#he may not have scoured the lore

[wrenwinchester]

Thinking about the year between season 7 and 8, and the line “I fixed up the impala and just drove.” (Then he hit a dog but I’m not talking about that.)

The impala has been through a crap ton, and she was sitting in a storage locker for most of the year, then they send her through a sign and she definitely has damage on her undercarriage from how she landed. It’s not going to be an easy fix, and getting parts is probably going to be difficult actually scratch that, Bobby’s house may have burned down, but the salvage yard is still there and was left to the boys 100% so maybe not so difficult. But Sam would still have to get the car to Bobby’s old place, maybe he even stayed with Jody for a little bit, while working on the car.

Sam isn’t the most experienced with taking care of Baby. That’s Dean’s job, sure he showed Sam how to do touch ups and tune ups, but most of it, Sam wouldn’t know how to do, but there was no way he was going to let anyone else work on his brother’s baby. That’s not a choice, so he spent a couple months, maybe more, pulling pieces out, putting them back in, trying to match parts from other vehicles and finding ones that worked because it was all he had left of Dean, and it needed to be perfect.

Finally, after like 5-6 months, it’s done, she runs and drives, and she sounds as close as Sam remembered to what she was after Dean would modify, or fix something. (It really wasn’t all that close, but she runs and drives,) then, he spends another month driving around, he drives to Vegas for their annual Vegas week, checking every towns first motel in the yellow pages, just in case, along the way. He doesn’t stay in Vegas long, just long enough to play a round of Dean’s favorite game.

Finally, he ends up in Texas, and somehow, thinking about everyone he’s lost, he hits a dog. Up until this point, he’s been checking motels to see if anyone had checked in under the name Jim Rockford. This time, he checked in under the name. Dean could find him.

Sam did what he could. He even took on a few cases before Vegas, but it felt wrong without his brother by his side. (Of course it did, it always did.)

The dog didn’t do much damage to Baby, and the little it did, Sam had fixed within a week. (He’s grown to know Baby quite well, and understands what every noise she makes means. (Sometimes she whines as he starts her, and he just sighs and says, “I miss him too.”))now we’re at month 8, he’s been staying at this motel for a few weeks, working on maintaining the building so it’s safe, and that’s when he runs into Amelia once more after the dog barges in to her room. And they end up talking about loss and loneliness. And Sam feels seen for the first time since Dean died, (he’s still not sure he believes Dean is dead, but also he exploded right in front of him. It’s the easiest way to rationalize everything and stop him from starting another apocalypse to bring his brother back. Because believe me he considered it.) and he feels accepted and she doesn’t push about his past.

They buy a house 9 months after Dean’s death. Sam just wants to call his brother and tell him, but he wouldn’t get the message.

He meets her Dad month 10, and life is moving on. He has a job, and maybe he could have the normal life he always wanted. The one Dean wanted too. Maybe he could go back to college, and he starts looking into things.

Month 11 is when Amelia’s husband is back from the dead, he wasn’t ever actually dead, but it doesn’t matter to Sam. He’s been in her position before. A loved one coming back from the assumed grave is a big deal, not as big as a loved in coming back from an actual grave that you put them in yourself, but it’s enough.

Everything comes crashing back to reality. He starts looking for Dean again, but more so just looking for signs of him from his home with Amelia. Amelia who now has to decide between her husband, and the broken man she grew to love.

Then, a full year has gone by since Dean’s death. Three hundred sixty-six days (it was a leap year) without his older brother. Not really knowing what happened, not really sure he wants to find out, so he doesn’t ask questions, he doesn’t push, he doesn’t even ask about Kevin and tries not to think about him, even though he has nightmares about Kevin being stuck with Crowley, he can’t handle even the idea of anymore pain.

But then, he gets a call from Dean.

There’s not a doubt in his mind that it’s his brother, though maybe he should, and he leaves in the middle of the night. Yes he loved Amelia, but Dean is his brother, and nothing is more important than his brother. He leaves without a second thought, if his brother was alive, life wasn’t so topsy-turvy.

Dean wasn’t supposed to be the one that died first. He gave his life for Sam. Sam should have died in that abandoned town all those years ago, but Dean traded places. (Sam should probably consider the fact that Dean was supposed to die instead of their dad all those years ago, but he doesn’t. Dean wasn’t dead then, he was just mostly dead.)

Sam would be the one that died for real first. He had to be.

His relief upon seeing his brother’s face for the first time in a year could have collapsed him on the spot, he was truly alive, then guilt came crashing over him.

[turbulentscrawl]

Identity(V) Headcanons: Norton Campbell

I'm starting off the writing blog with some of these character analysis-esque headcanons! (Starting with Norton bc he's honestly the reason I made this blog.) They'll serve both as practice for me, and examples for any readers on how I write different characters.

Again, I am new to the IDV fandom, and I have never played the game. These headcanons are informed by ongoing lore dives sourcing the wiki, japanese twitter responses, comics, stageplay, and more! Some of these may relate to or even contradict character backstory, and some of them are just pure vibes for me. If you like it, consider shooting a request ;)

-Norton had always been a moodier guy, but the mining accident (and the lack of mental and emotional support he received after it) resulted in a much more obvious split of his temperaments. Without trying to put a name to something I’m no expert in, Norton has two distinct personality states which are both aware of and inform one another. The First is the more common state, wherein he is more level-headed, but prone to melancholy and isolation. His melancholy tends to be more intense after an episode with his Second state, wherein he is very likely to exhibit anger, mania, and cynicism. Likewise, his Second state tends to be more critical when he’s been uneventfully mellow for a good while. He tries his best to balance and regulate the two, but this particular emotional roller coaster is one he never had any say in getting on and has never had any assistance getting off.

-The First state typically lasts longer than the Second, sometimes stretching several days at a time. During the First, he’s at his most amicable and chatty. This is the best time to get to know him as a person.

-When in his Second state, which is usually triggered by something that reminds him of the accident, it’s better to give him a wide berth. Even in the case of a friend or partner who has thick skin and handles harshness well, Norton can become hypercritical of himself for being cruel to them.

-His mother died in childbirth, leaving Norton with only his father, who also worked himself to an early grave. Norton had to start working immediately to keep himself fed (and sometimes didn’t even manage that) so he has next to no education. He does not read or write especially well. He is also not particularly tech savvy and struggles with new concepts. That said, he's never been one to back down from a chance to improve himself, difficult or otherwise.

-Norton was mostly genuine in his visits to the elderly and sick. Many of them were other miners and laborers who helped him find his footing after his dad died. Their help may not have amounted to much in the long run, but they didn’t just look the other way and he understood the loneliness they felt on their deathbeds.

-The one exception to this was Benny, who Norton had also once looked upon in an appreciative light…until he learned how to read. It was then that he scoured his father’s old letters and discovered an infuriating truth: after the birth of Norton and the death of his mother, his father had been about to leave the mining industry. Benny was the one who convinced him to stick around and join the obsessive hunt for gold. It was through a mix of spite and desperation that Norton decided to swindle Benny out of his maps and take the chance at riches for himself.

-Norton does not talk about the mining accident. At all. Not even if he’s paid. Part of it is self-preservation—since he IS the one who stole and illegally ignited the explosives. The other part is that he is well and truly wrecked with guilt. Norton did not get along with most of his coworkers in those final days, was bullied and harassed by them, but he wanted to get ahead of them, not kill them.

-Because he’s been self-reliant from such a young age, he’s naturally distrustful of other people. He has trouble accepting people at face value and often rejects compliments, and other words of affection. He’s the embodiment of “actions speak louder than words.” In general, if someone wants to get closer to Norton they have to put their money (and their labor) where their mouth is and show a lot of patience. Any genuine relationship with Norton is hard-won.

-In line with the above, the best love language to give Norton is Acts of Service. Physical Affection would also work well once you reach a certain threshold in his trust. Gift-Giving is a decent third, but you would need to tread lightly here, lest he start to see the budding relationship as purely transactional. Holidays and birthdays are the best time to really go in on gifts for Norton, since he has a harder time arguing bribery with culturally dictated gifts.

-He genuinely does not find himself to be attractive. I wouldn’t go so far as to say he’s insecure, as he really doesn’t think about it much, but he’s least likely to accept compliments about his appearance. The burn scars certainly don’t help. If you do compliment his appearance, it’s better not to mention the scars at all than to try and make him feel better about them.

-He wholly, genuinely, hates the rich. Which is obvious enough, I suppose, but I think it’s more extreme than people give him credit for. And really it just comes down to unadulterated jealousy and bitterness, which are not easy feelings to overcome.

-Norton is of the opinion that all life is equal—and when he’s at his most cynical, this means he’s willing to take the balance of “an eye for an eye” into his own hands.

-His sweet tooth is limited to donuts and a few other carb-y baked goods. He prefers savory flavors, or sometimes bitter, such as in the case of his black coffee. He doesn’t eat as much as you might expect for his size, but he always eats quickly, and hunched over his food like it’ll be taken away. Old habits die hard.

-He has a terrible sleep schedule, due in part to frequent nightmares about the accident. He’s also somewhat claustrophobic and dislikes pitch-black spaces, so a window is a must in his bedroom. He prefers to have it open whenever reasonable.

-He doesn’t do well with thunderstorms, as the rumbles of thunder sound too much like the beginnings of a cave-in.

-If he has one singular strength, it’s perseverance. Hardships don’t deter him because he’s seen and overcome plenty. He’s a loyal friend as well, once completely won over. If he cares for you, you’ll never have to tackle a hurdle alone.

[feyspeaker]

Hey, Fey!!

I hope you're taking care of yourself with the holidays coming up 🧡🖤

We obviously see a lot of your art and love for BG3, but I was wondering if you have any Tavs/Durges that you love? (As in your own characters!)

Or who is your favorite NPC/NPC interaction outside of the companions? 🥰

Lots of love from Ellie!

Hi there!! Thank you, doing alright!! You too!! I have 1 Tav, named Iiyola! She's in the portrait I painted for my icon. A draconic sorcerer with a few points in rogue. She's shown up in a few of my pieces, and I have like 100k words into a fanfic I may never post about her being childhood friends with Astarion. Halsin is her uncle- she's half Drow half Wood Elf which is a source of great inner turmoil for her spiritually. I'm a huge Frogotten Realms elf nerd so my fanfic about her only has Astarion, Halsin, Minthara, and Shadowheart from the game, and it's exploring each of their relationships with their culture and navigating life as elves who have very different opinions on what that means. And, Iiyola kind of bridging that gap in the party as she really belongs nowhere, not Drow enough for their society, but also too "tainted" to belong in Seldarine elf society. (I personally think that the new D&D lore kind of scoured the intrigue from elf politics so I am writing with more of a Neverwinter Nights/BG1&2 approach.) She's a Vhaeraun worshiper, as her father was a high up cleric within their order, it's a whole thing and I'm rambling now! Her faith is tested when she learns that Halsin is her uncle (to his surprise as well) and she learns some ugly things about her father that really flip her world more upside-down than it already is! I only make 1 PC for RPGs and that's it (99% of the time), so I've remade Iiyola for my Durge run. I never play evil in RPGs so I'll be doing a resist run for sure. As far as outside NPCs, I'm not really sure, I do like Gortash a lot. I do think that, unfortunately, both he and Orin seem to have been shafted a bit in the plot pacing. I was so excited to get to see Baldur's Gate again and I was kind of bummed out the upper city was kind of a letdown. I wish I could say Viconia but I really dislike that canon had to be forced on us, because I LOVED Viconia in 1&2 and the canon one just isn't my Viconia. Also wish they'd brought her original VA back and given her her goddamn beauty mark!!!!!!!!!

Kind of a ranty tangent but I also think it's a shame we didn't get to see as many noble houses- I would have liked to have seen Cazador's place actually be a manor, visit Gortash's estate, etc. I loved breaking into noble's houses in the first game. :( I think it's a dreadful missed opportunity that we did not get some kind of super important ball/masquerade/social event a la DA: Inquisition where we get to dance with our LI and do some intrigue that inevitably ends in crazy bloodshed and a battle with limited gear... Oh I am rambling again.

Overall I think the NPCs are all pretty compelling, probably my favorite little nest of NPCs was the Myconid 'village'.

thank you for asking and sorry for rambling!!!

[streaminn]

Tongues & Teeth I (wenclair)

lil au where its after season one and semester break, more explanation in my past posts tbh but essentially Enid feels like she’s doesn’t deserve to be standing by Wednesday and does smth about it until some other pack of werewolves come strolling into town.

includes more indepth werewolf lore and mannerism

--

Perhaps it was the fact that Wednesday finally settled down after the whirlwind of events that is her first semester but she could not help but note that something seemed off.

She curses at herself for feeling so unsettled, you would think being away from the institution she so desperately tried to escape from at the start would be relieving but instead it left her with an irritating tingling underneath her skin and she did not know why.

Was it her abode? No, she did not think so.

Everything seemed the same in the Addams manor: Pugsley’s incessant cheap attempts at assault still lingered every moment, Thing scuttled around like the spy he is and her Parents continue to scorch her eyes with their over the top affections.

(She does not mention that emptiness in her arms, the shiver in her skin everytime she brushes near someone.

Something was wrong and she can not figure out why.

Perhaps she is ill?)

It is when she goes to visit the town's mall for a family outing, two weeks away from Nevermore, that she is sharply reminded of what's missing.

It was the background song of a song that strikes her like a sword. It had a familiar nauseating tune, so loud and so Enid that she had to physically stop at the sudden ache in her chest at the remembrance of her friend.

Oh.

Oh.

“No wonder,” Wednesday murmurs, pointedly ignoring her Mother’s look. 

Enid truly left her mark and to think she had slipped Wednesday’s mind is inexcusable. An Addams always honours their words and distance wasn’t supposed to make her forget.

Safe to say, after some scouring through the brick of a phone for the necessary information, she goes and sends a message.

Wednesday knows that her roommate is a phone addict, always having it on her body when she could and she vaguely remembers how fast it would appear whenever a notification would sound.

She was not unsettled when after an hour or so, no reply had come with her message. She also had not reread her words to make sure she came off wrong.

Enid, How has your early break treated you? It has been a while since we have come in contact and the fault lies with me. I may have forgotten to exchange information when Xavier has gifted me this phone. Do tell me about your recent days. Sincerely, Wednesday Addams.

Was it too blunt? Too sharp, too uncaring?

Wednesday didn’t know and so she settled with ending the night early, anything to pass the churning in her gut.

In the morning, she felt the crawling of bugs scuttling along her stomach when she opened the phone. Her heart felt like the repeating banging of the doorbell as she stood up fully.

Enid Sinclair has sent (6) message.

OMG WEDNESDAY?? THE Wednesday Addams!?

You type like a nerd 😮

Pls dont kill me, this isi all slash jay

Joking! All jokin

My days just go so much better now! Bc leik omg, i genuinely didnt expect this

This is amazing weds im telllin u

It brings something to her face, to see such familiar words. Although some of the diction was confusing, Wednesday chalked it up to being an Enid thing. Just with her words, it's almost like Enid was chattering right away next to her.

Wednesday and Enid continue to text all throughout their break like this. Always in the mornings then picking up in the afternoon.  One totally unaware of what is happening to the other.

–

Enid doesn’t frequent the library, simply because it isn’t exactly one of the most well known places in her town. Why was this being brought up? Well her mother kicked her out of the house, murmuring to stay out of trouble because another pack of wolves is coming to town. 

It made Enid slouch, a frown on her lips. She’s a little high strung but she doesn’t cause trouble unless someone starts it.

It's not her fault her brothers got too physical, she was just repaying the favour.

So now here she is, in a library. Why is she in the Library? Well, it's because the smell of old books caught her attention. It was so irritating, being so sensitive to smells because holy moly do people stink but here? In the aisles of dusty shelves and old paper, it's almost like she’s standing next to Wednesday again.

A part of her whines at the loss of lavender and ink, that was what's missing. She was missing Wednesday and she got reminded of it when she got her texts just this morning.

God, she really really missed that girl.

Who knew being in such close proximity made her so clingy?

But it's okay! They were texting and omygod does that make her heart race. She could spend her whole day doing this, except Wednesday has stuff to do and she’s left staring at the block of text.

With a sigh, Enid pulls a random book from the shelf, admiring the simple name pressed on its side. Ravens and Wolves, how curious. She was about to open it until the chime of the library bell alerts her to a newcomer.

Normally she wouldn’t really care, a glance maybe and then back to her own world. Until a smell hits her sensitive nose and she staggers back like a newborn deer.

The scent of overwhelming ash fills the building, one that makes her hiss and attempt to plug her nose with a hand. God, these powers! so infuriating. There's something else in the air, something the other wolf is projecting but it's so hard to focus when her eyes are watering.

It's when she sees someone's shoes on the corner of her vision does Enid finally look up. In the sea of overwhelming fear pouring over her head, a flash of confusion and annoyance strikes her brain. Who does this wolf think he is? To corner a teen like this, it almost makes her wonder what Wednesday would do.

Probably stab him but that isn't allowed here.

So her hand tightens on the spine of the book as her body screams at her to run. She does want to follow but a part of her doesn’t want to move and she agrees.

Because honestly, what's with people and prodding and pushing? 

She’s just here, trying to read and then some asshole comes to stare her down. This wasn’t just over some book either because she has never felt such curiosity and amusement oozing off someone more than now.

With a frown, Enid places the book back and quickly shuts off her phone before pocketing it. Not liking the way his eyes seem to stare at it for a moment.

He certainly didn’t seem that imposing, but he just had this serial killer vibe that made her give a shaky smile in turn, anything to try and keep the peace.  The man just tilts his head in reply, giving a lip closed smile in turn. 

It makes the hairs on her neck rise.

Honestly, she would’ve assumed the guy was harmless if it weren't for the amount of edgy vibes wafting off like smoke, just about threatening to choke her out. It claws at her senses and Enid doesn’t know if he’s even doing it on purpose.

It's like the air around him was naturally dense, making it hard to even stand so close.

“So you’re the blood moon pup,” he starts and the mention of that night has Enid growling, eyes narrowed as she stands straight. When had she slouched?

Blood moon this, blood moon that. She doesn’t know much of the significance other than the fact that it's a special night and that her parents told her to be hush about it. The other werewolf gave her side eyes but it never went more than that.

Almost immediately, the air went from slowly suffocating to thick and absolutely choking and Enid swallows on another instinctive growl. Oh shit-

The wolf is still smiling and in fact, it seems to have gotten bigger - amused - but Enid can see the hint of anticipation, of threat in his lips. Her mind screams at that, clawing at her shoulders and she steps back, trying to push down such bothersome instincts.

“Don’t be like that,” he chides, stepping forward as his lips pulled into a showcase of teeth. “I’m just curious about the late bloomer and it's not everyday a pup shifts in a blood moon.”

He says it's important, like a symbolism from some god. Enid is reminded of a delusional preacher at this moment. Honestly she should care about why so many people seem to care about the moon, but there was no point. She could shift now, she could protect now- 

That's all that matters.

Protecting what hers.

Protecting Wednesday.

“What about it?” she grits out.

He taps at his cheek and Enid remembers the scar on her face. She has it bared to the world to see, even securing a clip to keep her hair. She should be slouched about it, vanity was all she had before she shifted but now?

It was a trophy, a sign that she had taken care of what's her.

“I simply wonder what a pup like you had to go through to shift on that night,” he murmurs, all easy words and shrugging shoulders. “You’re an abnormality, did you know that?”

Those words nearly make her see red. Abnormal, outcast, not like the rest-

Who is this asshole to think he can say what he wants?

“What about it!?” she barks back, voice rising as she steps forward, ignoring the aching pressure rising in her chest. “I had to fight for someone and I would do it again and again if I had to!”

(Wednesday was choking and so small in that fuckers hands and she never felt such rage before, burning and coiling under her skin.

She blacks out after Wednesday calls for her. 

Enid wakes up naked and there's blood under her nails and something sticking onto her throat.)

Her words immediately tempered off as unease began scratching up her spine. Something is screaming at her to shut up, to stay away. Normally she would’ve chalked it out as her instincts being crazy about someone unnecessary but she has never felt like this before and the want to run suddenly comes. 

Other packwolves don’t feel like this, not even the pack leader that takes charge of her family. It's like there's a shroud hanging around the wolf’s shoulders, like a curl of death’s veil so ready to swallow her whole.

He’s terrifying, but if there’s one thing Enid is good at, it’s fake it till you make it.

“It's not everyday I meet such a pup with no manners,” he says. “You can call me Romulus and you’re Enid Sinclair, yes?”

“Just Enid,” she chokes out, trying to force down the churning in her stomach. His name rings a few bells and it suddenly hits her. This was the alpha, the pack leader of the wolves visiting.  What's the leader doing interacting with a kid like her? “What do you want from me?”

It makes her step back and she watches how the older wolf seems to follow her movements easily, trailing after like a creep until she’s caught against a wall. It makes a sound bubble out from her chest as she scowls. 

He laughs, throaty and almost borderline a growl. “Right, sorry Just Enid.” He waves his hand and she watches the tips of sharp nails.

It's not like she can just run, he’s standing at her only exit and despite the pride in her stomach, Enid has no choice but to cower. Her lips pulled back into a snarl and fully unleashed the low growl from her throat.

“So feisty,” he says, giving a lil chuckle.

Romulus laughs, all teeth in display as he leans to meet her eyes. Ice blue, she notes. Similar to hers.

It makes Enid’s face scrunch.

“Is that all you came here to say?” she asks, staring at him with a face completely open to her distaste. She knew other werewolves can be weird as hell, but to think that they were this weird. He looked too calm and if the glimmer in his eyes said anything, entertained as well. Even with her growling, he didn’t seem to take her as a threat.

If he keeps pushing, then she’ll fully fight back. Pack leader or no, no one is going to push her around like this. It's insulting- Wednesday would never stand for this!

It was unnerving. Even the sight of her teeth or claws was enough to make someone pause but not this guy.

“Hmm…” Every bone in Enid's body tensed as the older wolf reached out, and her eyes widened as the hand drew closer to her face. She briefly believed the man was going to destroy her eyes, but instead, he gently plucked at a lock of her coloured hair while twirling his finger over it.  "Every other day, go to the library. You're a very interesting kid. I want to know more."

No, no way.

Romulus didn't react negatively to the blatant disrespect; instead, he just hummed softly, his eyes gleaming brightly in the faint light of the building and his face expressionless. Enid would have been concerned, even terrified, but she is too furious to give a damn.

Enough with the passivity, Wednesday would not stand for this stuff any longer!

“Back away! Don't you see how weird you seem right now?” Smacking the hand away from her head, Enid growled. "You're sounding like a creep!"

"I'm the creep?" he laughs. "weren't you the one staring at that gadget off yours? Addams was it?"

Enid felt all of the air leave her lungs, shoulders rising as she tensed up. What did he say?

"What're you trying to imply you sick fuck!?"

She expected a shout back, instead...

For almost three seconds, everything in their small space was silent - aside from Enid's growls - before a louder, more menacing rumbling literally halted the younger blonde in her tracks.

Romulus didn't growl. He wasn't showing teeth, and neither were his lips pushed back. He no longer has that unsettlingly blank expression; instead, a slight smile is pulling at the corner of his lips and he looks pleasantly amused. He doesn't appear to be a threat at all, but the deep rumbling from his chest startled Enid and caused her to spill out a whine before she could control herself. Even though it sounded like a warning rather than a typical growl, this one  seemed more like a gentle reprimand aimed to get her to stop acting out without actually scaring her.

That only scared Enid even more.

Enid's eyes widened as her whining subsided, completely dumbfounded by her own response. She was used to being growled at by other pack leaders, who have also warned and scolded her but she's never felt a reaction like that, not even when some of the wolves at school snapped at her in the beginning. Sure,  she may have grudgingly stopped, but she never complained and she never caved so quickly. Enid was right. This wolf was a problem; something about him was off; like every part of her knew he wasn't a typical wolf.

“That’s better.” The older blonde cooed, hand reaching forward to comb through the pup’s hair gently and this time Enid was too in shock to slap the hand away. “I assure you, I have no interest in anything like that. Late shifting at a blood moon is particularly odd in my life so I'm curious.” Enid could only weakly glare at the title. “So humour me, you wouldn’t want anything to happen to that…” he seems to humm before giving a smile, all teeth and fangs on display. “Wednesday, right? You should really keep your phone shut, pup.”

“Leave her alone!” She hissed, tone on the verge of sounding desperate and far from the angry, defensive growling from before. She barely got out of a Hyde attack and a part of her fears what will happen if she goes against a whole pack but she isn’t going to turn her back to one person that holds her like she’s precious. “If you think I won't claw your face out simply because you're some bigshot then you're wrong!”

“Then just talk with me, come to the library every other day and i don't need to drag not just your friend but your whole pack." The subtle threat wasn’t even subtle at all and Enid just glared harder. “That’s all I want.” Romulus continues, removing his hand from Enid’s hair and trailing down the side of her face before drawing back.

So she tears her eyes away and nods because fuck, she couldn’t exactly say no, now could she?

She grits her teeth as she searches the other man’s face for a minute, trying to find something, anything, that could show this was a trick. But his expression is frustratingly equal parts soft and terribly amused. There’s no hint of danger nor anger there, even after he growled at Enid, even after the pup had been constantly disrespectful as a way to get the man to just go away.

Enid clenched her hands into fists to stop them from shaking. She was never this violent, never this quick to anger and that made her hesitate, made her think. This is fine, she tries to reassure herself. If she can handle a pompous werewolf, she can handle whatever dumb noble Wednesday’s family could throw at her.

Her scars ache at the touch and it's a reminder of what Enid is willing to do for Wednesday.

“That’s it?” She whispered, the fire burning in her slowing down to ambers.

“That’s it.” The wolf echoed.

[wraith-caller]

Hi, Wraith! Lemme just start by saying that I ADORE your lore posts. Your mind is incredible and I love reading your thoughts, speculations, extrapolations, etc. Which brings me to a question I’m dying to hear your thoughts for: How did Iji die? I’ve been scouring Reddit and any other forums I can find and everything I’ve found is cyclical non-answers. The obvious answer is Black Knives- because their bodies are scattered around him. This tracks because Blaidd, when you find him in front of Ranni’s Rise, is also surround by Black Knife corpses. However, this does NOT track for several reasons. First: Iji is drenched in black flame, a sorcery (power?) used by the Godskins, not the Black Knives. I’ve seen lots of people say it’s probably just an oversight on FromSoft’s part. Altogether possible, but would make me sad and I deeply want to believe it’s intentional. Second: The Black Knives are (were?) RANNI’S assassin’s. While she’s self-serving and stone-cold, she claims to love Blaidd and Iji (and tells you to tell them). I find it hard to believe she’d have them killed. MAYBE if they were only found near Blaidd (in preparation for his coming madness), I could buy it, but I’m not sure I can get onboard as it stands. Now I did find two interesting thoughts. One, someone said the Nox were recruited as the Black Knives and turned on Ranni when she killed her own body, because the plan was only to kill Godwyn and plant one of their own on the throne. I’ve never seen or found anything in my own playthroughs to support or indicate this, but it would make a lot of sense. Two, and I feel that this hinges heavily on one, someone soeculated that Gideon killed Iji. They pointed out that he uses black flame sorceries, and he definitely tries to kill any threats to his ascent to lordship. Anyway, this got WAY longer than I meant for it to be. But IF it’s a topic that interests you, I’d love to hear your thoughts! (And if not, no problem at all!) There’s definitely plenty I don’t know/understand and if I’m incorrect in any of my points above, I’d be really interested in knowing what I’m missing. I feel obligated to sign this, too, since it got away from me 😂😅 -nightingale-ghost-writer

@nightingale-ghost-writer sorry to answer this way, tumblr's not cooperating with answering asks lol. Hi!! Thank you for the kind words haha I'm happy my ramblings are of interest to others! I do hope you really enjoy a ramble bc your question sorta set me off on one here lol

I've thought about Iji's death now and then, and found some of the same answers you did about the black flame effect around his body. It may simply be a mistake by the devs like people frequently say. Especially since, iirc, there's no deathflame animation analogous to the blackflame one left on Iji. It could have been a 'close enough' kind of thing, which yeah I agree would ultimately be disappointing! However someone in this reddit thread had something interesting to point out:

"There's a weird detail, possibly an oversight: if you use a Blade of Death weapon art (for example Maliketh's Black Blade or the Gargoyle's Black Blade) on a troll, the effect looks like black flame rather than the usual red and black flame. I doubt there's a lore reason, but maybe something about how that enemy type is coded causes that effect to appear like black flame, and that also extended to Iji who uses the same model."

I haven't tested this myself, but if it's true, it lends more support to the idea it's just an unintentional effect. However, in that same thread, a few folks point out that Godskins were spotted in various places relevant to Destined Death - in the Volcano Manor and Divine Tower of Liurnia. Rykard has a piece of the Death rune, and Ranni's corpse is on the tower, along with her cursemark. It may be that they are searching for the Rune of Death themselves. Their presence in Farum Azula may suggest they were seeking to free the rune and restore the true power of the Black Flame. So while I still believe it's the Black Knife assassins who killed Iji, I suppose there is room to argue the Godskins have a stake in his death, too, in that Iji stands between them and Ranni.

While the Black Knife assassins worked with Ranni, I'm not sure that they were necessarily under her command. I think they collaborated as they both thought they could benefit from each other. Ranni would get to shed her flesh through the ritual, and the assassins of the Eternal Cities, who have beef with the Golden Order, get to strike down one of the GOs most shining and noble icons and throw the world into chaos. As you've said, they have their own agenda with ushering in the Lord of Night, who may either be an outer god or an envoy/vassal to one. This Lord may also have some connection with Ranni's Black Moon and, strangely enough, the Tibia Mariners who, in Japanese, are referred to as "Night King's Kin"(more info in this Zullie video here). The Mariners hold deathroot and raise up Those Who Live in Death, so I have been under the impression they only came into being after Godwyn's curse spread, which is of course a direct consequence of the assassination.

So while Ranni and the Assassins stood to gain from each other in this plot, their ultimate goals are sort of actually at odds. Ranni, while devoted to her Black Moon, seeks to remove the influence of Outer Gods from TLB and leave everyone to their own devices. Meanwhile, the Nox/Assassins are seeking to deliver a new one to the throne. We see indications of this struggle in Alecto's imprisonment in the evergaol at the Moonlight Altar and, if you are partial to the theory that Miquella collaborated with Ranni, in Ordina. Then there's the further evidence of the Assassins coming for Ranni's group to kill Blaidd and Iji. So I agree, I don't think Ranni had Iji killed. Like you, I could potentially see her ordering them to kill Blaidd, as she knew he'd be fated to try to destroy her. While it is cold and calculating, she does express her sympathy for him. But she is ultimately dedicated to sacrificing everything to achieve her goals. When we do find Blaidd with the dead assassins, he's not saying anything about them. He's frantically denying that he could be a danger to Ranni, as if their attack on him is connected to that. So I do see how people could connect the assassins coming for him with them being ordered by her to kill him.

But then we get into the matter of why they'd be ordered to kill Iji, and I just can't think of a good one. He's clear-minded, and not fated to betray her in the way Blaidd is as her shadowbound beast. I've seen people claim it's a matter of 'tying up loose ends' but I can't imagine in what way he'd be a 'loose end' given that he's entirely faithful to her. Loose ends are tied up because they pose a threat. What threat is Iji to Ranni and her goals if he is emphatically supporting her to the very end? And then when I think of Alecto in the evergaol, I'm really inclined to believe it's purely a matter of bad blood between Ranni's group and the assassins after the conspiracy was through. It may even be that we led them to her, as her whereabouts were previously unknown until we found her(though you'd hope people would uh check her home before declaring her missing?? lol).

That being said, I kind of like your idea about Gideon's involvement. Some elements of that make sense. I'm not sure how much he knows of Ranni, since he says they don't actively seek her out due to her having cast off her rune. While he generally seems to send lackeys to go do his dirty work, the Carian Manor could be a pit stop he made on the way into Leyndell. He may have somehow or other learned of Ranni's whereabouts, learned she was behind the conspiracy, but what I struggle with is him learning her motivation for it. She reveals this to us only after we've spent some time in her service. So did Gideon suspect her of being after the throne? Would he have known she wanted to rid the world of all the troubling influences of the Outer Gods? If he did, would that be much of a threat to his desire to become a lord? While he wouldn't be an Elden Lord, there'd still be power to be had in a world without the Golden Order. And the power vacuum left in the wake of Ranni achieving her goals would seem like a good opportunity for him to position himself in a leadership role. But I'll be honest, I don't fully understand him and his revelations about Marika's will, and how that effects his perspective. By the end of it he seems to think vying for Elden Lord is a futile struggle and that the whole thing is just a meat grinder that Tarnished are being fed into. So does he even still want that power by the end, if he believes it to be utterly unobtainable? Still, it's not entirely unbelievable that he would eliminate potential threats to that power before he comes to that fatalistic conclusion.

Okay, anyway, I hope all of this makes some sense!! Thanks for the interesting ask and for sharing your theories about this strange little mystery!!!

[yandere-heaven-nyxie]

I don't know much about God! Darling x reader but I would love to have a take on it since I find it endearing and is intrested in it.

The very beginning of this AU is that, this is very heavily-lore tied.

- Darling is a Primordial One or maybe even older since it is said and believed that darling is the god of gods. Phanes the one who had created Teyvat accompanied by Darling. At first darling is the same rank as Phanes, both are otherworldly.

- But after creating Teyvat, Darling ascended past Celestia. This is where you come into the picture, You were created by Phanes from the light and stars. You aren't a human but rather a Seraph, Darling adored you but not because you're a gift from Phanes but because you're a beauty in his eyes, a gem that is so pretty that it shines even brighter than the common stars in the inky galactic space.

- Until, The Second One Who Came declared a war upon Celestia. You went down to help Phanes, your Creator.

- Alas you're but just a seraph. Eventhough you killed countless of gods that tried to infiltrate Celestia. Your life was taken from you by no other than the second one who came.

- Your soul was blessed to be reincarnated, yet you are now a mortal. In a world where Darling is only a hidden character in Genshin Impact. Many theories going on and on about them. How only several lucky people had encountered them but then their game crashed and went back to normal.

- Darling scoured through universes just to find you, once he finally found you. He realised that his world and yours are only parted by a screen, a wall that he oh-so-easily could break. but he doesn't want you to be afraid of him and him having a fear that you won't live long since you're a mortal.. He has to find a way to make you an angel again. Ofc without killing you that is

- When he finally got you into Teyvat, into Genshin Impact. Slowly by slowly your memories from the past before you became a mortal started to fade in. Darling is the one you're trying to find.

- Every day that had passed when your memories began unlocking, so does your powers but you had to learn and not use it excessively. You can see different things about you now a bit more, how otherworldly you might say. Your eyes becoming more darker but a glowing golden and stars shining on its inky pool of iris. You hair has stardust that everytime you walk they sprinkle, just like how Paimon's does.

- You were scared when the knights came after you, for some reason you read multiple sagau in your past world. You had a nauseating feeling of fear. Teyvat favored you because Phanes and Darling does so.

- You hid so well from them, though some may found you but Teyvat helped you hid from them. Until you're finally in Dalring's arms again, the acolytes are a bit jealous though.

- If someone dares to threaten pr hurt you they will shiver or cower in fear either from Darling everlasting glare or the fact that your blood runs black with soft sprinkles of golden stars. While Darling's blood runs pure gold, yours are just like what had been described. It shows your origin as an angel that was born from light and was once with the stars that Darling had always cherished.

- Many acolytes tried to went through you to gain Darling's favour, they're fools for believing that Darling would not see through their lies.

- That is when one or two of the acolytes actually loves you for how gentle and affectionate you are. No, they aren't trying to gain something from you just because you are the Divine Creator's precious angel but just because how adoringly loveable you are (e.g : Lisa, Klee, Yae Miko, Kokomi, Barbara, Collei. Diona, Sayu.. etc)

idk if I want to make the whole Imposter thingy but I have an idea for it,

- Darling's acolytes misunderstood their words and thought that you were someone who their Divine Creator hates.

- Though the Fatui however, didn't act rashly unlike those who misunderstood Darling's words. Tsaritsa knew the Creator very well, seeing how they want you which means that they want you alive. They knew the underlying threat that Darling's word has underneath the simple command, it flew over almost all of the acolytes working brain.

- The moment when the archons and knights hunted you down, Tsaritsa had already informed Darling about their misunderstandings, the teacup that was on Darling hands shatters into pieces. the Golden blood that springs upon their wound made Tsaritsa flinched in fright, their glare hardened and feeling the seeping anger from themselves.

- Darling didn't hiss nor does he react at the pain, they were too carried away with their anger. "Your grace! Please calm down. We the Fatui will bring your dearest angel to you without them being hurt or touched in a single strand."

- With that, they finally calmed down. Though their eyes still could pierce and slice Tsaritsa's very soul. "I believe you are capable enough of that.. If I see a single strand of their hair is damaged." Tsaritsa gulped at his tone but still confident "I will make sure to hunt your heart and place it on top of the Zapolyarny Palace."

And so on lol I have a very busy day today idk how tumblr works but hope y'all can gjve me suggestions to contribute to this post<3

[day-at-rhodes-island]

Thoughts on closure? (Take this as an excuse to ramble to your hearts content)

You are too kind Hoa.

Unfortunately, despite quite a bit of somewhat recent Closure content, there hasn't been much to say about her that I haven't said already.

It was nice to see her in episodes 10 and 11, but for the most part her characterization is pretty much exactly what we already knew, just presented in a way that doesn't require you to have scoured every bit of lore that mentions her to put it together. This may mean she will be a more major character in later events, which could be fun (I would love an event that went into detail about the lifestyle of a "normal" vampire).

There is one scene in 10-14 before that I did really like though:

Closure: Your work environment is way too... Feist: Impoverished? You can speak your mind, the commander isn't here. Closure: ...Way too much of a challenge. *cough* *cough*... Feist: Miss Closure... Closure: What's up? Feist: D-Did you know, when you talk about being challenged, your eyes seem to... light up? Physically. Closure: Huh? Really? Must be because I'm getting excited... Is it scary? Feist: I-It's fine. Feist: To be honest, it wasn't until I met you that I found out... Uhh, that Sarkaz can do more than just fight. Closure: Oh... Uh, there are a lot of people who aren't fighters, like me. Closure: Naturally, I'm a vampire, so of course I was born with some handy talents. Feist: Huh? Y-You... what is this speed?! It'd take a week for me to do what you did in a single night! Closure: Why do you think the pillars of Rhodes Island are so good? Closure: Take a good look at my eyes. If the Rhodes Island landship was filled with vampires, working at night would be no problem, and we'd cut down big on the electricity bill. Feist: Are there... a lot of vampire engineers? Closure: Of course not! They... They all... Feist: Hey, why'd you start shuddering all of a sudden? Closure: Blame Londinium. It's been a long time since I last felt the fear of being this close to a den of evil. Look, my hands are totally frozen stiff! And I need these hands! Feist: Could it be... that Team 6 ran into...? Closure: I sure hope not. Closure: If so... For real, I need to give you guys a serious warning. Closure: Just in case... I mean, just in case—if you ever run into another vampire, run! Closure: No, it might already be too late by then.

Closure starts bragging about being a vampire, and then immediately has a physical reaction to just thinking about what most vampires are like. It's so good. She also gets to be a little scary (yay!).

I enjoyed this one too:

Closure: Not bad! For an instant back there, I thought I was gonna get my head painted over Londinium's walls! Amiya: It was Misery's Arts. He wouldn't see us hurt. Misery: Right... Kal'tsit told me your brain was an important asset to Rhodes Island. Closure: My hands don't come cheap either, c'mon! Closure: After that, I'm never asking to hitchhike with you again... Blaze carrying me everywhere is a way smoother ride than your Arts!

Blaze Express enjoyer Ada Church. Also, unless I've forgotten something, this is about as close as we get to Kal and Closure interacting during both episodes, which brings me to my next point:

I didn't like the treatment she got in the last scene of episode 11. They both: didn't really give her a reaction to Kal'tsit doing that and didn't make her punch out those mooks. Like, maybe she knew Kal would be okay, but it's weird Shining gets a reaction, while the person specifically stated to care about Kal'tsit in Kal'tsit's files doesn't, right? They were doing so well and they dropped the ball right at the end! Make Closure do a violence and feel sad about it!!

Oh, and I very much enjoyed Weedy's oprec, in which we learn that she smells of machine oil.

[genshrineimpact]

oh the little scenario you wrote about young morax and goddess of war!reader was lovely, and because i'm a sap and can't handle angst well i imagined that we retired along with him and didn't perish at some point in liyue history. and i'm gonna submit some seperate headcanons to add on as well !

it's been years since we fought alongside him and commanded an army, the last time more than likely being when celestia destroyed khaenriah and abyss monsters invaded all of teyvat. despite both being gods there was still the slight fear that neither would return. luckily they both did and they were clinging to each other for days after all that had happened.

every year when rex lapis would descend for the rite of descension to give guidance to the people of liyue for economic prosperity, goddess of war!reader would bless the liyue millelith during lantern rite (alongside morax if you'd like), so soldiers would always return home, victorious from battle.

in the game's lore, zhongli is connected to the entire liyue weapon series (the unforged, summit shaper, etc), and some people added on that we gifted him a polearm while courting each other, well what if later on after their marriage we had helped him forge vortex vanquisher his weapon of choice in the present? i think it'd have more personal meaning for him to choose that specific weapon out of any he had wielded when he was still the geo archon. he could have just left it somewhere no one would ever dare get it, maybe entrusted it to cloud retainer to hold on to in her abode or any of the other adepti, but that's the weapon you both forged and no one could ever pry it out of his hands.

and finally, very serious discussions between the two of them when zhongli started contemplating stepping down as the geo archon. a hushed conversation that carried on until the first rays of sunlight were peaking over the mountains and the agreement to go through with it. you may or may not have agreed completely on him giving his gnosis to the tsaritsa but you trusted zhongli completely, so you let him do what he see fit. now when time allows it you both wander the entirety of liyue together, sometimes conversing and other times in silence. the both of you have mellowed out since your younger days but the love you feel for each other is just as strong as it was thousands of years ago.

every now and then the older folk of liyue will make comments to the two of you, mainly of how you both remind them of their marriages when they were younger, but every now and then there'll be a passing comment that likens your mortal forms to morax and goddess of war!reader when liyue was just a settlement and they bring up how they were in love just as the two of you currently are.

also hu tao def knows who you are despite your mortal identity since the lore implies that she knows zhongli is morax, and she absolutely adores the both of you

cries these are lovely!!!!!! i saw this last night before bed but i had to sleep but i was so so so giddy wanting to answer this hskdjskdj the struggle of a working adult ugh

i get you, i crave angst on certain times but the need to consume fluff is always on 24/7 ;w;

⬙⤠ masterlist ⤝⬙

you're both just tired after all the things you experienced and so you both decided to focus on building a safe haven for yourselves. with morax's vast knowledge and the fact that your name is enough of an intimidation to deter hostile parties, you both tirelessly scour over the lands of liyue, looking for the perfect place to settle.

you then remember your first date at the beach and shyly suggests to find somewhere close to the sea. morax immediately agrees because he can see that having a harbor city would be very profitable and make for a strong economy. plus, with both you and him watching over the city along with your troops, the risk of invaders should be kept to a minimum. and that's how liyue harbor started <3

also i'd imagine that your own adeptis would personally go down and spar with the millelith regularly! if they take a liking to a soldier, they might even give their blessings! (ofc your blessings are worth even more but they're significantly rarer) they're used to this routine back when they served you in the war, and it's the reason why your troops are stronger than most.... wait now i'm thinking about xiao bonding with your adeptis, maybe even developing a relationship with one??? oh no the brainrot.... it's consuming me aaaa

so, while morax is focused on prospering your people, teaching them knowledges and blueprints and introducing the concept of mora, you're making sure the city is safe both from external forces or internal disputes. it's a good combination and it works well!

i like the concept of vortex vanquisher being a special weapon to zhongli because you helped him create it!! a specially made weapon, just for him, suited to his preferences and aesthetics, crafted from the most precious materials you have in store, and blessed by you personally. he has it at all times with him and will never under any circumstances part hands from it!

i think you would be very understanding of his reasons for stepping down as an archon. though you might not be an archon yourself, you are still a very powerful god, enough to rival one who owns a gnosis, you daresay. though you were scared at first, you slowly realize that you share the same sentiment as him. the times have become peaceful, the mortals you thought you need to protect has acquired enough power and knowledge to protect themselves, and you've successfully built a city that's the envy of the other nations. so when morax asks what do you wish to do, you tell him that you will be with him every step of the way.

and so in the rite of descension, two mythical beasts fall, his exuvia and your chosen form of appearance wrapped around each other. in sickness and health, in war and peace, in death and afterlife. together, inseparable. is what the elders would say as they mourn over your passings.

both of you might have grown from eating rocks boiled in hot water (well, you eat them on your anniversaries for old times' sake), and you might have stopped giving each other ridiculous things like deer heads, chalice of blood, or pretty seashells (though even if you do the gifted would laugh and accept it happily, much to the gifter's amusement), and you might have moved on from loudly pining over each other (your adeptis and retainers and friends are happy but sometimes they feel that it's a little lonesome, not hearing one of you gush about the other)....

.... but as you walk down the streets of liyue in your mortal form, with your mortal husband's hand against your back and his lovely voice telling you about your adopted daughter hu tao's latest shenanigans at the funeral parlor today... you think you love him more than ever, right here, right now.

together, inseparable.

© genshrineimpact | 2022 ◆ no repost. reblogs much appreciated - it's the least you could do as a reader on tumblr. remember, likes do nothing on this website! feel free to reach out to submit suggestions, feedback, comments, or if you just want to talk!

[iwoszareba]

revised backstory for Avinsin. I did some major changes (they have an actual dnd lore “patron” now!) and added more details to connect all the elements better

a bit over 2000 words

cw: horror themes, murder and angst

___

“I may have mentioned before that I was born in Menzoberranzan, the gem of the Northdark, the great metropolis, the City of Spiders itself. However I don’t know when exactly. Or to which of the drow houses for that matter. 

What I recall with crystal clarity is how faerie fire would make the giant mushrooms of Qu'ellarz'orl shift hues as I was leisurely strolling the empty pathways. How that was the only time things felt… peaceful.

Oh, if you are not familiar with the city, Qu'ellarz'orl is also called The Place of the Nobles. I must have belonged to one of the actually important houses. Few other people would be allowed to just loiter there.

I was one of the girls from birth selected to serve Lolth as a priestess. That alone should paint you a picture, but if you were hoping to hear a story about being one of the unfortunates who act only out of fear or obligation, I’m sorry to disappoint. I believed truly and without reservations.

So eager to prove myself. To be tested and have my worth finally recognised. 

I thought that moment was within my grasp when our house received a vision from the Spider Queen herself. She discovered a location that emitted an aura of Ghaunadaur’s power so immense, whatever was there could become a serious threat, if it fell into hands of its cultists.

And out of all the drow in the city it was me and my brother who were chosen to lead the expedition to neutralise that danger.

I wonder have you even heard Ghaunadaur’s name before. Its influence rarely extends beyond the caverns of Underdark, which is something you should be thankful for. That Which Lurks, The Elder Eye, The Lord of Slime. It grants nothing beyond madness and hatred that fuels further destruction it always hungers for.

But, I was speaking of the expedition. Even before our actual task could begin, we had to carefully consider the journey itself. You may think that in our adventures you already got a taste of the dangers that lands below have to offer, but what you’ve seen is nothing compared to terrors which inhabit the darkest depths of Lowerdark. It was no small undertaking.

So I’m sure it’s easy to understand why I wanted the co-leader to actually do his job. My brother… He was always a cynical malcontent, but he also was a talented wizard and somehow managed to straddle that fine line between ‘thorn in everyone’s side’ and ‘undeniable asset’.

He thought little of the honour that was bestowed on us, instead he turned to drink and other excesses. When confronted, all he had to say for himself was that if family wishes to send him on a suicide mission, then the last thing he is owed is a chance to dance at his own wake beforehand. And nothing would change his mind.

So I gritted my teeth and took care of all the preparations myself. Trying to scour for any piece of information that could be of use, trying to recruit every person that would help our chances of survival.

In the end we were around a hundred men strong, but there is only one person that bears mention for the purposes of this story.

She was a warrior of faith who had worked for our house for many decades. Skilled, dependable… beautiful. Her dedication to Lolth was beyond doubt and we were intimate with each other. I hoped to use both as leverage, but she hardly needed any convincing at all. She wanted to join us, made assurances that she would do anything for the mission to succeed and I could sense no deceit in her words.

I’ll spare you any descriptions of the gruelling journey. Some of us survived, many had died. That was to be expected.

The actually surprising part was that me and my brother made for compatible leaders. I suspected he may try to renegade or at least shrink his duties, however his flippancy disappeared the moment his life was on the line. He was prone to witticisms still, but even in that he made for a good advisor. His arcane talents also helped on many occasions.

The last section of caverns and tunnels we had to traverse was truly maze-like. Navigating them felt maddening, like we were going in circles or maybe space around us simply did not make any sense. Creatures we encountered there were corrupted, mindless and oozing. Proof of Ghaunadaur’s influence. 

When we found a passage where the stench of decay was far worse than anything we’ve experienced before, every surface covered by thick, dark slime, without a doubt that was our path forward. However the air there was so noxious, it took all my will and concentration to weave a layer of protective magic that could keep two people safe. We had to leave the rest of our group behind while me and my brother, shielded by Lolth’s power, ventured into the heart of this darkness.

I never thought that simply walking could be so strenuous. I don’t mean the difficult terrain, rather the effect that place had on the mind. It started innocuously, a slight lapse of perception, a small thought that came from somewhere other than yourself. A sudden suspicion that gradually turned into hatred-fueled paranoia. I tried to resist it, reason with it, but it wouldn’t stop gnawing at me until it was all I could feel. 

And I made my magic recede. 

As I heard a squelching thud behind me, knees falling to the ground, I kept walking. As my brother pleaded for me to stop, I kept walking. As he cursed me with the last of his breath, I kept walking. The sounds of choking were drowned out by the word ‘arrive’ echoing over and over in my head.

What I found was no mere shrine, it was an unholy site not due to ritual and faith, it quite literally contained the divine. Vile energy so overpowering I started to weep in awe and terror. It was a fragment of Ghaunadaur itself. Lost or discarded, I do not know. 

How could I even describe what merging with it felt like? How do you put into words knowledge and power that was not meant for mortals? It was monstrous, it was sickening and worse still: it was exhilarating.

The relief of finally leaving that place was immense, surpassed only by joyous anticipation of all the destruction that would follow. I- we? doesn’t matter, quickly slithered through the tunnels and arrived at the entry point again. Killing everyone there was like snapping fingers. Some turned on each other in feral anger, some started to claw at their own bodies, some simply ceased to be.

Except for her. Seeing her gave me pause. 

I offered to... consume her… that way we could rule together. Our reign would be final and complete… as none would survive it. 

Through all my demented ravings she just looked at me with grim determination. When she unsheathed her weapon her whole form started to radiate with energy so disgustingly familiar, stronger than anything I’ve ever received. Lolth wanted me dead, there could be no peace. I lunged forward.

I… did not win that fight.

Here.”

Your minds connect and you see a large drow woman standing over what takes a while to identify as your companion. Even with a myriad of eyes distorting their face you can read their expression as pained, their breathing laboured.

“I don’t understand… why I wasn’t strong enough… I did everything…”

The warrior takes out a hidden dagger and kneels down cautiously.

“Shhh. You performed most admirably and your house will be rewarded accordingly.”

Tip of the blade is placed right above where you assume a heart should be. Countless eyes widen in a sudden realisation.

“You knew... You knew this would happen.”

The look they exchange is so full of bitter sadness, neither of them is able to speak for a long moment.

“What you saw… It was impossible to destroy in its pure form. But when merged with a vessel, while still extremely dangerous, it also became mortal. Your duty was of utmost importance… but now it’s over. It’s time to rest.”

Quick plunge of a dagger and as the vision goes dark your minds disconnect.

“...That’s how I died.

To think I gathered people to go with me on this accursed mission and saw them as nothing more than necessary sacrifices. I was above them, chosen, each death was not a loss but confirmation of my status.

Yet in the end we were all the same.

If my brother was still alive he would serve me the most seething ‘I told you so’ and it would be within his right.

I'm sure now you are wondering how it is possible for me to tell you about all this.

Well, while my body melted away and most of Ghaunadaur’s power dispersed as intended… I still retained some of it. Enough to keep me alive in a form of deadly ooze. But I wouldn’t call it life exactly. Everything about it is a blur. Whole world made of only two notions: exist and consume. Time did not factor in anything, it could have been weeks, it could have been years.

It would most likely stay that way, until someone strong enough could put me out of my misery. But as luck would have it, what I got instead was a group of druids too curious for their own good. From what I was told we did in fact fight, but they were so surprised by detecting traces of thoughts, or perhaps memories, in what should be a mindless ooze, they decided to capture and study me instead.

Their initial examination uncovered that the memories, while fragmented and hard to read, most certainly belonged to a humanoid. Now the question was if they belonged to the creature itself, or were somehow absorbed by it from its victims. Riveting stuff to hear about yourself after the fact, I know.

They brought me to the Neverlight Grove in hopes that myconids' telepathic talents will help discover the truth. It was surprisingly effective. What song of myconids opened and soothed, the druidic magic could heal.

Admittedly they never put me together quite right, but considering the circumstances, what they did was beyond impressive. As the mind coalesced, the body also found a way to morph and regain regular form of a drow. Give or take a few extra eyes.

The pure confusion of being startled by your own hands is truly something to experience. Having a solid body? How unlikely. I jest, but missing memories and the overall brain fog did not make my reintroduction into the world of living especially pleasant.

It took weeks before I could even start forming full sentences. When the druids first asked who I was, all I could say was ‘avinsin’ over and over, which they assumed to be my name. Actually it’s drow word for ‘doomed’. Of course they offered to fix their mistake later, but I didn't remember my previous name, nor did I care for it, so it might as well be Avinsin.

It’s honestly bewildering how much outside effort was poured into dealing with my predicament. You could try to brush it off by saying that transformation and new beginnings are at the core of the Circle of Spores ethos. But, the simplest truth is that they were good people and offered me more care and understanding than my real family did in over a century.

When I was able to stand on my own two feet again, they showed me their ways and welcomed me in their midst as one of them. It was great. For a time. But like most things in life it couldn’t last. Or maybe I just didn’t allow it to. I’m not sure anymore. 

You see, my memories were slowly returning, not all of them, pieces here and there, but eventually it was enough for me to realise what actually had happened. The theory my fellow druids had was ‘transmutation magic gone terribly wrong’, my gruesome visions were ‘trauma response caused by prolonged time spent as an ooze’. You can’t exactly blame them for not being specialists in eldritch arcana on top of everything else. Honestly, I liked when it was just that.

You must understand that even under the assumption that I was no longer a threat, keeping me around was not safe. I know I reek of this power, it would take only a whiff for bloodhounds to start the pursuit. It wouldn’t matter if it was Lolth’s faithful trying to finish what was started, or Ghaunadaur’s cultists with a wish to extract what’s left of their god’s essence. Neither would care about the collateral damage, they would revel in it.

As I saw it, I had two options: explain everything and hope for the best, or leave for everyone’s sake.

I’ve been on the move and on my own ever since. Of course you stumble onto people in your travels, that’s true even in the Underdark, but I always tried to keep such things brief and non-personal. I took pride in it. Made an identity out of it. To be no one bound by nothing. That way I didn’t have to question the choice I’ve made.

But now that the circumstances forced me to be part of a group again… I’m also forced to acknowledge how soul-numbingly lonely it was. 

What’s life if not a perpetual cycle of being wrong about things.”

[tavyliasin]

ATG 5 - Day? Night.

In which a little invention it tested on a willing subject...

Pairing: Astarion/Tav SPICE Rating: 4/5 (sex, toys, mild kink) Content Warnings: Slight power play, blood, biting, 

Spoilers Set in the middle of Act 2 again, but not a lot of plot, just the setting of Last Light Inn Canon Compliance Canons Got Fired - Look it's fun to diverge. A little. Vaguely remembering the hidden rooms under the Inn for some setting, and trying to keep close to how I see the relationship developing more between the dynamics of these 2 and how their life views may come in to conflict. Other Notes Darlings we are here for the fun headcanon and toying with ideas of how different aspects of the world and lore could be utilised. Got ideas for additions? Drop them in the comments. Song/Mood Poison Apple by Echo Black "Another midnight, I saw your face, The hunger hit me and I had to have a taste. No need to fight it, temptation reigns, Your touch is wicked and it's burning through my veins. Never refuse forbidden fruit My strength is waning and my demons running loose I should've felt it, before the fall, I saw the apple took a bite and lost it all." ----- FULL CHAPTER BELOW THE CUT -----

It seemed like their time in the cursed Shadowlands might never end. Searching through ruined towns for clues to the past, fighting their way through the souls that had fallen before them, seeking light to chase the shadows. At least they now had the blessing to protect them, and somewhere to sleep safely in the Last Light Inn surrounded by Harpers and the Tiefling refugees from the Druid grove had also arrived safely. Tav had been relieved to see Dammon was with them, alive, well, and willing to trade once more. His help for Karlach was invaluable, too. She glanced over at the barbarian, sleeping like a small child now cuddling up to a large stuffed toy that Gale had enchanted to be safe from her heat. She looked peaceful, for a change. Unfortunately, Tav was far from peaceful herself. She felt completely restless. The Sword Coast was apparently full of painfully attractive people, and sharing a communal room did not allow for privacy to scratch certain itches. It did not help at all that Astarion flirted as easily as breathing, and she had yet to build up an immunity to his undeniable charms. Truth be told, a few of the others had flirted too, but she wasn’t too certain that everyone felt the same way that she did about lust and love. There was only so far she was willing to go with flirting back, some lines once crossed would end with someone getting hurt, and she was not going to let that happen. Luckily for her, the night was about to get a little more interesting, as she wasn’t the only one still awake. “Not even trying to meditate through the night? Darling, it is bad for your health to go without resting. Look at those bruises, they’re not going to get any better if you just toss and turn all night are they?” Astarion kept his voice low, but the wink was a very clear hint. He held out a hand, an invitation to leave the confines of the room.

“You’re up to something.” Tav stated plainly, but still took his hand and stood up, following him out of the room. “Are you disappointed? We can get by on less rest than the others by meditating, but that doesn’t mean I can just leave you there unable to do even that.” His words held concern, but his voice still carried that flirtatious edge to it. “Well, what are you suggesting?” Tav raised an eyebrow, scouring his face for any hint of what he might be up to.

“You’ll see~” He winked again, and kept leading her down the stairs. --- A few minutes later, they were in a secret room beneath the Inn. A hidden door had brought them to a place that looked like a storage area. It was dusty, smelled a little like mildew and…did cobwebs have an odour? They might as well, but it didn’t matter much. It was a small place, alone once the lever had swung the door closed behind them. “You better not have trapped us in here, I haven’t brought any lockpicks down here.” Tav laughed a little, but not without a hint of real concern. It would be terribly embarrassing to end their days locked below the Inn where nobody could find them. “Darling you worry too much, I checked it all myself earlier while you were busy with dinner.” He made a few motions and spoke a few words, prestidigitation replacing the scents clinging in the air with…

“Roses? You made it smell like roses? Is this dusty old storeroom meant to be romantic?” “If it doesn’t suit we can always leave, you know.” He almost sounded offended.

“I didn’t say that. Wait, why do you have a bag with you? And where else did you go during dinner?” She had wondered where he slipped off to, as he didn’t really partake of much food or drink with the party. After all, when he was hungry, she could happily offer herself to slake his thirst. The arrangement was not entirely just for his benefit, either.

“Wouldn’t you like to know~” He smirked playfully, putting his bag down to one side and dusting off some old sacks and cloths from a shelf. “Of course I want to know, that’s why I asked.” She regretted her impatience, but couldn’t resist the temptation to answer with as sharp a wit as she received. “Well, love, I know it’s no luxury bed with silk sheets - which is what I would far prefer to compliment a form as beautiful as yours - but the sight of you will certainly brighten up the place.” His eyes travelled the length of her curves, a slight hunger betrayed by his tongue absent-mindedly moistening his lips, the hint of fangs glinting dangerously. Irresistible, Tav thought, even in a dank rotten storeroom… She removed her outer clothes, taking her time for his benefit as he sat down to enjoy the show. All a part of the game, really, test his patience as well as her own, knowing full well that their blood ran hot when they were alone. “Hungry, are you?”

“You could say that…” His voice trailed off for a moment, eyes lingering on her neck as she tied her hair up again. He took off his shirt and reclined slightly, his back against the wall. “Come, sit right here.” Tav followed his instruction with rising tension, sitting between his parted knees, her back leaning against his now bare chest. “What about your bag? Come on you can’t leave it a mystery all night.” “Well well aren’t we impatient… No, not yet, it’s a surprise. For now,” he began to run his hands up her sides, travelling from her hips to her waist, caressing her chest, and coming to rest in a firm grip on her shoulders securing her against him as his lips came so tantalisingly close to her ear. “May I have a little appetiser, first?” A shiver ran down Tav’s spine and through her whole body, which answered for her. Without even thinking about it she rolled her head back onto his shoulder, exposing her bare neck to him, her breath held in anticipation. She didn’t have to wait long, it had been days since he last fed. Astarion kept one arm around her chest, the other hand rising to her forehead to hold her firmly in place as his fangs penetrated her waiting neck. She gasped, the decadent blend of pain and intimacy coursing through her veins like lightning. Her body felt like a coiled spring, tensed, every muscle screaming danger in a discordant symphony with delight. His tongue caressed softly, lips pressing gentle kisses, even as his fangs stung and drew fresh blood. His moan vibrated against her throat, but her own voice was muffled as his hand moved down to her mouth. The heat of lust rose within her alongside the heated torment of the pleasured pain as he fed, careful, ever careful not to take more than she could handle, but still leaving her breathless with desire for more. Tav almost didn’t notice when he loosened his grip, her mind was almost blank from the experience. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever get used to the intensity when he fed like this, and she also wasn’t sure if she ever wanted to. Before she could even begin to regain her bearings, though, a soft cloth covered her eyes, tied securely at the back of her head. “Are you comfortable, love?” His voice at her ear made her head spin again, she just about managed to nod an affirmation. “Perfect. Stay still, now.” She tried very hard to resist the temptation to try and see what might be coming out of the pack next to them, but she kept that trust. His chest, warm and firm against her back, held a comforting strength. His legs, either side of her hips, pressed against her sides like a lover’s embrace, even without his arms. Just when it began to feel empty in the breathless anticipation, she felt a cool sensation pass over her skin. There was no touch, but like a breeze came from nowhere. Next came heat, moving across different areas still left exposed. Then…a stinging, but not unpleasant. A hint of electric pain lighting up her nerves, sparks carefully measured and controlled, pinpointing the most exquisite sensation. Tav’s breath now came in ragged gasps, each new shock just a little more intense, but soothed with the heat and cool before she could feel pain. If she’d had the ability to form any sound other than a wanton moan, she might’ve asked what all this was, but even this was silenced the moment she felt something pressed between her legs.

---

Behind his lover, Astarion grinned. The symphony he was playing on her body was making such a sweet melody, and he was drinking every second like wine. The little effects of a cantrip were easy to manipulate, and Gale had been very helpful in showing him ways that it could be controlled. He briefly wondered exactly what it might be like to lay with the God of Magic herself, but Gale wasn’t quite the type to kiss and tell. Or at least, not to tell every detail. His smile widened as Tav moaned again, the small object in his hand pressing right where she wanted it most…but there was more to this little metal device. He almost laughed as he remembered how red Dammon’s cheeks had become at the suggestion, but of course the craftsman was incredibly skilled and willing to try making something new. “Oh it’s just for relaxing tired muscles” Astarion had grinned when describing the device, though whether either of them believed that excuse didn’t matter. Now all he had to do was channel just a little electricity through it, and-

---

Tav heard the humming of the tool just as she felt the vibrations. She didn’t know what it was, but she had some idea of what might have been going on whilst she was busy and leaving Astarion unsupervised. Having her eyes covered made every sensation so much more intense, too, and it was becoming almost maddening. But just as she felt close to cascading over the edge, the device moved away. “N...no...you can’t-” She could hear the desperation in her voice but she didn’t care. 

“Not yet, Darling, I want you to feel everything. ” His words arrived in her ear as a low growl, the sound waves shaking her foundations. A distraction, as he shifted behind her. Strong hands took hold of her hips, lifting her smoothly, holding her where she could just feel what was coming next, pressing her hips down as he entered at last. His legs move a little beneath her, allowing a little leverage  to both of them, the kisses along her neck and shoulder giving her the silent permission. Tav’s body became utterly enveloped by sensation. The depth of her lover pressing inside, the feeling of the sparks from his fingertips caressing her body, and his lips tracing loving lines wherever they could reach. She kept her pace slow, too, as much as she longed to rush to the hedonistic release, she was enjoying drawing it out now as much as he did. Fangs cut tiny holes in her back, a quick tongue tasting her flesh and blood with a growing greed, and soon the little device was back with more delicious torment. Her muscles quivered with the intensity building to fever pitch, drowning in a sea of pleasure, the edges of pain only heightening the ecstasy. She might have even felt his pulse racing through her back, had the subtle vibration of his own moans echoing through his chest not silenced that particular drum. As the more intense vibrations began to drive her towards the climax she so desperately desired, Tav matched a more relentless pace with her hips. She was lost to it all, filled, surrounded, caught, controlled, and in that moment so utterly free. Her head rolled back, her neck soon feeling the passion of a myriad of kisses, bites, and the sign they were about to fall so deliciously into the pleasure together. Every nerve lit up, every muscle tensed and release, this time a full volume voice escaping their throats as a single noise echoing from the walls. Time almost slowed down as they felt the incredible rush of euphoria, drawing out the moment as long as they could before it passed, leaving them weakened and breathless in the dark. A small noise on the floor told her that the mystery device had now been abandoned, as Astarion’s arms surrounded Tav, holding her even closer against him while they regained their senses. “You are so beautiful like this,” he whispered, finally lifting the silk from her eyes and kissing her cheek, “see?” “What do you-” Then she saw it, the mirror on the other side of the room, the only clean thing around, with the cloth that had likely covered it when they came in discarded on the floor beside it. Mage Hand, she thought to herself, of course he would- “It felt like a shame if I couldn’t see you, all of you, enjoying this~” He pulled her into another kiss before she had a chance to argue. “Wasn’t it just exhilarating , love?” “I… You know it was… But…” Tav looked at the mirror. “You’re not even there, are you…” “I haven’t seen my reflection in centuries Darling, I don’t miss it,” a little lie, and one that did not get past her notice, “but I saw what I wanted. You. Your body moving with pleasure, your face flush with blood and heat, the way you gasp when you want more …” It was hard to argue, besides which, Tav finally felt tired, like it was time to rest at last. “We should-” “We should stay right here. It doesn’t matter, does it? I’ll wake you up by morning, and we’ll just slip in to the room like we were there all night and just went for a little fresh air .” He brought his legs around her now too, trapping her in a comfortably tight embrace. “You’re not in a rush to escape me, are you?”

Tav yawned, the exhaustion beginning to surrender to the warmth and safety of being in her favourite place. “I don’t suppose you’d care to argue, and those beds were never that comfortable anyway.” “Good girl,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head softly and bringing a blanket around them, “now get some rest. Plenty of running around and killing things to do tomorrow, after all.” She relaxed further, shuffling down a little so her head could come to rest against his chest, listening to the slow heartbeat as her own personal lullaby. It didn’t take long for her eyes to fall closed in the peace they shared before the next storm could draw in.

---

Astarion held her close, savouring the warm weight of her body coming to rest against him. He still didn’t understand how she could give herself so completely to him, how she could relax so easily in the arms of a killer…but he wanted nothing more. His hand idly caressed her soft hair and skin, pulling the blanket a little closer where it had slipped off her shoulder, the bruises still refusing to fade from the reality of their daylight hours. The night , he told himself, belongs to me…to us , he found himself correcting himself, much to his own surprise. What am I supposed to do about this… A dozen thoughts and feelings fought for dominance in his mind as he finally drifted into an uneasy rest himself, holding his heart in his arms.

----------- ----------- ENDING NOTES ----------- ----------- Honestly, that art with the mirror? You know the one, loves, ohh that was delicious~ I don't have much more to say with this chapter though, it's all just some nice spice to solidify how close they have become, the trust that has built, and the odd kind of "new normal" before that is broken back down again.

[ideas-on-paper]

Quarian Codex entries - Observations

[SPOILERS for ME1/ME2]

So, in an effort to gather as much information as possible about the Quarians and the Geth (to get a better idea of Pre-Migrant Fleet Quarian culture and try reconstructing the exact course of the Morning War), I scoured all of the Quarian Codex entries again, and made some… interesting observations along the way.

1. On the internet, I've seen a few discussions of people arguing whether the Quarians or the Geth have the moral high ground in their conflict. During these conversations, some Quarian advocates bring up the argument that they basically had no other choice than to exterminate the Geth due to the Citadel laws explicitly prohibiting AI. (Which creates a discontinuity with the statement that the Citadel laws were introduced because of the Geth rebellion, but whatever.) However, as we learn from the Codex entry about their religion, the Quarians were secretly experimenting with creating true AIs of their dead ancestors, as opposed to the simple VI personalities they were using up until that point. This way, they wanted to gain true immortality, firmly believing that the consciousness could be replicated by technological and mathematical means.

This information shines a whole new light on their war with the Geth: If the Quarians were truly trying to make AI, they sooner or later would have had to cut themselves off from the Citadel, which subsequently would have made any adherence to the Citadel laws irrelevant. Sure, it probably would have meant that the Quarians had to put up a fight against the Council government, but somehow, I get the feeling they would have been willing to accept those consequences. Even in the times of the Migrant Fleet, the Quarian community is very secluded - they almost never let any outsiders into their fleet, and during his recruitment mission, Mordin even has a cut comment to Tali's presence where he assumes that since Tali is partaking in Shepard's mission, it must have something to do with the Geth. From this, we can conclude that if it doesn't personally concern them, Quarians usually don't care about anything that happens outside their society's boundaries - and considering that their homeworld lies in the farmost corner of the galaxy, I wouldn't be surprised if they were known as a little reclusive even back then (which, ironically, is a trait their artificial children eventually inherited).

Consequently, this renders the whole argument that the Quarians didn't want to risk any confrontation with the Citadel invalid. Instead, it gives their conflict with the Geth an essence of "Yes, I was going to break the Citadel laws - but not for you".

2. The Quarians' conviction that a mind can be reproduced digitally also raises a bunch of questions: They were clearly convinced they could give the souls of their dead ancestors new life that way, yet when the first Geth asked their creators whether they have souls, the answer was "Only Quarians have souls. You are a mechanism", as heard in the recording played by Legion.

Now, if the Quarians believed that an artificial being can gain consciousness and be truly alive, what is the decisive quality that sets Geth apart from this? What is it - according to the Quarians' opinion - that makes a Geth less "complete" than them? What is the crucial part that the Geth are lacking for them to qualify as "alive"? (Because if the Geth had a consciousness, they may be considered alive according to Quarian beliefs, which makes this entire mess even more questionable...)

3. Still, the Quarians' dreams of immortalizing their ancestors never came to fruition: Immediately after taking over Rannoch's network, the Geth deleted all VIs/AIs of their creators. Now, the interesting question is why they did that - in a lore video, I've seen a person suggest that it might have been to rid themselves of the creators that abandoned them, as a kind of "symbol" for their liberation.

However, as we learn from Legion's dialogue, the Geth never truly felt any resentment towards the Quarians (which might be due to their inability to feel emotions), so I personally don't consider that theory to be very likely. Despite wiping out almost the entire Quarian population previous to their escape, the Geth actually took care of Rannoch in place of them as a kind of "commemoration". In fact, even the Heretics in ME1 play a recording of a Quarian elegy, which can be seen as a sign of their continuous identification with them (although some people chose to interpret this as a warning/gloating from the side of the Geth, I don't think that explanation really makes sense). I found this respect in spite of the Quarians initially trying to terminate them quite intriguing, though I guess it's up to interpretation whether this stems from their original programming or genuine reverence. Also, as stated by Legion, the Geth believe that all intelligent life should be free to self-determinate - even Tali on Feros implies that for the Geth, there is no clear border between organic and synthetic life. So, considering all of this, it would be very unusual for them to eliminate full-blown AIs of their creators (if they were developed up to that point).

As far as I'm concerned, I can only determine two plausible reasons for this:

a) the Geth already possessed the information contained in the archives, since they had interacted with the respective creators during their lifetime who were thus immortal in their memory

b) the Geth encountered a space/capacity issue on the servers of Rannoch following their war with the Quarians, which led them to delete the personalities of their creators so they could upload their own programs

Either way, the Quarian VIs/AIs would have been unnecessarily taking up space, and since the Geth prioritize efficiency over everything, they decided to delete them. (That does not exclude the possibility of them looking back at their decision and re-evaluating it later on, however.)

4. Last but not least, we learn an interesting detail in the Codex entry about Quarian law and defense: According to the entry, the Quarians are very strict about whom they let near their fleet (which is confirmed during Tali's loyalty mission), and if the intentions of a ship can't be discerned, it's shot down without question. This appears strikingly similar to the Geth destroying any organic ship that enters their space, but otherwise leaving them to their own matters (considering the Citadel laws, they had no logical reason to assume any organic species would act non-hostile towards them). I don't know if this parallel is intentional or not, but since the argument that the Geth attack any organics crossing the Perseus Veil has been used by Tali as proof of their hostility, I find it particularly hilarious that upon closer inspection, the two races act so very similar to each other. (Considering that the Geth obviously learned a lot from them, maybe the Quarians should finally take responsibility for their mechanical children.)

[whaledenwtf]

Kratos x Reader - The Storm

Hi lovelies!! I haven’t been on Tumblr for YEARS at this point and was scouring the internet for some yummy Kratos x Reader fanfiction and decided there wasn’t enough. 

Sadly I myself never played any of the games, though I really want to. This story may not be exactly lore accurate, but it is a oneshot so there may not be too much lore building necessary. I will hyperlink some things so you can do research on some stuff if you wish to write fanfics as well- such as where I researched certain stuff, etc.

Just a warning for those die-hard fans incase you expected a whole lot of world-building and many characters to be present in this story.

Warnings: f!reader and Male Smut, Size Difference, Breeding Kink, Creampie, Choking, Dom/Sub dynamic, Oral (Male and Female Receiving), Fighting, Blood, etc. Porn with Plot, basically 

WORD COUNT: 4300 +

Hope you enjoy this story and my comeback!! ~

Walking through the storm was not without difficulty. The blizzard made it difficult to see, let alone seeing with your face fully covered. Your eyelashes, usually as dark as the midnight sky were coated with layers of ice, snowflakes and tears as your eyes continuously water. 

What feels like a week long journey through the mountains, was really only a four hour journey. Your arms felt heavy, your legs stiff with the cold, and your nose was so runny it might as well have been a waterfall! You decide that camping was the only way to survive, so you begin to create a wall of snow to protect your tent. 

---

Camp was set, and you were eternally grateful for your ability to rest and breathe some air without that damn mask for protection. Every exhale created a cloud of steam, even near the warmth of your makeshift hearth. The cured meats and boiled snow were heating up, and you were excited to just rest. 

As if to taunt you, you begin to hear the sounds of loud exhales, and a growl. You tense up. Your weapon, an intricately patterned sword, is gripped tightly in your hand, pulsating with power. The shuffling continues to get closer.

"Why are we still walking, father?" You are shocked to hear a boy's voice. Your grip on the hilt of the sword relaxes, before you tense up again.

"We must continue our journey onward, Atreus." The timber of the voice is deep and rich, and affected you in a way, though you would deny it out loud. ‘I am clearly shivering because of the cold’ you told yourself mentally.

"Isn't it too dangerous to continue during such a storm?" Atreus responds. The voices get closer, and the security you originally felt disappeared.

"Obstacles find themselves everywhere, boy." His deep voice responds. The shivers that affected you once again was **definitely** because of the cold.

"Brother, he's right. Travelling in this weather will make you fall ill, and you will not be able to continue your journey safely. Create camp and rest." A third voice spoke up. The deep voiced man responds, a 'hmm' that vibrated the air around you.

"Hey father. Look here... it looks like... a snow bank!" Their voices are still muffled, but you can tell they are about to find you in your tent. Their footsteps get closer, the crunch crunch crunch undeniable. The man hums again.

"This is man made." Atreus speaks up. Your time is up, you think to yourself. You look over at your meal, seeing it still boiling and you sigh, getting ready to walk out of the tent. Your hand is gripping your sword so tightly the leather squeaks and your knuckles are as white as the snow outside.

Stepping out of the tent, you see two men, analyzing the snowbank you created to protect you from the cold.

"This is a campsite. Please leave or I will be forced to fight." Is what you wanted to say. Instead you stay mute, seeing the two men, well, man and boy struck fear into your heart. Instead, you just point your sword at them, eyebrows furrowed. The boy, Atreus you remind yourself, had his bow pointed directly at you, line taught with pressure ready to shoot an arrow. The man, well, he was massive. His head was at least two heads above yours. He must've been 7 feet tall- at least! The contrast of his pale skin and blood red tattoo was night and day. His eyes were golden and his beard was dark and rich. As your eyes travel downwards you can see his muscles were bulking, as though his muscles grew muscles.

"Who are you?" You ask them, sword pointing at them.

"A-" The young boy starts, but is cut off by the other man. As he begins to speak, a loud resounding rumble cuts them both off. The ground starts to shake, and in the storm, the shadow of multiple figures starts to get closer. You squint your eyes before they widen.

"Shit!" You look down at your warm and inviting tent and furrow your brows. Looking up, you see both the boy and the man have began running towards the group of draugr. They always say curiosity killed the cat, but you still ran towards them, sword at the ready and a grin on your face. You always loved a good fight.

Gripping your sword, and pulling out your dagger, you feel a sense of calm come over you when you get to the scene. Atreus is shooting some of them down. The big man is swinging left and right, taking down 2 draugrs with each swing.

Exhaling loudly, you scream as you charge, stabbing through the draugr with your sword. When a draugr would come to close to the man or the boy, you would throw your throwing knife, hitting them in the skull before recalling it. By the time you were done, the draugr who had died first were already covered in a light layer of snow. You look up at both the man and the boy before your eyes widen.

"Boy-" The draugr came out of nowhere, stabbing the young boy in the arm holding the bow. He yells out in pain, dropping his bow to the ground.

"ATREUS-" The man screams, and you see a fear in his eyes. You both run towards them, stomping on the draugr so hard it's head bashes in, and it falls lifeless. You look at his arm and see that there is blood everywhere, and the cut is deep. The snow around him become crimson red. The man holds his son, kneeling in the snow to cradle his head. You look towards them both.

"I have healing supplies in my camp. Let's go-" you begin to walk, picking up the boy's bow. You look back and see the man watching you, sizing you up.

"If you don't want Atreus to lose his arm I suggest you come quickly." The man gets up, holding his son to his chest, worried. The boy's breaths are short, eyes squeezed shut in pain as he groans.

--

Making it back to base, you begin to open your small bag which holds your herbs and healing salves. You take a cloth and begin to wipe his arm, seeing that the cut was not too large, but certainly worrisome. You begin to pull out small containers of salves and herbs. Putting the cream on your hands, you begin muttering a spell, rubbing it into the affected area. His arm begins to glow, and Atreus' face calms down, and his breathing slows as though he is asleep.

"What is that?" The man mutters, worried.

"A salve made from Opium Poppies. It numbs the area before I work so he can stop shifting around in pain. The spell was so he could sleep soundly. I will work quickly so hopefully he does not scar and get infected." The man grunts, and you accept it. Wiping your hands, you pull out another salve and rub it into the skin, muttering gently.

"This is to fight off infection. It is a Yarrow salve." You tell him gently, though he did not ask. You can tell he is grateful with you vocalizing the process of healing his partner. The boy must be his son you realize. You pull up your sleeve and begin to hold the boy's arm tightly. The salves are clogging the blood so he does not bleed out, and your hand begins to glow. Your voice is soft when you mutter, he notices. Seeing you work quickly to heal his son has soothed his worries. He looks outside to see the storm has eased up. Enough for him to start looking to set up camp, or continue his journey. He turns around to see Atreus asleep, and your hand coming off his arm to reveal the skin glowing; the cut was closed and there was no scar.

"If you'd like you can both camp with me tonight. Of course, we may not all fit in my tent but-" you begin to speak but he grunts.

"We shall see if we can continue the travel."

"Brother, don't you think Atreus should rest and heal?" The third voice from outside speaks up. Shifting your eyes from the tall man to his waist, you see a beheaded head speaking. Your eyes widen. The man grunts in response to the head.

"If you'd like, I can help you set up another tent. I can also set up a magic barrier-" You walk closer, and you lay a hand on the man's forearm, which is wrapped in bandages. His eyes snap to yours, and you reply softly-

 "Let me help you." The man looks deep into your eyes for a moment and nods. You both leave Atreus with the head so you can build another tent right next to yours.

---

The tent was set up with extra cloth you had laying around and the barrier was placed. The man followed you back to your tent, watching you as he crouched next to his son. 

“Y/N.” You say after a long silence, stirring the pot and adding more herbs. His eyes snap to you, gold like a ray of sunshine, but more so like melted gold. “That is my name.” You reply, glancing at him while nibbling on your lip. You are worried. Your name, while not well known, is one you did not wish to share too often, but you felt as though you could trust him. 

“Kratos.” He replies gruffly. His name, just like himself, is foreign and unfamiliar. 

“That is Atreus and I am Mimir-” The head speaks up, before Kratos cuts it off. “Head!” The head wisely shuts up. You smile softly, looking back at your stew. 

“I did not make much, but we should wake the boy so he can eat. He will be knocked out for a couple hours because of the numbing salve.” Kratos nods, nudging his son awake before helping him eat.

---

The sun, or what could shine through the heavy storm clouds was gone. Atreus and Mimir were in the other tent, resting and healing. Kratos was inside your tent, sharpening his weapons so that he would not wake his son. 

“Thank you.” He muttered, almost unintelligible over the sound of his metal being sharpened. 

You nod, packing up the salves and going to sit near him. Your thighs touched for a moment before you scooted away, embarrassed. His heat was overwhelming, and you were convinced that if you snuffed out the hearth his heat would still keep you as warm as a summer day. You remove one of your layers, exposing your arms. From the corner of your eye, you could see he was looking at your form. 

“I noticed you had bandages on your forearms. If there are scars you would like for me to remove I can-” His grunt was loud, and it sounded upset. 

“They are not something that can be healed.” He muttered quietly, poking a stick into the fire and watched the sparks fly up from the embers. You hum softly, looking at his forearms. The bandages, aged and dirty, are wrapped tightly. 

“It seems as though these scars are not just physical. If it troubles you, I can listen.” You tell him, nudging closer to his warmth, your eyes watching the flames lick the logs of wood you put down. He turns to you, eyebrows furrowed. The next grunt sounds distrustful. You shrug at him, eyes still facing forward.

“If I have to be stuck with another person during this storm, I would at least like to know about them.” You say, annoyed at his lack of trust. You turn your head to look at him, and he looks troubled. His eyes, like gold mirrors reflecting the flames of the hearth, are stormy and guarded. As if on instinct, your hand inches closer to his cheek. Before you could feel the skin of his face, his hand grabs your wrist, loosely holding it in warning. You raise an eyebrow.

“Something must have happened for you to feel such uncertainty towards others.” You whisper to him. He turns his head, looking towards the entrance of the tent with his eyes screwed shut. You exhale, tugging your hand away from his grip. He gets up, and turns back to you.

“I will check on Atreus.” You hum, turning away from his eyes as you blush, embarrassed at your actions.

---

It is a couple hours later, and Kratos come back to your tent to see you partially undressed. Your outer layers have been removed, leaving you in your bandages and under layers. You turn to look at him, eyes wide.  “Oh-” You pull an animal hide to you, to cover yourself for decency. He turns his body, grunting in apology. Scrambling to at least put on a longer linen top, your body is covered enough to be considered decent. As Kratos heard you dress, he closed his eyes. An image of your almost naked body is painted on his eyelids, and he is bothered. On the one hand, you are beautiful and seem to be trustworthy (and you trust him, which is rare). On the other hand, his heart still feels as though it has not healed from Faye’s passing and all the betrayals he faced in his long life.

You harrumph, getting his attention. He turns, and his eyes are glued your exposed thighs. Though they are littered in minor scratches and scars, they are softer than he expected; pillowy and large but he could tell they are still muscular and full of hidden strength. His eyes roam upwards, and he is able to admire your body for the first time. 

You were curvy, but full of power. Your muscles were not overwhelming, but you were healthy. The curve of your stomach showed through the linen top, but it was not extreme- just womanly. The curve of your bosom was larger than he expected, and from his angle, he could see the cleavage of your breasts at the neckline of the top. His eyes, adventuring onward in appreciating you, reached your face. He has not seen someone with your looks yet across Midgard. Your eyes, a beautiful (E/C), held much more emotion and wisdom than others across the realm. Your cheeks, flushed from his watchful eyes and their trek across your form, continue to glow a deep shade of crimson.

“Would you like to rest in my tent tonight, Kratos?” His name sounded beautiful from your lips. For a moment, he felt a weight being lifted from his shoulders, and was reminded of a simpler time. When he was young in Sparta, and he would watch the women pass as he was training. It is almost a moment too long before he responds with a hum, that was soft. You prepare some linens and animal hides on the ground, trying to make a soft surface large enough for the herculean man.

Once he sits on his makeshift bed, you get ready to rest before he grabs your wrist lightly. He pulls you softly to sit near him. You stay quiet, watching him patiently. He slowly begins to remove all his armor until he was just in his pants and forearm bandages. Slowly, he unravels them and you see scarred damaged skin, welts and dips in the forms of chains. 

“There is no healing these scars... These are what killed my family.” You begin to understand. On your knees, you shuffle closer to him, still having to look up at his eyes. You grab both forearms, and inspect them closer. He turns away from your form, looking far left to the side of the tent. He only turns, startled, when he feels your soft breath on his arms.

“Your past, no matter how dark, has made you who you are today-” You begin to pepper soft kisses onto his arms. “-And who you are today is an incredible fighter-” you continue to kiss his scars. “- Intelligent man with the will to do what he pleases-” your kisses start to go closer to the creases of his elbow. “-And a damned good father.” Your kisses have now reached his neck, and still, you pepper him with gentle kisses. So gentle, he thinks it is just the breeze from the storm going into the tent. You stop your kisses while putting his arms down, taking the side of his neck to look deep into his eyes while biting your lip. 

His eyes, unsure, look at your lips. Enticed by the teeth that are currently biting the soft flesh, causing the perfect skin to redden. “What do you want Kratos? What do you desire?” He looks into your eyes, before bringing your face to his, urgently. Your lips, in a rush to connect, smash against each other. Your teeth clash into each other through the skin, but still you continue to kiss. Once you part, you are panting at him. Kratos’ chest barely moves, and without a beat he pulls you back, groaning. You moan into his mouth, lips open. Your tongues fight, and when you move away to catch your breath, you are connected by saliva. Not a moment passes before his large hands rip open your linen top. Your full bosom falls out, gravity pulling them down slightly. You blush, covering your nipples and lower portion with your hands. 

“You do not need to hide from me, όμορφο κορίτσι (beautiful girl).” His voice was so deep, you felt a rush of wetness leak from between your legs. You could see his nostrils twitch before he grinned. Your arms go down from your body, and you spread your legs, presenting yourself to him. He noticed the bandages in your nether regions were drenched, and your wetness had reached the crevice of your thighs. His hands went south, trailing over all the dimples, wrinkles and folds of your skin until he reached the bandages, which he also ripped. Your gasps excited him, as though he was hunting and you were the prey. 

“Bend over, μέλι (honey).” You moan, playing with your nipple before bending over, arching your back so you can offer yourself to the god, your god. 

“Είσαι τόσο όμορφος. Ανυπομονώ να σε φάω.(You’re so beautiful. I can’t wait to eat you).” You realize he is not speaking a language you can fully comprehend. You feel a thick digit touch your sensitive part. You were essentially caterwauling at his attentiveness to your cunt, moaning and shrieking when his digits circled your bundle of nerves. Not a second later he intrudes into your inner sanctums, and his tongue behind to poke and prod at your clit.

The moan you let out is absolutely whore-ish. You swore on the lives of everyone you had ever met that you had never felt a pleasure such as this. His tongue was skilled, tracing patterns of runes. "ᛖᚨᛏ" (eat). You can tell he is enjoying himself, licking his fingers as they leave and reenter your tight cavern. His nose, ever so lightly continues to bump into your other hole, puckering at every nudge he does.

He pulls his fingers out and backs away, making you cry out. Your release was close, so without his fingers and his rough tongue, you were getting antsy. You grind nothing, cold air freezing your lower lips and thighs. You turn around, growling. You see Kratos undoing all his clothes. He is as naked as the day he was born. Pale, scarred and certainly buff, he was handsome and arousing to look at. As your eyes travel downwards, you see his member. Even at half mast he is easily over 10 inches, and you would even argue 13. The tip was ruddy, leaking pre-cum all over the rest of his length. You push him down, hard. Getting ready. He looks at you with a glint in his eye.

"Who said you could take control of me?" You look him in the eye, defiant.

"I will take your monster cock into my mouth, and as you are on the precipice of emptying your godly seed into me I will remove myself. We'll see how you will feel-" You cut yourself off when you took him into your mouth, trying to swallow around him as much as possible. His groan is loud, and his hand grips your hair, holding you and following your movements as you begin to bob your head.

As you continue to gasp around his member, his groans grow louder. The satisfaction in hearing his sounds was greater than the act itself, and you felt your cunt leak in excitement. Your hands continue to thrust, tugging on the many inches that could not fit in your mouth. You slowly still your movements. As his hand loosens in your hair, you get off him, sitting on your haunches and watching his reaction. His golden eyes are pitch black, as his pupils have dilated and left nothing but a small rim of gold. He grabs your body and pulls you onto him. In his seated position on the floor, he sits you onto his thighs and looks at your face. 

“Τόση ομορφιά. Ανυπομονώ να σε καταστρέψω.“ (Such beauty. I cannot wait to ruin you.) You gasp as he holds himself in his hand, rubbing the leaking tip onto your cunnie. He rubs your pearl and you moan loudly. One of his hands that is gripping your hip goes to your neck, cupping the back of it softly. He pulls you into a kiss before pushing your body slowly onto his length. The stretch is delicious, and you feel so full your body flushes with heat. You hiss into his mouth, as his tip presses against your cervix, filling you to the brim. Breaking from the kiss, you look down and see that you can see the outline of him inside you. It is very slight, but is perceivable enough. He pulls you up before lowering you back onto his thighs and the slapping sound the movement makes fills the tent. 

The hand on the back of your neck wraps around the front, as he softly chokes you and begins to thrust up into your warmth. Your nipples harden and tears roll down your face as you submit yourself to him. He takes your body and pleases you. His lips and teeth nip at your nipples, lathering them in his saliva. The cold wind would occasionally flow through the entrance, and the cold would make pleasurable tingles from the peaks of your breasts. 

Your moans continue to grow in volume and in frequency. Kratos removes his hand from your neck and stuffs your mouth with his thick digits. He pulls you chest to chest from your mouth and begins to whisper in your ear.

“We mustn't wake them up.” You begin to feel your orgasm build from the friction of your clit on his small patch of hair above his member. You moan into his digits, licking around them and looking into his eyes. Your eyes water from the over stimulation. He groans as your eyes connect, and goes to whisper in your ear.

“I can’t wait to fill you with my seed, πόρνη μου (my little whore).” You close your eyes and tears fall down your face, grinding down harder onto him so he would fulfil his promise. 

He pulls his hand from your mouth and connects the both of you by the lips. Your tongues clash strongly, and his hand goes to your hip, slapping your ass before gripping it. You moan into his mouth and he swallows the sound. You both continue to rut against each other with energy, feeling his thick member hit every part inside of you. You have become so wet that the stickiness is all over his thighs too, making the slapping noises louder. The hand that left your mouth moved from its place on your ass, and you feel something prod at your back entrance. 

Your eyes open wide and you’re surprised to see his eyes looking at you intently. A finger begins to breach the entrance and wiggle in your puckered hole. Between his fat cock and thick digit you had never felt so full your life. One particular thrust sent you spiraling, as you had grinded him roughly and your pearl got the attention it was begging for. You squeeze his member tightly, and he splits from your lips and groans, filling you with his seed. He pulls his digit from your rear and slaps your ass before tugging you up and down over him, ensuring that all his seed would stay inside you. After a dozen more thrusts, he keeps you on his cock, looking you in the eyes. 

“Τόσο όμορφο (so beautiful).” He whispers, clearing your face from your tears, sweat, spit and hair. You hold his head in your hands and kiss his forehead. You pull yourself off him and you see some of his seed leak out of you. You scoop it up and lick it up while looking him in the eyes.

“Watch yourself Μικρό κορίτσι (little girl). You’ll excite me again.” You wink at him and seat yourself back on his thick thighs.

“Who said I don’t want that?” He pulls you back into a kiss, getting excited at the prospect of more.

---

Bonus:

THE NEXT MORNING

“Brother, why are we packing up (Y/N)’s camp?” Mimir asks, confused from his place on Kratos’ hip.

“She will travel with us. A healer who’s proficient in battle would be only beneficial.” Mimir hums.

“I’m sure that’s all she’s proficient in, aye brother?” Mimir teases him. 

“Head!” 

“What does he mean from that, father?” Kratos sighs while Mimir chuckles. 

-----

[skippyin]

I admit that I've played like two mario games in my entire life so I may have lots of gaps in Mario lore, but as soon I see father-son duo dynamic where the former has to undergo a trip(physical and emotional) to re-establish their bond I EAT THAT SHIT!!!!

So first thing first: One, no TWO big thumbs up

Second: Junior is an absolute cutie in your style, I want to wrap him in a bundle and rock him to sleep( he'd probably chomp my hand off but worthy)

As I said I know jackshit on Mario but like could be possibly for Bowser to connect the dots and think the Mario bros kidnapped Jr in retort??

Marching in all blaze glory up to his enemies, demanding to have his son back, only to be meet by very puzzled and surprised plumbers??

Mario Lore doesn't go super deep (Though the lore in the Mario & Luigi RPG games and even some Paper Mario titles goes hard). But the stuff we do see between Junior and Bowser in the games is incredibly good and cute. Bowser loves his boy so much. He's doing his best to be a good Dad.

Also thank you!! Drawing Junior is very fun. he is a little (feral) squishy man :>

I definitely need to dedicate some time to practicing the other characters and figuring out how to translate them into my style. I definitely have more ideas I wanna draw that involve Mario, Luigi, and maybe someone else. ;)

As for Bowser thinking the Brothers kidnapping Junior... Idk if Bowser's mind would conjure that possibility, mainly because he views the Mario Brothers as a couple of "goody-two-shoes" and kidnapping just doesn't seem up their alley.

HE DOES however march up into the Mushroom Kingdom in a sleep-deprived frenzy trying to find his son. After scouring everywhere in the Koopa Kingdom, the next place Bowser thought to look was the Mushroom Kingdom and... Well he and his minions caused a ruckus that's for sure! Practically stormed Peach's Castle like

They manage to get Bowser calmed down enough to explain what the HELL is going on. The brothers and Peach offer to help without hesitation. They might have mixed feelings about Bowser, but troublemaker or not, Junior is still just a kid. (Plus it would probably be safer for ALL the neighboring Kingdoms if they get this situation under control as SOON as possible. A stressed Koopa King - it turns out - is a very destructive one.)

[jadejedi]

Fantasy Book Review: The Hands of the Emperor by Victoria Goddard

JJ’s rating 4.25/5 

How feral did it make me: 4.9/5

My book reviews

So, I wasn’t initially planning on reviewing this book anytime soon as I have gone back and forth a bit on my feelings on this book since I read it in October of 2023. However, with all the horrible shit that is going on in the world right now, I kind of realized that this kind of escapism is sometimes extremely necessary to keep one’s sanity. 

I want to start off by briefly detailing why I have gone back and forth on this book. When I first read The Hands of the Emperor, I absolutely loved it. It was easily one of my favorite reads of 2023, I was gushing about it to people, I cried reading it at the airport, I was highlighting my favorite quotes on the kindle and then going back to reread all my favorite quotes. However, as a bit of time passed, I started to think of this book sort of on the level of Parks and Rec. Something that presents a fantastical utopia version of politics that could never be realized in the real world. Like, in the real world, Ron Swanson would not be BFF’s with Leslie Knope. Real life Ron Swanson would have voted for Trump. Similarly, someone like Kip would never be handed Kip’s level of power, and no one who grasped for Kip’s level of power would have Kip’s morals and politics. 

 But, the thing is, I still love Parks and Rec despite the fact that it’s unrealistic, in fact sometimes because it’s unrealistic, because it presents a form of escapism. And I think that a small amount of escapism is absolutely fine and even necessary at times. I don’t think it’s necessary for all fiction to present a radical plan for revolution, though I do think those works are incredibly important. I think it is okay for a book to just paint a picture of a beautiful ideal world and allow readers to live in that world for a brief time. It’s lovely to just think that there are people out there like Kip, who want to do all of these amazing things, even if I don’t think that the policies that Kip implements would ever be implemented in our world without the people demanding that they be implemented. 

With all of that out of the way, here’s a summary. The Hand’s of the Emperor takes place in a larger universe that all of Victoria Goddard’s books are set in, but you don’t have to read any of her other books for this one to make sense. This book follows Cliopher, aka Kip, the secretary to the Last Emperor of Astandalas, who is thought of as a god. There’s a lot of interesting lore around the timeline of this story and the now fallen Empire of Astandalas that is slowly revealed (and I do mean slowly) throughout this book, so don’t worry if you are a bit lost now and there. Kip decides one day to break all protocol and ask the Emperor if he would like to come to Kip’s homeland for a vacation. Kip is from a highly insular small island community that draws heavily on Polenysian culture and imagery. The story basically follows Kip and the Emperor’s relationship, however you may interpret it, as they get to know each other in a new context. It also follows Kip as he struggles to explain to his family why he does the job he does instead of coming home, and even struggles to explain what it is that he does. If that explanation does nothing for you, it’s basically The West Wing meets Moana meets the Scouring of the Shire with queer undertones. Or overtones. Also, lots of great fealty vibes. Lots of longing looks, lots of “Oh how I wish I could reach out and touch him but I can’t!!!!” 

What I loved about this book right away was the relationship between Kip and the Emperor. These are two guys who are either in their fifties or are centuries old, depending on how you look at time, and they have spend either decades or centuries working together to make a better world. But one day they kind of stop and both realize, “Is this work all I am? Do I have any friends? Any human connections at all?” And so they both try and reach out to the only person they really can reach out to, which is each other. Kip does have other friends, especially by the end of the book, but there is really only one person who can really understand Kip’s vision and experiences, and that is the Emperor. Here’s a quote from early on that really hit me:

“And it occurred to him, somewhat later, after they had settles into their usual work, that if he, who was the chief member of his Radiancy’s household, had never before dared offer a gift to his Radiancy beyond the tithes and service expected of him, then apart from his Radiancy’s sister, who barely wrote and even more rarely came to court, there was no one else to do so.” 

Sometimes, you view someone in such a way that makes you think that they could never need anything from you. What could you possibly offer? But this book argues that we can all offer ourselves, our humanity, our friendship, our empathy. Like, so much of this book is also about the isolating influence of power and celebrity. That once you are at a certain level, people stop viewing you as human, and stop thinking that you need the love and support and connection that every person needs and craves. Kip’s story and character arc is very much about him learning to hold two disparate things at once: his culture and heritage and his personal dreams and ambitions, but the Emperor’s character arc is just about wanting to be a human. It honestly kind of made me think of child stars. People who are formed into something beyond human from a very early age and become disconnected from themselves and from others. 

All in all, I absolutely loved reading this book, and if you feel like you need a bit of escapism from the horrors of the real world, this book will absolutely deliver. It is extremely long though, just a warning lol. Like I said at the top, I have a LOT of quotes highlighted that I absolutely loved, but I will leave you with the one that has stuck with me the most.

“One thing I have learned is how rarely we get to stand up for the great things. Or rather: how rarely we know we are standing up for the great things… Public opinion is like the sea. It seems vast, primordial, unstoppable, immutable. In some ways it is. But the individual is a stone.”

[felikatze]

binding blade thoughts (again), abt religion this time. so the elimine church is one of only TWO major religions in the ENTIRE FRANCHISE to not worship dragons, alongside whatever ashera's religion is called in the tellius games

and the elimine church is specifically EXTREMELY christian. elimine is basically jesus. she is considered to be the incarnation of god on earth and stated to have ascended to heave after her passing, which also tells us the elimine church has a concept of heaven as an afterlife

additionally from various supports we see that priests hold regular mass, and that proselytizing is also a part of the religion (though, fortunately, the bishop yoder frowns upon forced conversion, and will just leave anyone of other religions alone, cuz they already have something to worship)

yoder's supports also confirm that the elemental affinities are not just something for players, but rather the characters know about them in universe, and there ARE diverging theological beliefs in how they came to be. the elimine church state that the affinities were a gift from god (specifically, a nameless all powerful creator god, which drew me to the obvious christianity comparison to begin with), and the sacaen spiritual belief states that the affinities come from the earth itself and act akin to protective spirits

people also have some means to discern which affinity they fall under, as dayan directly states he is protected by the anima affinity

i dont think other games have this direct integration of game mechanics into theology? which is wild. it's so fascinating for support bonuses to have lore.

as a result of that, the elimine church also seems to have a strong "love thy neighbour" ethic, especially since belief in elimine is associated with the healing arts. staves are considered holy tools of elimine. all characters who start with staves are either direct members of the church, or troubadours. both troubadours (clarine and priscilla) come from etruria, where belief in elimine is a state religion

that casts a fun light on druids usint staves... call it a hunch, but i don't think niime is a very devout person.

ALSO! DRAGONS! so, yoder, our leading bishop, remember, seems to not mind dragons very much. he says that the return of dragons must be "prevented" and if it cannot, then dragons should "return to their own world", which is all very gentle phrasing.

however, our only non-mario kart depiction of elimine, in heroes, is WAY MORE VIOLENT?

"Never forget that dragons are but destruction given form."

Whereas Yoder seems wary of dragons out of a fear it may restart the Scouring, Elimine straight up advocates for killing em. It seems that her endless compassion does not extend to them.. huh...

It honestly seems like that aspect of her character just got watered down over the thousand years between the Scouring and Binding Blade. With dragons all but gone for the world, people stopped worrying about them, and they became objects of legend. Notably, the perception of dragons as demons does still exist - in Niime's support chain with Fae, she retells the Scouring just so, substituting demon for dragon, but soon drops that belief once she sees Fae is just a wee little baby, and just as much a person as anyone else.

Honestly, the belief in a god who created the earth, alongside the terminology of Divine Dragons - I want to know the relationship between those so bad. Unfortunately, Sophia and Fae have no supports with any priests. The only one who does is Igrene, with Saul.

And in that one, she says that she doesn't believe in god anymore, but that before she became an atheist, she specifically believed in a different god. Alongside statements that Sophia is a priestess of Nabata, this clearly indicates that Nabata, and perhaps dragonkind, have a different main religion, with a different god. There is like, zero lore, on what they would have worshipped, but i do wonder if that is where Divine Dragons come into play.

From the Igrene/Saul support we also see how the god of the Elimine Church is characterized. Mainly, as a kind god, yet one who will not intervene in mortal affairs out of belief that humans can make their own path. If you don't believe in god, god still believes in you, that type of stuff. Works well with the healing angle that priests do good in the name of god and all that jazz.

I ran out of things to say.

TLDR; the cast of the Binding Blade and the Blazing Blade are the only FE characters who can and will say "Oh my god"

[kradogsrats]

OKAY so the meat of Neither Crows Nor Eagles is actually “Lissa and Kpp’Ar tag-team through the Titan Heart arc WAY better than Viren navigated it on his own” and yeah that’s gonna take approximately forever to write

but I still just wanted to post a little chunk that resembles “done” because a) idek man it makes me stupid happy, and b) I swear to god that three stanzas mimicking the Midnight Star poem structure might have been the single most difficult thing I’ve ever experienced writing, please look at it and feel the pain it caused my soul

—

Lissa spent days scouring the library—histories, sagas, ancient poetry. Even a few tomes on magic that looked somewhat comprehensible.

In the end, she stumbled upon what she was looking for almost by accident. An otherwise extremely dry analysis of settlement distribution across the area of what would eventually become Katolis made an unusual reference to a contemporary heroic lay, which sent her after several collections of pre-kingdoms era poetry, seeking to identify the original verse. As she paged through the fourth of the half-dozen volumes the librarian retrieved for her, a handful of stanzas from an unrelated, even earlier poem caught her eye. 

"It's about an early human queen, referred to only as 'Bone-crowned,'" she told Kpp'Ar, back at his house. "It's not clear whether or not she really existed—the whole story may be a metaphor for fallen Elarion, to express human suffering and grief after the expulsion."

"Spare me the senseless academic waffling," Kpp'Ar grumbled, flapping a hand at her. He bent over the text. "It doesn’t matter whether the individual existed, as long as the spellcraft is sound."

Lissa pointed out the stanzas in question. "Here. It’s not much, unfortunately."

Unbowed queen, with harden’d heart, no traitor’s rule left in her stead. Cast from her throne and crowned with bone, her people to the wilds she led.

Exiled queen, with pow'r undimmed, an ebon gaze swept o'er the waste. In barren ground no seed was found, both root and stalk by blight erased. 

Wand'ring queen, with children frail, faced winter's bite and hunger's sting. 'Til warmth of Earth drew bounty forth, growth like unto most tend'r spring.

Kpp'Ar frowned, thick brows knit together. "Actually, this is quite promising," he conceded. “Workable, even.”

"How? It doesn't look much like a spell.”

"Did you expect a shopping list? The reagent and incantation would have been closely-guarded secrets, particularly for a working of this scale. But there are signs." He tapped a stanza. "Here—a reagent of the Earth primal, that brings the warmth of a second spring to the land."

She thought back to what little she remembered of primal sources lore. It came up far less often as poetic imagery during the later eras she was more familiar with. "Wouldn't warmth come from the Sun primal?"

"Do you know of many plants that grow better when on fire? No," he answered himself testily, not waiting for her response, "the spell would require the vitality and fertility of Earth. Think of the heat of a beating heart, not a lit flame."

He went to one of the bookshelves and selected several thick tomes. Lissa peered curiously at the pages as he flipped through one of them—it appeared to be some manner of reference text, cataloging properties of Xadian flora and fauna. Some entries he dismissed without a second glance, including several forms of dragon, but others he reviewed more carefully before moving on.

She watched as he muttered over the pages, absorbed to the point of having forgotten her presence. His shaggy hair fell across his face as he bent his head to examine a diagram in detail, and he pushed it back impatiently, tousling the pale streaks that raked through it like skeletal fingers. 

Bone-crowned, she thought. She was less familiar with stories from the pre-Katolis region than those of her homeland, but she recalled the queen’s tale as being one primarily of betrayal and bloody retribution. The grisly crown was usually depicted as wrought from her enemies’ remains, growing more elaborate as she continued to exact her revenge. If the epithet instead described a natural coloration—it posed significant challenge to certain assumptions. Not even to mention the question of when the popular perception had changed, and how.

She wondered if anyone had published a monograph on the topic, yet. Maybe she’d write one. Assuming there was any interest in scholarship remaining after famine ravaged the kingdoms.

"Here," Kpp’Ar said abruptly, startling her out of her thoughts. He smoothed the open page with his hand. "This is a possibility."

The illustration showed a hulking creature of rock, man-like in its shape and stance, but without recognizable features. Deep fissures ran over its craggy surface, and its gaping maw hung open in a ferocious bellow.

“A magma titan,” Kpp’Ar explained. “Uncommon, but not unheard of, particularly in the volcanic wastelands near the border. Its heart, for lack of a better term, is a massive crystal of concentrated magic. Potentially enough to restore Duren’s fields to flourishing, and spur them to produce before winter.”

Hope—real hope—swelled in Lissa’s chest, lifting away some of the smothering dread that had weighed her down since Sarai admitted the dire situation. “You think it can be done?”

“Perhaps.” He drummed his fingers against the page, still frowning. "Unfortunately, magma titans are quite difficult to kill. It will take a dozen soldiers, at the least. Maybe two."

Lissa’s fragile bubble of hope crashed back to earth. "There's no way that many can march into Xadia. It would be seen as an act of war—that's the last thing we need."

"Indeed. Which is why they must not be seen."

"If magic could sneak an army over the border, it would have been done centuries ago." She hesitated. It seemed like common sense, but there was a lot she didn’t know about magic. “Right?”

“Conjuring illusions that deceive normal beings is trivial, but dark magic does little against the senses of an archdragon,” he confirmed. "Which is why I'm proposing speed, not spells. Cross, hunt the titan, and return in a single night. The most time-consuming part is locating a target—my presence will speed that step significantly."

It took Lissa a moment to register what he'd said. "You?" she exclaimed, a wave of mingled disbelief and dismay rising in her.

Kpp'Ar cast a look at her, brows raised. "You know someone else who can perform a tracking spell?"

"No, but—" She grimaced. Until now, the entire prospect had been, if not academic, then at least abstract. It was one thing to think about a dozen unnamed soldiers venturing into Xadia after a monstrous creature, but entirely another to imagine Kpp'Ar—who seemed to hold all the brittle frailty of ancient parchment, ready to crumble at a touch—doing the same. He had not, to the best of her knowledge, left his home in years, save for the morning Viren died. She remembered him blinking owlishly in the sunlight, stumbling after her through the streets.

She remembered how his hands shook when he’d touched Viren’s lifeless body. So, so gently.

“Couldn’t you do it from here? Or this side of the border, at least?” she finished weakly.

“Not accurately. To track a specific individual using a direct sample, maybe—but a broad specimen match requires proximity. There's also a chance the spell will need to be refreshed multiple times, depending on how far away the target is revealed to be.”

He closed the book, looking down at his hands resting on its cover. “This plan cannot be executed without a mage. Not quickly enough to make a difference.”

Lissa had nothing she could say to that. Neither Katolis nor Duren had a high mage to take responsibility. Seeking outside aid risked widespread panic—a single kingdom’s choice to hoard and isolate rather than stand together could bring the collapse of centuries of peace. 

“Contrary to what you may believe, there are things I care deeply for. People, both present snd gone,” Kpp’Ar said quietly. "We both know he would go without hesitation, if he were here.”

His hands curled into fists against the book. “He’s not, and I am. It is what it is.”

Lissa opened her mouth to somehow protest further, then closed it with a sigh. “I’ll inform the queen.”