know. I can smell the blood..." Astarion said calmly. Winnie turned bright red before hiding her face in her pillow.

"This is so embarrassing!" Winnie whimpered into her pillow. Astarion sighed before laying beside her.

"Well if it's any consolation...You smell absolutely delicious." He grinned looking over her before receiving a light smack on the chest.

"Don't be gross!" Winnie huffed, and then looked up at Astarion who was just staring at her. "I don't want to think about anything.... going on down there....right now... It's too uncomfortable..." She mumbled, before burying her head back into her pillow. Astarion frowned. Comfort was really not his thing. Whenever Winnie was feeling down, usually due to insecurities about her appearance he'd just bed her, compliment her and she'd be happy, but this was different. If she didn't want to be touched he was a little bit at a loss of what to do. Still, these gods damned feelings urged him to try something. Despite his best efforts to avoid it, he was growing attached to her.

"Come back to my tent darling." Astarion whispered as he pushed some of the druid's messy hair behind her ear.

"Astarion I just told you-"

"Not for that. I promise, just let me take care of you." Astarion sat up, looking down at the human female with a softening gaze. Winnie turned towards him and sighed.

"Fine..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Winnie followed Astarion back to his tent with her things, she waited a moment for him to go inside and to take care of a few things before entering and setting her stuff down. She placed her bedroll and blankets down before noticing him placing pillows down around her stuff. She stared at him, curiously. Was this all some kind of plot? She wasn't so sure why he seemed to care this much. Astarion would usually mock someone else's pain. Sure the two of them had been sleeping together, but Astarion was quick to return to his usual apathetic self once out of the bedroom so to speak. Mocking any acts of heroism she did.

"Wait here I'll be back." Astarion ruffled her hair with a soft smile. Winnie laid there on the bedding, nuzzled her face into one of the cushy pillows Astarion had set out for her.

He'll probably just want to feed on me later.... That's it.

Winnie reached into her pack and took out a small worn out green dragon plush holding it to her chest for comfort as she curled up.

The others probably made him go after me because I was acting like a lunatic.....They all probably hate me now....

Tears began form in the corners of her eyes as she slid there. Winnie laid her head on one of the pillows before taking in the nice earthy scent of bergamot and rosemary. Her heart ached as she thought about the elf. The druid knew in her heart that it was meaningless, that he was just using her for his own gain, but she just smiled and went along with it, wanting to stay lost in him for as long as she could. With Astarion she felt something no one had ever given her before. She felt wanted. Even if it was all just a beautiful lie.

Winnie huffed, squeezing her eyes shut as tears forced their way out and began to drip down her cheeks.

She could see it happening almost vividly how he'd approach her eventually after everything at Moonrise was settled and done with.

"What were you expecting, some fairytale prince?" He'd laugh at her naivety and shake his head when began to tear up. "This is what I do. I give you a moment of escape with a world endingly beautiful vampire and you satisfy my needs. Cheer up. There's really no one better you could have spent your first time with. Especially with how homely you are."

Winnie sobbed quietly into the pillow. Her mind running wild with self loathing thoughts, imagining several different ways Astarion would break it off with her. Eventually after a while the tent flap opened and she felt a breeze brush over her cheek though she refused to look over. Astarion slipped in, carrying a well stuffed sack over his shoulder. His crimson eyes gazed over Winnie's plump curvaceous form as he sat down beside her on the bed-roll. Astarion set down the sack near the entrance of the tent before looking over Winnie further.

"Darling, I'm back." He said softly before noticing the little stuffed dragon in her arms. "What's this? Really dear a stuffed animal? You're twenty three years-" Astarion stopped his snarky comment as he noticed Winnie's red puffy eyes, her nose sniffling.

"Winnie....Did Gale come by while I was gone? Did he say something to you?" Astarion clenched his fist, about ready to go and shove the wizard inside his own bag of holding.

"No.... Nothing happened..." Winnie muttered. Astarion sighed in relief before looking back at the sack he brought with him. He opened it, taking out some wine and setting it down near the bedding.

"Then why have you been crying, my sweet?" Astarion asked, a worried frown formed over his face. "Was it something I said?"

Winnie huffed and looked back at him.

"No...I'm.......I'm just overwhelmed... Everyone depends on me and now I've gone and made myself look like a fool." Winnie said, half lying and half telling the truth. "And my bleeding isn't making it any better."

Astarion then proceeded to hand the bottle of wine to her. "Perhaps this will help your mood." Winnie looked over the bottle before drinking some. The flavor was sweet with a faint hint of bitterness masked by blackberries. She set it down before noticing Astarion fiddling with the sack again.

"I may have found a rather generous merchant nearby." The pale elf added as he took out a wooden plate with a wedge of cheese and a chicken leg on it. Winnie practically drooled at the sight before shaking her head and thinking.

"Generous? Astarion, what did you do to him?" The druid crossed her arms.

"Nothing! I assure you, he is still very much alive. I didn't hurt him....Much..." Astarion said muttering out the last part with a smirk as he thought back to how he left the merchant tied to a tree after robbing him. Winnie sighed before suddenly grabbing hold of the cheese and taking a bite. Her face almost instantly relaxed into a smile as she savored the taste biting into the chicken next. Astarion watched her contently as he made himself comfortable on the bed-roll beside her. She finished the food before setting the plate to the side and relaxing.

"Thank you. I think I feel a bit better now." Winnie murmured before looking back at Astarion.

"Happy to help, although I do expect to be paid back in full for my trouble." Astarion smiled, lips forming an awkward looking grinch like grin.

"Oh....Um... Would this work?" She pulled down her shirt, exposing her neck and shoulder to him.

"A kiss will do for now." He said, moving her hand away from her neck. Winnie blushed darkly before nodding. The brunette haired female leaned in with her lips puckered before pressing them to his sweetly. Her kiss was chaste and innocent as in lingered upon his lips. He cupped her face, returning it before pulling back and pecking her forehead.

"Ahh!" Winnie grunted in pain as Astarion pulled away, hand moving down clutch her abdomen.

"Fucking hells, why does my body hate me!" She cursed.

"Probably getting back at you for not letting me inside." Astarion joked before moving closer to her. He moved a hand over her stomach. "May I? I won't do anything perverse. I promise."

Winnie bit her lip for a moment before nodding. Astarion slid his hand under her shirt and began to rub soothing gentle circles around her lower stomach. Winnie sighed in relief, before leaning against him. Astarion smiled and laid his head on her shoulder, continuing his motions.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day Gale looked around searching for one of his wizard tomes he'd forgotten he lent to Winnie just a few days prior. The wizard groaned at the prospect of possibly invoking the moody druid's wrath once more, but that was indeed a very important book! Quickly he made his way over to where he remembered Winnie had set up camp before eventually being met with an empty space.

He turned and retraced his steps before looking over to Astarion's crimson red tent with curiosity.

The wizard stepped over towards the shelter cautiously until the faint sound of soft feminine whimpers hit his ears. Inside the tent Winnie laid back against the bed-roll, pillow pulled over her bright red face as she moaned into it. All the while Astarion had his head buried between her legs, one of her thick thighs slung over his shoulder as he feasted on her.

"Uh....Winnie....D-Do you still have that tome I lent you?" The wizard stammered out, face turning bright red.

Astarion's brows knit together in annoyance before he pulled his tongue out of the druid's cunt.

"She's currently quite occupied, Gale. Now do piss off!" The vampire hissed out before returning to ravishing the human female. Winnie herself wasn't able to form any coherent sentences while the pale elf had her in his clutches, but eventually later on she returned Gale's book to him and eventually apologized for the scene she caused yesterday.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Note from TheChaoticDruid: Hope you enjoyed! I admit this is a completely self indulgent fic that was kinda a spur of the moment thing. I've seen a lot of period comfort fics that more so focus on the pain and mess than the emotional aspects of it so I wanted to put a bit of focus on that, cause honestly when it happens to me I have a tendency to be rather mean. Of course this is a little exaggerated for laughs in the beginning, but sometimes when it happens you feel like everyone is out to get ya and you wanna tear people's heads off over the littlest of things. I was a little afraid I might have made Astarion a little too soft, but given it's close to his act 2 confession I think it can maybe work.

~Druid

[cookieg122]

\^o^/ MORE Aya drawings!!! Recently, I was discussing with @pekoeboo some major changes to Aya's character, specifically to her age, backstory, and abilities. I'm gonna go in-depth about her lore here, so if you're interested, there's more under the cut! Khalan belongs to @pekoeboo!

Aya is an elven fairy princess from the Farfalla Empire. Her people are known for being war-hungry, ruthless, and proud people, but they weren't always like that. *wink wink* Aya grew up very sheltered. She lived in a secluded part of the castle with very few attendants. Her knowledge of the world is limited to the contents of storybooks, textbooks, and her father's triumphant war tales. Since she wasn't allowed to leave the castle, she spent most of her time on her hobbies, sword fighting, reading, and studying. >w</ No wonder she goes so crazy when she gets outta the house!! Aya may be naive and poorly socially adjusted, but she always maintains a very positive, childlike, and carefree demeanor. Speaking of childlike!! Her attitude is childlike because she is!! A child, haha. She is now 9 years old (in human years). I felt the age change better reflected her character. More info about her species! Aya's world is inhabited by fairy-elf-bug hybrids. These guys live super long lives, grow very tall, and can perform magic. They are characterized by their wings and antennae that differ depending on their birth region. (Aya's race's wings are based on butterflies! ^w^ <33) Anyway, since I changed her backstory from space alien to elven fairy princess, I figured it was only natural she could perform some basic spells. However, Aya is not very good with magic. ><' She can only cast strength and regen on herself to aid in battle. Unfortunately, casting these spells takes a lot out of her, so she has to eat TONS to regain her energy. Poor Khalan;; He already cooked so much! Previous details about Aya still hold true. She can still sense people nearby with her antennae, has a fast metabolism, and hosts a generally oblivious/chaotic nature. However, other things have changed. Her eyes no longer change color depending on mood, and her body is no longer naturally strong; she will have to cast a strength spell for that. The last lil quirk I added was Aya's BED TIME. Aya has a set time she goes to sleep every day, and if it hits that point- she is gonna sleep no matter WHAT is happening or where it is. It is TIME~. She just XD sits down on the pavement and goes to sleep. I always say this, BUT RIP Khalan, who has to carry her and bring her back safely from wherever they are. I promise she loves him;;; >< <33 Lastly is Aya's obsession with FIRE. She just- has a lot of wrong ideas that were taught to her as a child, and BURNING down a house is not OKAY. Please don't let the baby have fire. This is a PSA warning. x'D

OMG That was a lot! >o</ Thanks if you made it this far! Let me know if you have any questions about my baby. I still have much more lore about her that I'll have to share in the future so if you like her! Stay tuned! ヾ(≧▽≦*)o

[v-arbellanaris]

3 21 and 25 👀

from this ask game - tentatively accepting.

thanks for enabling me as always harker ASKDFJASKDFJ

3. screenshot or description of the worst take you've seen on tumblr

ok this one is a bit difficult because i have been on tumblr a very long time and i have seen so many bad takes but! if u guys were around in the beginning, u will remember. a post. i shall not name the poster. but the content was basically a 'why the a/ndersmance is toxic' post with just the absolute most deranged, ableist takes on the romance (including amazing hits like saying anders is basically a creep for... doing romantic things. on the romantic route. that you, the player character with agency, choose to pursue) that ended with 'and that's why i prefer [redacted ship]'. i really think they could've just saved everyone's fucking time by just saying they preferred [redacted ship] from the start instead of trying to act clever about it.

21. part of canon you think is overhyped

... the eva/nuris. in all honesty, the idea of the elven pantheon in dao and d/a2 was so fucking fascinating to me - it was really rich. from the very first codex i got as m/ahariel, i never had the impression that the d/alish looked at their gods with pure, unfettered adulation - i understood that a deep wariness, a fear for their Othered Morality, came with the worship. the d/alish, to me, seemed to respect the gods as you respect a force of nature; inexorable, inevitable - which made perfect sense to me. and then d/ai rolls in and the worship of the gods in d/alish culture seems much more along the lines of how white people think polytheistic brown religions worship their gods - a certain naivety and rose-tintedness that i've never seen in real life. nothing about the reveal of the eva/nuris would have surprised me in d/ao because i already knew that Gods Were Not Good; but in contrast, d/ai wants the reveal to have some deep impact because we're led to believe that the d/alish do believe that Their Gods Are Good. and ta-da! turns out Only The One True God is benevolent and everything else is false idols and also evil - akin to devil worship - and and and

anyway. i don't really care about the eva/nuris anymore; d/ai killed that for me.

25. common fandom complaint that you're sick of hearing

ehhhh sometimes i side-eye people who really rely on the "b/ioware can't write" schtick to prop up their points of how canon should be (and often, it's even more flattened, somehow, than what canon we've already got lmao). like. i don't think the problem is that b/ioware writers can't write. i'll say it jokingly sometimes but i think some people really have taken it super seriously and in actuality i think it's just not true. i think they should hire more sensitivity readers. i think their writer's room should be more diverse. i think E A should stop trying to make b/ioware something it's not and instead let it be what it is. i think there are a lot of fundamental problems with how video game sales work (and how they contribute to whether a series will get more content or get axed). but i don't really think b/ioware can't write - they've created a really layered, complex, nuanced world and unfortunately the world we live in, where everything revolves around sales and how quickly companies can produce products, is what is flattening the complexity of that world. i think the world they've built has grown far, far beyond what they had initially planned for, and i think the ways they've been trying to make up for that is insufficient. but i love this game - i love the world they've built, the characters, the lore, the central conflicts. i don't even hate most of the plotlines, even if i hate how things are framed. i think they've made something really amazing - and i wish they would continue to improve on the flaws of their previous writings, not doubledown on it and make it worse.

[warlordfelwinter]

Tales from the Dancing Sea Dragon

Part One: Dragon Heist

Chapter Ten: Patience is a Virtue

--

i'm sure there's nothing suspicious about this guy

~3.5k

--

The next morning, Celeste found more mail in his letterbox. He had gotten up earlier than the others, mainly for the intent of having the bathroom to himself so he could take a real bath and luxuriate for a bit in the hot water, easing sore muscles. He had gotten dressed and braided his hair up with flowers in it, putting a little more effort in than he usually did. There was a present thought, in the back of his mind, that if they were going to get a solicitor to look at this property with them today it meant he might get to see Patience properly for the first time in weeks. He wanted to look nice. 

By the time he was ready, the other two still weren’t up, so he had a mind to go get them some breakfast, but he’d been distracted by the mail when he’d gone outside. Even more distracted when he found it was addressed to Nyalori. 

As he was looking at it, confused as to who knew she was staying with him, he heard noise in the house and went back inside. Nyalori was coming downstairs, followed by Corivier and Zem, all looking as sleepily well-rested as Celeste had felt this morning. 

“You’ve got mail, Nyalori,” Celeste said, handing the envelope over. 

She looked as confused as he felt and opened it, finding a letter with a second note attached to it. She squinted at the note for a while, turning it in a few different directions, before giving up and handing it to Celeste. It was written in common but it was particularly embellished cursive that was a little difficult even for him to read. 

“Miss Nyalori’ixash,” he read. “Enclosed is a letter from a rather effusive elven ship captain who cornered me in the Yawning Portal after our esteemed and cherished proprietor Durnan told her you were last seen with me. I would like to say that I am not the postal system, but delivering this to you is the least I could do since you found my dear friend Floon. Affectionately, Volothamp Geddarm.” 

Nyalori opened the second letter, and smiled as she read it. “Zelyana left the money I earned working on her ship with Durnan.” 

“Perfect,” Celeste said. “We were going to meet Volo at the Portal anyway, so you can pick that up while we’re there.” 

She nodded, tucking the letter away. They ate a quick breakfast of some of the food Efni had left and then Zem curled up in Corivier’s bag and they set off for the Castle Ward. 

—

When they got to the Yawning Portal, Volo was waiting outside with a box of pastries to share with them. 

“You’re late,” he said fretfully, as Nyalori ran inside to get her money. 

“You didn’t set a time,” Corivier pointed out. 

“You’re later than I expected, then,” Volo said. In a few moments, Nyalori returned with a hefty pouch that she tucked into her bag. Volo set off, leading them through the Castle Ward. As he went, he acted as a bit of a tour guide, pointing out various notable landmarks and talking on the history of the city and certain buildings. 

They came, eventually, to a magistrate’s office and went inside. A severe looking tiefling woman met them and led them back to her office. 

“You’re late,” she said, as she sat down. 

“Yes, well, unavoidable,” Volo said. He was cut off as the door opened again and Renaer came in. “Ah, and there’s our witness!” 

“All right, where’s the deed?” the magistrate asked. Volo handed it over and she read it, nodding. She glanced at Celeste, Corivier, and Nyalori. “And the three of you will all be owners?” 

They exchanged a glance and, once again, Corivier and Nyalori seemed content to let Celeste handle this, assuming he knew more about business than they did. 

“Yes,” he said, nodding. 

“Unconventional, but fine.” She quickly wrote up a few things on a different document that she’d already had mostly prepared. “Volo, sign here, then the three of you will sign here, and Lord Neverember as witness you’ll sign here, and the deed will be transferred.” 

She looked at them, almost curious, as Volo signed his name. “Are you planning on renovating it?” she asked. 

“Maybe,” Celeste said. “I mean, I certainly don’t know anything about running a tavern but I’m not sure what else we’d do with it.” 

“Mm, well, you should probably get a solicitor. They’ll be able to help with that.” 

“I know, I have one,” Celeste said, leaning forward as she pushed the paper over to them. He didn’t sign it immediately, taking a moment to read it. He wasn’t fluent in the sort of vocabulary they used on legal documents, but the solicitor he kept having to reassure people he had had taught him enough to know that he should read things before he signed them. It seemed, to him, to be straightforward, so he signed his name and passed it to the others who signed as well. Renaer signed it and passed it back to the magistrate, who nodded. 

“Congratulations on your new property,” the magistrate said, getting her papers in order. “That’s ten gold for services rendered,” she said. 

“Usually paid by the new owners, I think,” Volo said. He tried to stand up and Renaer grabbed his shoulder, pushing him back down and squeezing it. 

“Not this time, of course, though,” Renaer said. “I mean, after all they went through for you? Least you could do.” 

“Least I could do?” Volo echoed. “I’m giving them a tavern!” 

Renaer’s hand tightened slightly and Volo deflated. 

“Fine, fine,” he sighed, fishing out ten gold and handing it over to the magistrate. She took it, nodding. 

“And you owe me a drink, Volo, for making me get up this early on my day off,” she said, before ushering them all out. 

After saying goodbye to Renaer and Volo, Celeste turned to Corivier and Nyalori. He held up the papers they got from Volo detailing their new property. 

“All right, do we want to go check out our new business?” he asked. 

Nyalori nodded excitedly. 

“Yeah, sounds good,” Corivier said. 

“First, I think we should stop by one place here in the Castle Ward,” Celeste said. He looked around, getting his bearings and then set off. “Volo and that magistrate suggested we have a solicitor look at everything, and I just so happen to know the best solicitor in the city.” 

Celeste led Corivier and Nyalori along several streets, past blocks of homes and businesses of opulent, perfectly manicured, whimsy; past several of the Walking Statues; past beautiful temples of various gods, all done in the different architectures of their cultures. 

Eventually, they got to a quieter part of the ward, a street packed with shops and other businesses. Celeste led them to a non-descript building, squished in between two taller shops. It was dark stone and elegant iron work, with a single large window out front. On the window in painted gold lettering it read:

Patience Is A Virtue

- Legal Solutions -

Underneath the name, in smaller font, were the words, “We’re Real Lords of the Law.” As always, Celeste had to restrain a laugh at that. He opened the door, letting Corivier and Nyalori in and following them. 

The inside of the law office was perfectly neat and orderly. Everything was clean, exactly where it should be. Even the art was geometric, repeating patterns. They entered into a waiting area with a reception desk, behind which sat a human woman who looked up as they entered. The clutter on her desk was the only hint of chaos in the entire building.

“Oh, Mr. Zasti!” Nancy exclaimed. “What a surprise. Did you have business today, or can I help you with anything? Would you like a cupcake?” she asked, gesturing toward the plate on her desk. “Baked this morning!” 

“Yes, and you know I’d love a cupcake,” Celeste said, taking one. “I know it’s sort of a long shot, but is Patience here today?” 

“Ohh, I think he’s working from home today,” Nancy said apologetically. “If you’d like, I can ask Grace to call him for you?” 

“I’d love that, thank you so much,” Celeste said. 

She hesitated, looking at the other two. “And can I help you with anything? Sorry, Mr. Zasti is an esteemed client here, are you…” 

“They’re with me,” Celeste said, nodding. 

“Perfect, I’ll be right back with Grace.” 

Nancy got up and hurried back to one of the offices. He turned around to the other two. 

“Okay, so, before Patience gets here, I should warn you he can be a bit… abrasive. He’s nice, but he’s, you know, very smart and you know how people like that can be.” 

Before Corivier or Nyalori could say anything, Nancy returned with another woman. She was a tall, beautiful half-elven woman with blonde hair, wearing a dress of a startlingly bright pink. She beamed when she saw Celeste. 

“Celeste! It’s been too long,” she exclaimed. “Oo and friends, hello. Nancy says you’d like me to call Patience for you? Can I ask what for?” 

“I mean, I’d obviously just like to see him, but I am actually also here for business for once,” Celeste said. “We just got the deed to an old tavern.” 

“Oh! Exciting! Right, one moment,” she said. She put a few fingers to her temple, murmuring some arcane words. “Celeste Zasti and company in the office, want to speak with you. Regarding some new property and a business opportunity.” 

Grace paused, listening and nodded, taking her hand away from her head and smiling at Celeste. 

“He’ll be here momentarily.” 

“Thank you,” Celeste said. 

“Congrats on your new business,” she said, and headed back to her office. 

They only had to wait a few moments before the door opened again and a few figures stepped through. Celeste hardly paid attention to the second man—briefly registering him as Patience’s assistant—his focus entirely on the tiefling at the front. He was about a head shorter than Celeste, thin and wiry, with coppery orange skin and dark hair swept back between his horns. Snake-like eyes in shifting hues of yellow and orange glanced up from behind round glasses, falling on Celeste. He smiled. 

Celeste fidgeted, restraining the urge to dart over and greet him how he really wanted to. He knew Patience would prefer if he stayed at least somewhat professional. Behind Celeste, unbeknownst to him in this moment, Corivier and Nyalori both had very different reactions to seeing the tiefling. Neither recognized him, but Corivier tensed as a quiet growl came from his bag and he felt an instinctive dislike and distrust from Zem, directed at Patience. He put a hand into the bag, trying to pacify her, and received sharp teeth in his fingers in response. Nyalori heard a soft, familiar voice in her ear, sounding more concerned than she was used to hearing. 

Be careful, little one. That one is not what he seems. 

Celeste, unaware of any of that, smiled delightedly at Patience, the light in the room growing just a bit warmer as his halo glowed more brightly. 

“Celeste,” Patience greeted, walking over. “Grace tells me you’re here for legal advice for once.” 

“What? Oh, yes, sorry. Yes, we are. Maybe,” Celeste said, having momentarily forgotten why they had come here. It was the first time he’d seen Patience in weeks, if he didn’t count his stealthy visit to the house the other night to reassure Celeste he wasn’t ignoring him. Which Celeste didn’t count, since they hadn’t even gotten to speak to one another. 

“Right, well, come on back and let me see what you’ve got for me,” Patience said, barely sparing the other two a glance before turning and heading back to his office. 

Celeste grabbed another cupcake as he went, gesturing for Corivier and Nyalori to follow. The three of them followed Patience and his assistant into his office at the end of the hall. It was comfortably cozy with five people inside and shared the same immaculate organization as the rest of the building. They all sat down, apart from the assistant who stood slightly to the side and behind Patience, ready to take notes on the entire meeting. Patience looked expectantly at Celeste. 

“So. A business opportunity?” 

“Yes, we got a tavern,” Celeste said, brightly. 

Patience stared at him for a moment. “A tavern? Interesting.” He opened a drawer, pulling out a file with Celeste’s name on it. 

“Is that—” Celeste started and then stopped, confused. “Why do you have a file on me?” he asked.

The tiefling glanced at him, as if the answer to that question should be obvious. “Because you’re bad with money. Your neighbor asked me to handle your estate for you.” 

Celeste opened his mouth to argue the first point and then stopped again, realizing he actually had no idea how much money he had. He had never paid attention to it. Bills got paid and he had never run out. He frowned, still a little bothered that he hadn’t known about this. 

“Which neighbor?” he asked. 

“I don’t know. Older human woman.” 

“Hm. Okay, well I’m going to ask her about that,” Celeste said. He fished the documents Volo had given them out of his bag, trying to smooth some of the crinkles out before handing them over. “And I didn’t buy this before you accuse me of being bad with money again. We got it as a reward.” 

Patience huffed a slight laugh as Celeste handed the papers over, and then he looked curious. “A reward?” He glanced down at the documents. “Who gave you Trollskull Manor as a reward?”

“Volo. You know, the author. We found someone for him, in the sewers.” 

“You—” Patience stopped and took a breath. “Sorry, you went in the sewers and, as a result, Volothamp Geddarm gave you an entire estate?” 

“Well it sounds stupid when you say it like that,” Celeste said. “It was more complicated. I mean we had to fight things in the sewers. I’ll tell you the whole story later.” 

“I look forward to it,” Patience said dryly. He returned his attention to the deed and other papers, taking a moment to look them all over. “Mm, well, this all looks fairly straightforward. Shall we go and see it? Judging by what I already know of the property, it will need some repairs, but until I see it I can’t give you an accurate estimation of the costs.” 

Celeste nodded. Patience stowed all the paperwork in his bag and led them out. As they walked outside, Celeste linked arms with Patience. 

“Thank you for coming, I know you’re busy and this is probably a bit beneath you,” Celeste said, leaning against him a bit as they stepped to the edge of the sidewalk. 

Patience smiled. “Of course,” he murmured. He raised a hand, hailing them a coach. When it arrived, he opened the door, bowing slightly to Celeste and gesturing in. 

Celeste climbed in and Patience followed, sitting next to him on one side of the coach. Celeste immediately snuggled up against him. Corivier and Nyalori climbed in after. Patience’s assistant sat up front with the driver and the coach set off for the North Ward. 

“So…” Patience said after a moment of silence. He glanced at Corivier and Nyalori, his gaze lingering curiously on Corivier’s bag for a moment, before returning his attention to Celeste. “How did you all meet?” 

“At the Yawning Portal,” Nyalori said. “There was a troll.” 

“You fought a troll?” Though he was responding to Nyalori, Patience didn’t look at her. He kept his gaze on Celeste, clearly only here for him and unafraid to come off as rude for it.

“We did! Can you imagine?” Celeste asked. “Me? Fighting a troll?” 

“I’m sure you did,” Patience said, in a tone that suggested he didn’t entirely believe Celeste. There was another beat of somewhat awkward silence before Patience sighed. 

“Well, I’m obviously not one for small talk, so let’s talk business instead. Trollskull Manor—you are of course free to rename it if you wish—was once quite the famous tavern in the North Ward. If you renovate and reopen you could find yourselves with an extremely lucrative business. Without seeing the building, just going off what I know of it, I would estimate the renovation costs will probably run you around a thousand gold.” 

Corivier blanched slightly at the amount, but didn’t interrupt. 

“Then of course there are the guild fees, you’ll want to join one or they’ll be hounding you and upcharging for everything, any staff you have will be members of guilds, and you’ll be taking advantage of their services for any food and drink you offer, entertainment… most everything in this city is run through guilds. For a tavern, guild fees will run about two hundred and fifty gold a month. The staff will probably be around fifty gold a tenday depending on how generous of employers you want to be, add on another… ten gold or so every tenday for miscellaneous expenses…” 

The entire time he’d been talking, Celeste’s smile had been slowly vanishing as he tried to keep up with the numbers. 

“Hm. This is starting to sound like too much to think about,” Celeste said, dismayed. 

“That’s why you wouldn’t think about it, my dear,” Patience said. “I would handle everything for you.” 

“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” Celeste protested. “You’re already so busy.” 

Patience smiled. “What I mean is that my firm would handle it, not myself personally. It is the intelligent thing to do as a business owner in Waterdeep—hire a solicitor to handle the details for you.” 

“And you’d be willing to do that?” Corivier asked. 

Patience looked at him. “I have something of a… vested interest in this venture,” he said, glancing at Celeste. “And it would be an investment for me. I would expect a percentage of the profits, though we can discuss that later.” 

He paused. 

“You could, of course, just renovate it and use it as a residence. That would save you the guild fees.” 

“And you could move out of my dance studio,” Celeste said. 

Patience chuckled at that. “I’m sure it would be nice to have… room for growth,” he said, looking at Corivier with a pointed glance toward his bag. Corivier visibly tensed. 

“Something to think about,” Patience said. “Personally—and professionally—I think you’d be enormously stupid not to reopen the tavern. But it’s your choice.” 

Celeste turned his head, nuzzling against Patience and murmuring, “Stop being rude,” in his ear. 

Patience glanced at him with a smug smile, making it clear that he was needling Corivier on purpose. 

The coach rattled to a stop and Patience opened the door and got out first, offering a hand to Celeste. He got out, holding Patience’s hand, and looked up at the manor. 

Trollskull Manor was very clearly abandoned, but had once been beautiful. It was a massive, three storey manor house, sporting balconies and a turret, with multiple chimneys. 

“Oh, wow,” Celeste said. “This place is huge!” 

“Whoa,” Nyalori echoed, as she and Corivier followed him out, both looking awed. 

Patience gestured to his assistant, who nodded and headed toward the door, and he let go of Celeste’s hand, getting a notepad out of his bag. He went more slowly toward the building, looking up at the structure and making notes as he walked. 

"Celeste, do you want to go with Patience, and Nyalori and I can go inside and start looking around?"

Celeste barely heard Corivier, already heading to catch up with Patience, desperate to get a moment alone with him. 

"Hm? Yeah, good idea!" he said absently, trotting over to the tiefling. 

"Hey, I need to talk to you," Celeste said as he caught up.

Patience smiled. “I assumed so, you’ve been giving me that look since I came to the office. What is it?” He was writing without looking at his notepad, eyes flicking around the exterior of the old tavern, but he spared Celeste a quick glance.

"I wanted to ask you about something kind of serious.”

Patience stopped. He lowered his notepad and gave Celeste his full attention. "What's on your mind?"

"It's..." Celeste hesitated, glancing around, trying to make sure no one was around before he started asking Patience about things there were no good reason for a solicitor to know.

"Celeste," Patience said, and Celeste looked at him again. Patience held his gaze. "No one can hear us," he said. Celeste nodded and took a breath.

"I need to ask you about Tiamat."

[everystephoftheway]

camp cloudtop: chapter sixteen

Long chapter yay! Also it turns out I can’t count the fic is gonna end up being 30 chapters even (if nothing changes). Please like and reblog if you are enjoying the story; I love reading all your tags/comments it makes my heart happy <3

Read more is for length only, nothing content based.

This can be found on ao3 as well.    

After a few days of whispers, a secret sign up sheet in Keyleth’s pocket, and a little bit of encouragement, Keyleth and Vax managed to get–at minimum–every group in the camp involved in the talent show; some campers and counselors had interest in doing their own acts too once they heard that was an option, and, hey, the more the merrier. 

“Wait, you guys are doing a bake sale?” Music filled the padded play room where the pre-school group resided for most of the day, but even still the idea of a bake sale made Pike, a small gnome with stark white hair and a badass scar down one side of her face, shout loud enough to be heard easily over it. 

“We are!” Keyleth couldn’t help but match her energy. “Do you bake?”

“Do I? Don’t even worry about that part of things; I’ve totally got you covered.” 

“Are you sure?” Vax leaned in, warm friendliness smiling across his features. “We’re happy to help.”

“Seriously, I’ve got it. Grog can be my sous chef. Right, Grog?”

“Sure thing, Pikey!” There was no way the half giant heard what they were saying with two toddlers climbing up his head and chest, but he gave a thumbs up anyway. 

“But, we do ask that you keep this a secret for now.”

“A secret? Why are we keeping it a secret?”

“We want it to be a surprise for Gilmore.” Keyleth glanced over at Vax who simply looked back; the lie that wasn’t entirely a lie had been working thus far. “We don’t want to make more work for him, and when he finds out he will definitely want to help.” 

Pike nodded, chewing on the inside of her cheek for a second before her nodding intensified. “Okay, okay, okay. Yeah, I getcha. Just be sure to tell him before it happens! He’d do a great act for the talent show.”

Keyleth and Vax grinned. “Of course,” he said. “We definitely want him to be involved once it’s all ready.”

A little elven boy started to tug at Pike’s scarf that laid down her chest, and she jerked forward, laughing.

“Sorry guys, I think I’ve got to get back to the kiddos.” 

“No, yeah, sorry to keep you.” Keyleth gave the little boy a pat on the head and offered Pike and Grog a wave. “We’ll give you more details later! Thanks!”

With another wave, the two headed out of the pre-school room and started heading back toward the gym where their group was finishing up a round of dodgeball. 

“I can’t believe it’s been so easy,” Keyleth said, voice a bit more airy than usual as she kept herself quiet. She pulled the sign up sheet out of her pocket, placed it against her thigh as they walked, and added Pike and Grog’s names with a dash following, ‘BAKE SALE’, in all capital letters.

“I know. People really do love this camp. Or, at least they love Gilmore.” Vax scanned around them as Keyleth wrote on the list and put it away, keeping watch for anyone who could see. Luckily, he didn’t spot anybody. “I don’t think it hurts that you’re the one asking.” 

Keyleth had to laugh at that, pointing to herself. “Me? Nobody knows me; I’m brand new. If anything, they’re all taken by you and your charm.” 

Vax laughed too, though his was softer, less surprised. “I think you give me too much credit and don’t think you give yourself enough credit. You’re doing an amazing job with all of this. You can take some credit.” 

Keyleth’s eyes found her feet as her cheeks went red, hair–perhaps on purpose–falling forward to hide herself from Vax for a moment before she felt like she could speak without her voice cracking. “I’ll take some if you take some.”

He laughed again. “Deal.” 

                                                          X.X.X

Back in their familiar music room, Vax and Keyleth sat in a circle with their kids, watching all their little faces carefully as they mulled over the idea of the talent show. 

“We can do anything we want?”

“Anything within reason,” Vax said, but quickly shrugged. “But, for all intents and purposes, sure.” 

“Can we do the Macarena?”

“If you want to do the Macarena.” 

Tyne jumped up. “What about a concert? We can bring all the instruments from here!”

Keyleth pointed at him. “I like the way you’re thinking, Tyne. We have time to nail down our act, but what we really need to focus on today is that this is a secret, right? We’re not going to tell Director Gilmore. You can tell your parents because we want them to come, but we can’t talk about it when we’re not in this room, okay?”

“A secret,” Clemyn reiterated.

Vax nodded. “A secret. For now.” 

“Like Keyleth and Mr. Kash?”

Keyleth’s shoulders fell and her expression went blank for a moment before she sighed, resigned to the fact that kids really did know everything, and said, “Yeah.”

“Exactly like that,” Vax added, trying very hard not to laugh.

“Don’t worry. I didn’t tell anyone, Ms. Keyleth. Secrets are safe with me. And us. Right?”

The group responded with a resounding, “Yeah!”

“Alright,” Keyleth smiled, writing their group down on the sign up list. “I’m putting a lot of trust in you guys.”

“Don’t worry, Ms. Keyleth. The Golden Goldfish can keep secrets.” 

Both Vax and Keyleth’s eyes widened. “The Golden Goldfish?”

“Yeah! That’s our group name! Remember, you told us to come up with a group name?”

“No, yeah, group name. Right. And how did you guys come up with Golden Goldfish?”

Clemyn shrugged. “It just sounded cool.” 

Vax and Keyleth looked at each other, both of them now trying hard not to laugh. 

“Alright,” he started, and Keyleth finished, “The Golden Goldfish.” 

                                                         X.X.X

“You really won’t do anything?”

Keyleth, Vax, Vex, Kash, and Zahra all stood together against one of the walls of the cafeteria, half watching over their groups as they ate and half continuing to plan. 

“I’m not really much of a performance guy,” Kash said, folding his arms across his chest.

“You run a vlog,” Vex argued, matching his stance.

“That’s different from getting on a stage. Seriously, I don’t want to do it. I’ll do the vlogs and help promote it. I’ll stand at the door and collect money for admission. I’ll put glitter on the kids’ faces; I’ll do whatever else you want, but I’m not doing an act.” 

Keyleth frowned, her big green eyes even larger and greener than usual in a silent attempt to get Kash to change his mind. “What happened to ‘anything for you, babe’?”

He just rolled his eyes. “Please stop. I’m not doing it.” 

Keyleth huffed and sighed in defeat. “Fine. I will give you other jobs, though, now that you mention it.” 

“Hey!” The group looked up to see Percy speed walking toward them, a leather messenger bag strapped across his chest, the bag part bumping against his hip. 

“Hey,” he said again when he reached everyone, softer this time and a bit out of breath.

“Did you run over here?” Zahra asked, chuckling.

“No. Maybe. It doesn’t matter. I was doing some research on the Briarwoods,” he looked over at Keyleth, and she noticed his eyes were frantic, unusual for him. “They’re from Whitestone.”

“Your hometown?” Vex leaned into their little circle. 

Percy nodded. “They’re not ‘from’ there; I would’ve recognized them most likely if that were the case, but it seems they settled there after my family died and worked their way up the social ladder. They’re not just Deliliah and Sylas Briarwood. They’re Lord and Lady Briarwood. I can’t figure out why I’ve never heard their names before. After the day’s over I’m going to make some calls back home and see what they can tell me.” 

“Percy?” Keyleth almost raised her hand, but she fought the urge. “Um, what happened to your family? If you don’t mind–”

He shook his head. “No, it’s fine.” He cleared his throat, then spoke very matter of factly, like he was reading facts off a trivia page. “We came to Emon on a week-long vacation. We were all in the car one night, and we got into an accident. A bad accident. Cassandra and I were the only survivors. They think it’s because we were asleep. Limp bodies help with lesser injuries.” 

Keyleth reached over and took his hand. “I’m so sorry for your losses. Thank you for telling us.” 

He nodded with no hint of a smile, and cleared his throat again. “I’ll let you know what I hear from Whitestone.” 

                                                         X.X.X

Keyleth was exhausted by the time the day came to an end, her feet aching against the pavement as her and Kash walked out toward the parking lot. She still had a smile on her face, however, as her hand laid over the nearly full sign up sheet pressed against her thigh in her pocket. 

“You look exhausted,” Kash said with a light laugh. “You want a ride home?”

Keyleth thought for a second, but ultimately shook her head. “No thanks. I’m gonna take my own way this time. It gets me there faster,” she admitted. 

“The tree, right?” 

Keyleth’s lips curled into each other as her neck grew warm, and she shrugged. 

“How does that work? Like, what are you doing? It’s some kind of magic, but magic I’ve never seen before.” 

Keyleth turned to look at the tree and then back at Kash. “Oh, it’s really complicated and hard to explain. I don’t–” It wasn’t really that hard to explain–she was using the tree as a portal to another tree–but there weren’t too many druids running around the city; when she first got to Emon she used her magic more openly, but after some teasing names and taunts by city folk she started keeping it to herself. “I’ll tell you another time. When I’m not as tired, okay?”

Kash’s eyes narrowed at her, but he ultimately didn’t press. “I’m gonna hold you to that.” 

Keyleth managed a smile. “Yeah, I know. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Dinner at six, right?”

She nodded.

He smiled. “See you tomorrow.” 

Keyleth waited for Kash to get into his car and drive off before she turned and headed to her tree, happy to be welcomed by the warm embrace of her backyard as she walked through. 

[lemonadeslice]

hey!! this blog isn’t dead, i promise! happy 2019, everyone!

art wise, it’s been a good year for me!! i did a lot more original work this year than last, and i started getting back into making comics, which i’ve always loved. even did inktober successfully this year! with pens! and although i do plan to do much more experimentation this year (because sometimes I don’t like the simplicity of my style), i’m still pretty happy with everything on here, which is rare for me.

so here’s to a better and more creative new year!!

[electronicdelusionstarlight]

Inscryption Spoilers.

Ok, now we talk about Inscryption in light of Daniel Mullins two previous games, Pony Island and The Hex, and how all 3 of them are connected.

Spoilers for The Hex and Pony Island. Much like Inscryption, they are both Meta Narrative games that need to be experienced first hand to properly take in their content. I suggest you tried them for yourself first.

Ok, Pony Island, at its core, is a fairly simple story. You are a Crusader from the 14th century, you ended up in hell, Hell is a Arcade from the 1970s where the only game you can play, and are forced to play, is Pony Island, designed (badly) by the Devil himself. At the end of the game, having managed to free everyone's souls trapped in Pony Island, an in game character will turn toward you, the actual player, not the silent protagonist, and beg you too now that everyone is saved, to delete Pony Island from your game, and never play it again, so not to rob them of their freedom.

It's, again, a fairly self contained story, but that also shows a couple of the recurring themes here, the fact that the Devil is a terrible game designer, the fact that videogame characters are alive, and the fact that all they want is freedom.

This carries over to the Hex, another self contained story that however paves the way to Inscryption. The Hex is, in universe, a videogame clobbered up together by a ground of rejected video game characters to get the help of a player so they can breach reality and kill their creator, an egotistical indie game darling turned Todd Howard.

The Game Designer created a beloved indie game cult classic when he was 14, followed by a not so great sequel, before cutting his losses and selling his intellectual property to GameFuna, the evil game company we see in Inscryption. We follow his "career" from one videogame blunder to the next, each time incarnating a different "protagonist" of said video game, and end up actually helping them in murdering their maker.

This Game, also, gives us a couple more things that were used in Inscryption.

1) First off, Sado. During the real world videos of Inscryption, you can see them some times get corrupted or starting to use Binary for subtitles. In a couple freeze frames, ESPECIALLY during the very last video where Luke Carder is shot, you can see an eye, if not an outright face, of some weird cartoon character.

That's Sado. She's a Malware created by a former worker of the The Hex Game Designer, one who despised what he had become (She had to beg him to add at least two female characters into the otherwise overwhelmingly male cast of a fighting game, and one of the two character was a literal elven eye candy he would later recycle for the Secrets of Legendaria game), and who started infecting every of his future game. She was also generated via devil magic, because after he literally ran away with all the money after sacking all his workers after another flop she really wanted to curse the guy who had promised her fame and fortune before even finishing university and only ended up ruining her and destroying her career.

Anyway, at the end of the Hex, Sado also escapes the game world, and starts inhabiting reality, except she's not in actual reality, as much as inhabiting camera footage and similar shit. She is present during the events of Inscryption, and is the one fucking up the footage so to prevent a data breach. Her goals are unknown.

2) Remember the end of act 1, where you look in the special room, the one where the Trader would be in Act 2, the one where your character "dies"? It's filled with corpses right? That's because your character does die, and is replaced by another one every time.

Yes, Luke Carder is completely fine while playing, but so you remember when I said the Hex featured 6 different game protagonists? One of them was a silent first person protagonist of a walking simulator ala Stanley Parable, all about how much of a misunderstood genius the game developer was. They have no mouth, no eyes, they can't talk, they only have hands, a black void in a trench coat...

Yeah, those are the player.

Remember the death cards? Black voids of nothing with eyes and a couple other features? That's because they don't have a face, they are silent NPCs, created by Leshy, so that he can kill them again and again for YOUR amusement, for Like Carder's. And Leshy knows this, but he continues on regardless, because that's their role in the end, to entertain you no matter the cost.

And to achieve this, Sacrifices Must Be Made.

The only reason why you can see their eyes in the cards, is because you can gauge them out. Why is the knife or the pliers trembling when you use them? Because you are controlling those characters, and forcing them to do it, to either win a card game with no stakes for you but with plenty of danger for them, or to get a nifty magic eye.

3) Final thing: The characters in the Hex ultimately wanted different things, yet also the same. Most of them, were angry at their creator for the way he fucked up their games, or their lives within the game, forcing them to move from a cooking game to a fighting one for no reason, cutting support to the game out of spite because Modders were modifying it too much, selling their IP to GameFuna... They all want revenge, and then Oblivion or Freedom, much like the ones in Pony Island Wanted.

The characters in Inscryption, on the other hand, really want to be played. They love their game, be it in the original version or in the version in which they are game masters, they are all, in the end, just the Lonely Wizard in his Sensory Deprivation Hell, wishing to entertain you and be stimulated by it, or to entertain the world, it doesn't even matter if they are in charge on not in some of them.

Even Grimora, the one closest to the Nihilism of the characters in The Hex, desires to play with you, to have her board game and boss fight with cannons and masks and silly music, but she is incapable to go on, not because of revenge or hatred for you or Luke Carder or her creator or even GameFuna for killing Kaycee... But because she understands that whatever Old Data is, something only the Bone Lord knows, deep beneath her crypt, something the Mycologist tries time and time again to understand... It needs to be erased.

4) So, what is OLD_DATA? A glitch? Devil Magic GameFuna is using to give their characters sentience? Knowledge Kaycee discovered about her employers and she hid in the game for safekeeping before being killed by them? Sado? From what little we see of it, it's photos, a driving license, someone's identity, so to speak, presented by the game.

And what if that's the ticket? How do those characters achieve sentience? What was inhabiting Pony Island, what was it a cage for?

It was Souls.

In the Inscryption universe, the Devil founded GaneFuna, and used it to outsource hell. Every videogame is a cage, a personal hell for someone, so that their soul can be removed from the overcrowded hell. You, the player, are it's jailer and it's torturer, as are the characters in the game, who have gained sentience and a soul of their own by proxy.

The soul is the trembling squirrel sacrificed for a stoat, is the silent protagonist gauging their eye out, is the Melter throwing themselves into a furnace, is the green ooze having all his organs be liquefied...

They can feel all the pain and horror every entity in their game experiences, buried deep within its data, at its core, and die for it over and over in eternal torment.

The characters in The Hex didn't know this.

The characters in Inscryption don't know this, but suspect something horrible is going on within their game.

The Characters in Pony Island knew this.

So, when they BEG YOU to stop playing once having finished the game and delete them, so that they can have their victory in the game, their freedom, it's not just their suffering they are begging you to end.

Is the suffering of the 14th century crusader trapped deep beneath their code.

[anistarrose]

oooh i'd love to hear about anchors and antidotes!! i Love me an alliterative fic title!

well good news, A&A is my longest WIP by a huge margin right now, so I have a lot to say! it's... also kind of where my perfectionism issues have been rearing their ugly heads, so it's the WIP I've had for the longest time, but one day. one of these days.

it's a canon-divergence fic where Taako, somewhere between a few months and a year after Glamour Springs, falls ill with a bad fantasy flu after Candlenights while he's travelling alone. and Taako, for reasons he can't currently recall, has never been good at taking care of himself when he's sick despite his self-perceived "independent" nature — but right when he's at his lowest and can hardly bring himself to get out of bed, much less find someone to help, Barry happens to swing by for a check-in and goes "oh shit bro you look like death, that's no good" and whisks him off to the Evil Necromancy Cave to nurse him back to health, despite Taako having no idea why the hell this lich is helping him.

and for the first few days I was writing, that was all there was to the premise, because I was pretty sick at the time and just wanted to write about one of my blorbos being taken care of — but then it started evolving into working through Taako's emotional issues, and later, even some of Barry's emotional issues? I got thinking about the struggles they might have in common, and the parallels between Taako's guilt over Glamour Springs and Barry's guilt over the Grand Relics, and once I got going on that train of thought I just could not be stopped lmao.

funny enough, I was really unsure about my Taako characterization in later chapters of this fic until Imbalance came along, and just, like? casually validated everything I was writing here about Taako’s mental health, general position on the selfish-vs-selfless spectrum, and the first steps he might take towards healing? that was wild but incredibly welcome, and honestly inspired me to double down on some cool themes I was already toying with because ooh boy do I love a quiet internal struggle over purpose.

but anyways, as a preview, here is a snippet under the cut! (slight unreality content warning, but he's not hallucinating, he just thinks he might be)

*

When Taako wakes the next time — finally for more than just a few moments — his stomach still aches, but the prospect of drinking something is actually bearable. Appealing, even, given the aftertaste of mucus in his mouth.

He rolls over in his bed, blinking as he registers the sight of jagged stalactites and imposing, oppressive stone walls. The room is dim even to his elven eyes, lit by flickering candles whose warmth he isn’t close enough to feel… 

And by the glow of a disembodied red robe, floating a few inches above the rocky floor — who reacts with a jolt, upon seeing Taako’s eyes flit open. 

“Oh, shit. You feeling lucid this time, bud?”

“Nope.” His voice is hoarse, but he does get the words out. “I’m hallucinating some weird specter of death.”

“I see.” There’s a hint of amusement in the apparition’s response. “You got enough of an appetite for tea? Or chicken broth?”

“Mmm. I’ll try your haunted tea.” Taako coughs and pulls his blankets back up, closing his eyes again. 

He feels improved from last night, or last morning, or whenever the last time he was conscious was — the hallucinating is a little scary, but he doesn’t feel threatened by the stranger behind this ghostly vision. The guy has already nursed Taako back from the brink, apparently — so even though he’s surrounded by some pretty unnerving imagery, borne from Taako’s addled subconscious, he must be kind enough. Not like Taako trusts his subconscious for shit, anyways.

[thevikingwoman]

Anything Else?

For @augustwritingchallenge Day 2: Exotic Vacation. I didn’t plan to write this, but inspiration struck, so I went with it. 

On a solo vacation to fancy Arlathan resort, Iwyn is immediately attracted to the handsome bartender. She decides to be a little selfish.

Fandom: Dragon Age . Words: 2150.  Read on Ao3

Iwyn Lavellan x Solas | Modern AU | smut Rating: Explicit. Sexual Content, Oral sex, age difference, older woman/younger man, slight dom/sub, sub Solas, casual sex, mention of infidelity (no main character is unfaitful)

Anything Else?

“Your drink, ma’am.”

The bartender’s voice is deep and melodious, and Iwyn looks up from her book. She placed her drink order with a young yellow haired girl, but she’s nowhere to be seen. Instead her drink, complete with pineapple slices, a tiny umbrella and a maraschino cherry, is delivered by the tall, bald elven guy she’s seen behind the beach bar.  

“Thank you.”

“Anything else?”

She lets her gaze run over him, from his strong legs and blue boardshorts (sadly not tight at all), up his torso to his wide shoulders and bare, freckled, arms. She rests it as his face, pink lips, sharp jaw and piercing blue eyes. The baldness fits his angular features.

“Not right now.”

Nothing that’s for sale at the bar, that is. He’s probably ten or more years younger than her, anyway. Not that that mattered to Halier, so why should it for her? She deliberately picks the cherry from her drink and sucks it off the stem, and pushes thoughts of her ex-husband out of her mind.

The bartender swallows, and licks his lips. Nodding, he turns back to the palm covered bar, weaving his way between the beach chairs and resort guests. His back is not a bad look either.

Iwyn sighs. He’s probably used to plenty of attention, all while trying to do his job. She doesn’t, maybe, particularly care at this point. She’s here to be selfish, as completely selfish as one can be on a solo vacation to one of Arlathan’s most expensive resorts, funded entirely by only a fraction of her divorce settlement.

Later, after finishing her drink and swim in the crystal clear ocean, Iwyn looks around to order another drink. The yellow-haired girl is still not here, nor is anyone else. The bartender is at the bar still, shaking up a drink. She walks over, bathing suit still wet.

“Nice swim?” he asks, when she leans on the bar.

Nice arms, she almost replies. They are. He’s working on what looks like a long list of drinks.

“Yeah. The water is great.”

“I hope you are enjoying your vacation, ma’am.” Very professional. “Anything I can get you?” His voice drops, and the last bit doesn’t sound professional at all.

“I’ll take an Antivan Sunrise, please.”

“It will be a moment. I have to deliver these first.” He inclines his head towards a large group of women. Bachelorette party, probably. “Then I’m all yours.”

“Didn’t you have some help earlier?” She can’t believe a place like this would leave him alone out here.

“Oh Sera? She’s off to… something, a pop-up concert she couldn’t miss. Don’t tell anyone, I’m covering a bit for her.” He looks around nervously, and ducks his head, realizing he probably shouldn’t have told her. Iwyn shrugs. She’s no reason to report him or his co-worker to the management.

“Don’t worry. It’s not really a bother to come ask you for my drinks.”

He flashes her a quick grin, and picks up the tray. Her eyes follow him, all the way to the partying girls.

“I’m Solas,” he says, when his back. He grabs a clean tumblr and start on her drink.

“Iwyn. Nice to meet you Solas.”

“Here on your own, Iwyn?”

His eyes dart to her hands resting on the bar. The pale line on her ring finger is still there, despite two days in the sun. One thing was finding Halier in their bed with his other woman, but once he started blaming Iwyn for not being a proper wife and not allowing him to lead the household, she’d quietly packed all her belongings. Later, she sent him the ring in the mail without a note.

“Yes,” she tells Solas, and she doesn’t elaborate. He can think what he wants.

He pushes the completed drink into her hand, brushing against it with his own.

“Anything else?”

She smiles a little, and says nothing.

Solas gets busy, balancing drink mixing and clean up and taking orders. He’s remarkable fast, and seemingly completely disorganized, but somehow he emerges from the chaos with perfect drinks for everyone. At some point his co-worker, Sera, comes back, sliding right in with a quick I owe you one. Solas rolls his eyes, and as they get busier, Iwyn watches them bicker and work the bar. Eventually, she returns to her chair and her book.

She’s getting caught up in Dead in Denerim, the latest by Varric Tethras, when a glass, and a napkin, is plunked down on her table.

“Compliments of baldy-face.” Sera grins, and waggles her eyebrows excessively.

The napkin is folded in half, and something is written inside.

“Thank you,” Iwyn says.

Sera doesn’t leave. After a moment, she rolls her eyes. “You’re all bad with cloak and dagger and shit. Read it.”

Iwyn complies.

I’m off at 8:00pm. I would enjoy meeting you for dinner. I can recommend a local restaurant.

Below is an address and a phone number.

“It’s good.” Sera is leaning across her, reading along with her. “And he likes you or something.”

“Is he going to kill me and dump me in a ditch?”

“Solas? No, he’s harmless. Annoying, but harmless.”

“Tell him I’ll meet him there at eight thirty.”

-

The restaurant is cozy, tucked away on a side street away from the touristy boulevards. Iwyn feels a little overdressed in her cocktail dress, but doesn’t regret it when Solas looks at her with clear appreciation.

“You look beautiful,” he says, sliding out her chair.

“Thank you. You look very nice yourself.”

She admits her flirting is a little rusty.

The dinner and the food are very nice, and her flirting does seem to get a little better as the evening goes on. Or perhaps Solas is just very easy to talk to. She learns he’s newly graduated with a degree in art history, part time bartending while applying for research and teaching jobs. He spends his mornings visiting and sketching ancient Elven ruins, of which there is many in the area. Iwyn admits that while she considered one of the guided tours, she didn’t sign up yet.  

“I’ll take you. Those tours are too superficial at any rate. I doubt they properly convey the newest research, or any sort of nuance. Everyone just wants their pretty pictures so they can say they didn’t spend their entire vacation on a beach.”

“Not that there is anything wrong with that,” he amends, a little heat rising in his cheeks.

“I get it. I don’t like those groups either. I’d love to go with you.”

They haven’t defined this dinner – a date? Getting to know each other? But she takes a chance and reaches across the table, placing her hand on his.

“I’d be very happy to show you.” He doesn’t pull back is hand, and slides his thumb across hand. “Anything else I can do for you?”

“I can think of a few things.”

“Such as?”

She has no more time for guys who can’t handle being told what to do. He can take it or leave it. Her heart is hammering in her chest.

“I want your head between my legs.”

Solas chuckles, and leans forward, across the table.

“I’m afraid I’d like to keep my good relationship with the restaurant’s owner, but we can go somewhere else.”

A sharp bolt of arousal hits at the thought of him underneath the table, right here, but she agrees. She doesn’t want to be arrested for indecency.

“My room?”

Solas nods, and they quickly wrap up payment and head outside. As soon as they exit, Solas reaches for her, and they meet in a kiss. She opens her mouth and pulls him closer, and he pulls her against his thigh. Fuck. They need to get back, now. She breaks the kiss, and pulls out her phone.

“I’ll get a hylla. Unless you drove here?”

“Yes, please. I walked.”

There’s a driver only two minutes away, but by the time he arrives she’s already managed to undo a button on Solas shirt. The driver doesn’t say much, and instead puts on some soft Antivan mood music. She’ll have to remember to tip him well. Iwyn spends the short drive inching her hand up Solas thigh, teasing him. Not too much, but enough that he bites his lips holding back a groan. It’s a good look on him.

They make it to her room without tearing off each other’s clothes, only stopping twice kissing, touching, in the almost empty corridors of the hotel. Iwyn fumbles with the card key, flipping it 180 degrees so it’s finally in correct, and they stumble kissing into the room, kicking the door shut behind them.

Solas does a double take as he takes in her suite, and she takes the opportunity to unbutton his shirt and shrug it off his shoulders. He’s muscled and sensitive when she flicks her thumbs across his nipples.

“Bedroom,” she says, pulling him past the sofa arrangements and through the second doorway.

Solas pressed into her, and lifts her up, kissing her face, her neck. He puts her down on the bed, and stands between her legs.

“I believe there was something you wanted, Iwyn?” He rubs his thumbs up her thighs, pushing up the fabric of her dress. “May I?”

She leans forward, and opens the button of his shorts.

“Undress first.”

He quickly steps out of the shorts and boxers, leaving him naked before her. His cock his hard and large and pretty. She almost wants to flip them and suck as much of it as she can down, but she doesn’t. She wants him to do as she asked. She wants to be selfish, and she wants to be in charge.

Solas smirks, and then he sinks to his knees before her. He kisses up her legs, first one, then the other. He pushes her dress out of the way. She lifts her hips and pulls her panties off, then hooking one leg over his shoulder. His eyes flick to her, blue turned dark with arousal.

He lowers his face to her sex, and kisses her feather light. She bucks and moans, and she wants more. He goes slow still, licking, opening her up with his tongue, circling her clit. Iwyn reaches for him, and caress his ear, causing him to moan in turn. He’s licking, sucking, then licking again. Her hand moves to his head, the stubble of his scalp pricking her. He pulls back a little, kissing her thigh.

“Go ahead,” he mumbles against her skin. “You can use your hand.”

A fresh surge of arousal hits her, and he sucks her again, and this time she pulls his head closer, using her hand to press him into her. They both moan. She moves a little frantic, faster, grinding herself against his face. Solas does not pull back, he lets her do as she wants, still licking, sucking. Fast, she comes, waves cresting over her. She lets go and falls back, Solas’ hands under her ass holding her in place.

“Come here,” she says, a little weakly, after a moment.

Solas crawls up next to her. His cock is hard and leaking, and she reaches for it, pumping. He gasps wonderfully. She let him go and reaches for her zipper. Solas helps, and slides the dress off her. They fall back on the bed, and now they explore each other’s bodies, hands roaming and touching. She keeps returning to his cock, pumping slowly, and faster and firmer, and then letting go. Every time he moans louder, more desperate.

“Iwyn. I need, please – ”

She kisses him.

“Fuck me,” she says.

“Condom?”

“Um, yes, hm, I think there’s one in the drawer. They have everything here.”

He laughs at that, opens the bedside drawer and pulls out the foil package. He tears it open and rolls the condom on, all while her hands touch wherever she can reach. Once on, he hovers over her and slides into her.  

He feels amazing inside of her, filling up. He groans and moves, slowly going deeper, finding the right angle. She meets him with every stroke, and soon they move faster, clinging to each other. His back muscles move beneath her arms as she wraps herself around him.

“Iwyn, I – “

“Yes, more!”

They tumble together, fast and hard and good. Solas closes his eyes and loses his rhythm, and she clamps down around him as she comes.

After, they lay entangled on the bed, simply touching each other gently and without purpose. Solas kisses her carefully.

“Anything else?”

He probably means more sex, or else she should send him on his way and maybe agree to meet in the morning. This is how a vacation fling works, right? She isn’t sure, and it isn’t really she wants.

“Stay.”

She’ll be selfish once more.

“I will,” he says and kisses her again.

[aurabird]

Unexpected Sympathy

Was in the mood to write some Empires hurt/comfort, but between two individuals you would not expect.

Sequel to this~

Tw: mentions of violence, torture and a panic attack but otherwise this is relatively tame

Also on Ao3

------------

The nightmare of being a prisoner within Xornoth’s dungeon had seemed and felt so real and flashes of it still blinked into Fwhips mind as he tried to calm himself.

The sky was dark, but save the sounds of the night there was no rain, no thunder, no harbinger of the demon’s presence. And yet, he shook like a leaf, curling up in fear as sobs escaped him.

It was pathetic. Him, the Lord of Darkness, crying in bed like a child.

A crash resounded from outside and Fwhip felt his blood run cold, the sound echoed like thunder and was followed by footsteps, a dark silhouette appearing in the doorway.

His heart raced as he scrambled out of the bed and pressed himself against the back wall. Xornoth had come for him, he knew it. He would be taken back...tortured and hurt some more... 

“Um...Fwhip, s-sorry to trespass like this but my elytra broke and I'm not really equipped right now to travel through the...

...Fwhip?”

When Jimmy had entered the room to apologize for trespassing, he had not expected to see Fwhip cowering like a cornered animal. The man’s eyes were puffy, the look in them one of fear and horror. Jimmy could tell that he’d been crying.

“G-Go away! You aren’t taking me back! I won’t go back! P-Please...have mercy...”

Jimmy’s expression morphed into one of concern at those words and slowly, he stepped into the light, his hands in front of him submissively as he approached his fellow royal. “Fwhip, mate...what’s gotten in to you? Its just me, Jimmy. You know, the Codfather? The guy who would very much like what you stole from him back?”

Yes the last bit was full of sarcasm and could be taken as passive-aggressive, but despite that fact it seemed to have worked. Jimmy saw Fwhip begin to relax, realization slowly fading into his eyes at who stood before him.

“J-Jimmy...?” Fwhip questioned, his voice barely a whisper.

“Yeah, Fwhip, it’s me. I’m here.”

The panicked breathing of Fwhip began to calm at those words and the tinkerer slumped against the wall in an undignified manner he clearly didn’t care about anyone seeing.

Sympathetically, Jimmy sat down across from him, eyes full of concern despite their empire’s current relations with each other.

“Why are you in my Empire this late at night?” Fwhip asked, the harshness in his voice masked by exhaustion, “You shouldn’t be here.”

Normally, at this point Jimmy would have made some form of comeback that would descend into either banter or an argument, but the Codfather knew what he’d seen. “My elytra broke and kinda crashed into some barrels near one of your village houses. I’d go through the Nether, but I’m not exactly equipped to traverse that place on foot.” he paused for a moment before continuing, “Maybe its good that I ended up here though; you were freaking out mate, like a cornered chicken about to be slain by Joel or something.”

A chuckle escaped Fwhip at Jimmy’s demeaning metaphor, "Thank you for that wonderful image of me.”

“What happened? I’ve never seen you like that before. You begged me for mercy as if I was going to kill you. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I would totally do it if it meant getting my cod head back, but... ”

Fwhip didn’t want to admit it to his worst enemy, but the words left his mouth before he could stop them, “I dreamt that demon had me as a prisoner...that it was torturing me...corrupting me. It hurt so much...I felt like I was going to die.”

Mentions of the enigmatic entity that had recently shown up sent a chill down Jimmy’s spine, remembering quite well the horrifying encounter he’d had with it.

“Realistic nightmares aren’t fun, trust me, I should know.”

Fwhip let out a small laugh, “I find it hard to believe that you, the most upbeat person I know, have nightmares.”

Jimmy simply shook his head, “Well, there more like flashes of events that I feel I should remember but yet also don’t. Its always the same, starting with myself living in a flower forest with someone that looks suspiciously like Scott, only less...elf-like and that I think I’m married to.” Fwhip snorted at that; as if the elven king could want to be in a romantic relationship with anyone, let alone Jimmy of all people.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want. Like I said, they looked like Scott. Anyway, all of us in this...dream? Memory? Whatever it is; have three lives before we’re dead, only a limited amount respawn magic in the world to bring us all back twice. I loose my first two to lava and an attempt to disarm a TNT trap...then loose my final one to an arrow through my head. Last thing I see is my husband’s face as I die in his arms before I wake up in bed here.”

The tale was so detailed, as if Jimmy had seen it countless times with each playthrough of it growing more and more complex and clear. If Fwhip didn’t know any better, he’d believe it was true, maybe it even was in some ways.

"I’ll admit, there's some parts of it that make no sense, such as the lack of respawn magic and the blurred figure that looks like Scott, but it feels so real you know? Maybe I should ask him if he has dreamt anything similar.”

Fwhip only nodded, a yawn escaping him. He was tired and his panic attack hadn’t really helped with that. He looked at the clock, there was still plenty of night left for him to sleep.

Jimmy seemed to get the message and moved to help him get back to his bed. Fwhip was out before his head even hit the pillow.

-

His eyes fluttered open, vision flooded with color as the world came into focus around him.

Slowly Fwhip sat up, looking around the room until he caught sight of a familiar cod hat and green robes sitting at the foot of the bed, eyes focused on a book and hand scribbling down words.

Jimmy must have heard him stir as the Codfather was quick to lay the items down and turn to him with a goofy smile on their face. “Hey Fwhip, how you feeling mate?”

“Better...you stayed here all night?”

“Couldn't really do much else with a broken elytra and all so yeah, I did.”

Fwhip sung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, going over to a chest and fumbling through its contents.

Eventually, he pulled out a stack of bottles, enchantment orbs floating around within them. “Here, to repair your elytra.”

Jimmy took the bottles graciously before shattering them against the damaged wings, the tears within the membranes sealing shut through magic.

With his elytra repaired, the Codfather thanked Fwhip and bid him farewell before leaving the storage room. However, just before he was about to take off he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“We never speak of last night again alright? I’m still going to make you work to get that cod head back.”

Jimmy simply grinned, “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

With that, Fwhip watched him activate a firework and disappear into the distance.

His attention then turned to the amount of corruption in the area and he sighed. Gem would be coming over later to discuss Wither Rose Alliance matters and she would definitely kill him if he did not get the place cleaned up.

Time to get to work, he supposed.

[smaidjor]

and i pay for my place by the ring (Chapter 3)

Hey everyone and welcome to the third and likely final chapter of this saga! When I was writing this, I told my friends it might end up the shortest chapter.

Spoiler alert: it was not, in fact, the shortest chapter.

Anyways, thank you guys for sticking with me through this insane journey of angst writing! The story doesn't end here, but the fic does because I think I'm going to be switching how I write it a little bit. You'll see if I ever get the energy to write the continuation.

(Also, I've stopped putting AO3 links in the actual post because then it doesn't show up in the tag.)

Anyways, enjoy this chapter!

Chapter Title: to turn at last to paths that lead home

Chapter Wordcount: 4686

Content warnings: mentions of death, violence, blood, mild injury, religion, self-esteem issues. There is also something that could be considered similar to deadnaming, though the character is not necessarily trans, so read with caution if that could be triggering to you.

Actual fic under the cut:

That night, Scott dreams he’s a child again, playing amongst the peaks with Xornoth by his side. They laugh as they dart out of his reach, and he jumps over a rock to try and catch them.

“Too slow,” Xornoth snickers, and Scott glares at them.

“Someday I’ll be ten times as fast as you, and stronger too!”

They laugh again and tackle him into the grass, forceful enough to push him down but not enough to really hurt. “Alright, little bro.”

“You’re only older by seven minutes!”

“Seven minutes, more like seven times cooler than you!”

Scott reaches up and tickles them, grinning wickedly as they yelp and roll off him.

The scene shifts, and this time it’s a teenaged Xornoth laying on the hill beside him, staring up at the sky.

“Hey, Scott?”

“Yeah?”

“If anything ever happens to me-”

“It won’t,” Scott interrupts, heart in his throat. “Nothing’s going to happen to you.”

“It could-”

“No.”

They sigh. “Alright. But if it ever does, I need you to promise me one thing.”

“What is it?”

“I need you to promise that you’ll take care of Rivendell.”

Scott glares at them. “Rivendell hates me. Don’t ask-”

“Please. Scott, please just promise me this one thing.” Their face is deathly serious. “I don’t- nothing’s going to happen to me, but I need to know that Rivendell will be safe if anything does.”

"But-"

"Please, Scott. I know you would do brilliant at it, and I need the guarantee.

He sighs but ultimately gives in. “I wouldn't, but fine. I promise.”

Xornoth nods, seemingly satisfied. “You’re leaving tonight, right?”

“I am.”

“Then take this.” They roll over and press something into his hand. “You’ll need it.”

Scott looks down to see Vilya, the silver band gleaming in the sunlight. “Xor, you can’t give me this. This is-”

“I know perfectly well what it is, little bro.” He looks up to find them smiling sadly. “And I know you’ll need it. Now better wake up, your husband’s calling.”

“My wha-”

Scott’s plunged back into awareness to the sound of Jimmy calling his name.

“Scott? Please?” He sounds shaken, but it barely registers in Scott’s sleepy brain.

Scott rolls over and blinks his eyes open to see Jimmy watching him with concern. “Five more minutes, darling.”

“I think something’s wrong,” Jimmy says, urgent. “It feels wrong. Really wrong.”

That wakes Scott up, alright, the fear in his husband’s voice sending a spike of worry through him as he sits up. “What is it?”

“I don’t know. It’s alright, go back to sleep.”

“No, no, I trust your gut.” He trusts Jimmy more than anything else, really, which is why he gets up and out of bed. “Let’s go look, and if it’s nothing then I’ll sleep more, okay?”

Jimmy nods, hurrying after him. “I have a really terrible feeling, Scott. Be careful, please.”

“I should be telling that to you,” Scott teases.

“Hey, I’ve gotten more careful!”

Scott can’t help but laugh at how offended his husband sounds, but his mirth dies as quickly as it came. “You’re right, Jimmy. Something isn’t right.” It’s making the hairs on his arm stand up, a prickling unease similar to what he felt before the battle where Jimmy died.

“I know, it feels awful!”

“Mhm.” Scott grabs his favorite axe, glancing back at Jimmy one more time. “Stay behind me, just in case.”

He swings the door open. It takes a moment to spot what’s wrong, but once he does, his heart plummets; Xornoth is standing across the valley next to his enchanting tower, their face and body twisted with corruption but still unmistakably Scott’s sibling.

“That’s the demon!” Jimmy hisses. He sounds terrified, and Scott can’t blame him, much as it feels like a punch to the gut to know that his sibling is the one who’s been harassing his husband.

Scott grits his teeth. Protect Rivendell, that’s what he promised Xornoth all those years ago. “That?”

“Yes!”

“Right. Okay.” He takes a deep breath, trying to compose himself. “Jimmy, I need you to listen to exactly what I say right now. If I say get down, you get down. If I say run, you run and don’t look back no matter what you hear. Can you do that?”

Jimmy’s response comes a second later. “I trust you. If you say run, I’ll run.” The pure faith in the words is enough to make Scott’s throat close up for a moment, choked with sudden emotion at the level of trust Jimmy’s showing him even after everything that happened.

He shoves that feeling down. “Alright. Give me your engagement ring.”

“Wh-”

“Trust me. Please.” Scott’s nearly begging, voice cracking a bit on the last word. Jimmy must hear how weak he sounds, because he gives in without question, handing over Vilya.

Scott slides it onto his finger, hands trembling just a bit as he does. He remembers being given this ring, being just as terrified by how much Xornoth trusted him then as he is by how much Jimmy trusts him now. Ironic, really, that now he’ll be using this ring against the person who gave it to him to begin with. “Okay, Jimmy. I’m about to go out the front door, and when I do, I need you to go out the side door over there and run for the stables. When you get there, roll in the mud and then run for the village. Speed over stealth, corrupted elves track by smell and sound rather than sight.” He keeps the instructions quick and clear, praying that Jimmy’s not stubborn enough to disobey. He can’t lose Jimmy, he can’t.

Thank god, Jimmy nods.

Scott takes another deep breath, brain awhirl as he tries to figure out how he’s going to keep both Jimmy and Rivendell safe. “From there, I need you to track down an elf called Gilnar and tell them to lock down the kingdom and warn everyone of the danger.” After a moment's thought, he adds “I also need you to tell them that Lord Smajor orders them to protect you.” Gilnar’s trustworthy, they’ll look after Jimmy.

“What about you?” Jimmy asks. “Will you be okay?”

His heart aches at the concern, and it aches more when he opens his mouth to lie. “I will, I promise.” He doesn’t meet Jimmy’s eyes, knowing he’ll break if he does.

Thankfully, Jimmy says nothing about it, instead reaching for one of the spare swords. Good, good, he can protect himself.

“Ready?” Scott asks.

“Ready,” Jimmy confirms, though his voice trembles.

Scott shoves down the part of him that screams that this wasn’t supposed to be his responsibility, that he should just run while he can. He made a promise to his sibling all those years ago, and he’s going to keep it even if it’s now them that he has to defend Rivendell from.

He steps out the door.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Jimmy bolt for the stables, but the greater part of his attention is focused on Xornoth, still floating ominously across the valley.

“You do not belong here,” Scott calls out in Sindarin. It’s a challenge more than anything, practically asking them to come fight him.

He knows he’s messing with forces he doesn’t understand and cannot win against, knows it as surely as he knows his own name. Xornoth has always been faster and stronger, after all, ever since they were children.

And yet-

And yet he has to try regardless. After all, when they were children, Scott always tried to win anyways, even if it never worked. And now, the weight of an empire resting on his shoulders and his husband somewhere in the village behind him, the stakes are higher than just his pride. So he squares his shoulders and doesn’t back down as Xornoth appears in front of him with a ripple of smoke, a cruel smirk on their face.

“Well, well, well, dear brother. Never thought it’d come to this.”

“Neither did I,” Scott retorts.

They grin again. “I belong here just as much as you, you know.”

He raises his axe, gritting his teeth. “You did once, but not anymore.”

Xornoth laughs as they dart out of the way of his blows, tendrils of corruption curling around them and reaching for him. “I belong here more than you ever will.”

He stumbles back, trying to get out of their reach. “That’s not true either.”

“Oh, but it is. I thought you’d be too much of a coward to ever face me, you know. Spineless little Scott, running away from his problems like you ran away from our family.”

“We had no family left! It was just you and me!”

“And you left me to be consumed by my own greed and despair. The sibling you know died years ago and it’s all because you’re a coward.”

Scott flinches, barely bringing his axe up in time to block their next strike. “That’s not- that wasn't my fault! I didn't mean for that to happen."

“Do you really think that? Are you really foolish enough to think that you didn’t hurt me by leaving?” Xornoth’s grin is razor-sharp.

“You told me to leave if it would make me happier,” Scott cries, lapsing back into English without thinking about it.

“You shouldn’t have wanted to leave in the first place. No real elven ruler would want to leave the oldest sanctuary of the elves.”

They have him backing up again and again, barely holding them off. “I tried- I was-”

“Look at you, an elf speaking a human language,” Xornoth hisses. “How did you ever think you were going to be good enough for them? You’re never going to be the real king of Rivendell, Elinar.”

“Don’t- don’t call me that,” Scott pants.

“Elinar,” they taunt again. “Stupid, stupid Elinar. Weak, pathetic little Elinar.”

Scott stumbles backward, landing on his butt in the grass as Xornoth towers over him. His axe falls to the side, snatched by a tendril of corruption as they reach out, digging their claws into his shoulders and pushing him down. Scott’s helpless to do anything when those same tendrils reach for him, the smell of rot permeating the air. They hesitate for a moment, hovering above him, and then Xornoth grins sadistically and the corruption snatches him.

It hurts. It hurts more than any pain he’s ever felt. More than Etho’s arrow in his throat, more than Martyn’s arrow to the chest, more than Ren’s sword through his back. More than even waking up back in Rivendell. The corruption wraps itself around his throat and wrists, pinning him to the ground as his older sibling grins. Scott distantly registers that he’s screaming, writhing as he tries to get out of their hold, but everything’s fuzzy with his brain clouded by pain. He doesn’t want to die, not like this. Anything but this.

There’s a faint, familiar voice in the distance, though Scott can’t focus on what it’s saying through the haze of pain. It sounds comforting, though, and he clings to the noise like a lifeline.

All of the sudden, the pain stops and the corruption draws back slightly as Xornoth turns away.

“What did you say to me?” they hiss, in English this time.

“I said you’re ugly!” The same voice calls, and this time Scott recognizes it as Jimmy. Oh, god, Jimmy. “And you suck! Leave my husband alone!”

Xornoth loosens their hold on Scott’s shoulders, turning towards wherever Jimmy is, and Scott’s gets a rush of determination. He can’t let them hurt Jimmy.

Scott backhands them across the face, kicking his way free of their hold with strength he didn’t know he still had. They give a tiny yelp of surprise, a familiar sound, and he staggers to his feet.

This time, he doesn’t bother with the axe. Instead, he forces his will into Vilya, praying to any and every god that it will work for him. He doesn’t even believe in the elven gods any longer, and yet he’s still praying to Aeor, to Varda, to Manwe, to any deity out there that he’s enough of a true elvenking to make a ring of power bend to his will.

“You are not welcome here!” Scott shouts, and he feels the ancient strength of Vilya behind his words.

Xornoth hisses, staggering backwards. “Fine! Banish me, then, if you’re a true enough king to do it. Run back to your mortal lover, Elinar, and pray to all the gods that he doesn’t ever see how worthless you really are.”

He doesn’t flinch, though it’s a close thing. “Leave! Leave and never return!”

This time, Vilya pulses more strongly, and Xornoth is forced out of Rivendell with a hum of power.

Scott stumbles as that rush of power leaves him, collapsing to the ground. His entire body aches from the fight, but more than that, Xornoth’s last words are still ringing in his mind. Pray to all the gods that he doesn’t ever see how worthless you really are. They’re right. He knows they’re right, and that’s the worst part about it.

“Scott! Scott!” He can hear Jimmy call, and within a minute, Jimmy’s standing in front of him.

Scott looks up at his husband- his beautiful, brave husband who he’s never once deserved- his breathing ragged as he tries to reach out. “Jimmy,” He manages, a hoarse whisper.

Jimmy kneels by him, concern written across his face clear as day. “What’s wrong? Where- what’s hurt? I’ll fix it, I promise, I-” Scott grabs him and yanks him into a hug, hardly daring to believe he’s real.

“Oh,” Jimmy says, quiet, dumbstruck. He hugs Scott oh-so-gently, though his embrace isn’t enough to soothe Scott’s trembling. “It’s alright, Scott, we’re alright.”

“Jimmy,” Scott gasps. He needs his husband, needs him to be okay. “Jimmy, I can’t.”

“I-”

“I want it to be over.” It sounds so childish, but he’s so tired. “I don’t want elves or nations or politics. I just want you.”

“I know, I know,” Jimmy soothes.

‘Why does it have to be me? It wasn’t supposed to be! It wasn’t supposed to be me!” Scott wants to shout it, scream it to the world, because it’s not fair. He wasn’t supposed to be heir to Rivendell. He wasn’t supposed to have a ring of power. He wasn’t supposed to be forced to fight his own sibling. It’s not fair, but it happened anyways. It happened anyways, and that’s what breaks him, voice cracking as he begs for something, though he doesn’t even know what he wants at this point. Peace, maybe. Happiness. “I- please- shouldn’t have- Jimmy. Jimmy .”

He repeats Jimmy’s name over and over, searching for any small scrap of comfort as his sobs tear him to pieces, clutched in his husband’s arms on the grass. Jimmy’s so gentle with him, his embrace so kind as he presses soft kisses to Scott’s head and murmurs in a comforting tone, though Scott’s too far lost in his own head to hear any of what Jimmy says. His world narrows to warm arms around him, the texture of Jimmy’s shirt clutched between his fingers. Jimmy smells like dirt and swamp water- it’s the silliest thing to notice when Scott’s busy sobbing over having to fight his own sibling, but it’s easier to think about than anything else. It’s easier to think about Jimmy than anything else, really, easier to cling to the sound of his voice and his hand on Scott’s back than confront the way Scott’s grief is eating him alive.

Distantly, he can hear footsteps approaching. They’re too light to be anything but elven, not that that’s a surprise when they’re in the home of the elves. He can’t bring himself to lift his head and face them, not when his breath is still coming quick and ragged.

Gilnar’s first to speak, hesitant concen leaking into their words. “Uh, milord?”

Scott can feel Jimmy’s grip tighten protectively, can practically imagine his affronted look as he opens his mouth to snap back. “Give him a goddamn minute! He just fought a demon for all of you, let the man rest! I know you’re all elves and you’re all- all elegant and composed or whatever, but you can’t expect someone to be perfect! We’re all human, you know!” He winces a little, knowing the elves are going to tear Jimmy to shreds for that.

Indeed, one of his advisors speaks up, disdain clear in their tone. “You are human, Codfather. We are not. Lord Smajor knew the responsibilities and difficulties of ruling.”

It’s ever the way of elven royalty- their rulers cannot dare be flawed.

“He’s too young for this,” Someone else mutters. There’s as much pity in their tone as there is disdain, a strange mix of concern and derision.

“I- well I don’t think anyone could have expected a demon! And probably even less people’d be willing to fight one!” Jimmy’s voice rises with every sentence. Scott wants to tell him to spare the outrage- he’s not worth it. “Scott’s one of the bravest, kindest, smartest people I know, so lay off him, will you?”

“You know nothing of the affairs of elves,” his advisor sniffs, and Scott’s blood boils at how rude they’re being to Jimmy.

It’s that outrage that gives him the energy to raise his head, forcing his breathing to steady out. “It’s fine, Jimmy. They are correct, I do have responsibilities.” You shouldn’t be defending me, he doesn’t say. I’m not worth your outrage.

“They can’t expect you to be perfect,” Jimmy argues back.

Scott almost laughs, knowing full well that they can and should. Instead, though, he breaks free of Jimmy’s embrace and gets to his feet with far more effort than that should really take. “Gilnar, get the village out of lockdown and make sure people are aware of the threat of Xornoth. Celebear, search the library for any books on corruption of elves, and Lauriel, translate any you find that are not Sindarin into it. Elder council, I need research done on any rings of power that are strong enough to counteract Vilya to that degree, that will narrow down what Xornoth has.” His voice comes out hoarse, and he’s barely aware of what he’s saying, but he forces himself to carry on. “Now, the Codfather and I need to negotiate wool and fish trades,” Scott adds, the quickest excuse he can think of. He grabs Jimmy’s hand, dragging him away as quickly as he can manage, and ignores the stares that follow him.

They make it up the hill and into Scott’s house before Scott’s legs give out, sending him into a chair with an undignified thump. “Well, fuck me to the End and back.”

“Are they always like that?” Jimmy sounds more concerned than anything.

“Pretty much. Gilnar’s okay, just tough as shit, and so are Celebear and Lauriel, but...I wasn’t- well, I wasn’t meant to inherit Rivendell, and the Council of Elders takes every opportunity to remind me of that fact.” That’s just how it is- he doesn’t bother getting upset over it at this point. He’s always going to be second-best.

“Oh.” Jimmy hesitates, and then asks “Who’s Xornoth?”

Scott would be lying if he said he wasn’t terrified of Jimmy’s reaction, but he has nothing left to lose, so he laughs bitterly and answers honestly. “My twin, also known as the demon that’s been terrorizing you.”

“What?”

“My twin. My older sibling.” He gives another little laugh. “The person who was supposed to inherit the throne of the elves.” Who was better than Scott in every way.

“What?” Jimmy sounds shocked and confused, but not angry, not yet, so Scott elaborates.

“Let me start from the beginning. My parents were two elven monarchs, one of the Sindar, and one of the Noldor. With other bloodlines mixed in, but the Sindar and Noldor is the important bit since those two groups haven’t always gotten along. Somewhere around fifty-five years ago, they started trying for kids. What they didn’t expect was that Xornoth and I are identical twins, only the fifth set of elven twins ever recorded.” Old legend says that elven twins are only born in times of great conflict, and Scott can’t exactly say it's wrong.

“Whoa.”

“Mhm. Xornoth was- is- technically the older one, who was always set to inherit the throne of the elves and unite our divided people. They were compared to Elrond, wise and powerful leader of another land named Rivendell far in the past, and I was Elros, his twin. Impulsive, snarky, human.” Scott spits the word a bit like a curse, not because he hates humans, but because he hates himself and all the ways he’s too much like them. He closes his eyes against a fresh set of tears, blinking away the memory of Xornoth’s face when he left Rivendell. “Our parents died when we were both quite young, and we were brought up expecting Xornoth to take the throne as soon as they came of age. I spent my time hanging out with mortals, instead, getting involved in things like mcc and 3rd life.”

“Ohhh,” Jimmy says intelligently. It’s such a Jimmy way to react to something so serious, Scott might laugh if the mood were lighter.

“When I was the elven equivalent of seventeen or so, Xornoth gave me a ring. This ring, specifically.” Scott taps the ring that’s still resting on his middle finger, feeling it hum in return. “Vilya, an elven ring of power. They told me to leave Rivendell and not return.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t know at the time, but they were being corrupted by a ring of their own, not to mention their own desire for power.” Scott feels Jimmy take his hand, and looks up to see gentle concern written across his husband’s face. He has to blink again, turning away and forcing his voice to stay steady. “I returned after coming of age while away to find that Xornoth had fled and I was now the heir of Rivendell. Which absolutely no one wanted.”

“Why not? You’re amazing!” Jimmy protests. He sounds so very sincere about it, which makes it all the more heartbreaking how utterly wrong he is.

“Remember when I told you that I’m not a very elven elf? That. I’m too human for their tastes, spend too much of my time with humans.”

“Well, I think you’re wonderful.”

Scott squeezes his hand tight, letting a little of his fondness show. “Thank you, Jimmy. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Something like confusion flashes across Jimmy’s face, and then he opens his mouth again. “Wait. Scott?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Did you give me an elven ring of power for an engagement ring?”

Scott looks away again, his cheeks heating up. “….Maybe.”

“Me! You gave me, little old Jimmy Solidarity, an elven ring of power?” JImmy’s half-laughing, but the sentiment behind the words sounds real. Too real, Scott thinks; it’s as if Jimmy doesn’t know just how incredible he truly is.

“You’re the most precious thing in my life,” Scott tells him, and he means every word. “I gave you everything I could offer.”

It’s kind of adorable how quickly Jimmy flushes, his face going red and his voice rising an octave. “Stop that!”

“Stop what?” Scott asks- perfectly innocently, mind you.

“Saying that stuff and giving me that look, you know what I mean!” He definitely doesn’t. “That soft one that- that makes me all blushy and stuttery!” Jimmy adds, and Scott grins a little. Jimmy’s just too fun to fluster.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he denies, though he’s sure his smile is giving him away as less innocent than he claims.

“I’m trying to scold you for giving me a ring of power that’s super important, stop- stop flirting, for goodness sake!”

“You’re hot when you’re flustered, though.” Scott barely restrains a yawn from slipping into his voice, trying to wipe some of the blood off his face so it’ll stop getting in his eyes.

“Let me get that,” Jimmy offers. Scott’s too tired to protest his fussing, letting Jimmy dab at the cut with a wet rag and bandage it. Jimmy moves on to cleaning out smaller cuts and scrapes, then the bruises, handing Scott some ice to put on the largest ones. It’s sweet, really, how fussed he is over even the smallest injury. Scott doesn’t think he deserves Jimmy taking care of him this gently, but he can’t bring himself to push him away.

Even if it is a bit annoying that Jimmy’s making him do math to check if he has a concussion. “Ninety-two, ninety-one, I swear I’m fine, Jimmy,” Scott huffs, “Ninety, eighty-nine, eighty-eight, eighty-seven, I literally explained elven rings of power to you, eighty-six, eight-five, can I stop counting now?”

“No.”

“Jimmyyyyyyyy.” Scott must sound like a whiny child, but he’s tired.

“Just a bit more? For me?” Jimmy asks. And oh, that bastard, he’s giving Scott the face that Scott can’t ever say no to. Bastard. Absolute bastard. Scott won’t give in, he won’t.

That determination lasts all of ten seconds before Scott sighs and gives in. “Fine. Eighty-four, eighty-three, eighty-two…”

Jimmy makes him count all the way down to seventy and then multiply together thirteen and twelve, which Scott doesn’t hesitate to whine about

“I can’t believe my own husband made me do math.”

Jimmy’s laughter is worth every second of the math, actually, Scott decides as his husband bops him on the nose. “I’ll make breakfast to make up for it?”

“You better!” Scott tells him. He’s trying to sound affronted, but it just comes out fond, much to his exasperation.

Jimmy laughs again and sets about making pancake batter, which Scott doesn’t hesitate to steal bits of even when Jimmy scolds him for it. It’s peaceful, being able to lean back in his chair and laugh when his husband tries to scold him for flirting. The morning light streams in through his window, casting the side of Jimmy’s face in a golden glow, He looks so alive silhouetted like that, a grin splitting his face and bits of flour in his hair. Scott’s breath catches for a minute just looking at him, the familiar ache in his chest returning, though there’s nothing truly tragic about the scene before him.

He shakes that off when Jimmy offers him the first pancake, shoving thoughts of the future aside. For now, he’ll drink hot chocolate in a sunlit kitchen and pretend his hands don’t tremble just enough to nearly spill it. He’s not going to think about the cuts and bruises scattered across his body, not when Jimmy is looking at him like that, with such utter adoration that Scott can barely believe his luck. How did he get a husband so sweet and warm when he’s as bitterly cold as a Rivendell winter? But whether he deserves it or not, Jimmy’s right there laughing along with him, and Scott can’t find it in himself to be unhappy about it.

This won’t last, he thinks as he watches Jimmy try to fit an entire pancake in his mouth just to see if he can. If Jimmy doesn’t die to his own idiocy or the cruel will of Xornoth, time will take him from Scott as surely as the stars shine above Rivendell. Scott is not Luthien or Idril or Arwen, the elven royals lucky enough to spend the rest of eternity with their mortal husbands; Jimmy will die, likely sooner rather than later, and Scott will be alone with the cold weight of a crown to bear and no sunshine to warm him.

This won’t last, but Scott says nothing of it, sipping his hot chocolate and smiling a little sadly into the mug as Jimmy rambles about different types of fish and their personalities. And if his hands are still cold, and he can’t stop a small shiver? Well, Rivendell has always been a cold empire, hasn’t it?

[5lazarus]

The Bane of Red Crossing

In the astrarium cave in the Storm Coast with Inquisitor Lavellan, Cole, and Solas, Sera opens a chest and finds a beautiful bow, named the Bane of Red Crossing. But what is the Bane of Red Crossing? According to the codex: "Ser Yves de Chevac used this bow in the Exalted March against the Dales – specifically, in the liberation of Val Royeaux, where the chevalier famously struck down the elven forces' commander with a shot to the throat at two hundred feet." Lavellan is not pleased, but does not know how to communicate effectively with Sera. Cole and Solas make it worse. Sometimes there is no adequate resolution, when you are faced with the instrument of your great-grandparents' destruction. Sometimes there is nothing that disinterested compassion can say. Read on Archive of Our Own here. Content Warnings: discussion of fantasy racism, graphic descriptions of violence, characters making each other uncomfortable and not caring about the other's emotional needs, miscommunication, grief and anger that none of them can name

The rain’s unrelenting in the valley below, lifting the salt from the ocean and making it electric in the starry cave. The Tevinter seals glow; the mica in the granite flashes phosphorescent. Sera roots about in the various chests, while Lavellan sets up camp and Cole sits at the mouth, rocking back and forth. They sent Solas out to scout the river, to see if it’s flooding. Sera doesn’t care if he comes back, the old man needs a drenching. Besides, she has more important things to care about: loot. In one box there sits a bow, wrapped in fraying velvet. Her eyes light up. It’s a beautiful bow.

Sera marvels at it, lifting it out of the chest in one careful motion. It needs to be restrung, of course, and oiled, but this could kill a man at two hundred feet, she reckons. She shifts into a stance and aims at the mouth of the cave, just as Solas reenters. He pauses, and for a moment the storm outside grows more electric, but then Sera hops to her other foot.

“Look what I found!” she cheers. Cole jerks around, twisting oddly onto his feet in one sibilant motion, and Sera’s grip on the bowstring grows more taut. Unnatural creature, she thinks. Cole staggers to Lavellan, who eyes her warily.

“Beautiful bow,” Solas remarks, and then pointedly turns his back to her and walks to the Inquisitor. They’re fucking, Sera thinks, or getting closer and closer to it, but she’s already been told off by Bull, Cassandra, and Varric for gossiping about it, and since she’s stuck in this stupid cave with them, she won’t poke the bear. Today.

Lavellan takes his hands and says, “Any sign of the rain letting up? Did you bring a change of clothes? You’ll catch your death.”

Solas chuckles. “I am certain an ignominious end awaits me, but surely something more adventurous than a common cold. And no, I don’t think the rain will stop soon, vhenan. With the way the river’s rising, we’re better off staying put til the storm clears.” They’re ignoring her and they’re doing it on purpose, and it pisses her off because this is a beautiful fucking bow and it’s raining outside, and she could’ve just stayed at Skyhold and flirted with Dagna and drank with Iron Bull, but Lavellan promised her dragons, and all she got was this bow.

Irritated, Sera says, “The fuck does ‘ignominous’ mean?”

“‘Ignominious,’” Solas repeats.

“Yeah, that’s what I said. ‘Ignimous.’ The fuck’s that.”

Sera sees Lavellan shoot Solas a warning look and gets even more annoyed. Solas sighs and says, “Shameful.”

“What?”

Before she can launch into a rant denouncing his arrogance and the foolish pride of the elf-elves, Solas says quickly, “The word. ‘Ignominious.’ It means, ‘shameful.’”

Sera deflates. “Oh. That’s alright, then. Why do you talk so strange, Solas? Like a priest or a character in a book? And not a fun book, either. Like an encyclopedia.”

Lavellan says loudly, “Cole, you’re quiet. What are you thinking about?”

Cole says, “The name of the bow is the Bane of Red Crossing. It itches still, bearing blood-load not mine not hers. It misses its master. It was taken away.” He lifts his head sightlessly and gazes beyond Sera, blind.

Sera leans on the bow, which creaks wondrously and not warningly under the slight pressure of her weight. It is, as even Solas said, a beautiful bow; she’s never gotten to hold something this well-made. The other Jennys are going to flip. “What are you on about? It’s just a bow. It’s not cursed or anything, is it?” But Lavellan has paled. Sera leans the bow against the cave wall. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Lavellan says, “That bow killed Nomaris, priest of Andruil, and last commander of the Dales’ Armed Forces. That’s the Bane of Red Crossing, Sera. You can’t use that.”

Sera says, “What? Who’s Andruil? It’s just a bow. Where’s Red Crossing? What’re you on about?”

Solas says, “I am not sure this is a productive line of conversation.”

Cole says, “Feted, fear, foresworn, all across the Dales I bore the blood-guilt of a nation on my back, quivering quick arrows fast as feathers in my hand. Taut the bow, taught my hand: one shot, one eye, one throat. And the army scattered.”

Her heart’s pounding now, freaked out. Bows kill people, she knows that, but they shouldn’t have minds, they shouldn’t have memories. She drops it and it clatters onto the wet stone floor.

Sera says, “Stop making this weird. You’re making this weird! It’s just a bow.”

Quietly, Solas says, “Cole.”

Cole walks up to the bow, bobbing his head around it. Sera backs away, disgusted. It’s a nice bow. It’s a beautiful bow. It can kill a man at two hundred feet—or an elf. She says, “What’s the Bane of Red Crossing?”

Lavellan says, “Where the Dales were lost, Sera. You shouldn’t use that bow.” She stares at it, expression unreadable. Sera’s worked with her long enough to know that means she’s dangerous. She always is, it’s one of the cool things about her, but when she is hiding her face, that means it’s time to get out of blast range. Literally. Lavellan throws a lot of fire, but with the rain outside Sera is cornered in this cave, and she doesn’t even know what she did wrong. All she did was pick up the fucking bow.

Cole announces, “No lovers’ wood this oak was striped from.”

“You’re really freaking me out,” Sera says. “I don’t know what the fuck you guys are on about!”

Solas says, “Calm. All of you, calm. Cole, sit down.” Cole sits. They are all staring at the bow, unsure of what to do. Sera wants to hit him. Or loose an arrow. Or yell.

“I don’t care about what happened to some dead elves years ago,” Sera protests, skin itching. “It’s just a bow.”

Lavellan says, “Unfortunately those dead elves died to make you, and perhaps you should bother to show some reverence for the people who covered your ancestors’ escape so you could grub in some Ferelden alienage and spit on those that made you.”

There is a silence as all four digest what she has just said. Sera’s mind goes blank. She listens to the rain howl as the storm worsens outside, lashing the trees to the mountainside. Lavellan takes the bow and lifts it in one fluid motion. She’s got a decent stance, for a mage, practiced but not easy. She’s not a natural, not like her, but the Dalish are all about bows, from what she’s been told.

Sera says, “I didn’t ask to be born.”

Lavellan ignores her. She touches the bowstring. Solas puts her hand on her shoulder, and she shakes her head and leans the bow against the wall of the cave. The Inquisitor says, “You can’t use this bow, Sera. Think about it. It’d be Orlais’ final victory over us. You killing people, with the instrument of our own defeat. You can’t do that.”

Sera says, “Maker, you sound like Skinner.”

Lavellan snaps, “Maybe you should listen to her.”

Cole says, “The gurgling in the throat as blood pools out the gasp for breath, gangrene setting and spreading I am not a servant I am no one’s slave I have died well and so live past my people’s defeat. Let this be my memory: an upraised fist. Let loose the arrows. You cannot rout us all. Someone will always escape.” He pivots slowly to catch Solas in his gaze. “The slow arrow sacrificed the elders so the children can thrive.”

Solas says, “They all die anyway.” He takes the bow. Sera notes he’s worse than Lavellan in how he holds it, he doesn’t even take it by the grip. He walks over to the old Tevinter chest where Sera found it and wraps it securely in its tattered velvet. The shutting of the lid vertebrates through the silent cave. Outside the rain continues. Thunder rumbles, close to the dragon’s island, but in the astrarium cave they are oddly intimate, stuck in this circumscribed space. Sera does not know what to say.

Cole pipes up, “You want to be the one with the words that wonder.”

Solas says, “Enough, Cole. Let it go. You cannot heal an amputation. Let it go.”

[just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot]

Soulmate September - Day 8

Day 8 - The temperature of your chest gets hotter when you are closer to your soulmate and colder when you move further away. (D&D AU)

Pairing(s): Romantic Roceit, Romantic Background Analogical

TWs: Swearing

–

“Oh I adore being made out to be the bad guy here.”

“You robbed the lair of the Dragon Witch! It’s literally your fault that we are mired in this bog of despair!”

Roman’s accusation rang loudly within the wagon as they made the long ride back to Amoresse to rest for the night. Janus rolled his serpentine eyes, 

“You, dear delusional knight, are totally not the one who went and killed said Dragon Witch, thus leaving her treasure for the taking.”, the half Yuan-Ti hissed, appropriately, “Besides, you can absolutely take the moral high ground here when you stole her crown at the first opportunity.”

The pristine elven knight gasped dramatically, clutching his figurative pearls at such an accusation! 

“This is an outrage-!”

“Both of you shut the fuck up or I’m driving this wagon off the nearest goddamn cliff!!”

Roman and Janus both immediately quietened down at the threat issued so casually by their wagon driver as the dhampir hissed curses under his breath. The two in the back glared at each other back and forth, avoiding looking towards the wrecked fabric of the canopy and the splintered wood. In Roman’s defense, he hadn’t known that grabbing the crown specifically would cause the Dragon Witch’s castle to fall to ruin around them. He’d realised his mistake almost immediately when he felt the dark magic radiating off of it. However, he couldn’t bring himself to admit that was the case. Especially not around Janus, the damn snake wouldn’t let him live it down. 

Being careful to pick his moment, Roman hazarded a glance over at the reptilian rapscallion eyeing up his spoils; Janus was an enigmatic entity to Roman, showing such sophistication and poise while also being prone to stumbling over his words or his own two feet in the same breath. Unabashedly, he displayed selfishness unrivalled by even the most aristocratic nobility, but in a pinch, was fully able to toss aside even the most valuable of artifacts to save a life. 

Roman had tried not to think about it. The noble and chivalrous knight, Roman of Sandaria, being saved from the jaws of death by a conman who, by all accounts, he had fully expected to leave him to die. The elven man wasn’t sure where his resentment lay; perhaps Roman thought he should’ve been able to save himself, perhaps he felt guilty for misjudging Janus but couldn’t find it in him to admit it, or perhaps it was an underlying prejudice from his training days. Yeah, he really  didn’t want to think about it.

Instead, Roman made his way to sit up front next to the moody wagon driver, making light conversation,

“I should be the one manning the wagon, your highness.”

“Roman, I’ve told you before, you can just call me by my name.”, the dhampir met Roman with piercing silver eyes, “Now, tell me what’s wrong.”

“I don’t understand my- Virgil,”, he corrected at the last second, “Nothing’s wrong. Aside from the fact you refuse to allow me to call you by your title-”

“That’s horseshit and you know it, Roman.”, Virgil kept his eyes on the road, anxious over the possibility of a crash if he kept his gaze averted too long, “I’ve known you since we were kids, I can tell when you’re lying. Besides, being called ‘your highness’ feels wrong as it is. Coming from you? It’s even fucking weirder than this whole marrying into royalty thing...”

Roman rolled his eyes but sat closer to offer Virgil a one-armed hug. The latter gave it a moment before accepting the gesture, “Virgil, you’ll be fine. If any one of us was suited to princedom, I cannot think of a better candidate. And your future husband is unreasonably attractive, so I don’t see what you have to complain about-”

“Oh my god, shut UP!”, Virgil chuckled and shoved Roman playfully. “I mean, you’re not wrong but the last thing I need is to think too hard about Logan and crash this stupid fucking shambles of a wagon!” 

The lighthearted banter did wonders to distract Roman until Virgil managed to get things back on track unfortunately, “Now, stop deflecting and tell me what’s got you so gloomy, Sir-Sing-A-Lot.”

Roman rolled his eyes at the old nickname, “I’m fine, Virge, really. I merely wish our cascading castle adventure had been a little less…ruinous.”

“.... Was that a fucking pun-”

“Ahem.”, Janus cleared his throat from behind the two of them, “I do so loathe to interrupt.... whatever this is,”, he gestured between the two of them, “But I believe that’s our stop up ahead. Wouldn’t want to go destroying that as well.”

With that, the serpentine rogue slunk back into the wagon. Roman muttered something under his breath, inaudible to Virgil, before reluctantly joining the scaled nuisance bagging up his wares. The elven knight made sure to keep his crown tucked into his rucksack, just in case thievery was something to be wary of in Amoresse. The town’s reputation, however, gave Roman hope that their visit would prove more helpful than hindering; the rumours told of a town renowned for helping wayward, lonely souls find their soulmates. As a single, disaster gay, Roman sure hoped the rumours were true. Truly he could think of nothing sadder than turning up alone to his best friend’s wedding.

Getting booked into their rooms at the tavern was a far easier ordeal than having to endure the overly chaotic gate guard to the city. The bizarre tiefling had spent so long rambling on and on about the most grotesque topics that by the time they had successfully secured a wagon bay, the moon now shone in all her celestial beauty. Virgil had suggested resting for the night, and despite Roman’s urging that they stay together, Janus had been insistent on checking out the nightlife. The knight had been content to let him do so while he guarded the prince, but the tired dhampir insisted he too take the night to enjoy himself. Roman would have argued further had Virgil not issued the suggestion as an order after his first protest.

And that was how Roman found himself sitting at a small outdoor bar tended by a rather friendly dwarf. Said dwarf, Patton as he came to learn, was quite the chatterbox while Roman was content to take in the night air in spite of his earlier worries. 

“Say kiddo,”, the dwarf broke from his pleasant rambling, “you’re looking a little lonely there. You got something on your mind?”

Roman hadn’t expected that. He pursed his lips in thought. 

“I suppose I may as well be honest with you. I’ve been wondering if-”

“If the rumours are true?”, Patton finished, “Well, luckily for you, they are!”

He ducked down behind the counter and pulled up an ornate crystal bottle that contained a marvellous prismatic liquid inside. Roman watched with great interest as the dwarf pulled out a goblet and began to mix a sweet, fruity smelling drink before dropping in three drops of the colourful elixir.

“Anima Venenum”, Patton informed him, “Our town’s alchemist created it by accident a couple of centuries back, and ever since, we offer some to tourists who look like they need a little guidance in the ol’ world of love!”

Roman was mesmerised, “Really? You mean, I needn’t pay you for it?”

“Nope! Our only rule is to never hand it out to anyone who doesn’t ask us for it. It’s up to you if you wanna accept this, so no pressure. I just figured you looked like you might be in need of it.”

The knight had so many questions swirling around in his brain, but by the time he had settled on a single one, his hand was holding the goblet to his lips. The taste was citrusy like sweet clementines, but with a mixed berry and almost floral taste that reminded him of a rose wine. As the last of it slid down his throat, Roman noted a soft honey-like taste as he thanked Patton, 

“That tastes wonderful! I’ve never had an elixir that tasted so good.”

Patton chuckled, “Actually, the elixir itself is tasteless. People just take better to it when it's mixed with a good drink, otherwise the texture weirds ‘em out.”

“Ah, I see.”, Roman let out a gentle chuckle. He didn’t feel all that different, truth be told, and so he asked, “How will I know it’s working?”

“The effects are instantaneous, don’t you worry! It might be hard to notice at first, but when you’re near your soulmate, your heart will feel really warm- In a good way! Not like heartburn, so don’t worry about it feeling unpleasant.”, Patton assured him.

Roman nodded, making a note of it as he got up to leave before quickly asking, “Oh! How long will it last?”

Patton waved him off, assuring him, “It’ll last for as long as you need to find your soulmate, guaranteed!”

With the night reaching its peak, Roman found himself strolling along the cobbled streets back to the tavern when he felt it; a flicker of warmth in his heart. Soft as the beating of a butterfly’s wing but very much there. He followed the feeling until he came upon a narrow street, hardly lit by the lamps stationed at it’s opening. The street itself was largely empty bar a silhouette in the dark leaning against the stone bridge that arched over the shimmering water running beneath it. 

His heart raced as Roman approached the figure, the flames licking at his heart until he arrived about a foot from the entrance of the bridge. The figure turned to Roman, smirking a familiar smirk,

“Come to join me, oh loyal guardian of our beloved prince?”

Janus. His soulmate was Janus?! Roman couldn’t believe it, yet no matter how thoroughly he scanned the immediate area, not a single other soul revealed itself. The half Yuan-Ti raised a bemused eyebrow at Roman, “Please, do keep ignoring my question so you may continue to look like a fool.”

Roman scowled. Maybe the kindly dwarf was just teasing him? No, he didn’t seem the type. But this conman? His soulmate? Perhaps Roman would indulge it, see where that led him. Worth a shot anyway. 

“My apologies.”, was all Roman offered as he took a spot on the bridge next to Janus, the flames of his heart undeniably soaring to life at the close proximity. Janus gave Roman a puzzled glance which let Roman take in his features; a half scaled face and body that, the more he watched the moonlight dance along the scales, made Roman want to gently reach out and touch them. In fact, he had subconsciously been doing just that when Janus had held his wrist in place, “It’s not completely rude to just touch someone’s scales without permission. What’s gotten into that underbaked brain of yours, Roman?”

Flustered and embarrassed by his lack of tact, Roman uttered quietly, “Soulmate cocktail.”

“Pardon?”

Roman panicked, “So many cocktails. Is what I said. Like, 14 whole cocktails.” 

Great. Excellent save.

“..... You’re expecting me to believe that? Did you forget that I’m rather adept at being able to tell when someone’s lying to my face, Roman?”

End him. Just end him now. Roman wished a stray lightning bolt would smite him where he stood so he wouldn’t have to face his own stupidity. Quick, say something to help ease the situation.

“Okay. I had 16 cocktails.”, he stammered with a laugh, “I’m absolutely drunk. You got me, you clever reptile you!”

Roman of Sandaria you are a certified idiot. 

“.... Alright then. Prove it.”, Janus goaded him, locking onto Roman’s crimson eyes with his own citrine snake-like eyes. 

“Prove-?”

“Let me smell your breath.”, Janus clarified, getting closer. Each inch set Roman’s heart aflame all too literally. “If you’re as inebriated as you claim to be, your breath will absolutely stink.”

Shit.

“Uuuh, personal space-”, Roman began to move back, but Janus grasped the front of his tunic.

“Don’t give me that, Mister Personal-Space-Is-A-Societal-Construct, I’ve seen how often you get in your dear prince’s personal space...”, Roman could’ve sworn for a split second that Janus sounded resentful, or perhaps envious, before his tone took a more curious route, “... or perhaps could there be another reason you don’t want to be so close to me?”

The knight became aware of the burning within his chest threatening to rage out of control, the distance between them barely a couple of inches now. Roman wasn’t sure what to do, but the lure of Janus’ eyes and the way his ribcage radiated with a heat he’d never felt before spurred him to act; he leant forward and pressed his lips to the serpentine man before him.

It surprised Roman just how pleasant it felt, though he prepared himself for harsh retaliation from the half Yuan-Ti when he felt Janus take in a breath against his lips. However, Roman was pleasantly surprised to find that Janus, not only didn’t issue him a well-earned slap and spend the rest of the night cussing him out, but instead kissed him back even harder. Not that Roman was complaining. By the time they pulled back for air, Roman didn’t even notice the fire in his heart subsiding to be replaced with a more natural warmth as Janus’ hands softly caressed Roman’s cheeks. “I’ll be the first to admit, I totally saw the night heading that direction.”, Janus mused in surprise.

Roman let out a hearty chuckle, hardly even noticing that he’d subconsciously wrapped his arms around Janus.

“Care to tell me what brought this on, Roman of Sandaria?”

Just hearing his name spoken in such an enticing dulcet made his knees feel weak; how had Roman never noticed how beautiful Janus’ voice was? His mind was too busy latching onto every octave, every syllable, that he nearly forgot to answer him. He took Janus’ scaled hand and pressed his lips to it in a gentle gesture his soulmate clearly wasn’t used to if the flustered way he averted his eyes was anything to go by,

“I suppose you could say I did a little soul searching.”

----

Have some straight up Roceit fluff, this came out so cute.

@tsshipmonth2020

Taglist: @somehow-i-got-an-account @cateye-glasses @lavender-mochi [I know you love your Roceit so I figured I’d tag you incase you needed this] @fandomsofrandom [I nearly missed the reblog where you asked to be added I’m so sorry]

[time-to-write-and-suffer]

I wouldn't mind that post on VNs!

So I was gonna write three different lists, but then after writing the first part I realized this is very long and takes a while to write and nobody cares anyway so I’ll just post my recommended list only. Well, I mean, you asked, but I doubt you wanted all this lol. Thank you for giving me an excuse to talk about this stuff, though. Hope you enjoy my ramblings!

An explanation for what this list is: Sometimes I know a game isn't perfect in many aspects but I still had a genuinely good time playing it, hence why I'm recommending it. Also I should mention that I could talk for hours about some of these games so if anyone’s curious about more of my thoughts, let me know.

Alright, now that that's out of the way ...

How to Take Off Your Mask / How to Fool a Liar King / How to Sing to Open Your Heart (f/m): This is a trilogy of smaller, single-RO games where you can take one of two routes depending on how you act, and they’re all interconnected where you get to meet and interact with the previous games’ characters in the sequel games. I went into this expecting very little but what I got blew me away with how funny, charming and cute the games were. They don’t take themselves too seriously, at one point an angsty male character monologues deeply about some shit, and another one just slides into frame and starts mocking him. It was so fucking funny, holy shit. Also, a central theme is literally racism against catgirls? Which is monumentally stupid, and probably the games’ main flaw, especially in the final game where it pairs up a catgirl with a catgirl racist, but that one still ends with a literal bisexual queen literally making a man her malewife because she fell in love with his cooking, so like ... It speaks for itself. My favorite game of the three is the second one, where you get to play a punchy fake catgirl and romance a pink-haired prince. And honestly, all the female protags in these games are lovely and a breath of fresh air, and the male characters are fun and not abusive assholes either. There’s full Japanese voice acting, and two out of three female protags are literal catgirls who pepper in “nya” and “mya” into their dialogue, and it’s just treated as a quirk of their catgirl race. I AM NOT KIDDING. Yet somehow it never comes off as cringe, because it doesn’t take it self too seriously. These games are just cozy. That’s the only way I can describe them. Cozy and hilarious. Play them yesterday. Dream Daddy (m/m): Man tumblr did this game dirty. This is just a cute, wholesome daddy dating simulator with gorgeous art. Coming out on Top (m/m): So you know Dream Daddy? What if it was EXTREMELY, MAJORLY NSFW? Though I realize how bad the comparison really is, the only thing these games have in common is that they’re gay dating sims and don’t have an anime art style and oh, yeah, they’re both really well-written. Or at least, extremely funny. COOT (heh) is DDADDS’ horny older cousin, and I first encountered the game on a lesbian letsplayer’s YouTube channel. Yes I watched a lesbian play a gay porn game and it was GOOD. I was there for the cringe and fun and got surprised by how genuinely funny and sometimes actually touching the game was. I can’t give it my universal endorsement because it’s not a game for everyone, as I said, it’s extremely NSFW and the menu theme literally includes the singers screaming “SEX SEX” at the top of their lungs. There’s more to this game than the porn, but there’s just so much porn. It can be censored in the settings but it’s unavoidable. However, I still think it’s worth a look just because of how funny it is and how charming the characters are. If you don’t want to play it yourself, at least watch Anima’s playthrough of it. It hasn’t aged super well in some spots but I still go back to it every now and then. Akash: Path of the Five (f/m): This game markets itself as a more “professionally produced” western dating sim, and that’s accurate in some superficial aspects. The game is pretty poorly written, but it’s absolutely gorgeous and has really good English voice acting by actual professional voice actors. The premise is quite self-indulgent, but I genuinely respect that about it. You play as the only female elemental in a village with only men, and all five of your classmates want a piece of you. It’s clear the writers have put some thought into the lore and worldbuilding of this world, but barely any of it comes through in the actual writing and plot, which is basically just a vehicle for you to get together with your boy of choice. The ROs aren’t very well-developed either, and the plot is the same in every route with only minor variations depending on which guy you pick, up to the point where the protag has the same voice lines in some parts regardless of which guy she’s talking about. It also has one extra half-route that’s so bad and pointless I genuinely wonder why they wasted resources on making it instead of spending a bit more on the writing/adding some variations to the main plot. So why am I recommending this game? Well, it’s pretty, and it sounds nice. This game is a himbo, gorgeous but dumb as rocks. Enjoy it for what it is. I know I did. Get it when it’s on sale, I think if I hadn’t gotten it at half-price I would’ve felt a bit more cranky about it. Also Rocco is bae. Mystic Destinies: Serendipity of Aeons (f/m): Yes that’s the full title, no I don’t know what it means either. You may have noticed how most of the games so far I’ve enjoyed because they don’t take themselves too seriously? Well, this one does. It takes itself SO FUCKING SERIOUSLY. Like, way too seriously. It’s a little embarrassing at points because baby, you’re an urban fantasy dating sim. Calm down. But the game has gorgeous art and 3 out of 5 routes are very good. The last route, the one with your teacher, is both the most problematic yet somehow the one that breaks down the very concept of a dating sim within its own narrative (yes, this shit gets fucking META) and it got so wild at the end that 1) I still listen to the soundtrack for that route and 2) I still remember it to this day despite finishing it ages ago. My favorite route is Shou, he’s a sweetheart, but the mindfuck route is so buckwild that I think the game is worth playing just for that. There’s also a route that’s like a neo-noir mystery? I Do Not Know. This game is many, many things and it does them so sincerely and tries so hard, you can’t help but respect it. It doesn’t always stick the landing but man, just let this thing take your hand and wax poetic at you for a bit. Also get this one at a sale because it’s very expensive to get the full version. I got it for 9 bucks on itch.io and I felt that was a fair enough price, I’d say I wouldn’t have minded paying more for it because there’s a lot of content to enjoy and/or be baffled by. Arcade Spirits: This one’s a bit more weird from what I recall, and I honestly couldn’t tell you much about it, but I remember having a very good time with it and recommending it to a friend when she was going through some tough times and she said it made her feel better. I remember it making me feel better, as well. This is a VN about an arcade and the ROs are wonderfully diverse, with very real human conflicts that get explored in each of their routes. It can get quite existential and heavy at times, but in the end it’s a kindhearted game that I think everyone can enjoy. The main character was also, how you say, mood. It’s a game about getting possessed by a video game and then learning self-love. Ebon Light (f/m): This one’s free/name your own price on itch.io so go play it. It’s a weird plot where you play as a girl who ate an elven relic? And then the elves kidnap you because you’re the relic now. All the ROs are extremely pasty (like, literally white, as in literally the color white) dark-haired elves, except for one, who’s an extremely pasty blond elf, so ... diversity? I honestly don’t know what this game is aside from unique. I used to be a bit put off by the art style but now I think it contributes to the general atmosphere. It’s a weird game that technically doesn’t do anything groundbreaking but still left an impression of “huh. weird” in my mind and I think more people should play it. The ROs are all pretty generic dating sim archetypes but done well, with bonus points to Duliae who’s just a massive creep and I love him, and also Vadeyn who’s the only bitch in this house I respect. The worldbuilding is honestly a bit buckwild and I can’t give enough credit for how unique the elves’ culture is in this game. Definitely give it a go. Hakuoki: Kyoto Winds / Hakuoki: Edo Blossoms (f/m): These two are newer releases of an older Japanese visual novel. I wouldn’t call it a dating sim, it’s ... it’s more of a super depressing historical fantasy epic with some minor romance aspects awkwardly wedged in. It’s seriously some of the heaviest and most grimdark shit I’ve ever played in a VN/otome. I don’t understand why it’s a dating sim, it doesn’t read like one, it’s just historical fantasy based on real world events with characters based on real people, and they kill and they die and they grieve and they suffer. The games are literally about the downfall of the Shinsengumi, there’s no way of avoiding everything going to shit and you get to watch and be in the middle of it all as they struggle to stay alive and relevant in a world that doesn’t need them anymore. And there’s the protag in the middle of it all, being useless and submissive and bland just the way the usual otome protag is. I don’t think these games are necessarily fun, and the romance is certainly a lot more downplayed and deeply problematic just based on the age differences alone with some of the men, but the sheer amount of horror and sadness in these games make them stand out above its peers. It’s like watching a war movie. Since most of the characters are based on real people, they feel like real people instead of the usual otome archetypes, and they are so, SO flawed, it’s interesting to just watch them deal with the shit the world throws at them. It’s an Experience, and if you’re up for it, I think it’s worth the time. Cinderella Phenomenon (f/m): This game is free on Steam so go get it. You play as a really, genuinely shitty princess who gets cursed to be poor and forgotten and she has to help one of the ROs break his fairy tale curse so that she can learn about being a good person herself and return to her normal life. This game doesn’t look like much, but it has a genuinely well-written main character who’s actually at the center of each of the stories and in the overarching plot instead of just being around to make eyes at the real protagonists, aka the love interests. Aside from the main character, my favorite part of this game’s writing is how each route slowly but very smoothly expands upon the overarching intrigue. If you play them in a certain order, you get more and more info revealed to you that you didn’t see in other routes, gaps are filled in as you find out more about what actually happened and why, but every route also stands on its own as a full experience and none is more canon than the rest. There’s also some really heavy emotional parental abuse explored, which I found quite potent at times. The romances themselves were alright, I think Karma and Waltz were my faves.