#corvo writes content

[inviridicorvo]

: *✧･ﾟ:* ━─ׁ──ִ──ׁ─*🪶*─ׅ──ׁ──ׅ─━ *:･ﾟ✧*:

«There is more in you of good than you know, child of the kindly West. Some courage and some wisdom, blended in measure. If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.»

: *✧･ﾟ:* ━─ׁ──ִ──ׁ─*🪶*─ׅ──ׁ──ׅ─━ *:･ﾟ✧*:

introductions & welcomes

// inviridicorvo \\

this blog is primarily a fandom space. that means musings about my favourite characters & verses (uni, multi & anything in between), multimedia fan works (fiction, art, gif sets, edits, and anything beyond). currently, i am fixating on the hobbit and bagginshield in particular. as of writing this, there is not much else to mention, however as i discover & create & evolve, i will add to this post. (more info about me, my fandoms & links to other things below the cut)

i‘d love to make some friends, so don‘t be shy and send me a message! ♡

— i used to have an active tumblr back in the mid-2010s, however it‘s lain dormant for too long; i am no longer the same person i was back then, so i granted myself a fresh start. —

// person behind the letters \\

names: lilly/anna/vi/viktor/corvo

- use whichever you feel most comfortable with -

pronouns: they/them

gender: non-binary

age: 28

languages: german/english

: *✧･ﾟ:* ━─ׁ──ִ──ׁ─*🪶*─ׅ──ׁ──ׅ─━ *:･ﾟ✧*:

portals & alter egos

// this section is currently a work in progress. i will be adding links to my related socials & profiles (like ao3, tiktok, youtube, discord, etc), as well as other blogs & projects (bookish content, professional writing, gaming, etc).

: *✧･ﾟ:* ━─ׁ──ִ──ׁ─*🪶*─ׅ──ׁ──ׅ─━ *:･ﾟ✧*:

fandoms & fixations

// current fixations \\

- the hobbit (bagginshield)

// fandoms & verses \\

- tolkien universe (the hobbit, lord of the rings)

: *✧･ﾟ:* ━─ׁ──ִ──ׁ─*🪶*─ׅ──ׁ──ׅ─━ *:･ﾟ✧*:

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #18: A Raven's Shield

Prompt: fish out of water || Master Post || On AO3

A/N: Spoilers through Patch 6.4: The Dark Throne. Probably could be considered a sequel to "An Apple a Day (Does Not Keep the Paladin Away)" from earlier this FFXIV Write.

--

The chaos of the Final Days had ushered in a wave of adventurers to Radz-at-Han, the Satrap authorizing the hiring of the Guild’s finest to supplement the Radiant Host, and as such Zero attracted little attention despite her black armor and heavy scythe. Even her bafflement over mortal norms could be easily explained away as a foreigner interacting with Thavnair’s culture for the first time. It was the best possible way to avoid any awkward questions, especially since her association with the Warriors of Light would inevitably draw more attention to her.

Though, Dancing Heron thought, it helped when one of those Warriors of Light wasn’t immediately recognized.

Heron was nearly always recognized because of her ubiquitous red and black armor, a set she had taken to wearing in the days after the first Garlean offensive at the Ghimlyt Dark. Combined with her sword and shield and her natural height, there was little question about who she was with how quickly stories were spread about the Warrior of Light. She had taken to dressing down whenever it was feasible to avoid much notice; eyes slid more easily off a roegadyn woman when she was in simple blouses and trousers rather than armor.

A dressed-down roegadyn and a heavily-armored adventurer walking together was a bit of an unusual sight, but not enough to garner more than a second glance.

Today, Heron and Zero wandered one of the bazaars in the northern part of the city, the road wide enough to accommodate a pair of gaja walking side by side even with stalls lining each side of the street. Most of the merchants here were hawking food and produce and cookware: spiced and grilled hamsa served on skewers, barrels of starfuit and langsat and persimmons, beautifully shaped ceramics and shining bronze pots. Locals and adventurers alike were out shopping, and Heron and Zero effectively vanished into the crowd.

Zero had even deigned to leave her scythe behind, which Heron had quietly cheered about in the privacy of her mind, though she had graced Zero with a blinding smile when she’d seen the other woman exit her rooms in Meghaduta without it. Zero had merely blinked and ducked behind the safety of her hat’s brim. Heron knew better than to push.

As happened most often, they walked in comfortable silence. On some of their excursions, Zero would ask questions, but today it seemed she was content to merely observe the people and things around her, sharp eyes missing nothing even as she nibbled with obvious relish on spice-laden meats or fresh mango. It was clear the half-voidsent enjoyed anything strongly flavored, from the lava-like heat of Mehryde’s special curry to intensely sour buttermilk from Corvos to the cloyingly-sweet payasam that she and Synnove would genteelly fight over, and Heron sneakily spent her gil at random stalls to treat Zero to some new taste.

She quite enjoyed how it lit up Zero’s eyes.

Horns suddenly caught their attention, and both stopped to swivel their heads to face east; more than one other adventurer in the crowd did the same. Faintly, Heron could pick out drums, too, and the jangling of bells.

“Oh, hells, that’s today, isn’t it,” the shopkeep at the pottery stall they had halted next to, sighing heavily, but a rueful expression on his face.

Heron put two and two together. “Wedding procession?” she said.

“Aye,” the shopkeep said. “Children of two of the wealthiest merchant families in the city, and all the pomp and gold that entails.”

And that was when the first of the drummers and dancers rounded the corner far down the street.

There was a sudden surge as the crowd realized they needed get out of the way, the adventurers bewildered and the locals either smiling or shaking their heads in frustration. As the press of people grew around them, Heron sighed herself, and let instinct kick in.

“Excuse me,” she said, and wrapped an arm around Zero’s waist.

“What—” Zero didn’t have time to finish her question before she yelped as Heron yanked her off her feet and moved.

Heron was the daughter of two former Sultansworn, the granddaughter and niece of many a bodyguard, and escort missions were her forte in the Adventurers’ Guild: she knew how to get a client out of danger in damned near any situation. And while this crowd was quite different from a panicking mob, some techniques stayed the same.

Zero was by no means a small or slight woman; there was muscle in that lithe frame of hers, well-suited to swinging that monstrous scythe of hers like it was a bamboo practice staff. But Heron was over seven fulms tall and when she planted her feet, not even Tyr could get her to budge. It took no effort at all to heft up Zero, turn to the side, and go shoulder first to push through the heavy throng. Zero, thankfully, seemed to realize Heron knew what she was doing, and let herself be half-carried along with a frustrated breath that huffed over Heron’s collarbone.

There was no point in trying to get off this street entirely: the stores and houses had been built right atop one another, with no room for alleys between, and the next cross street was too far ahead. So, just need to find a free spot out of the crush…there!

A tall stack of crates was set between two stalls, and Heron unceremoniously elbowed her way through. It took but a moment to lift Zero up to sit her on one of the crates just above eye level of most of the crowd. Zero huffed again, ducking behind her hat brim, but she moved sideways and Heron easily pulled herself up to sit next to her.

“Such ridiculous spectacle,” Zero grumbled as she crossed her arms, her cheeks faintly pink.

“Wait until you see what the Ul’dahns can come up with,” Heron drawled. “The Hannish love their reds and golds, but at least wedding colors here aren’t tacky.”

As the dancers and drummers and horn-blowers neared, a white gaja turned the corner far down the street, bedecked in red and gold barding and carrying a palanquin on its back. Even from here, the tiny forms of the bride and groom waving and tossing coins and sweets out to the crowd could be seen. A cheer was going up, and. Yup. There was the gulal, in all the colors of the rainbow.

“Why red?” Zero finally said.

Heron hummed thoughtfully and said, “I know it symbolizes health, in Thavnair.” She started tapping her feet against the wooden crate. “I think it also symbolizes love and purity?” She shook her head. “I don’t know enough to say for certain. Perhaps Varshahn can tell us more, once we get back.”

Zero tilted her head to look directly at her, unblinking. “Red for health,” she said finally. “Is that why you partially color your hair red?”

Heron laughed softly. “Nah,” she said. “Nothing so grandiose. It’s just my favorite color, and I thought I looked good highlighting my natural black.” She reached up to gently tug one of her feathery locks, idly making a note to visit an aesthetician for a trim. “Just never got out of the habit.”

“You do,” Zero said, almost blurting it out. The pink flush was back on her cheeks and Heron couldn’t help but notice just how it softened her features. “Look good with the red, that is.”

Heron felt a flush creep up her own cheeks. “Thank you,” she said, her voice only a tiny bit high-pitched.

After a moment, another set of tapping heels joined Heron. Heron grinned and bumped her shoulder against Zero’s. She grinned wider when she caught a glimpse of a tiny small tugging on the other woman’s lips.

PREVIOUS || NEXT

[foxhopfics]

Hey! I'm Jamie/Spiral/Fox and i write things sometimes!

You can find me @/spiralsystem on Ao3!

This blog will mainly work with requests, as my main fics that I'm working on will be posted directly to archive.

For x reader requests I will likely use the pronoun "you" over "they" (I just think it's fun)

HOW TO SEND A REQUEST: please send the pairing you want, any tropes or whatever (not obligatory), and pick from one of 3:

- Headcanons: a quick page of headcanon points

- Drabble: quick blurb between 200-500 words

- Short fic: 1000-3000 words

Please don't be shy with requests!

Request types I will take:

X GN!Reader

X Male!reader

X Trans!reader

Character x character

Main fandoms I'll currently write for:

Baldur's Gate 3

911/911 Lone Star

Dishonored

Ace Attorney

Vocaloid/Project Sekai Colourful Stage

Critical role seasons 1 & 2

Dc

Jujutsu Kaisen

Genshin Impact

All For The Game

& Many more!

More about my writing under the cut so this doesn't get super long :)

Views on shit for writing: I reaaallly don't subscribe to the whole concept of proship/antiship. I take requests on what I'm comfortable writing.

I DO accept nsfw requests, but only within appropriate age ranges. I am comfortable writing age gaps but please dm me and i'll write something on a different site, same with any other typically "taboo" requests. I will not release a "will not/will write" list because that's just inviting problems.

If you'd like nsfw x a minor!character, please specify in the ask if you are also a minor. If there is no age, I will deny the request. I won't write underage smut for adults. I also probably won't push it past an M rating.

Minors I write for:

ProSeka: Honestly realistically most of these characters are minors, but like we don't all know teenagers aren't celibate. Vocaloids don't canonically have ages but since they're all kinda minor-coded, I'll just stick to M max for proseka.

Genshin - Qiqi and Klee, Sayu, and Yaoyao. Diona is NOT a minor, she runs a bar 🙄. Bennett/razor/fischl/anybody who uses the "teen model" I consider 18 at least.

Ace attorney - pearl, trucy. If you want ema I'll write her as her older self unless specified, sorry.

9-1-1: I'll write any of the kids as a side accessory to their parents, unless you want a Gen piece about the kids. I love writing Chris & Denny :)

Dc: Ages are played with a lot in DC, so any characters that are generally accepted as minors/adults will be treated as such. I.e: Damian Wayne, Jon kent will be treated as kids unless you specify a universe where they're older (like when Older!Jon came to that one Earth)

BALDUR'S GATE 3:

The ONLY characters I won't write for this are LAE'ZEL and MINTHARA:

Minthara: killed her and saved the tieflings. No real interest in having her as a companion so I haven't seen any content with her.

Lae'zel: get back to me when she doesn't excuse slaughtering and colonizing entire towns lol. I'm native and the gith creche slaughtering the entire temple of lathander (as. As a cleric of lathander also) and she was like 🤷‍♂️ we live here now. I was not cool with that. I also really don't know how to write a romance for someone who is constantly combative towards the player.

BSD: I can only write for the ADA characters + aktugawa because. I have only seen season 1 :,) sorry

Muses & character's I'm great at writing for:

Bg3: Tav, Wyll

911: Eddie, TK

Dishonored: Corvo, Outsider (and Garett from Thief 2014)

Ace Attorney: Edgeworth, Klavier, Apollo, Clay, Simon, Diego

Vocaloid/Proseka: Len, VFlower, GUMI, Shiho, Toya, Mafuyu, Mizuki

Critrole: Percy, Vax, Caleb, Jester

DC: batfam, superfam, flashs & rogues gallery, teen titans, young justice

JJK: Gojo, Nanami, Itadori, Inumaki, Fushiguro

Genshin: Diluc, Zhongli, Alhaitham & Kaveh (and 4ggravate), Traveler twins, Pantalone, Wriothesley

AFTG: Neil, Aaron, Jean

[presiding]

I love "the monster in the hull" fic so much and I'm excited for updates!!

Every Emily and Billie interaction are golden and your writing is really pleasant to read; it makes me soo happy!

More focus on Billie in fan content is always great <3

I really adore how you write her, it feels so thought out in the best way

Also not sure how to say it right but i like that you address the way Emily lived before the coup *especially* through Billie's eyes...DH2 really lacked it, sadly (i won't comment on how Arkane handled monarchy & consequences but i hope that what I've said makes at least some sense)

Aaaa <3 thank you so much! It's really lovely getting comments about my work & I never quite know what to say or how to properly express my gratitude, but it means a lot!

Re: "the way Emily lived before the coup" I agree - that makes perfect sense and it's SO fascinating to me, and it was something I really wanted to tackle! I hope you don't mind me having a ramble about this on your ask?

Emily's privileges & her maturity arc are something I've been thinking about a lot with regards to the fic but also broadly :D

Emily's privileges

*grits teeth* Monarchy/politics aside, *unclenches jaw*

I think the game made an interesting choice (/genuine) by drawing attention to Emily's privilege & her struggle with the pressures of leadership. Both Sokolov & Meagan comment on it, and Emily herself makes comments (paraphrase: "I can feel my perspective shifting") but it's a shame there was no follow through. You can FEEL the critique of the Empire in the bones of the story but... it's swept under the rug.

Maturity arc?

The clueless comments from Emily feels like they could be part of a maturity arc, rather than a critique of power/privilege. BUT. A maturity arc is... a choice... for Emily, specifically for a female videogame protagonist.

She's been reigning 14 years by the events of Dishonored 2! Even if a lot of that time she was too young to be taking the reigns, still, she's not new to it, and you would think that Corvo was keeping her grounded. There was no comparable arc for Corvo - his failures in his own game was being framed by forces far larger than he, and trusting when he should not. As another comparison, Daud was slipping, yes, but he was slipping in a noir film antihero way - ie. becoming better as a person - and that was well explored.

By adding the 'Emily is a bad Empress' hints but then never going into detail, and you end up with a woman whose character is scrutinised from an unfair angle by the audience (contrast with Corvo). It feels like the weight of having any privileges, within the context of the Dishonored series, is borne entirely by Emily Kaldwin. But as you rightly say, it's not handled well, so the audience just associates the concept of privilege with her (derogatory).

It brings to mind the Boyle sisters - compared to other marks in the game, in Dishonored 1, their only crime was being manipulated by the Regent, but they were dealt arguably the worst punishment the series really offers. Harsh, right? It's not like other characters don't also have wealth & political power & could be abused. Maybe Emily's ongoing clueless comments is an attempt from the writers to be self-aware (knowing that disempowerment is a running theme but Emily is well-off), but that self-awareness only shoots Emily in the foot.

It's a running theme I have in monster in the hull - I want to kind of explore that like, yeah, Emily never really chose this life for herself, same as the Outsider. That doesn't *negate* her privileges, but informs them. It would be like viewing the Outsider primarily as a victim (as DotO kinda suggests), when realistically he's still the master of his own fate (and everyone elses, same as Emily).

What Dishonored 2 did well

There is an aspect in which the game did follow through, but it's easy to overlook: the importance of recurring characters like Lucia Pastor. Dishonored 2's ending spends a decent amount of time highlighting the new Serkonan advisors ("the city's wisest citizens survived" as the Outsider narrates) and blames them for bringing about peace & prosperity.

A generous read would be that the game acknowledges that Emily the Just & Clever learns that her perspective & intelligence alone was not nearly enough to bring about the change her Empire needs to thrive. This insight gained from her time in Karnaca was what shaped her, and giving more power & more voice to the wise people she rules over, was what ultimately earned her the titles Just & Clever. But... that wasn't really surfaced, hey.

Glad you mentioned because Emily's indifference as a leader is a detail that I love, particularly in the context of her own material/political privileges... even though I know it's why people don't like her. In saying that, the overall picture frustrates me!

Let me know your thoughts this is an interesting topic, love this game :)

[oathofpromises]

So been working behind these scenes on these two for a hot minute. The first up is I'nezy T'zes and the Viera is Tallils Eryut. I will be posting bios on my carrd for these two soon, but I hope you guys will eventually be interested in interacting with them both. To give a little insight in the concept behind them is I'nezy was born and raised in Corvos. I did talk with @diademreigned a bit about this, but the plan is he is their G'raha first crush.

There was a thread we did on a server we have where G'raha does mention he had feelings for a friend that he was super close to. He didn't know what happened to the other since at the time I'nezy was super ill and then the Garlean Empire conquered Corvos. I'nezy was sent away to Sharlayan, where he did have a few family members with connections residing. This was the only reason he was allowed to attain citzenship there, let alone live there. It was here he focused on his studies, hoping to one day see G'raha again. The two were focused on different fields of research so didn't run into one another while there. It wasn't until much later that they would meet again. I do head canon I'nezy as gay and liking to wear clothes that are more feminine. There is a lot more to his backstory, but that is a concept, so you all can get a feel of who he is as a character.

Tallils Eryut was born and raised in Ul'dah, where he trained to become a Gunbreaker. The Viera has no memory of his parents, at a young age he was forced to live on the streets until one day running into the Sultana. It was only this point he decided to pursue a job as a protector. Someone who could be a shield for others. I do see him as also being Gay, I have the idea that he was forced to keep such feelings a secret for a bit, so when it comes to opening up to his preferences he tends to be a little shy. However, once he does deeply care for another person, he will devote himself to them forever. In his spare time, he does love to spend time mining, but hasn't had time for it as much as he wishes.

So yeah, these two are characters I have had written down for a bit but haven't had the time to really show them off or sit down and create them. I am going to try and take some more photos of them soon, but didn't have energy really take many gposes tonight. I’ve honestly been shy share them with people simply because I am a lot stronger writing female muses…but I do hope you guys will like content with them too.

[endangered-liaison]

MIRKESWEEP

Roleplaying has a habit of getting you to look up the more obscure parts of a world's lore. In a lot of fandoms there are whole wikis or communities, but in FFXIV you just hear one name when you have a lore question. "Sounsyy wrote about that!"

Sounsyy is a megastar and the work they do is invaluable and SO appreciated. Need to know about Aether? Sounsyy's got a masterpost. Need to know about a region that's a region that's mentioned four times? Sounsyy's got them all listed AND gives context for the surrounding areas.

That’s what I said on my twitter thread about it, but here I want to offer some further thoughts. Some anecdotes.

I play a nerdy arcanist born in a tiny Shroud village, and an ex-imperial whose family hails from near Thavnair - Corvos, specifically. Before 6.0, there was about three pieces of information total about Corvos. And Sounsyy had gathered them all, and provided enough of a picture of the place that I could work that into my character’s lore.

And when it comes to my arcanist, Wyda? Aether, magic, Shroud place names (and specifically Shroud place names referenced in OLD material, like 2.0 Leves or 1.x content). The differences between types of magic. That’s a LOT of information that is needed for actively roleplaying, or writing the backstory, of Hyrtwyda Eyhafrynwyn. A lot of information, found across dozens and dozens of questlines. There’s no ONE source that talks about aether in FFXIV - different details are revealed about it in different questlines. The only source that brings it all together is Sounsyy. And that’s incredible. It’s invaluable, and without them the community of this game would be a very different place.

Archival work isn’t usually thought of as transformative, but Sounsyy’s work truly has transformed the shape of FFXIV.

In case you’re reading this, in amongst what I hope is a huge outpouring of love from other people too: thank you, Sounsyy.

[kingcorvo]

It just so happens that the day I talk about my stiles obessesion... This is the other one I get to post. I love jock stiles. And this story was so hot to write. Got a bit of everything in the story. If you want to read it and everything else dirty I've done with them it is up on my Patreon exclusive blog now.

[thewritersaddictions]

Hello. I really like your fanfiction, they are very cozy and family, they feel warm. Thank you very much for this wonderful content on my favorite rare ship 💐 Do you mind if I request another one? Ciri invites Vernon to spend a weekend in Corvo Bianco for the first time at the house of her parents Geralt and Yennefer (Geralt is an old friend of Roche and the witcher was initially not thrilled that Vernon was dating his young daughter Ciri. Nevertheless, Geralt appreciates their sincere love and defends Roche in front of strict Yennefer, who strongly disapproves of her daughter's boyfriend. But Ciri really hopes that someday they will all get along.) Just some little moments with Ciri, Vernon, Geralt and Yennefer.

Soft gestures for Lovers: 10.family dinners where your lover just keeps coming to your side "how you doin love?" "oooh cooking sum delicious i see" "mom, look at the love of MY LIFEEE" 14.when they're tired and want to just cling onto you : [ 16.making flower rings for your lover >> 18.when they're drunk and they keep mumbling i love yous and how much they want to kiss you so bad (Roche и Geralt drunk. And drunk Vernon starts telling Geralt how much he loves Geralt's daughter Ciri. Х)) 20."lay on my lap, please, i wanna play with your hair"

Here you go lovely! This was really nice to write! Hope you enjoy, and request are always open!

[chesthighwater]

by thé way. wips roundup that absolutely no one asked for

first of all in the daudmartin brainrot corner we've got

sequel to bctbk, as promised. i have a major "plot" point planned, and then it might go one of two directions... we shall see :3c

the high overseer martin/assassin daud fic that i've posted a few excerpts from. essentially daud manifests himself into the abbey suggestively asking for ~spiritual guidance~ (lol) and things escalate from there. this has to get finished at some point because its like one of the first things i started writing for them. it deserve to see the light of day

a mildly humorous high overseer martin/spymaster daud fic. kind of a challenge for myself also- i find spymaster daud hard to imagine, and am not that used to writing daudmartin where they're not constantly trying to one-up/double cross each other/at each other's throats flirtatiously. presumably will not be nsfw (or at least, i'm not planning on it, but i make no promises. can't know where the ol inspiration will take me).

oh heres another high overseer martin thing! who wouldve thought! this time with Responsibility and Abbey Politics and Decisions. and working through issues. so many fucking issues. this one is actually actively in the works so ill leave it at that for now ;>

daudmartin pwp with genuinely 0 plot. like, negative plot. this thing defies plot. i can barely even tell you if it's an au or what, i might sprinkle a few nonsexual sentences in if i'm feeling generous but that's it. other than that it's literally just about martin being very quiet during sex and daud trying every trick he has in his book (which admittedly isn't many) to change that instead of like, communicating

augh speaking of plot-defying pwps. "what if overseers had (some appropriate equivalent to) confessions". there is some lore in here obviously but the entire point of it is confessional dirty talk. i dont KNOW

[REDACTED] pwp which im not even gonna advertise itll just appear one day and if you find it you found it

mostly unplanned ideas that i might flesh out: sokolov portrait thing. some dunwall noir stuff purely for martin in a cassock reasons (and sexualising religious guilt reasons. if i knew anything at all about priests i'd be working on this much faster). something involving the outsider appearing to martin (this might just get absorbed in a more well fleshed out idea at some point). martin Suffering More, because i want him in a situation where his wit fails completely (more desperation! more excuses! i am weak for this i really am.). something involving some more Action- fighting together against an acute threat? i think there should be more fighty martin out there. i am the change i want to see in the world

(not including the various snippets for the eternal serkonan vacation au which i already laid out there)

in the thief crossover brainrot corner (i bet you forgot i allude to thief crossovers in my description!)

also a sokolov portrait thing, but i have it way more planned out. corvo really, really wants garrett to sit in for a portrait (especially now when he's officially the empire's shadiest most mysterious spymaster ever). he reluctantly agrees, but Under One Condition.

a sort of relationship chronicle via heart lines. definitely starts with corvo's diplomatic mission and possibly ends with some happy dh2 era content. obviously i have the heart lines planned out.

possibly something involving more political intrigue/royal drama type stuff? i'm lucky enough to have access to someone who can give me some really good examples/plots if i fail to come up with anything myself.

(this is just a thief thing but i have had a viktoria/lt. mosley thing running around my brain for AGES. i want to explore how their relationship develops so bad. i know they have literally one interaction in canon but they are my blorbinas and i have mentally expanded their backstories so hard the story is basically begging to be written at this point)

anyway if you read this unreasonably unnecessarily long post i love you. i am sending you a kiss. wanna get married

[griff-us]

Title: Free Fall

Pairing: Corvo Attano/Reader

Summary: You see him for him. He sees you as someone else. That doesn't stop you from falling for him.

General Warnings: Allusions to prostitution. Violence. Sex. Angst, so much of it.

Word Count: 2473

Notes: I've been craving some Corvo content and finally decided to make it myself. This is written with a black reader in mind, but I kept the reader very vague. I'll be taking liberties since I haven't played the games in ages and the lore is just massive. But I expect to have more lore accurate pieces as I. write more. This will probably be a two-parter! Excuse any mistakes, I didn't do too much editing. Likes and reblogs are appreciated, minors don't interact!

Called to the Devil and the Devil said quit Can't be bothered better handle your shit Keep about your wits man, keep about your wits Know yourself and who you came in with Can I sit down I've been hustling all day I can't even count how many souls I've made Off the same deal you on Remember, the Devil ain't a friend to no one But fine, true

**

He’s always been there; a distant figure shrouded in shadows. You thought it a coincidence or happenstance when you’d catch sight of him from the corner of your eyes; frame pressed against aging brick or perched on top of crumbling roof tiles. You never thought him odd, the Distillery District has always been overrun with criminals and strange people, that is until flyers began to circulate with his masked face—and a reward. It’s a wonder why a murderer would take a liking to you. Perhaps you were a target? That would surely complicate things, wouldn’t it?  Then again, men tended to flock to your little dilapidated apartment, all of them searching for the same thing. 

He shows one night; three quick wraps of his knuckles against the cracked glass of your window. You huff a sigh, hands scrambling for the candle at your bedside before shuffling towards the source of the noise. Freehand tugs back the curtain and there he is. Hands holding tight to the ledge. You stare blankly for a long moment, stunned at his upper body strength and—well intrigued beyond belief. 

“You know…” your tongue darts out to wet parted lips. “Most men use the stairs, hm?” he doesn’t say anything, and you try again. “It’s two coin an hour. Ten for the night. Weapons are to be left downstairs, and I won’t be feeding you.” he remains silent all the while weight shifts lightly, and a single hand rises to fish within his robes. The strange man drops a leather sack in the palm of your hand; far too heavy to be the requested amount. 

“I need not your services. Only somewhere to sleep and tend to my wound.” ah, so he can speak? You regard the man with slanted lips, and you think to turn him away. After all, he is a wanted killer; not to mention Slackjaw might get his trousers in a twist if he found out. But the weight in your hand is too good to pass up; you could have your clothes mended, and perhaps acquire a few extra meals for that poor boy on Clavering Boulevard. 

“Why come to me?” a reasonable question among many; after all, he has been following you the past few weeks, and now this?

“I helped the boy on Clavering the other day. He mentioned you; said you were a woman to trust.” Damn children, you would have to have a chat with him. A sigh heaves past your lips, and you move aside to let him in. 

“Shoes off please, there’s a plague about after all. I may be penniless but I rather not live like it.” the strange man does as you ask, frame hobbling slightly while he kicks heavy boots off. You watch while he lays them by the window. As he begins to disarm himself you find yourself in awe at the sheer number of weapons on his person. 

“You really do kill people then?” a scoff sounds from the other side of the room as you finally turn to quickly count the coin he had given you. It’s enough to last you months. “I’ll be back.” you don’t wait for an answer; feet pad against splintering wooden floors as you hurry down the stairs and to the kitchen. You wrap the coin purse in a rag and stuff it under the sink, just behind a false wall with other precious items. You’d find a better home for it later after he leaves. 

Teeth chew your full bottom lip, and you wonder if he’s eaten yet. Despite your warning earlier you can’t help but feel—grateful. With a grumble, you quickly put together a plate. Cheese, bread, fruit, and cured meat you had been saving for a rainy day. 

‘I imagine you’ll need nourishment to help your wounds—” you return to him upstairs, hip nudging open the door to your room. The man keeps a silent focus; his robe and shirt neatly folded on top of a shaky chair in the corner of the room. You watch quietly as he finished stitching closed a rather nasty gash on his side with help from the moonlight. 

“Here…” you set the plate by him and quickly snag a bottle of alcohol from under your pillow. “I haven’t a clean rag this may burn.” you make quick work of the cork with your teeth, freehand gently pushing against his torso so that you can get a better look at the wound. His skin is ice against your warm palms you swear he hums at the contact. You resist the urge to smile and make work by washing the wound carefully with small splashes of the liquid. He tenses, a hand falling to your shoulder as if to steady himself. You feel a flutter in your stomach that reverberates in the back of your throat. The feeling is pushed down and squashed nearly immediately; he is a murderer, an assassin. Best not to develop a childish crush on a man like him. 

“There you are.” once finished, you take a step back giving him space and taking a moment to admire the hardened frame before you. He’s yet to remove the mask, but you don’t push him to—killers need secret identities, don’t they? 

“Thank you.” you only nod, and motion to the extra mattress in the room. 

“You should rest.” the man hums in agreement, his frame sinking into the old padding, and you watch from your own makeshift bed as his body visibly deflates. His back is to you, and you trace the numerous scars and bruises that adorned his skin with your eyes. What a strange man indeed. 

***

The stranger is gone by morning; any trace of him from the night prior scrubbed from your home. Even the spare blanket sits folded atop the pillow just as you had them before. A shame you never got his name, not that he would give it. You can’t help but wonder who the strange is under that mask; quiet and gruff as he is—you can’t shake the way in which he treated you. Rather kind, far different from the typical treatment you’ve learned to endure from Slackjaw and his gangs of idiots. 

It doesn’t matter; your transaction with the stranger is complete, and you’ve coin to spend. Within fifteen minutes, you are washed, hair hastily pleated in a thick braid that hangs past your shoulders. With money tucked away within the pockets of your dress you make for Clavering. First a stop to the general store and then to see the boy and deliver him food for the week. His bright blue eyes shine wide when you present him with a basket full of meats and bread. 

“Remember to ration as I taught you, and keep this hidden from everyone, do you understand?” the boy nods enthusiastically, tiny fingers gripping tight to the beaten basket, and you send him off with an affectionate pat on his back. You stand there a moment watching as his small frame vanishes down the length of the ally, a smile on your lips. Head tilts, and your turn to peek up at the rooftops. A flash of shadows darts behind a half-fallen chimney, and you chuckle before continuing on with your daily chores and business. 

**

A week has passed; the sun has long ago set, and a customer has just left you. The house is empty, and silent, save for your snivels. There are times a rather unruly drunkard will call on you, and there are times when gentle is the last thing on their mind. You may have protection thanks to your deal with Slackjaw and his gang, but that only saves you from the law, and death—they still use you as they please. Fingers press to your swollen lip, crimson seeping from cracked and broken skin. You inhale sharply and cuss lowly. 

“Are you alright?” you hadn’t heard him slip in through the window, and you nearly jump from your skin at the sound of his voice. You turn quickly, and there he stands—your stranger. You quickly work to wipe away the tears that had begun to fall from tired eyes, nodding over and over as if to convince yourself. 

“Yes yes. Can you please knock like a normal person?” feet wobble as you stand, and he moves to help you keep your balance. “I said I’m fine!” words are laced with far more anger than you intended, and the strange man silently backs off. “What do you want? I’m not taking any more customers tonight.” 

“I—” you look up as he pauses a long moment, his mask making it impossible to discern any emotion from his face. “I’m not here for that. I came to see how you are doing.” 

“Just wonderful.” sarcasm bites at your tongue, and you turn to him fully. You sense his unease now that he can see the bruises that have already begun to blossom across your neck and cheek. Without a word, the stranger steps closer, a single hand-raising while fingers skim the warm skin of your cheek. 

“I should kill him.” 

You scoff, smacking his hand away. “Oh please. I haven't seen your face, I don’t know your name. What gives you the right?” it is impossible to hide the bitterness that seeps into your tone. The stranger says nothing, and finally, you snap. “Leave. Now.” you turn away from him, arms cross over your middle as if to hold yourself together just long enough until he is gone. There’s a long moment of silence followed only by his retreating steps toward the window. And one word—a name. 

“Corvo.” 

***

Two months pass; Slackjaw ends up getting himself killed. You’ve been spared the details but there’s no question in your mind who felled him. It’s both a gift and a curse; the gang leaves you alone, but with their absence comes the absence of money, and protection. Luckily enough, an old contact gets you into the Golden Cat, a renowned pleasure establishment for the more monetarily endowed citizens. Better coin, slightly better treatment. You’ve got your own room; four walls, a bed, and a dresser for your things. A single window looks out over the city and it’s nice in its own way. 

You haven't seen him since your last encounter—Corvo. Some nights you lay awake wondering what might have happened had you not told him to leave. Maybe he could have taken you away from it all. Maybe you could have stayed in that little hovel, spurred on only by his intermediate visits. They’re foolish, those thoughts. But you would be a liar if one man's kindness hadn’t won you over in the fastest fashion. 

It was only when you had begun working at the Golden Cat and were privy to the talk of politicians and the elite did you realize that it was most likely Corvo Attano that had wormed his way into your heart—-an empress's murderer. 

How foolish of you, you think one night while curled under thick blankets in the comfort of your tiny room. To become infatuated with a man whose face you’ve never seen, the man that murdered the empress and spiraled the empire into chaos. A sad sort of laugh falls from your lips while your head shakes. 

“What’s so funny?” that voice, and from nowhere. You bolt upright from bed, and there he is; stood in front of the open window. Silence follows while you battle with yourself; to hug him, curse him, or call a guard. 

“The bounty on your head could finally get me out of this life.” you decide to challenge him, but the waiver of your tone betrays you. 

“So call the guards.” his boots are silent against the wooden floors as he nears, and you watch while Corvo sits next to you. Silence grips the room firmly, neither of you too sure what to say. Finally, he speaks. “I didn’t murder her. I loved her.” Oh. “She was assassinated, and I have been framed for it. I am here to find her…our daughter. They have her hostage here. That is how I learned of your presence here.” How…sad, you think. How tragic. You reach out, fingers brushing against his neck, and you watch for any adverse reaction while manicured fingers slip beneath the mask perpetually strapped to his face. Corvo tenses while you do, but he allows you to unhook the latches at the side, and slip the metal from his face. 

Tired, hardened eyes stare back at you; laced with a grief not unknown to you. Your chest tightens, and you lean forward to hold his face in the palm of your hand. “You poor man.” His eyes close, frame leaning into your warm touch, and you feel as though your daydreams and longing have come true, but… “Why follow me, Corvo, why…why me?” 

“You remind me of her.” mumbled so softly; each word laced with heartbreak. It breaks you just a little; here you are infatuated with a man who dotes on you, in his own way, because you remind him of his dead lover. Foolish. You’ve been so foolish. 

“I—” you begin, but he cuts you off. 

“I have to bring her home tonight, my daughter. After I leave this place won’t be safe for you.” it dawns on you after a moment, and you grow cold. 

“You’re going to kill them?” 

“If I must.” he takes your hand, lips brushing against your knuckles, and it's a wonder how someone so adept at causing harm can be so—gentle. “Here.” Corvo turns his hand over in yours and places a cloth pouch in the center of your palm. “Leave tonight. Flee through the servants' entrance in the kitchens. Find work, find a home.” You stare in utter silence. He’s come again to uproot what little comfort you’ve managed to forge in this brutal world. To wreck your heart, and your home. Damn him. 

“What else is there for me, Corvo, but this life, hm? Who would—who would think twice of me?” He closes your fingers around the pouch. 

“I would, and I do. I think of you every day, and I would like to see you safe.” you tremble, gaze locked with his, and you nod. Corvo squeezes your hand tenderly, leaning down once more to press another feather-like kiss to the back of your hand. “Take care of yourself.” you chew your bottom lip, and only nod again—you fear the sob that may bubble forth if you dared to speak. He stands, mask fixed to his face once again, and quietly slips out into the hall. 

You sit there a long moment, a wild whirlwind of emotions taking hold. And it is only when you realize his words sounded like a goodbye do you allow yourself to sob.

[dragabond]

🔀💗❓ For everybody~! - @moonlitstroll

🔀 How canon-divergent vs. canon-compliant are you?

Benrey: uhhhhhh I mean a lot of stuff that’s canon about me is mostly vague so I guess that depends lol but uh. For the stuff that isn’t vague, I guess I’m pretty canon compliant??

Corvo: very canon compliant until the second game. I’m mute. Can’t say much beyond that as I’ve avoided playing the second game myself for that reason mostly, but I keep on and off reconsidering that…. I’m curious.

Data: Incredibly compliant when I first arrived. I’ve grown and changed since then though, as people do overtime. Most would think me very canon-divergent now, I believe.

Gascoigne: In between, I think.. Hard to elaborate further than that without writing a million and one words..

Franz: VeryVeryDivergentAndGlad

Gaster: I HAVE… LITTLE CANON INFORMATION. THIS IS HARD TO ANSWER.

Jado: well!! I mean, I guess I’m pretty canon compliant?? Mostly?? That’s a little hard for me as well considering my source has more than one canon, technically….

Jevil: HMM! HMM HMM HMM! ALSO HARD TO SAY! BUT I THINK I’M PRETTY COMPLIANT TO CANON, AS FAR AS CANON GIVES US INFORMATION FOR ANYHOW!

Maximilien: very canon divergent, and quite grateful for it

Mercer: I THINK I’M ABOUT SPOT ON FOR CANON COMPLIANCE!!!

Zant: a mix of both but definitely more canon divergent than canon compliant.

💗 What helps you feel closer to your source (in a positive way)?

Benrey: honestly just watching hlvrai. It’s nice and stuff and I’m not sure what other things might do that for me yknow?

Corvo: our roommates rats… I love them.

Data: Hard to say. I also want to say watching videos about my source but I also get irritable and combative if there is anything wrong or incorrect about it to my canon.

Gascoigne: it’s bittersweet but most bloodborne content involving me and my family and friends.. I say bittersweet because of course there’s the very sad fanart.. doing anything outside at night is probably the most positive way for me to feel closer to my source, simple as it is..

Franz: Don’tWantToFeelCloserToMySource…

Gaster: THEORY VIDEOS ABOUT ME ARE ALWAYS FUN… AS ARE MOST THEORY VIDEOS.

Jado: Well!! I’m not really sure…. Never really thought about it!! Honestly not all that bothered about it either

Jevil: MY SONG MY SONG! AND ART OF ME! AND PLAYING CARDS!

Maximilien: not much honestly, but I don’t particularly care or not if I feel close to my source

Mercer: OH, MUSIC MOSTLY!!! AND OF COURSE, THE FANART, AS WELL!!!

Zant: the sky just at the edge of night, especially if the weather is at least half cloudy. its pretty, and reminds me of home. also seeing that specific aesthetic the Twilight Realm has in any art is rather nice, too.

❓ Do you prefer when people are familiar or unfamiliar with your source when they meet you?

Benrey: don’t matter to me bro I’m gonna talk to them all the same way regardless

Corvo: ehhh? not sure. Haven’t had any issues with anyone either way, so….

Data: Familiar. They know what to expect of my personality a bit better, most the time, when they are familiar.

Gascoigne: I don’t have much of a preference either.. Same as Corvo, there’s been no issues either way..

Franz: UnfamiliarAllTheWay

Gaster: NO PREFERENCE. BOTH SOUND FUN.

Jado: ehhhhh maybe familiar?? Mostly because not a ton of people seem to know my source and the few who did seemed pretty excited about me, both positively and negatively!! I thought it was a little funny

Jevil: FAMILIAR FAMILIAR! IT’S MORE FUN WHEN THEY RECOGNIZE ME! :)

Maximilien: im… admittedly not very social so im also unsure. I feel like I would prefer if people were unfamiliar, though

Mercer: FAMILIAR, FOR SURE!!! AND AT THIS POINT, MOST PEOPLE ALREADY ARE. 💖💖💖

Zant: also hard to say for me, especially because it depends on what way I’m familiar to someone. Some of the fan base is… hm… though most of the people I’ve spoken to and are familiar with me have been quite nice and respectful.

Fictive Ask Game!

[endlessly-worldbuilding]

Rashtaleon People

Rashtaleon (rawsh-tah-lay-own) or Leona (Lay-own-uh) are the only intelligent species from the planet Corvos. Leona evolved from a evolutionary branch of feline-predators and developed the traits to walk upright in a savannah/scrub forest habitat similar to human ancestors. The modern society is loosely affiliated with Norland, but does not have a formal planetary government which could officially join the supernation.

Cultural Notes

<!--

Rather than nations the Leona operate as a series of Prides, a lot like clans. Each clan usually has 8-9 large families within it, and young males and females leave the pride to find mates. Traditionally, the females bring new males back to their original pride and raise 1-2 children with their family. Occasionally Prides combine, dissolve, or form.

The people eat a diet of primarily raw meat, fish, and occasional greens and fruits.

An area of several hundred miles will be occupied by a few prides. They are nomadic within the land and have set meeting places and times where they trade with other prides. Elders are chosen to represent prides and they usually gather at these meeting places to discuss politics, trade, and anything else. Other races interested in trade must trade individually with prides.

The homeworld of Corvos is open to immigration, but there is a significant culture clash to incoming immigrants. The presence of only a few established “cities” that are empty for much of the year is a significant difference from many other cultures.

Leona do not have personal names, but usually identify with a class or vocational name. Like a human who only goes by "the chef." This is confusing to outsiders, but Leona use a range of extra signals to clarify the person they mean.

Calendar based around seasons and solstices

Numbering system is base 8

The Leona speak many languages, but most know Common Leona which is a trade pidgin.

Common Leona has flexible grammar and a loose grasp on tense. The language has several ways to avoid redundancy and sentences are short but content rich. The language uses tradition syllabic sounds, but also many natural sounds like clicks, purrs, growls, etc. There are also many outside the range of humans!

Leona use a lot of body language to communicate. Tails, ears, whiskers, and large expressive eyes are useful for conveying emotion.

The Leona writing system is a phonetic alphabet written as a series of lines and dashes along a vertical channel. This suits the making of sign posts and displays.

End Cultural Notes.

-->

[soupercatte]

Face reveal? Face reveal!

I realized I haven't really posted anything other than the writing prompts to this blog (which is what it was made for, if I'm being truthful) so I figure it's time for a small introduction to the Soup Cat with some photos throughout the years!

Kelas'ra is a quarter Seeker, 3/4th Moon Keeper living "officially" in Gridania but he spends most of his time working in Ishgard. Originally from Corvos, he came to Eorzea after his 18th Name Day to strike it big as an adventurer, however after the 7th Umbral Calamity he would end up in Gridania working as a sinole carpenter.

Kel is a gentle soul, really, somebody who loves to sing and be around others. A people pleaser who's terrified of being pushed away he always tries his best to be useful and is fiercely loyal to his close friends.

He's ended up on the wrong side of a Voidsent contact and as such loathes what he's becoming and actively is searching for a cure to rid himself of Angoscia, the Voidsent attached to him. Over time his hair has faded from its natural warm black to a grey to almost blinding white as his aether is being siphoned and replaced, but he still puts on a front and pretends he's alright to keep those around him from worrying.

Though his dream was to have a large family, he's content to dote solely upon his adopted son, Teka'a, and everything he does is for his benefit even if Teka'a disagrees with the process.

So there we go! A very basic run down of Kelas'ra. There is obviously a lot more to his motives and his history but most of this will probably be explained throughout the writing prompts and more details are in his carrd on the main site. I hope you enjoy his stories and look forward to many more to come!

[corvondog]

- Introduction -

Hi guys! I'm Corvo, or Cogumariart, or simply Mari, and I'll be using this tumblr to share more about my charachters and stories (mostly about a certain trio of oc's)!!

I'm brazilian, an artist and amauter writer (I'm doing my best but my writing is not the best yet lol). I speak portuguese and english, so you can use both languages! However, I will be focusing on speaking english over here, so if you're interested in more portuguese contet, head over to my ig (tho it's kinda dead), tiktok and youtube by the name of Cogumariart!!

As I said, the tumblr focus will be my own oc's and stories, and you'll probably see more of The Trio Story™, since it's my most developed (solo) story rn. But don't be surprised to see some random/fandom related content every once in a while! I'm still pretty new to tumblr and stuff, wich is quite scary, but I hope using this "new" social media is a fun experience!

Ty so much for reading! I hope you guys like it and stick around to hear me talk more about these little made up people I love <3 Introduction posts to them and their world will hopefully be up soon!

(also here's a little silly self portrait)

[halfstack-smp]

Ahba

Oh, Corvo silently realizes. I missed you.

Content: Even more sons, Corvo's 5 canon raven parents, accidentally speccing into polyamory, county fair turkey legs, lots of talk about The Past, borth

TW: Past character death, discussions of grief, past death of partners, past death of parents

Screen reader’s note: Contains passages in Hokkien english. Use of gender neutral it/they pronouns.

Read from the beginning

Read Halfstack stories

Read other Halfstack writings

Support the Halfstack SMP

A lot can happen in thirty years.

Turning fifty. Learning what a house is. Turning sixty. Getting dragged, kicking and screaming, towards the abstract concept of becoming literate, and picking up a swear or ten along the way. Turning seventy, realizing that not only are you still young, you're not even halfway done yet, and you’re ten years away from living twice as long as most wulvers.

Your parents can die, and one of them can come back with a gimp leg, two extra limbs, and a brain stuck out of time.

A lot can happen in thirty years.

A lot can happen in one.

Corvo Ravenslove tries to visit when he can.

Slovenguard is used to him by now. What little residents make their stay here have been here far too long to blink at the sight of a full grown draconis and his flying island appearing in their skyline. Besides, he always parks it off to the side. It would be rude to scare the chickens.

Ravenslove Tower has a few more rickety floors than the last time Corvo saw it, but the door is still tall enough for him to walk through.

It’s funny. Corvo never even lived here. Never needed to, never planned to. But when Fadir built this house, it thought of him anyway.

A lot can happen in thirty years. But when Corvo sticks his head under the house, antlers threatening to scratch the roof of the little porch that’s been built into the foundations, Fadir is still just barely large enough to use Corvo’s wrist as a perch. Somehow, the father-son ratio of Corvo’s childhood years has stayed exactly the same.

“You’re lucky Lynel is at school right now,” Fadir tiredly smiles. “I told them you come over, but-” It makes a vague noise.

“Kiasi, le,” Corvo finishes for it. “I get it. The landing always looks way scarier than it actually is.”

“And be-sides,” Fadir continues, “I want to take care of your shopping before you an’ them start fightin’ over scraps.”

Corvo sputters. “Ahba- ahba, I wouldn’t throw hands with a child!”

“After last year, I don’t believe you.”

There is a silence.

“The seagulls deserved it,” Corvo quickly says.

“County fair turkey leg, le,” Fadir deadpans.

“I would fight a seagull in the back alley of a taotie buffet,” Corvo insists. “Those birds are a menace to society.”

To this day, Corvo doesn’t know how Fadir manages to look so concernedly done with his shit while wearing the most perfectly gentle smile on its face. Which is absolutely unfair. Corvo has seen this old man’s raven body size up a bear in defense of a tossed bag of fries.

“You look like Talon when you make that face,” Corvo says instead. “And it managed that with half its beak missing.”

Fadir snorts. “Xylem always translated for it well enough.” Fadir’s head casts to the side. “Did I ever tell you how we met? Th’ five of us, le. Ravens don’t have big pairs like that.”

“The other ravens would always look at you a little funny when you were all together,” Corvo recalls. “But only those horny teenagers would be shitty about it.”

Fadir scoffs to itself as it stands and stretches, walking off towards the garden. The cane by its seat stays at its simple perch- Fadir doesn't need to be told the lay of its own land, not anymore.

“No one knew what t’ do with your egg when we first found you,” Fadir starts. “Xylem an’ Talon, ah- vo-lun-teered t’ take what-ever was going t’ hatch. They raised most o’ their last children already, ne? All the time in the world.” Fadir smiles sharply. “Morrow took that personally.”

Corvo ducks his head low as they pass the wisteria tree, as if this time his face wouldn’t get pelted with flowers. “Morrow took everything personally, ahba.”

Fadir shrugs. “We didn’t know how long you would be a child. Morrow wanted younger mates t’ see to it. I said such a big egg would need more than two mates watchin’ it if either of us wanted t’ see our children next spring.” Its foot grabs at a cuttlebone in the ground and tosses it towards the chickens grazing by the glowberries. “Suppose I won out, ‘cus that’s what we did. We waited for you t’ hatch. An’ by the time your second spring came, we- we were nestin’ our chicks to-gether.”

Its face softens.

“Fry was young. Tried t’ court all four of us at once, le!” A small laugh. “But it was always good to th’ chicks, and… it would fly out to the sea, every year, just to bring back pretty stones. Crazy bird.” A pause. “Course, I only know that ‘cus I did the same thing.”

“And then Xylem died,” Corvo gently continues. “Foraging accident, ne?”

“Dui. Morrow an’ I did our best t’ take care o’ Talon after, but…” Fadir sighs. “It couldn’t live with that. Not without Xylem.”

“And then Morrow died.”

“And then I… died.” Fadir’s voice trails quiet. “And then I didn’t.”

Corvo remembers those days. Him and Fry had barely even processed being unable to find Fadir’s body before something stumbled out of the woods- skin like silver, talons like blood, a prophet’s ravensign swallowing its face like a solar fucking eclipse, only recognizable by the stilted voice of a dead raven that could barely stutter its own name out of a forcibly restructured syrinx.

Fadir died with Morrow that spring afternoon. The Sunraven that walked out of Pando in the summer was never quite the same, and it and Corvo both know that.

“Never stopped Fry from visiting,” Corvo allows. “It’d bring you those stones until you could fly to the ocean again.”

“Every year on my birthday.” Fadir stops by a carved stone in the garden. “Every year.”

Corvo doesn’t ask about the writing on the stone. He already knows what’s buried there.

(He donated that headstone itself.)

“I know why y’ don’t visit,” Fadir quietly admits. “I know it’s hard.”

Corvo’s wings snap shut like a tarp as his body stiffens. “I- I try when I can-”

“No,” Fadir softly corrects. “Y’ don’t.” It tilts its head towards Corvo’s eyes, bone-deep weariness locked into its gently frozen smile. “It’s alright, le. You were still very young. I think- I think it was not fair, that you were still so young.”

Corvo looks off to the side. “Plenty of people lost their parents younger than I did.”

“An’ you waited every day for twenty years before y’ gave up on wonderin’ if I would die all over again,” Fadir bluntly says.

“Because you’re not going to die, ahba,” Corvo insists. “You- you basically can’t.”

“May-be so. I think I want t’ live for a very long time. Or not. I just want to live!” Fadir kneels against the ground, body turning towards the headstone in its garden. “But sometimes, I think- I think it is because this body is so far away from these terrible things. I died. And you didn’t. It’s okay, I think, if that makes you sad.” Its knobbled hand hovers around the stone, never quite touching. “It just means you were still alive.”

And maybe it’s twenty years too late to realize for every slip and fall and painstakingly relearned word, Fadir had been just as there and aware and done with it all as Corvo was. But Fadir lived anyway, and so did he.

That will have to be enough.

“Let’s go out to eat this time,” Corvo decides. “Forget the shopping trip, le.”

Fadir’s smoldering black wings puff up with surprise. “I like to cook for you!”

“I keep destroying your entire pantry in a day!” Corvo nearly wheezes. “I feel so bad! I don’t want to scare the new kid!”

“Maybe we call up the taotie buf-fet,” Fadir sarcastically offers. “So your new ahdi can watch you fight a seagull.”

Corvo chuffs loudly enough to stir a light breeze. “Jokes on you, I’d pay to make that happen. And I probably will. I’ll-” He raises a single defiant claw. “I’ll fight you.”

“And I would let you win because I missed my son ve-ry much,” Fadir sweetly croons. It starts to walk back to the house. “I go text Lynel about dinner. They always buy snacks after school, le.”

Oh, Corvo silently realizes. I missed you.

“Hey,” he softly calls out, stopping Fadir just short of the porch stairs. “Happy birthday.”

Fadir’s eyes widen for a second, almost turning pitch black. It blinks, and squints to itself.

“That’s the first time you called it my birthday,” it whispers. “Kamsia.”

It’s head snaps away, and it stiffly walks up the stairs. Bit of an awkward response, really. Corvo wasn’t sure what he expected.

(It’s a start.)

[makarovspussy]

probably the best part about writing a sprawling AU like Call of Honor is that I can put all the cut missions and content back in. Corvo gets to go after Timsh and he gets to go to Parliament and he goes after Martin okay? and he does it with Soap and they have gay sex afterwards okay?