#if the elf is in some sort of life-or- death-situation or putting out a lot of power

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

👉🏽👈🏽 spare any jjk faerie au headcanons you have cooked up for a desperate lass?

of course because man do i have some thoughts as a lover of faeries. i could probably go on about this for hours

gojou satoru | elf

a prince hailing from a seelie court

his very birth shook faerieland as foretold by the stars red, blue and purple stars that soared through the sky the night of his birth and his eyes are ones that can see mana and the shape of the soul among other things

presents himself as a revel-loving fool he simply enjoys games, but he is a lot more observant and calculating than he lets on

in his youth he often toted on and on about the stupidity of love, likening it to more of a curse and an ailment that turned the sane into fools so outside of the obligation of having heirs, he doesn't desire love in the slightest

until he meets falls in love at first sight with you, a banshee who saved his life when you coincidentally happened to be passing by after he found himself in a bloody situation

causes the entire court to go into an uproar when he immediately announces his intentions to make you his queen never mind the fact you haven't even accepted his proposal yet

his mother doesn't like you in the slightest. she gave birth to one whose very birth has shaken the earth and if her son is going to marry anyone it is going to be someone more fitting of that position

satoru ignores all that in favor of doing his best to woo you now that you're stuck living in his palace until a revel thrown in your honor passes

yes he knows this very much so makes him a hypocrite but he doesn't want anyone else

asks you all sorts of question about being a banshee. how your cries work, if there are different wails for different situations, how long you've been heralding death

at least you know the man is nothing if not passionate. it's hard resisting his charms as he asks you gently each time to marry him. you think you just might say yes when you feel the ghost of his lips against yours

getou suguru | phouka

if he isn't being an advisor to seelie prince satoru, suguru is a human-hating phouka who is, unfortunately, stuck living with one

unlike humans, the folk are creatures who keep their word so when you are able to best him in something for a favor he's inclined to keep his promise

and yes, he promises that he won't harm you or your loved ones after your deal has come to a close. yes, this includes things you personally consider harmful ranging from murder to physical attacks

for a human, you're quite clever in looking out for any loopholes. you apparently weren't lying when you said you were a faerie enthusiast

but that's the extent of suguru's praise when he learns why you were so adamant to find a faerie to help with your problems ー

apparently you took a botany elective thinking it would be an easy A only to now be just barely passing the class

yes, that's right. you want a member of the folk, a phouka, to be a glorified tutor until the end of the semester just to make sure you don't get a failing grade. apparently, suguru gave you far too much credit

still, you end up growing on him overtime with your sense of humor and you're way of looking at things. he hates to put it so simply but he supposes you aren't like other humans he has come across

(suguru later nearly destroys your textbook because he himself grows frustrated with your class. the human sciences are just as confusing to him as it is you. but your grade has technically improved since he began helping you so it's not entirely a loss is it?)

nanami kento | elf-kobold hybrid

an elf-kobold hybrid with horns that gently curve atop his head akin to an imperial demon

a record keeper often has work writing down events as they take place as well as organizing historical texts as he sees fit. it's a tiring and thankless job but it is something his family has been doing for generations and he sees no reason to break tradition now

the one saving grace he has are naps he enjoys taking between late afternoon and dusk, religiously, by a lake close to the palace

you're a swan maiden who calls the lake home and his quiet company. it's winter in the human realm and rather than fly south with your flock, you decided to spend the season in faerie and decided that particular lake would be home

you're a playful, impish thing who enjoys presenting nanami with riddles as he grows tired and you watch over him to keep him safe while he sleeps. a deal you've both made in favor of him bringing you delicious sweets from the palace

it's quite the favorable deal for you both

of course, inevitably you two get to talking and find yourselves having more and more in-depth conversations as the week goes by

what would nanami do if he decided to break family tradition?

where have you traveled in the human realm?

as a swan maiden, you seldom ever take off your cloak of feathers. there's no reason to ask, nanami knows the rules that swan maiden and selkies follow. should your cloak or coat be taken, you're forced to follow their will

as such, nanami never refers to your coat in the slightest. he never even asks about it

it's a great sign of trust among your kind to ever be vulnerable with your cloak. something nanami learns first hand when he wakes up one particular evening and finds that you have covered him with your cloak to make sure he stays warm

fushiguro toji | boggart

a lord in an unseelie court of faerie, who works in service to the high king as his sword

had a mortal wife who died centuries ago and together they had a half-human son

his son lives among humans presently and while they don't readily talk to one another, toji often has his men sent to the human realm to watch over his son and give him reports on his wellbeing

doesn't imagine himself ever loving someone he did his wife again until running across you a human who stumbled into the wrong mound

allows you to stay in his fief until it is otherwise safe for you to return home

you say you're a dancer so you dance for him and keep him entertained as a sort of thanks for not promptly killing you when you trespassed on his territory

the tension between you both is palpable to many. his staff who are forced to wait on your hand and foot as his guest and to the gentry you see at unseelie revels

the ones that gossip about how it isn't strange for toji to take human lovers

and yet despite that, no matter how close you get, toji keeps a distance between you both that. he fell in love with a human once, still remembers the sting of watching his beloved wife grow old and wither away in front of his very eyes

it's a pain he doesn't want to revisit ever again

okkotsu yuuta | human

unlike most stories of selkies and their evil human spouses, you're marriage with yuuta is quite the happy one in the seaside town you call home

yours was an accidental love story where he accidentally caught you in his net, only to release you

the next day, you brought piles of fresh fish and crabs and shrimp by his beachside home as thanks, much to his confusion as to where the catch came from

you usually followed his boat when he goes to fish and he learns how to recognize you, often laughing sheepishly when he saw you, warning you not to get too close so you don't end up in the net again

it isn't until a stormy night when yuuta fell overboard that you did anything drastic such as save his life, taking him to the shore and giving him cpr

you stayed with him all night until the storm passed keeping him warm

when yuuta woke up to seeing a beautiful, naked person by his side, he was understandably surprised. even more so when you transformed into a seal right in front of him. that was his introduction to the folk, to magic

now he's surrounded by you and your ocean-filled magic everyday in your little cottage by the sea

you come and go as you please, sometimes for weeks sometimes even for months at a time depending on the time of year

but you always come back and yuuta is happy to see you every time

[heniareth]

But what if Nelaros had survived.

If Tabris is recruited into the Grey Wardens, he comes with!

Now he just has to survive the Joining (if he becomes a Grey Warden, but Duncan probably would have to recruit him too if the guards learn that he was involved in Vaughan's death)

And Ostagar

And every single freaking quest including the Deep Roads themselves

Nelaros with the trap-maker skill and his blacksmithing knowledge, fixing armor and weapons, maybe helping the rogues and finding new ways to apply poison to weapons which are quicker, waste less poison and are safer for the wielder

Nelaros seeing more of the world than he ever has, and it's so big and beautiful and dangerous.

His honest heart and friendly nature gain him friends among the companions. Alistair helps him hone his skills with the blade; him and Zevran discuss the differences and nuances of Fereldan and Antivan courtships in depth; he is fascinated by Morrigan's magic; he asks Leliana about Orlais, Wynne about life in the Circle, Sten about the Qun (he's had a taste of the wider world and wants more); he adapts weapons for Shale and steals Oghren's drink from time to time

Romance with the companions would be a.... topic to discuss

Tabris and him are technically married. Or engaged (the wedding was interrupted, they never said any vows). What do they do? What do they want? They fought through Denerim and through Ostagar together; where does that put them in relation to each other?

Either way, imagine: the fiercest battle couple/comrade in arms you've ever seen

They made their way through an arl's palace with stolen weapons and armor, two untrained elves who probably had a little too few meals in their lifetime, and they made it out alive

Literally nothing is gonna stop them

Making quick work on the slavers that dared to threaten their people. They rescued Shianni, they do the same for Cyrion

Standing side by side before the Landsmeet, before the nobles who stood by as the alienage was purged, the Blight swept through and slavers ran rampant, and knowing that they killed one of them at the start of their adventure and could proceed through the whole Landsmeet if necessary

Oh, and by the by, the Dark Ritual has potential new warden to complete it (:

Amd finally, the Archdemon. One sacrifices themselves; or they both survive yet again. Either way, there's gonna be tears.

After the battle of Denerim, provided he has survived, he tells Cyrion, Soris and Shianni everything about his adventures. He helps either Alistair or Tabris or both sort through the aftermath of the battle, deal with the ceremonies and get the best deal out of the new ruler's gratitude. He might not call the Denerim alienage home, but it's an alienage and he's an elf and he'll be damned if things don't get better after all of this.

Even so, he stays with the Grey Wardens. After travelling the length and width of Ferelden, the walls that encase the alienage seem terribly confining in comparison. There are more darkspawn to kill, the Grey Wardens need more recruits and capable leadership... and maybe Tabris is still around and they'll be able to share this chapter of their lives as well.

--

Or Tabris could tell the Denerim guards he wasn't involved and tell Nelaros to sit his pretty self down and to look after her family for her

And Nelaros does

He endures the hostility their neighbours direct at him and Sodis for antagonizing the humans

He defends the Alienage and the same neighbours that threw stones at him when the humans come with torches and swords (they are here because of him after all, says a voice in the back of his mind). He runs into a burning building to drag somebody out (he knows his way around fire thanks to his work at the forge). He gets one or two kids out of the orphanage and is devastated that he couldn't save more of them.

He watches Soris and Valora grow fond of each other and thinks back to the girl he went searching for and who fought by his side through a heavily guarded palace

News of the defeat at Ostagar get to Denerim and they hold a funeral for her

He supports Cyrion as best he can, looks for work, brings home money and food and medicine when they need it. He's doing it for her (and, slowly, he becomes part of the family)

He still thinks about Highever and his family there. He writes a lot of letter

Then the Blight comes. There have been plagues in the alienage before and Valendrian takes the necessary precautions. Nelaros might be able to contribute some information of interest; after all, life in the Highever alienage is rougher than in Denerim and they surely have seen plagues aplenty

When the slavers take Valendrian, everything descends into chaos. Nelaros tries to help. Valora is the next to be taken, then Cyrion. He finally goes to the Tevinter mages to see what is going on and promptly gets caged as well

He's lucky; he waited long enough before snooping around to still be there when the fabled Hero of Ferelden shows up

It turns out to be Tabris

The surprise is immense; the reunion is probably awkward (even if she's not in a romance with a companion, she's definitely not the same person he met a year ago). But all that has to be resolved quickly or be put aside because of the Blight

He helps fill her in on what happened during her absence; maybe she asks him to accompany her to the Landsmeet to accuse Loghain

Never before in Ferelden's history have two elves stirred up a Landsmeet like these two

Afterwards, Nelaros decides to be bold and asks for an audience with the new ruler. He explains the situation in the alienage and beseeches them to help change it. It might not amount to much, it might not even yield any results, but he had to try (his determination impresses the ruler. They will remember this elf)

He helps Shianni defend the alienage during the battle of Denerim. If he doesn't fall, he helps rebuild, put out fire, tend to the injured (he also tries to establish conversation with the Dailish elves that have helped defend the city. While not all of them are very receptive, their keeper is more than happy to join forces with the city elves to prevent more people from dying in the aftermath of the battle)

In the end, however, the Denerim alienage is no longer what it once was. A lot of people are leaving. The question presents itself: should he stay and help rebuild, go back to Highever or join Tabris (if she hasn't died) on her future journey? The question has no easy answer: he has come to love the Tabris family; the new ruler contacted him again about the business with the slavers and better living conditions for Denerim's elves; the kids he saved from the massacre at the orphanage look to him for a father figure. In the end, he stays. He's needed here, he has the chance to make a difference, he's happy; and, if Tabris is willing, he can wait for her a little longer

[fernpost]

Cycle 0 - Interviews

[read on ao3]

[next]

Taako Taaco. 114. Elf. Wizard; Specialization in transmutation and inventive magical applications.

Previous experience: Top of class at Tredore, Academy of Magics and Technology; recently graduated.

Criminal Record: Multiple counts of petty theft.

Davenport likes to think of himself as calm and composed. It’s hard to throw him off. He has to be in order to have gotten this far in his mission as fast as he has.

But when he turns around from shutting the door to see his interviewee with his feet kicked up on the table, twirling a wand through his fingers, he’s a little shocked. He’s been doing these interviews for two days now, and even the more relaxed and confident people have held a bit more sense for decorum.

It’s a bit rude.

It’s also a little interesting.

He sits at his desk, pulling the elf’s papers away from his boots (shiny, and though they look expensive he can see they’re worn down and well taken care of) and glances down. “Tell me, Taako Taaco, what makes you want to explore the planerverse?”

“Bored.”

If the feet on the desk threw him off for a second, that floors him entirely. “Bored?”

“I’ve got nothing else to do on this plane, why not, you know?”

“No burning desire to go further than any being has gone before?” That’s one of the normal responses, the well-planned out speeches he keeps getting in response to his opening question.

The elf crosses his feet, leaning back somehow further into the provided chair. Davenport worries for a second that he may fall as he continues on, “that’s cool too, I guess. But I figure, why wouldn’t you want the great Taaco name aboard your ship.”

Davenport picks up a pen from his table and makes a small note on the paperwork, “no offense, Mr. Taaco, but you’re rather cavalier about this interview that determines whether or not you’re accepted into a program that may redefine our understanding of the world.”

The elf shrugs and takes his feet off of Davenport’s desk, flashing him a smirk, “you’ve seen my sister’s paperwork, yeah? No way you’re not going to accept her, and we’re a package deal. Says it right there in bold at the top of my application, my man.” It does, in fact, say that at the top. Cursive words noting how he refuses to accept any position on the ship if his sister isn't there too. When reviewing who he was interviewing today, he saw similar words on Lup Taaco’s paperwork.

“You’re very confident in your sister’s abilities.” Davenport begins, pausing for a second as he notes the way the elf begins to tense up before continuing, “however, I wouldn’t sell yourself so short. You also graduated top of your class, and excelled in the art of transmutation multiple times. One of your letters of recommendation even noted how you made many spells easier to cast, somatically speaking.”

“What can I say, I’ll find any short cut I can.”

Davenport makes another note on his paper. “Now, I do need to ask about your record of petty theft.”

“Oh, natch.”

Lup Taaco. 114. Elf. Wizard; Specialization in evocation and applied magic regarding planar research.

Previous experience: Top of class at Tredore, Academy of Magics and Technology; recently graduated.

Criminal Record: Multiple counts of petty theft.

“Lup Taaco, it is nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Captain.” The woman in front of him smiles. The resemblance to her brother couldn’t be more clear, and though her demeanor is quite similar, she at least doesn’t have her feet on his desk.

Not that his desk is anything fancy, but the point stands. “I’m not technically the captain yet, you know.”

“Potato, potato.”

Davenport is fairly certain that’s not how that phrase is used. “You did research into the planes at Tredore, correct?”

“Quite a bit, yeah. I’m sure my brother told you?”

The slight tilt of her head and lit of her voice tells Davenport this is some sort of test, which is confusing and a bit disconcerting, considering he is the one conducting the interview. He checks a quick box on his papers. “He talked you up a bit, yes. But this is your own interview, and I wanted to discuss your own knowledge with you, personally.”

She smiles, a touch more warmth to it than her previous attitude. “Oh, of course. Did quite a bit of studying at Tredore. First real school we attended. Kinda boring at times, you know?”

“If you’re accepted into this program, it’s going to be four intense months of studying and teaching you the more complex workings of the ship. Plus the two months of actually being on the ship.”

“That’s the fun stuff. Not a third semester in a row of another language I already figured out most of years ago.”

“How many languages do you speak, Ms. Taaco?”

“Including common, five languages.”

“Impressive.” Davenport himself only speaks three. “Now, I would like to ask you about your criminal record, if you don’t mind?”

Her smile grew sharp as she laughs.

Honestly, he isn’t surprised. Her explanation is the same as her brothers. Grew up on the road, needed food and other items on occasion. Didn’t always run fast enough. Davenport can’t fault them, and certainly won’t hold it against them.

He glances down at her paperwork, about to ask another question about her education, when she speaks up. “I’ve got a question for you, Captain.”

“Oh?”

“The ship- we’re really going with the name ‘The Starblaster’?”

Davenport sighs. He knew this question was coming, but he was expecting it to come during a press conference from a reporter, not a potential shipmate. “Yes. To be fair, it was a communal name we put to a vote from everyone who worked on building the engine.”

Ms. Taaco smiles. “Dope.”

Barry J. Bluejeans. 37 years old. Human. Wizard; specialization in applied magic regarding bonds and planar research.

Previous experience: Current assistant professor at Duffman University of the Arcane, part-time employee at the Institute of Planer Research and Exploration.

Criminal Record: Previous altercations regarding necromancy; no crimes against the nature of life and death ever committed.

Mr. Bluejeans is an interesting man. By the look of him, you’d expect to see him fumbling his way through a PTA meeting for his two kids. Instead, Davenport is staring down the word ‘necromancy’ on his paperwork on an application regarding literal planar travel on a ship called 'the Starblaster.'

So far, the interview has been going well. He’d listened to the man explain his research into the arcane, and he’d understood planar travel as well as any of the current scientists and engineers at the Institute. He was called in often for conferences and meetings about the bond engine. He’d seen the man walking around on occasion. They’d never been in a meeting together before, but he’d seemed nice.

But he also had a history of necromancy.

Now, Davenport doesn’t like to judge people. However, being in an enclosed space with someone who needed to specify he had never technically committed “crimes against the nature of humanity” isn’t the most comforting.

But, he was a smart man. Easy to get along with, too. So far. Necromancy notwithstanding.

Best to get it over with, “so, Mr. Bluejeans. I do need to ask about your criminal record-”

“Oh! Yeah, I never killed anyone. Or un- killed anyone. Uh, resurrected, I mean. Just did lots of studying into the application of necromancy and necromantic spells. Got in trouble because I toed the line of ‘research’ and ‘bringing my cat back to life,’ but got a stern talking to. Didn’t try it again, and don’t plan on needing to deal with those types of authorities again.”

Okay, normal enough answer, far as the situation applies-

“My current research into it has stayed purely theoretical, and it won’t interfere with the mission at all.”

So the man is still into necromancy.

Davenport glances down at the man’s file, thick with it’s attached papers Bluejeans has done on planar research. He’s not even stuck up about his level of education, and that’s extremely rare for the field.

Holding back a sigh, Davenport asks, “Can you explain the paper you wrote on the outer planes interactions with the inner planes for me?”

It was a really good paper.

But the man is still into necromancy.

Lucretia. 20. Human. Chronicler; Specialization in journalism.

Previous experience: Due to multiple NDA, she is unable to give us the exact number and titles of books she has written, but she sent letters of recommendation from Duke Rensburg, Lady Norabelle, and Warren of the Seatree Clan.

Criminal Record: Acquisition and attempted use of a false ID.

“So, Ms. Lucretia, I understand you cannot provide us with most examples of your works, but from what you have provided, you seem to be very, very good.”

“I like to think so, yes.” The young woman in front of him seems polite. She’s quiet; he saw her waiting outside with a few others before her interview, and while most of them were engaged in some awkward small talk, she sat away from them. Likely partially due to her age- she is much younger than the people outside- but she also simply seems quiet.

Which wouldn’t be the worst quality in someone you would be sharing a small, enclosed space with for an extended period of time. But, if she couldn’t bond with the others sufficiently, the bond engine won’t work.

(Hell, the bond engine was already finicky, they figured out the tech only a month ago, and they only have four months to bond an entire crew to pilot it and-)

“Can you explain to me why you acquired a fake ID and tried to use it at a, uh,” Davenport glances down at the records in front of him, holding back a chuckle, “at the forbidden section of the Library of Runar?”

Lucretia looks uncomfortable for a second, and he’s sure if the lighting in the room were better he would be able to see her flush with embarrassment. She gives him a hesitant smile, “I can’t get into the explicit details, but I was working on a book for an older client whose memory was becoming patchy, and I wanted to confirm some details before I put their name to it. They wouldn’t allow me into the section without the proper documents, but my client refused to agree that I should double check his work, even though I was almost certain he was wrong, so I simply… found a way to get past their guard. I wasn’t going to steal anything and I was going to use the proper equipment to read through the documents.”

Davenport smiles, “pursuit of knowledge and truth is important to you, then?”

“I don’t think spreading lies, especially in that context, is very honorable, no.” Her hands are folded in her lap now, and she seems a bit more relaxed.

Considering the others he is planning on accepting, he may be wrong about her getting along with them. Anyone willing to break the law just to prove an old man wrong would at least get along with him. Davenport refuses to have any pushovers aboard his ship.

Magnus Burnsides. 19. Fighter; Specialization in protection fighting and mechanical engineering.

Previous experience: Current bouncer at Apex Club. Currently enrolled in Gallier’s Fighter Academy and College.

Criminal Record: One count of assault and battery, appealed for defense of another person present. One count of indecent exposure and public intoxication.

Davenport will be the first to admit it can be tricky to follow human aging patterns, but he knows he’s not mistaken in thinking the man in front of him is barely out of “child” territory. Nineteen is a very, very small amount of time to be alive. Also, a very, very small amount of time to learn important things, like how to run what is basically a ship right out of a science fiction novel- complete with breakthrough technology.

Despite this, it’s hard to not find the young man in front of him to be endearing, and mostly knowledgeable in the things they need him to be.

“Magnus. You’re very young, one of the youngest applicants we have. What makes you think you’re qualified as the head of security of the ship?”

The young man in front of him- Gods, he really is young- grins and lifts his arms to flex, a show of pride and ego almost unbefitting of an interview setting, “Have you seen my muscles? I’m very strong, and a very good fighter.”

Many of today’s interviews have been quite different than he was expecting.

“I was referring more to job experience.”

“Oh!” Magnus shifts in his seat, fingers drumming against the table as he thinks. “I worked as a bouncer for a club while I was in college and did, if I must toot my own horn, a very good job. You should have a letter of recommendation from the owner-” He leans forwards, reaching a hand out as if to look through his own files to show him the letter.

“Yes, I did read through it. She was very thorough in stating how eager you were to help.” Davenport glances down at the papers in front of him, holding back a sigh. It truly was a glowing review of this young man. While his grades from the aforementioned college weren’t the highest, especially in classes one might consider important for an institute of planar research, the two letter of recommendations he submitted from teachers of his explained how Burnsides was very persistent when he wanted to learn something he didn’t know. He also had taken quite a few classes regarding vehicles- not enough to claim the young man was an expert but enough to provide a solid basis to show him how things worked and could be repaired on the ship.

The kid’s attitude was something of a breath of fresh air in this place. However, there was one glaring concern.

“I was also a bit concerned about the criminal record we have on file for you. Assault and battery as well as the indecent exposure and public-”

“In my defense for the second one, I was drunk with some friends and maybe thought it’d be funny to streak in the lake. Who hasn’t been to a party that gets a little out of hand.” He holds his hands out as if to say “am I right?”

Off the record, Davenport is inclined to agree that he was right. On the record, he is choosing to ignore it. “And the assault and battery? The file says it was in defense of a young person.”

Burnsides grins, “that’s how I got hired as the bouncer!”

He waits a moment, expecting Magnus to continue. When it seems the young man is assuming that is enough explanation, he prompts, “by beating up a man outside the club?”

“Yeah! He was harassing someone outside, and I was walking home and passed by. I told him to step off, and he didn’t. So I decked him, and he was out right away.”

It lined up with the records he had, and honestly, seeing someone so ready to step up to the defense of a stranger was a good quality. Better than some of the older applicants who were much more… formal in their training. He wonders briefly how Burnsides would react to an altercation against someone with magic.

Glancing down at his records, he guesses he would run headfirst without thinking.

Stifling a small grin, Davenport continues, “Now, tell me. Assume we’re up in space, and something goes wrong with the bond engine. What would your course of action be, Mr. Burnsides?”

Merle Hitower Highchurch. 214. Cleric; Specialization in botany, religion, and medical treatment.

Previous experience: Current botanist at the Institute of Planar Research and Exploration. Professor of botany at Narvick’s University for four years.

Criminal Record: Multiple counts of loitering.

The door is pushed all the way open before Davenport can even call out the next person.

A short dwarf slides into the room with a wide grin, “hey Dav!” A mug of tea is pressed into his hands.

“Hello, Merle. You do know this needs to be at least a little formal, yes?”

“Formal schmormal. Ask me your silly questions already, bud.” Merle Highchurch, resident botanist at the Institute of Planar Research and Exploration, plops right down in the seat he’d taken to commandeering once a week, for the past three weeks.

Davenport had seen him around before, but a botanist in an institute designed for exploring other planes that had little capabilities to actually go to those places yet was rarely busy, and even more rarely called upon. He still barely knew the guy, but after the day they’d gotten stuck in the elevator for ten minutes when it broke down, the dwarf had come to his office for tea each Wednesday.

It was a bit strange, but the tea was good.

“Tell me about your work experience.”

Merle laughs heartily, “they barely have me do anything around here, ‘cept tend to the couple of plants they’ve grabbed from the ground plane.”

“It’s the Elemental Plane of Earth, and don’t sell yourself short, Merle. This is basically a job interview, you know.”

Merle slurps loudly at his own mug, “aren’t you planning on nepotism hiring me, because we’re buds?”

“That isn’t even what that word means, Merle.”

“Isn’t it?”

Davenport stares into the tea, “is this made from the Earth plant?”

“Maybe?”

Davenport. 276. Captain and navigator; Specialization in mechanical engineering and arcane components combined with contemporary technology.

Previous Experience: Crewmate on the Lady Blue for twenty years. Graduated from Grensville University. Current staff at the Institute of Planar Research and Exploration.

Criminal Record: Unlawful resistance of orders from captain, raising of commotion on board ship while employed.

Davenport handed the six files over to Selune, “These are them.”

The halfling woman flips through them, eyebrows raising higher with each one she sees. “You’re sure you grabbed the right ones? A few of these I understand, but you do know we had the Issaiah Broler apply.”

He folds his hand in front of him, nodding. “I also know that during the interview he made me want to pour my tea on his lap. There’s no chance of getting the bond engine going with him. These are the six I picked. They’re all qualified- and the ones that are less educated in the specifics in the field I’m sure will pick up on the important information quickly. The Taaco twins already will give the bond engine a huge boost. Ms. Lucretia will ensure we have everything chronicled, something I’m sure you can appreciate, Selune. Mr. Bluejeans previous work shows he will thrive given the opportunities awaiting us. Mr. Highchurch is an educated man, and I trust him to keep the crew healthy and provide ample information on anything botany related we encounter, and I’m certain Mr. Burnsides will provide ample help in any task we show him how to do.” He sighs, glancing out the window of her office. There were a few people lingering outside in the courtyard of the Institute. “We have been given a tremendous opportunity to explore beyond what we can imagine, Selune. The last thing I want is to be bogged down by people stuck in their ways, who have been working in this field long enough to have their preconceived notions about what to expect and who will react badly when they’re proven wrong. I trust my own judgement in picking a crew, and I hope you trust my abilities to get these people ready to set sail in four months.”

What he doesn’t say is that he doesn’t want a bunch of stuffy jackasses on his ship. He’s not even sure picking all the over-qualified people would pass through the higher-ups' inspection of the crew. The people he picked were qualified enough to get a quick sign-off, but not too much. Anyone “overqualified” would probably get rejected. The ship had been built in basically six months. It’d get them off the ground, sure. It wasn’t going to explode on them once they got up there, but it wasn’t safe. There was a reason Davenport was the captain at all.

The six candidates in those files didn’t have a name for themselves as “important” to any stuffy scientific group or noble family. These people he picked were just that- people. A group of people who he believed deserved this opportunity. If anyone was getting the chance to make a name for themselves- to have the chance to redefine everything they know about the planar systems, he wanted to make sure they deserved the chance. A dangerous chance, sure. But what was science if not a little risky.

She sighs, opening the file on top. Her hand reaches for her pen, “Davenport, I got the final say on the name of the ship, I suppose the least I can do is give you final say on the crew.” She begins to write ‘approved’ at the top of the file, flipping through each one before giving him a pointed look. “But when I get angry calls about how you approved a bunch of nobodies and two people not even old enough to drink, I’m transferring them straight to your crystal.”

“And I will not be answering a single one.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to, Captain.”

[felassan]

Thoughts on Dark Fortress #3

(This post is under a cut due to spoilers.)

There’s a lot I thought/wanna say about this final issue, to the point that it’s hard to know where to start!

The cover art is.. beautiful. The symbolic allusion between Shirallas and the dragon (his draconic-y claws, the semblance of a broken collar falling off in the same way, the fire) 👌 On the whole, lined up side-by-side the three covers of Dark Fortress feel really thematically cohesive. Shirallas’ and the dragon’s claws echo Tractus’ sharp metal gauntlet, and as well as the similarities between the dragon and Shirallas, both Tractus and the dragon have a circle of weapons, and the patterning encircles Tractus’ neck and wrists like the collars and shackles. Y’know, like you can just really tell the cover artist planned ahead and put a lot of thought into how the 3 cover arts would ‘flow’ from one to the other, blending elements between them.

I posted some of my fav panels here.

I knew he was my boy but Shirallas’ backstory broke my heart ( ´•̥̥̥ω•̥̥̥` ) the first panel is so bleak and heart-wrenching. the burning aravel parts.. another Dalish clan met a terrible fate.

I wonder if his clan wandered Tevinter like Clan Oranavra? it makes me wonder if Shirallas and Fenris met in Tevinter. It’s nice to see that another clan took him in. And if Shirallas is a name he took, not his original name, I assume it has a special meaning, maybe to do with his quest for justice/vengeance. Shiral means journey, “allas” is found in vallas, which means set, as in the sun. The “vallas” in vallasdahlen (life-trees, planted in remembrance of those who dedicated their lives to the Dales) means life. in many ways the sun and life are the same thing, and there’s the obvious connection to Elgar’nan, eldest of the sun. So journey/quest - sun/life? Like since the loss of his clan he’s on a journey/quest for the rest of his life to get justice/vengeance, which are attributes of the sun god Elgar’nan? that became his life’s purpose and his direction of ‘travel’ ever since his loss, what he dedicated his life to since then. :’( 

Elgara vallas, da'len. ( ´•̥̥̥ω•̥̥̥` )

This is our first look at the vallaslin application process, no? what Shirallas is saying in this panel is the Song to Elgar’nan. it’s interesting, in that that prayer kind of resembles what happened, or almost happened, in this issue. a fortress shaken, fire, winged death (a dragon), pretenders to power, “strike the usurpers” (“Red Wraith, dispose of my enemies, kill the traitorous mage”). pretty cool right?

⬇️ me two months ago, look at the tags in red brackets. 

oh my son.. Dalish father roams, and the Dalish son won’t survive the fight   ( ´•̥̥̥ω•̥̥̥` )

the panel where Fenris and Shirallas shake hands ;; to which experience is Fenris speaking of, I wonder? once upon a time he saw Anders almost lose himself in his own quest for Justice/Vengeance for the mages.

Parallels between Shirallas succeeding in proving himself to Nenealeus and when Fenris succeeded in proving himself to Danarius all those years ago - compare. ;__; an elf surrounded by bodies of people he’d killed to prove himself, and a horrible Magister telling him “well done”.

I love the design of the sword and its use as a ‘divider’ on the first page splitting up the panels is both smart and beautiful. even here there’s pink light around it, the dragon’s fire

overall I wasn’t expecting this issue to begin with flashbacks to Shirallas’ past and backstory, so this whole page caught me off-guard

omg look at the red lyrium ‘veins’ under Shirallas’ skin. when he emerges from the sarcophagus that is a very cool picture of his face

Nenealeus has been taking beard-styling advice/trends from the dwarves

check out the sword crackling and reforming as Shirallas makes contact with it. is the red lyrium under his skin moving in this scene?

in the panel of Vaea running away from the dragon, it’s nice that as she runs Fenris is still behind facing the dragon, to protect her

gorgeous background in the panel with Marquette, and his expression is one of Regret for what he just did and for his part in all this. the dawning realization that I’ve Fucked Up Big Time

as Nenealeus’ weapon is a sword, does he have some Knight Enchanter-adjacent skills (I don’t expect the actual KE artform is exclusive to southern Circles only)? it’s a physical item ofc, not a summoned one. staffs are infused with lyrium to provide a conduit for a mage’s power. so then, mages can channel power through other [presumably similarly-infused] weapons too, not just mage staves/staff-like magic implements or their bare hands

given the color of Nenealeus’ magic and the fact that the dragon was under the control of his magic, it now makes sense to me why the dragon’s fire is that color! o:

Marius is badass (nice touch that his shoulder is smoking pink with the effects of one of Nenealeus’ magic attacks here) and the four panels where everyone’s grim and determined, facing off against each other and Venatori goons made me feel quite emotional. Aaron is Team Dad.. it’s nice to see him having a friendship / paternal moment with Francesca both acknowledging her pain and power while also giving her a pep talk. You can tell when he says too “We all need to do whatever we can in this moment” that he’s talking about himself too and may already be thinking one or some of them aren’t going to make it out of there

Francesca GO OFF!! she’s so powerful, and it’s really cool every time seeing her plant magic in action. it puts in perspective how powerful Velanna would have been with her similar skills (skills like Thornblades), and I enjoy the contrast of the fire in the background and the blue/green of Fran’s magic in action

Fenris is so cool-headed in high-octane combat situations, quickly taking stock, assessing and realizing the odds then coming up with a plan. the look on Vaea’s face when she’s like >:( wtf u can’t just leave is cute

cool pulled-back bird’s eye shot of the Fortress

Karasten continuing with the sass about Tevinter even during a siege

Fenris speaking Qunlat! I love that they brought this lore fact into play and had him make use of this skill, it’s a neat reminder of Fenris’ exchange with the Arishok if you take him into the compound in DA2. in the opening-up the gates scene, Vaea’s worried about letting the Qunari in and going to the Qunari (from her expression), but she trusts Fenris and his judgement enough to open the gate and see what happens

I like that Tessa’s bolts are fletched the blue of her accent color

chills at the panel where Shirallas is walking out of the flames advancing on Aaron. Ser Aaron, who never retreats, not at Ostagar, not now ;__;

the battle-scenes are beautiful, fast-paced and gory, chaotic and colorful, like it would feel to be there 

Fenris then puts himself between Aaron and Shirallas. I could hear “I will deal with this Red Wraith” in my head

Autumn can look so scary. a true mabari warrior! when she leapt towards Shirallas I was Stressed for her safety despite knowing rationally that they wouldn’t kill their dog!

the horizontal combat splash page is awesome

CLEVER GIRL Autumn. she and Fenris are in sync in this sequence.

Shirallas serving super saiyan vibes with the bulk, strength, hair

Fenris bargaining for Fran’s life and then trusting her to use her magic as part of the attack on the Red Wraith

lmao Ser Aaron

smart thinking Fran

Aaron praising her ;__;

Marius was straight-up prepared to die to stop Nenealeus ;__; poor Tessa in this exchange

the face-melting scene  👌

“Ah, Marius... I knew it would come down to the two of us”: this panel is just really cool? Nenealeus looks almost congenial here, which makes him seem all the more colder and more dangerous. and the burning bodies strongly remind me of the bodies at the start of Inquisition which are at the ‘blast point’ of the Breach at the Conclave

when Marius and Vaea’s eyes meet and they formulate the backup plan  👌

nice to see ‘staff’-less magic in action. Nenealeus is clearly a very powerful mage. when he’s frying Marius he has Star Wars Palpatine and force lightning vibes

OH VAEA... you did it, but my heart hurts that she had to kill someone for the first time, even though it was foreshadowed by her discussion with Marius in a earlier issue. & Nenealeus’ look of surprise as he dies says it all

it’s a serious moment but Marius now looks like a cat that stuck its paw in a socket hh

when Nenealeus is doubled over dead, it’s a great panel- the white background taking us out of the chaos that’s going on all-around for just a moment, showing the seriousness of what’s just transpired for Vaea and the realization of it setting in. a pause, the shock. & it’s nice to see Marius being soft with someone other than Calpernia or Tessa

but despite what’s just happened Vaea is still Vaea, she’s concerned about life and immediately wants to save the dragon. I like the part where panels of Vaea and Fran ‘face’ each other as they have this discussion, a lot.

in the moment that it takes off, does the dragon realize Vaea is responsible for saving its life? the ‘eye’ panel feels like an acknowledgement from it, or between the two

Fran’s magic destroying and sinking the sarcophagus into the ground reminds me of what in-world lore says happened to Arlathan, in a way

omg they have to stop Shirallas before he gets over 9000

do you think when Aaron says “We cannot retreat” he’s thinking of Loghain’s retreat at Ostagar?

at this point btw I’m pleasantly surprised that Marius survives, I had sort of expected him to die in this issue

oh Marquette, curiosity killed the cat dontcha know

new lore just dropped: the Red Wraith is able to heal from any wound, which is notable, and he and the sword have a.. symbiotic relationship? with each other. “He feeds energy to the sword from the red lyrium in his veins. And in turn, the sword heals his wounds.” What are the lore implications of this? Just what is red lyrium capable of?

Paragon Branka reference! and later on a Black Marsh reference

:’( As soon as Aaron launched into his story at this point my stress levels went through the roof and I knew it was Time. and then - well. you know :’((( Aaron had death flags in previous issues, so I was logically prepared and not surprised by the occurrence (this isn’t a bad thing btw), but I still wasn’t EMOTIONALLY PREPARED

mfw

nooooooooo.... It was at this point everyone that I burst into tears.. i have never Ugly Cried at a comic before so that was a new experience.. It’s hard to put my feelings about this into words bc rly it just straight-up destroyed me, u know.. Vaea’s “Don’t leave me”, Aaron’s tears when he knows the deed is done, his pendant.. surely the resemblance between the way he looks on this cover and the way he looks in the panel when he’s falling and Vaea is shouting “Aaron!” is intentional. i’m just destroyed okay

On the next page, holes in Shirallas’ shirt where his wounds were before they healed is a nice touch. Autumn’s bite here must surely be shattering the bone in his lower leg. then as if i wasn’t in enough pain already - being separated from the weapon, did that bring Shirallas back to himself for a while? His “Friend?” and the look in his eyes when he looks up at Fenris is so pitiful :’( for a moment just before the end he’s the boy in the wood surrounded by his burning clan again. RIP Shirallas son, we barely knew ye but I loved u :’(((

Having Marquette escape is a smart choice, it means there’s someone still kicking around Thedas who knows what happened here and what went down. maybe we seek him out in the next game when trying to follow up on the plot-thread of the idol/red lyrium/its capabilities/Venatori/Qunari? anyway, can’t help but admire, in a fashion anyway, someone who dips out to save their own skin, and his attempted grift when he’s talking to Tractus x)

we hadn’t seen the last of Tractus indeed. there he is! “This is me, crying over our loss” - he’s such an edgy boi

THE IDOL

“Oh, you mean this idol?” feels like they’re breaking the fourth wall and deliberately teasing us x)

when Fenris says “[stay clear of it] Red lyrium can do things with your mind” I wonder if he’s thinking of his experiences with things like Bartrand and Meredith

started to cry again at the final Aaron scenes ok.. when it pans back to Vaea and Autumn on the shore with the dying Aaron, they look so small and lonely set against the backdrop of the gray rock, windy shore, jagged outcrops. it’s a beautifully poignant and incredibly forlorn backdrop for this scene. Autumn in these panels, and again the parallel between Aaron lying here and him on that cover page.. ;; the whole scene is raw and gutwrenching. even in death Aaron was thinking about Vaea, apologizing that she had to take a life, outlining his hopes that she continues to have a positive future and doesn’t descend into any kind of darkness. the fact that all this time he’s carried around a letter addressed to King Alistair in his pocket, to recommend that Vaea be knighted, the fact that he’s crying too, the pendant, the tenderness between them, how proud Aaron is of Vaea, the fact that he goes out telling a story and smiling because he’s so proud of her, here at the end Aaron is filled with pride and looks at peace.. i can’t ( ok i cried again on this re-read when writing this post, Dad Stuff is the ultimate way to get me ok.. don’t look at me _(°:з」∠)_ )

Vaea IS more than worthy. I’m so glad someone recognizes that and sees it in her. King Alistair WOULD knight her, and there’s a beautiful poetry in that fact as the son of an elf. there’s also something poetic in that, if Vaea becomes the first elven knight of Ferelden, well it echoes the Emerald Knights of old in a way. that’s beautiful. I’m very proud of Vaea.

Here we see another parallel - when Francesca is comforting a crying Vaea as her father figure passes away, it directly echoes when Vaea comforted Francesca when she was crying after her own father died. 

Aaron’s hometown of Portsmouth is a real place in England

I’m happy to see Fran and Autumn continuing to travel with Vaea, and Fenris continuing to keep his promise to Aaron to keep Vaea safe, and that Cassé is now Fran’s horse (that’s a lovely touch considering she healed him in Blue Wraith, a full-circle moment)

Fenris is right, they were family. soft supportive Fenris, with emotional intelligence ;; (and he of all people knows about Found Family)

the last panel of Vaea crying is beautiful too, the sun is rising in the east after the terrible night they’ve had, and the ‘faded’ rectangles is a great style/composition choice

even Cassé the horse looks sad

the scene of Fran and Vaea riding double with Fenris smiling in the background is super cute, and I love that the last we see of the party is them honoring Ser Aaron by telling stories like he did, of his exploits. I hope they always tell stories of Ser Aaron ;;

I’m glad Tessa made it out okay, she’ll be able to return to Charter. 💜 I was a bit worried this wouldn’t be the case

the last page DBKGRRGRKRKGREKF 

Pour one out for Ser Aaron Hawthorne of Portsmouth, Knight of Ferelden.

---

A recap on wider plot-points

The Qunari Antaam have taken control of Castellum Tenebris, and Neromenian has fallen to their advance.

The sarcophagus is broken and has been buried deep in the ground. Francesca asserts that it won’t be found.

The Inquisition agents retrieved the broken shards of the weapon, and are going to take its remains to the shadow Inquisition.

Tractus Danarius is alive and in possession of the idol, or was at the timepoint of this comic. He wants to use it to impress the Venatori remnants so that he can rejoin them. Marquette thinks, or said that he thinks (could easily be a bluff or his lack of knowledge about it compared to someone like Solas), that it doesn’t work anymore. (I’m leaning towards it does still work, otherwise why would Solas be interested in it?)

Solas, in what looks kinda like his most recent DA4 trailer gear, was watching the events of this series/arc the whole time and knows what happened. He knows Tractus has the idol. None of the people in this comic plot are “People Solas doesn’t know”. And it seems that he is able to use eluvians to watch people.

There’s a chance that Tractus Danarius is the mage in Tevinter Nights, from Dread Wolf Take You - the mage from House Danarius who went with some slaves to Nevarra to use the idol to perform a ritual with the Mortalitasi. That mage wanted to change the world to help fight the Antaam’s invasion. In the tale at least, he used the idol, a rift opened, the Dread Wolf popped out and killed him. At the time of that ritual the idol was still working.

+ some new lore -

the Red Wraith was able to heal from any wound, which is notable, and he and the sword the idol created had a.. symbiotic relationship? with each other. “He feeds energy to the sword from the red lyrium in his veins. And in turn, the sword heals his wounds.” What are the lore implications of this? Just what is red lyrium capable of?

eluvians can be used to watch people. not just to communicate over long distances or as portals between places

Lastly I don’t know what to do with myself anymore as this is the end of a long-running DA arc and was the final piece of [currently-known about] new canon Dragon Age content that we’ll get.

[lesbianmonsterlover]

Under New Skies (Female Lizardfolk x Female Reader)

Three days into your little solo camping venture, you were regretting not paying more attention during that one astronomy class you took to fulfill your science gen ed in school.  The little clearing where you’d set up was about a mile down a dirt path off of a main thoroughfare, and only the fact that it was midweek and getting into autumn kept things relatively quiet.  You hadn’t come across another camper since you set up your tent and fire pit, spending your time pretty happily alone.  Something has felt off all day though. It was so misty when you woke up, damp tendrils coiling along the ground and into the trees, so dense you couldn’t see past the treeline at all.  You felt electric, almost like what you’ve read about before lightning strikes, all of your hair standing on end.  Nothing happened though, and by late morning the sun had taken care of the mist leaving the day unseasonably warm. 

Now, though, it’s nighttime, and something definitely seems wrong.   You should be able to see the big and little dipper at this time of year, but they don’t seem to be anywhere in the sky?  None of the constellations you can name seem to be anywhere actually.  You don’t want to dwell on it, chalking it up to ignorance, but it leaves a niggling in the back of your brain.  You wish you’d paid more attention to a lot of things, now.  Were these forest sounds familiar?  You want to say you’ve heard these bugs before, and birds, and frogs, but really would you notice if they were different?  You think you would, hope you would.  Something feels off though, but you put it off to deal with it in the morning.

That lump of lead hasn’t gone away by morning, and even though you’re meant to spend another night here you decide to cut the trip short and trek back to your car.  It’s a ten mile hike from where you are to where you parked, a straight shot once you make the mile back to the main trail.  You take care to clean, making yourself a thermos of coffee for the road before putting out the fire, and leaving the campsite behind with nothing to signify your presence other than a small ring of rocks surrounding cold, damp ash.

The first few minutes of your hike, you keep telling yourself you’re cutting you trip short due to paranoia.  But you promise yourself a treat to make up for it, maybe some pastries and a gourmet coffee to make up for the freeze dried instant stuff you’re currently drinking, with enough powdered non dairy creamer to choke an actual cow.  You don’t notice how long you’ve been walking, until you’re pretty sure you’ve walked well over a mile on this dinky little pathway through the underbrush, and you really should have come across the main trail now.   Sitting on a downed log you pull out your map and your phone.  You curse the lack of bars, regretting not bringing your little handheld satellite GPS receiver, but you’d thought it would be overkill for a short and straightforward hike like this.  That will show you to never do that again, you suppose.  Still, your compass says you’ve been walking the right direction, and you wonder if maybe you just haven’t gone quite far enough.  Still, you keep your phone out, knowing that you should at least get a bar or two on the main trail, considering you were using it on the hike in.

By the time lunch rolls around, you haven’t made it anywhere it seems like.  Sure you’ve made progress, but you know you’ve walked at least half a dozen miles, and you still have no cell site, you’ve seen no main road, no other travelers.  You sit, resting against a tree, and study your map while you eat a protein bar.  You’re scrutinizing, trying to figure out where you might be if you’ve gotten turned around.  You wonder briefly if you should head back for the clearing you came from and wait it out another night, but what would that do really?  You left at the only trailhead leading out of the clearing, that leads onto the same straightforward little trodden path that should have hit the main trail hours ago.  There are no paths branching off of that one, and you haven’t stepped foot off the path since you began walking.  You finish your protein bar with a grimace and have a few sips of water before angrily folding your map and continuing to follow the path.

The sun is just touching the tops of the trees when the little path you’ve been walking down all day finally intersects with a trail.  You say a trail and not the trail, because this road that you’re now standing on looks completely unfamiliar to you.  It looks like an old through road, unpaved and with two well worn ruts for what look like cart wheels running along it.  You don’t see any sort of civilization either direction, and you’re contemplating climbing a tree to see what you can make out from up that high, but you really don’t want to be stuck in the middle of nowhere in need of an ambulance and you aren’t exactly a spry young child anymore, capable of climbing trees on a whim.

You wrack your brain, trying to figure something, anything out.  You know that when you left the main trail onto what had been a small path to your campsite you’d turned right, so you should turn left down the trail to get back to your car.  You head that way, despite all contrary evidence you keep hoping that if you just push through it you’ll reach your car and be headed back home.  Maybe you’d go see a doctor, or maybe you’d just sleep off this experience, but it would be over and you could go back to the regular world.  

When it’s well and truly night, and you still haven’t seen hide nor hair of another person, you let yourself settle down for a good cry.   The moon is full, and you can at least see where you’re going, but all that does is illuminate everything that’s wrong.  You should be able to see some sort of light pollution nearby, the sky shouldn’t be this full of stars, why is there no noisy civilization.  You should be close enough to hear cars on the road, so where are they?  You know you should settle down and wait for morning, but you know your brain just won’t let you sleep.  So why rest?  You keep pushing forward, and by the time the sun is rising you just want to collapse into another sobbing heap as the road continues ever on in front of you.

You aren’t hungry, anxiety eating at your stomach as much as it is your head.  You do make sure to choke something down though, knowing that if you’re going to keep walking you need to keep calories in you.   You’re thankful that the road runs near to a running source of water, you can hear that at least sometimes in the background and it’s easy enough to find once you go looking.  Filling up your large canteen, you drop a water purification tablet in and continue out on your trek.   Running on fear and anxiety, you stagger on for what could have been hours, or maybe only minutes, or maybe even days (okay that’s a bit of an exaggeration) until you reach a fork in the road.

Now, do you go the Robert Frost take the road less traveled with its overgrown footpath and dark canopy, or do you listen to the horror trope screaming at you in the face and take the well maintained and nicely lit pathway?  Your desire to not wind up murdered wins out, and you take the brightly lit road with its well worn ruts.  Robert Frost will have to wait until you aren’t in an actual life or death situation to come in with his wisdom.  Although when you trip in one of those well worn ruts and sprain your ankle two miles later you’re rethinking your decision. So, you break down, and I mean who can blame you?

-------

Two days ago, and a handful of hours, Rha’ss felt her chaining for the first time.  Usually sometime around reaching maturity one’s chaining would make itself known.  Some bloomed slightly earlier, some later, but most who made it into their thirtieth year without it knew that they would not find themselves being called by their other half.   It wasn’t unheard of at all for these unfated pairs to still love and live together, but the connection of a chained couple was known to be unrivaled, such that even high born nobles would take their fated regardless of status.  

At thirty-eight Rha’ss had resigned herself to life without a chain, becoming a sellsword content with the knowledge that there would be none to truly mourn her when the time came.  So imagine her surprise when she woke in the middle of the night to feel that gentle pull in the center of her chest, a yearning wrapped ‘round her heart that would not be fixed until the subject of her desires was with her.  Between contracts as she was, it didn’t take long for her to be fixed on her horse and following the gentle pull in her chest.  

She wondered then what had happened to have brought the bond to life so suddenly.  Were you just coming of age?  How would she handle that, and the differential that comes with such a difference in life experiences?  Was there something else that had kept the bond dormant for so long?  Were you merely far from her, and only now in close enough proximity for it to kindle?  She hopes you won’t be disappointed by her, a hardened and jaded mercenary.  She long buried her love and affection beneath a tough veneer of indifference, necessary for the blood she traded in.  How would you handle holding hands that had dealt death?

Rha’ss isn’t sure what to make of you when she first comes across you.  You’re curled in the middle of the road, sobbing, with your hands pressed against your face.  From what she can see you’re too tall to be a gnome, but your ears are round so you can’t be an elf.  Maybe half elf half gnome?  You’re dressed so oddly too.  In bright colors and materials she’s never seen before.  Your shoes are odd to her, your coat, your bag.  Everything is so strange.  But when you look up, and your watery eyes sparkle against the sun as you stare up at her, she can’t find it in her to be upset.  

“What’s the matter sweetling?”

-------

You find yourself staring up at an imposing creature astride a rather large dapple grey horse.  They look like a lizardfolk out of a fantasy game, their reptilian face gleaming like jade in the bright sun.  Their head is crested with pink and teal moving down their spine in impressive pointed frills almost like a mohawk.  Their slitted eyes are a bright yellow, matching some of the scales that look almost like freckles across their shoulders and down their arms.  Their throat leading down into their shirt is a pale cream, and the whole look is rather impressive.  You wonder briefly at the edge of your consciousness if you should be scared, but something in your chest that’s been tight since two mornings ago seems to have relaxed now that you’re thinking of it.

Still, this...person?  Person.  This person is definitely not a human.  And isn’t that something to think about?  You wonder briefly if you’re in shock, did you actually break your ankle?  Is this some weird fantasy your brain has stirred up to keep you from passing out and dying?  Is all of this some weird fever dream where you’ll wake up in your campsite after a bout of food poisoning vowing to never eat rations again?

“What’s the matter sweetling?”  Their voice is rough and feminine, low and rasping but with a lilt and timbre that makes you think of your grandmother in some odd way.  They’re off their horse now, kneeling over you and looking down at you with such tenderness that all you can do is start sobbing anew and throw yourself at them.  They shush you with quiet murmurs of nothing, taloned hands gently sifting through your hair to scratch at your scalp soothingly.  Somehow, you choke out everything.  From the changed pathway, to the different stars, to the different bugs, even to themselves.

“I don’t know what’s going on.  Everything is all wrong, none of this makes sense!  I can’t - I don’t know where I am, I can’t figure out how to get home.  What do I do?”  The being surrounding you gives a low, soothing hum, and their cool skin helps ground you.  

“Well, sweetling, I can tell you that you’re at the border between the riverlands and dragon’s spire.”  They give a thoughtful hum when your face remains as confused as ever.  “In Xanthalan?”  Your brows knit together further, and she huffs a little.  “Why don’t we start with where you’re from, sweetling, and maybe your name at that.  I am Rha’ss, daughter of Sharath, protector of the dragon’s spire.”

When you introduce yourself, with much less pomp, she finds herself confused.  “I’ve never heard of that land before, and I have traveled across the great East sea to the basin of the world, and across the great North sea to the kingdoms of ice.”  She frowns in thought, staring down at you heavily.  “Where is your map?”  When you fumble your map out of your bag and hand it to her she frowns again as she unfolds it.   “This doesn’t make much sense…”  She studies the map with you caged in against her chest, her arms still wrapped around you.  “I think we need to pay a friend of mine a visit.”

Rha’ss moves to stand and pull you up with her, and you go with it completely forgetting your ankle.  Until, of course, it decides to give under you when you try to put your weight on it.  You’re pleasantly surprised by Rha’ss’ strength, as she catches you easily without stumbling.  You mumble a shy apology, but she just gives you a warm look and caresses your cheek with her thumb lovingly.   She helps you onto her horse, mounting behind you and wrapping her arms around your waist to take the reins.  You feel small in front of her, she must be at least seven feet tall the way the top of your head doesn’t even graze her chin.  You don’t have much riding experience, and it shows, but she’s patient with you, and the way she guides your hips into the rhythm of riding is surprisingly sensual.  

It’s only a two hour ride at a moderate pace before you come across a small town built alongside the road.  There’s an inn, and what looks like a general store, but that’s all you can make out before Rha’ss is pulling you bodily from the horse’s back and carrying you into the inn like a bride over a threshold.  After settling you gently in a chair by the fire she greets the innkeeper and barkeep like old friends, complete with embraces that make you suddenly and unexpectedly jealous, all in a hissing sort of language you don’t understand.  They’re both lizardfolk like she is, so you’re guessing it’s their own language.  

You take a few moments to look around.  There are a few others in here, not lizardfolk so this isn’t a planet purely populated by reptilian people.  It looks like some orcs, and something furry with round ears - maybe a gnoll?  And then a pair of short but intimidating looking...you’d have guessed humans but who knows at this point, both with impressive beards.  So dwarves?  You’re brought out of your reverie when Rha’ss walks back over to you carrying two frothy mugs and a roll of what looks like linen.  “Let me bind your ankle sweetling, and then we can talk more.”  The care with which she handles you makes you feel secure down to your bones, but you’re dreading trying to come to terms with whatever it is that’s happened to bring you here.

Under Rha’ss’ watchful stare you take a long sip of the drink she’s brought you, thankful that at least honey mead is honey mead regardless of whatever else is going on around you.  “I don’t even know where to start…”  You sound exhausted even to your own ears, the kind of weary that extends past physical tiredness and into the realm of a soul deep exhaustion.  “I was camping, having a fine few days in the woods, but the other night I noticed the stars didn’t look quite right.  I couldn’t find any of my landmarks.  And then my trail disappeared, and I don’t know where I am.  I don’t know how I got here.  None of this makes sense.  I’m just a normal human, from a normal family, lizard folk and orcs and stuff, none of this should be real.  I can feel you’re real like I am though, and I’m starting to think I’m not hallucinating all of this…”  You take another deep drink of your honey mead before placing your tankard down on the table and resting your face in your hands tiredly.

When you look back at Rha’ss she’s staring with a confused look on her face.  “What’s ‘human?’  Is that your clan?”

You give her an equally confused glance.  “No?  It’s my species?  My race?”  

She doesn’t look appeased by that.  “I’ve never heard of ‘human’ before.”  She hums thoughtfully.  “You’re softer than an elf, but bigger than a halfling or a gnome.  You��ve got the rounded ears too.”  She jerks her chin in your direction and you touch the rounded top of your ear a little self-consciously.  She drinks from her own tankard and stares away in thought, you can almost hear the gears working in her head as she tries to puzzle things out.  “That map you showed me earlier, you said that was from your home?”  You nod at her and she hums again.  “But you were camping just along the dragon’s spire, I know that land better than almost any and your map is fully foreign to me.”   She frowns in contemplation, mumbling to herself before pinning you with a serious look.  “Tell me what you know of heart’s calls and chaining.”  You stare at her as confused as ever, you aren’t sure what you’ve done wrong as her face falls while you look on.  Her sigh is weary and resigned, but she gives a grimace of a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.  “Worry not sweetling, all will be revealed in time.  Qruz has told me that the Wizard Gorux has made himself comfortable in the inn as of yesterday.  It seems we were expected, we’re to meet tomorrow.”  

You just nod your head tiredly at this point, too overwhelmed to even question it any longer.  You can’t lift your head again though, crashing hard after the stressful past days.  You’re already half asleep when Rha’ss picks you up again and settles you on a rather comfortable straw mattress in an upstairs room, and you’re out completely with barely enough time to mumble your thanks.  

-------

When you wake the next morning, the first thing you notice is that you aren’t alone.  While you’re alone in your little bed, you can see the lizard person, Rha’ss, from the day before, along with a somehow even taller and broader orc sitting across from her at a small table.   They’re conversing lowly, and you can’t understand them over the crackling of the fire.  The orc is dressed in ornately embroidered robes, and has a plethora of feathers and glass beads woven through his black hair.  He looks wizened but not old, his hair lacking even a single streak of silver but his eyes carrying the weight of centuries.

You don’t really pay attention as he comes over and asks you a few questions, you can tell from them that Rha’ss has shared your story.  He smudges you with some fragrant herbs, although you can’t place what any of them are and that sends a pang of sadness through your heart.   Whatever he sees though makes his face go grim and he settles the lizard woman in the chair with a heavy look.  “Aye, lass, it’s as ye thought. It isn’t the first time a bond has made it across time and space, but this is something I’ve only read about.  It hasn’t happened in a millenia at the least.  Do not take this gift lightly.”  He turns to fix you with an inscrutable stare, dark eyes searching your face.  His eyes soften though, and with an exhaled puff of air he places one large hand on the crown of your head and mumbles something in a language you’ve never heard before.  “Blessings on you little one, I do not envy your position, but I know Rha’ss, I know she will love you and cherish you until the end of days if you let her.  Do not ignore your chaining, the both of you will suffer for it.”  

He’s gone before you can ask him about it, and Rha’ss is staring at you guardedly.  “I guess it’s time for me to explain that eh?”  She pulls a small leather pouch out of her pack, removing a pipe and what smells like it might be tobacco.  You watch as she packs the leaf into the bowl of the pipe, soothing herself with the practiced repetitive motion.  “Never thought I’d find myself doing this.  See, sweetling, from the time we’re babes we hear about our calling.  Our heart’s calling, or we call it the chaining.  Because it’s said to feel like a chain pulling us together.  I’d never felt it, my whole life.  I dedicated myself to my sword, to battle.  But I woke three nights ago to a feeling in my chest I knew with certainty was it.”  She stands from the table then, leaving her pipe abandoned and unsmoked as she moves to kneel before you.  “I was trying to fathom who might be waiting for me at the other end of my chain, and sweetling, it was you.  Please, tell me you feel it.”  Her hands are on your knees, and her yellow eyes are full of open affection and fear it won’t be reciprocated.  

You reach up to stroke over her reptilian snout, soft little fingers skating up the butt of her jaw.  “I know that I was panicking until I met you.  That as soon as you held me I knew I’d never been safer in my whole life.  I can’t promise this will always be easy for me, and that I won’t make mistakes, but I can promise to try.”  Rha’ss relaxes against you burying her head against your stomach and gripping tightly at the back of your shirt.  You lean down to kiss the top of her head between her eyes, and she curiously nuzzles up against your breasts when they crowd in against her.  Your soft giggle at the action makes her face light up, and she begins rubbing against you with her jaw trying to make you laugh again.  

Once she has you laughing you tug her face up to your own, kissing along the top of her nose.  Her scales are cool and smooth against your lips, and she lets out an affectionate chittering noise when she feels your soft mouth on her.  She strokes her tongue over your cheek and throat, letting out a high, throaty sigh at your taste.  The gentle prick of her talons at your hips barely keeps you grounded as she laves over your skin with her dark, forked tongue in repeated strokes.  You can’t help letting out a sigh of pleasure when that curiously dextrous appendage presses down the front of your shirt and skates over the cup of your bra.  She seems intrigued by the garment, and with questioning eyes she tugs at the hem of your shirt.  

You let Rha’ss strip it from you wordlessly, lifting your arms over your head until you’re left in your bra and hiking pants on the bed.   Her talons gently trace the cup of your bra and up the straps to your shoulders.  “This looks much nicer than a corset sweetling, not that I’d know much about that either way.”  She leans down to lick a hot stripe down between your breasts before sneakily pushing her tongue underneath the front busk between the cups.  You’re thankful to be wearing a front closing bra, and with only a little bit of experimentation she’s used her hands to pop it open, letting it fall aside to bare your chest to her.  Her taloned hands have been smoothing and stroking up your sides, from your hips over the side of your chest and back down, gently massaging at your hips at they sit there momentarily before repeating their journey.

When you cry out Rha’ss’ name in frustration as she merely gazes down at you, she repeats yours back to you in a smitten sigh.  Her knuckles gently graze over the peaks of your nipples, and she watches your face to learn what you like and how to touch you.  She gently pinches them between two fingers, giving an experimental tug before fondling your breasts in earnest, her tongue licking stripes along your shoulders and throat.  She has one firm thigh lodged between yours, and you can feel her cool skin heating beneath the languid thrusts your hips make up searching for friction.

Her head soon replaces her hands, that prehensile tongue coiling around one breast before giving a firm lick up the center to rasp over your nipple.  You barely notice her hands as they skate down your stomach, talons dipping into the waist of your pants before she tugs at them softly, looking up at you with hopeful eyes.  You lift your hips in assent, feeling bereft for a moment as she moves away only long enough to tug your pants and panties down in one fell swoop.  She tugs her own garments off then too, a simple tunic and linen pants that whisper to the floor as she tosses them carelessly aside.  

Rha’ss is on you again then, and over you.  Her face is tucked into your neck, tongue scenting and tasting your skin as she presses your soft breasts against her cool, firm torso.  The give of them against her is enticing, and she relishes in the way that you arch up into her when her thigh finally makes contact with your bare core.  The heat is so intense against her cool skin, and she presses up against you harder in an attempt to feel more of it.  You’re burning hot and so slick.  She grips your hips, just careful enough not to prick you with her talons, although you may be sporting bruises later.  She uses this leverage to move you up and down against her, drawing your slick heat over her flesh and painting her with your essence.  

Your head is thrown back, baring your neck up submissively.  One of your hands is caressing down over her head and neck, skating along the base of her frills.  They had been tucked down against her back, but as she loses herself to pleasure you find them occasionally flaring unconsciously.  Your other hand is at her back, at the base of her tail.  You hadn’t really noticed it until now.  Reaching down for a handful of her buttocks you instead catch the base of her tail, although the way it makes her stutter and cry out against your throat has you abandon your original goal in favor of stroking over where her tail meets her back with your soft hands and blunt nails.

Your orgasm sneaks up on you, one moment you’re lost in your partner and the next you’re almost whiting out as the heat licks down your spine and your back arches.  You cry out Rha’ss’ name, toes curling and thighs cramping as you reach your ecstasy.  She spreads you out before her, and as you’re fuzzy from your pleasure you watch as she teases something from a slit at the apex of her thighs.  It’s not quite as large as a penis, although it’s much thicker at the base and tapers to an odd blunt, angled tip.  “When you’re ready, sweetling, I’ll fill you with my brood, but this will do for now.”  She sighs happily when she slips the cool organ between your labia to rut against you.  The oddly cool and slick sensation against your clit has you clenching again, and you cry out loudly when the tip prods at your hole only to just barely slip inside.

Rha’ss lets out a guttural noise when your hot body surrounds her, and you can feel the organ lengthen inside you even as it gets thinner. One of her hands comes down to stroke at your clit, touching you in just the right way that has you clenching harder.  You’re still so tight around her, gripping her in all the right places.  You’re surprised by her orgasm, a cool fluid gushing from the tip inside of you and flowing out to coat your inner thighs.  It smells strangely sweet and heady, and the feeling of her coming inside of you along with her incessant fingers on your clit has you reaching your peak again.

Rha’ss falls beside you, pulling you in to lay on her chest.  She feels blissfully cool against your heated skin.  There will be more to work out and talk about, this is only the beginning of something after all, but you find yourself feeling oddly at peace with things.  You know there will be trials, and that things won’t always be easy for you considering the abrupt and complete change of your lifestyle.  But in this moment, you find you’re more excited than anxious.  You’re pulled from your contemplation by Rha’ss fingers gently sifting through your hair to reach your scalp, lulling you to sleep with gentle touches and soft words.

[long-cosmos-overhead]

Prompt: Can I get a Thranduil one where the reader landed in middle earth and went through the whole journey with the fellowship. She's really close with the group so Legolas suggests that she visits mirkwood with him and meet her father. When Thranduil meets her, he instantly takes a liking to her. She has an attitude and he just finds her adorable. It's nothing romantic more like a protective platonic relationship sort of daughter like one. Please do headcanons if you don't mind, can you make it long?

As requested it is super long 🥰

(I do not own LoTR or it’s characters/ gif not mine)

You were needless to say exhausted after travelling with the fellowship you all did so much that beforehand you would’ve said was impossible not to mention emotionally chipped at having to part ways with your friends

You became extremely close to Legolas the pair of you instantly became like two peas in a pod, you were his self proclaimed best friend and he was your self proclaimed favourite elf

Friendly affection was not at all weird for you even the company would walk by, find you both relaxing legs tangled and laughing and it would be completely normal

Legolas always left you with his bow when he had to attend to something, he put complete trust in you, he came back and found you trying to hit a tree with his bow and instead of getting angry like everyone anticipated, he taught you how to use it well into the night

Eventually Legolas let you touch his hair, he had taught you before that hair was only allowed to be touched by family, lovers or close friends that was the extent of your friendship and soon after he began braiding your hair

You and Legolas were joined at the hip by the time the quest was over, you had pondered a lot about where you would go afterwards since you had no home in Middle Earth and Legolas himself did ask where your home was

When you told him you didn’t have one he almost immediately started convincing you to come home to Mirkwood with him, he was slightly worried about what his father would say to bringing a human back with him but you were his best friend and not only would he feel endlessly awful for leaving you out to fend for yourself the rest of your life but the thought of being separated from his best friend was also a thought he could never warm up to

Turns out Thranduil loved you right from the first meeting, Legolas had introduced you and since you were burnt out, sleep deprived and sore you fell right into him and to top it off you said he smelt nice and him and Legolas had the same hair

Legolas was certain you were done for but instead Thranduil smiled a little and ordered a guard to take you to one of the guest rooms after you had gone he told Legolas to make sure you stayed in Mirkwood

Needless to say Legolas was stunned but exstatic

Something about you made Thranduil instantly protective and put him in a good mood he couldn’t place what it was but he instantly liked you secretly he found your sleep deprived self adorable and he wanted you to stay in Mirkwood

He came to visit you in the guest chambers the next day and from there you only grew closer, the pair of you ended up talking for hours before Thranduil remembered he has duties to take care of

You didn’t want him to leave after finally having such an interesting conversation so you said “If it really needed to be done someone would’ve found you right, I mean you are the King”

That was the first Thranduil had heard your sarcasm and outlook on things and he loved it, to him it was like a breath of fresh air having someone treat him as more of a friend than a King for once and he looked at you and laughed

He stayed from the time the sun rose to the time the sun set talking with you, he even chose to walk you round a few of the halls and walked you back to the guest room

Since then you spent as much time with Thranduil as you did with Legolas, Thranduil loved you as his own he saw you as his best friend and in some cases his daughter, he loved your attitude especially the way you got into a bit of light hearted trouble

You and Legolas were hanging out in the stables one day when you decided to ‘accidentally’ miss throwing the bucket of water over the horse and instead throw it on a guard that was standing nearby the guard was soaked and you got caught for laughing too much

The guard took you right to Thranduil to complain and the whole time you were standing trying not to laugh at the sight of a soaking wet guard try to explain to the King of Mirkwood that his sons best friend just threw water over him

It seemed Thranduil felt the same way as after the guard left he looked you dead in the eye and said “do it when I’m around next time” you were thrilled

Thranduil always kept his eye on you, you were far younger than Legolas and despite how strong you may be the elves were genetically a lot stronger this meant you got hurt more and sick easier

You actually did get sick once Thranduil sensed you were getting a bit lethargic and less energetic but when he heard news you were bedridden with a nasty case of the flu he resigned from all his duties as king and stayed with you only returning to run the kingdom if you had fallen asleep for the night or if Legolas took his place

You had him wrapped around your finger that whole week, Thranduil got extremely protective of you no one was allowed near you aside from him, Legolas and a few healers

He made sure your temperature was normal even if it meant having to take away layers if you claimed you were freezing, he personally made you food and it turns out he was a great cook something which you complimented him on and he insisted on letting you cuddle up to him ignoring you when you declined saying you didn’t want to get him sick elves don’t get sick often anyways

Legolas teased him for going soft around you, his council light heartedly said he was going soft for a human even you said he was going soft to which he declined every single time his excuse always “humans are fragile, I am simply watching she isn’t hurt”

Biggest lie he’d ever told, he loves you to death and he’s been seen on more than one occasion at the door of your room asking if you want to see the stars or hang out for the day

You have a little thing you like to do when Thranduil gets particularly miserable or grumpy (sadly it still happens) you leave notes or drawing or stupid jokes in the pockets of his robes so when he’s having a rough or long day he can reach into his pocket and find a stupid drawing of an elf he hates or a note telling him about the time you fell off a horse it never fails to make him smile

Like Legolas, Thranduil warms up to the idea of letting you touch his hair and vice versa you always feel so lucky to be able to touch a princes and kings hair not to mention his hair is stunning, you can braid it to your hearts content and even if your hairstyling skills are limited or advanced it’ll go right back to the silky smooth, flawless style he had it in before you beg him and Legolas to tell you their secrets instead they either laugh or jokingly braid your hair to make you feel better

Legolas and Thranduil are both protective of you but Thranduil takes the title of most protective by a long shot, Legolas knows your can hold your own but he’s got his eye on you and fights beside you he’s more of a look out for you person

Thranduil however is endlessly protective you’re more fragile than him or Legolas and he would be devastated if something were to happen to you, one of the stairs broke on the spiral leading to your room and he carried you up them until they were fixed

You went out with Thranduil, Tauriel and a few other elves to assess the spider situation in the forest it was nothing bad in fact the forests had been relatively safe for a while now so really there was nothing to fear

You had been walking around for a while now and we’re about to leave with the others until a spider hatchling jumped on you, in your shock you dropped your blade and bruised your back and shoulders during the fall

You didn’t even have time to scream or process what happened before Thranduil had killed it and you were in his arms in an instant

He looked more scared than you however bear in mind you were still in shock, Thranduil was pretty frantic searching for any bites or big injuries to be relived that you were only a little sore and bruised after realising you were okay he hugged you tight, the horror of losing his best and most trusted friend almost became a reality

Thranduil and Legolas personally took care of you, Legolas made stupid jokes and helped put away your weapons and clothing while Thranduil tended to your injuries gently leading you into his embrace when he was done

Thranduil cuddled you like a koala for a long time just making sure you were there if things went wrong he didn’t want to think where you would be meanwhile Legolas played with hair calming you down a little but the best part was you were surrounded by your favourite elves in the whole world

You were so glad you fell to Middle Earth

@x-celticpirate-x

[thunderboltfire]

I lazily colored Iwona’s age chart/looks progression cheatsheet I sketched during lectures. I intended it to be in (almost) flats, but it turned out differently XD

Additional description of her design and character development under the cut! :)

Iwona is a character I’ve had for a LONG time, and she went through several overhauls and minor redesigns. I wanted her to have some FR lore-friendly half-elven characteristics, but I didn’t want her looks to get too outlandish, like, e.g. Jaheira’s portrait from BG2. In the end, Iwona got angled almond-shaped and very much unnaturally blue eyes and diamond-shaped face as her clearly elven trait, while everything else I tried to place in-between a human and an elf. 

Canon height:165cm

Class: Warrior/mage

Strong statistics: Strenght, Dexterity, Intelligence (insanely strong for her bodytype - this is a trait I attribute to her half-divine lineage, her Dex and Int are both quite decent but there are characters who are well above her in these stats)

Weak statistics: Constitution (she has to be packed in a tin can or she’s down in seconds - dual classing with 12 con leaves her with very low HP)

Positive and negative character traits:

Inquisitive / troublemaker,

easily attached, easily involved / difficulty to say when to withhold from action

helpful, polite / difficulty declining an ask for help,

dedicated / headstrong

high self-esteem / easily offended

talented / difficulty learning things that require hard work and she isn’t good at understanding them

Headcannoned age during start of BG1 events: 19 years old (honestly, canon age of Your character seems to be quite unclear - on one hand a lot of people calls them ‘child’ on the other hand, they’re considered valid age for an adventuring team leader, and, in the second game which takes place not-so-much later, Charname possibly acts as a temporary caretaker of the D’Arnise keep, as Nalia is deemed too young. That leaves a lot of room for interpretation. I imagine Iwona to be around 19 yo then - a little old to be called ‘child’ maybe, but considering that she spent her whole life behind closed walls of Candlekeep, she may be quite naive despite her age, which again isn’t very young for medieval standards).

I haven’t found anything about the maturing rate of the FR half-elves, but as Iwona is actually a bhaalspawn, her growth rate could be altered anyway so I just assumed that she grew as fast as a human would.

BG1:

Generally, she started the first game on a low note. Iwona was very attached to Gorion and his sudden death (especially that our charname being an apprentice mage knew just how powerful he was in comparison to her) was a shock. She arrived to Helping Hand Inn with Imoen, distrustful of anyone else she met on the way, and very promptly earned a nasty dagger wound to the face. As it couldn’t be immediately fully healed in magical way, it was stitched and part of the healing process happened naturally, leaving a very prominent scar across her face.

As time went on and Iwona got accustomed to her new way of living and became less centered on her own survival and more daring, her natural curiosity led her and her party towards all sorts of dungeons and secluded locations. Growing in levels, Iwona grew in confidence and armor class - until 3rd chapter she changed the splint mail (ughhh I have no idea how it should look like so I just gave her lamellar armor XD) to plate armor and mostly acted as a supporting archer, walking identification station and spare swordswoman of a party. Somwhere between 4th and 5th chapter she got a Full Plate which became her armor of choice until the end of the 1st game. This, before the return to Candlekeep is also where I place whole plot of Tales of the Northern Storm Coast DLC and Durlag’s Tower.

The last chapters were just awful to her - she took the truth of her lineage in stride because she didn’t have much time to ponder on it - hounded, wanted and crawling through city sewers, it suffice to say she wasn’t very happy when she finally faced Sarevok. 

SoD

On the contrast SoD began with Iwona probably in the best social position she ever had - rather popular, well-rested and rich, of course something must’ve happened to spoil it or it wouldn’t be her life XD.

While she head out against Caelar’s crusade quite eagerly, she quickly lost her heart to the fight - decaying morale and the amount of effort she had to put in the campaign that had less and less meaning to her personally caused exhaustion that was only worsened by her recurring nightmares. The topic of her terrible pedigree comes back, much to Iwona’s discomfort and slowly becomes an axis around which revolves the entire DLC - riuned temple of thr god of murder, then Boareskyr bridge, then the generals scolding her and asking the impossible - if the entire camp wasn’t hearing the sound of her gritting teeth, it was only because she was out in the wild, running errands and clearing the way for the army. The fact that the lords were so quick to consider selling her to Caelar was something that tipped the scales on her alignment moving from Lawful-Aligned Neutral Good towards Chaotic Good. Around mid-game she changes her armor to newly found elven chainmail, as she relies on her magic more and more, shifting in role to supporting spellcaster.

The ending of SoD was literally a punch in the gut. Whole 11th chapter could and should be criticised as it was a plothole-riddled sieve, but the ending was very inspiring moment of character development. In the epilogue Iwona confirms everything she learned throughout chapter 10 - that it’s not enough to fight and bleed if the stakes are rigged against you. She could win a thousand battles for Baldur’s Gate - all it takes is one dubious situation she’ll be decided guilty. If you being a monster is a well known fact, being a monster on a side of good may not be enough. It doesn’t shake her world so hard that it would make her abandon the path of good, but she decides that for the ones like her, institutions of organised justice, duties and honors won’t work like they’re supposed to - so she’d rather stick to her own moral code and avoid great expectations and titles in the future. About the murder case - what terrified her the most was that she genuinely didn’t remember what happened. She clinged to the thought that she isn’t an evil person - that she knows she wouldn’t do something like that - and ultimately that was her line of defense. In the end this turned out to be true, but she still had no hard evidence to support it. She went back to the small group of faithful friends that believed in her innocence - and she intended to stay there, out of the spotlight.

I’ll probably make a second edition with BG2 and ToB once I establish a canon playthrough of both of them in EE.

[ceruleanwhore]

TDP should’ve gone full YA and all the kids’ stuff in there drags it down

The Dragon Prince had a lot of potential to be really good but it’s just another example of a show where they tried to appeal to both kids and adults and, in not just picking a lane and staying in it, the quality turned out… not great. At times it honestly just doesn’t make sense, like how Gren, the way he’s written and portrayed, never could have possibly become a freaking commander. Not to mention just how many of the characters are or act like complete idiots for the sake of an attempt at humor, which, for me, just wrecks it. Let Soren be serious and intelligent and show how he constantly struggles and pushes himself to be ‘good enough’ because, no matter what he does, Claudia’s still the favorite and his father still doesn’t value him. Let Gren be gentle and kind, but not stupid, but, then, when he gets taken by Viren, show a whole new side of him; show us the commander. Let Claudia hide her intelligence under her quirkiness because she uses it as a tool to disarm people so they don’t take her seriously or suspect just how crafty she can be. But no, they didn’t do that, so, instead, we just have a few iterations of Dumb: The Personality, you know, for the kids.

Also, the thing with Rayla’s hand really pissed me off. It’s so common in shows like this and avatar for the team to put a character in a really tough situation and then just… bail them out so they don’t have to actually deal with consequences or fix the problem (think the lion turtle). Rayla should’ve lost her hand, period. It would’ve been really powerful, for a moonshadow elf to lose their hand in exchange for saving the life of the prince they were sent to kill. I mean, think about that- they gave us literal assassins and killed characters but losing a hand would be too much? It’s almost like saying that someone sustaining an injury that would leave them disabled is “too adult” but freaking assassination isn’t. This is where we get back to that core issue of them trying to appeal to kids- they feel like they can’t have Rayla lose her hand because that would be like punishing her for doing something good and that’s not an easy thing to show kids or explain to them. See also: the absolute fuckery of Soren’s temporary paralysis. He should’ve stayed paralyzed or, if Claudia forcibly cured him, ignoring his expressed wishes, she should’ve been punished for it, or don’t do it at all, but this ableism shit needs to die, quick. That whole thing seemed to be for the sake of not punishing someone who just turned out to be good, as well, and it’s fucking dumb.

 So, then, I consider the black and white morality to be part of how it’s aimed at children, so I’d like to cover that as well. To start with, there’s the way that Viren was made into a clear cut Disney villain instead of being a more intelligent, subtle, morally grey character who is convincing to the audience in their belief that what they are doing is right and good. There’s also the very set “primal magic good, dark magic bad” schtick which they took so far that they actually gave Callum, a fucking human, primal magic just so he could do magic but like not in the bad way. Along with that, we’re supposed to be convinced that the humans are at fault for everything (because dark magic) and Xadia did nothing wrong all while it’s supposed to appear that there’s some sort of debate around this in the show in an effort to make it appear less black and white than it actually is. How do we know this? Because the moonshadow elves are shown as being justified in their revenge on Harrow and the conflict ends when a human and an elf return Zym to the dragon queen and she suddenly doesn’t care that the son of the man who killed her husband is in front of her and everything’s good because they helped Xadia and rejected dark magic.

And, then, there’s Claudia. They went so hard on how literal they were with her in relation to dark magic that they actually had her hair change. The fact that she was good and then kept using dark magic and turned eeeevil is bullshit and just, again, reflects that super black and white view the show has. Instead, she should’ve remained normal, stayed with Soren (because that’s what they did when their parents split anyway), and then she should’ve been the one to kill Viren and that should have served as the turning point for her due to the psychological impact of having killed her father, even though she knew it was right. Then, like in the show, she would get the Aaravos bug and become his new pawn or whatever, slowly turning evil until, in some finale, she’d have to face Callum (who would still be in love with her because I am sick to death of the trope where someone has been in love with someone else for a really long time but then just drops that to be with someone else) and then, in a way that would parallel the death of Viren, Callum would have to defeat her, the new villain. But no, instead we got bullshit.

[reversecreek]

struts onto the dash carrying this deliriously wriggling little elf in my arms like a swaddled bebe......... they’re genuinely my oldest muse of all time i think i created them when i was like. 13 possibly. n i haven’t written them in Years but. i’m literally so excited to jst vibrating w muse. smiles at u all demurely..... they have risen. u can find their pinterest here n their playlist here.

* alana champion, nonbinary + they/them | you know nyla palmer, right? they’re twenty-two, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, eight months? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to 6669 (i don’t know if you know) by neon indian like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole a two headed doll of a prairie girl with stitched on rabbit ears and butterfly wings, befriending shadow puppets & finding god with your eyes open underwater in a public pool you broke into thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is march 2nd, so they’re a pisces, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( nai, 24, gmt she/her  )

HISTORY:

was born in georgiaaaa georgiaaaa (phoebe bridgers voice holds my bang...) to a vry honest hard working man named george (omgggg he’s called GEORGE and he’s from GEORGIA? ahaaaaa fuckk ur jestinggg) nd a woman who did her best named pamela..... george worked on a construction site n pamela was a pharmacist..... their house was this small rickety white thing with a wrap around porch n a very rabid overgrown garden tht kind of looked like the earth ws trying to reclaim it bc nobody ever hd the time or motivation to mow the lawn.... there ws literally a piece of fold out furniture just entirely submerged by weeds n foliage

nyla ws always closest w their dad george..... he hd this way of looking at the world tht was seeing the best in all of it.... he took them on long walks where he talked abt how u have to respect the trees bc they’re breathing fr us n we’re breathing fr them..... he hd a strange whimsical sense of humour n a gnome alter ego called grundlebolt who always tickled them..... in a way this closeness created a distance between nyla n their mother but not so much that it ws rly a problem. just enough tht nyla sometimes waited until their mother ws out of eye n ear shot to tell their dad they loved him bc they didn’t wna make her sad >_>

(mental health, death & grief tw) pamela always struggled w her mental health but george ws great n understanding n knew how to help her thru this... nyla didn’t get it too greatly at a very young age bt they knew their mum got “the sads” sometimes (how their dad wld explain tht she needed to lay down in the quiet for a while or why she’d stood at the stove n let the dinner burn until the smoke detector went off without doing anything abt it). when nyla was 14 they got home one day to a police car in the driveway n came prancing in exuberantly as they always did. immediately hugged the legs of an officer bc this is hw they wld greet everyone they ever met. they only realised something was wrong when they let go n saw their mum sat at the table crying. essentially there ws an accident at the construction site george worked at n :/ yeah. 

(jst mental health & grief tw now) this rly had an intense ripple effect on everyone tbh. pamela’s mental health deteriorated quite a lot without george there as her rock n nyla sort of had to step in as best they cld but it was....... hard. some days she ws better bt some days nyla had to sit her in the bath n stroke a wet sponge over her back bc they didn’t know how else to calm her down. nyla always had a very overactive imagination which george encouraged bt it ws like. losing him rly opened a window in nyla’s head n all rationality went floating out of it. their dreams seemed more real than being awake. fantasy wasn’t jst the way they coped bt it was the way they thought n the way they saw. everything on earth was alive. the trees n the clouds n the wall with a brick missing at the bottom of her road n especially their dad. their dad was alive in everything in nyla’s head. the sun shining extra bright in the morning was george. ponds were a veil they could dunk her head under and find george waiting on the other side. reality rly just pulled the plug n said bye tbh n they were ok w that <3

(abuse implied tw) their mum remarried too fast to a man named stephen n it was jst not a good arrangement. he was Not a nice man. i won’t go into this but home wasn’t a nice place for nyla any more n after a couple of yrs stephen wound up asking them to leave n their mum said nothing to contradict tht. there’s more to this bt long story short nyla left <3

(drugs tw) they couch surfed fr a while before settling living w their best friend. they got up to like... all sorts of trouble n grew up far too fast. nyla’s lack of sense n realism hd a habit of getting them into some sticky situations n these few yrs were a rollercoaster where they got by on the skin of their teeth. when they think of high skl they think of gravel and skinned knees and sucking sherbet dunkers to ignore the taste of pennies in ur mouth and getting lost in the woods a lot bc they’d take FAR too many drugs n be lead astray having conversations with kind trees whose branches held their hands

(drug mention) got by on odd jobs like making candles n selling them at market stalls. leaf blowing at cemeteries. face painting fr children’s parties (where they were blatantly high). random stuff. all over the place. in this time them n their best friend also hd a sugar daddy named tony who always wore very impressive colour block suits n mink stoles n jewelled fedoras n hd a swanky apartment w marble floors. rly just. surreal. lots of strange stories frm this time.

things kind of blew up in their friendship group n they fell out w their best friend raya bc she slept w this guy aj who nyla hd been madly in love w for yrs.... he was a Stinker n honestly so ws their best friend so good riddance i say bt obviously it felt like having their entire world flipped upside dwn fr nyla.... they split after this came out bc they just did Not want to b around these ppl any more n they decided to leave w this guy frm a band they barely knew tht much save fr a one night stand to tour w them..... this ws another whirlwind. jst chock full of them. it ws similar to being on a teacup ride at a carnival n spinning round n round n only knowing u were surrounded by lots of lights. tht’s how they’d best describe their time on tour.

SO in terms of them coming to irving 8 months ago they came w the band.... they honestly did pretty well on tour n wound up renting a big beach house on dorado as a kind of “retreat” sort of place fr them to shack up in while they worked on writing and recording their first big studio album (they gt signed w a label so it’s all vry exciting stuff). nyla among like 3 others were allowed to stay w them too bc they hd a lot of fun on tour. literally jst. taken on as professional groupies essentially. nyla loved it bc they’d never seen the ocean n when they first got there they jst threw off all their clothes n ran straight into the water. it was 3pm on a tuesday afternoon. they got arrested fr public indecency n didn’t get why bc they were like but i just wanted to hug the ocean u silly little oinker? i picture the beach house as like. the loudest one on dorado.... comes alive like a jungle at night..... they r probably bad neighbours. anyway. onto personality puts hand on hip.

PERSONALITY:

sets out patio furniture on someone else’s lawn n jst takes a seat n leans back like ahhhhh vat a nice day to be alive ya! (swedish accent suddenly bc they think it’s fun). they come out n start yelling n they’re jst so confused they’re like hey wat’s the big idea hey wat’s go on here why u angies why this happen?

likes drawing imaginary veins over their arms in all different colour blue pens in a sudden fit of hyperfixation n then forgets all abt it n goes out like tht n scares several townsfolk bt they’re oblivious they’re jst in her own world loving life already onto the next fixation. has many many different fads like this. one day will jst start snipping up a bunch of magazines bc they’re like EYES ARE COOL N THEY SEE EVERYTHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :P n they’ll stick a bunch of them over their wall n then forget they was doing that n leap onto the next. quite a pattern. bt they love the vein thing a lot it makes them feel like a walking planetarium like they have their own constellations

sometimes jst doesn’t make sense. they’re honestly kind of strange. pops up in places like they suddenly materialised there n it’s like how did u get there where have u been when were u last seen are u ok. has the energy of an ancient deity frm deep in a mountain cave n an ambiguous forest sprite all at once..... talks shit honestly. abt anything n everything. sometimes outrageous. sometimes plain incoherent. like what are u talking about? i dnt kno. even i dnt kno sometimes.

luvs stick n pokes will let anyone tattoo whatever they want on them for the price of a gummy bear kindly placed onto their tongue n swallowed whole

has this obsession w being underwater w their eyes open luvs it. calls it their tadpole time. runs baths just to lie there blinking looking around n drifting her arms. best friends w the bottom of any local swimming pool n hs probably given it a quick kiss so it knows they’re bff’s n then got sick bc there’s sm germs in a public pool. says the kgb probably poisoned their oatmeal n r finally here to deliver on their promise n THAT’S why they got sick unrelated to the pool incident. what promise? noone knows.

unclear if they believe what they say or if they jst has a very expanded sense of humour where they nvr let on if they’re joking.... lines r blurred a lot..... 

loves excitedly shouting things. sometimes just screams at the sky bc they say it’s good to let the creatures in ur belly fly out every once in a while otherwise their wings get sore.

(drugs tw) still does an excessive amt of hallucinogens n it kind of shows. very bad fr their brain bt we’re going to ignore it.

dresses fun n strange n eccentric n careless. loves to experiment. does nt care abt what’s considered to be societally appropriate. living in their own world.

sleeps around a lot... jst doesn’t rly see sex as a big deal.... very free w themselves in that way..... sometimes greets their friends w a kiss on the lips they’re like awww :) kisses <3 when they run into them in the middle of the cereal aisle n then pulls away n suddenly breaks into a box tht has a free toy in it bc it’s a banana with googly eyes n that’s the best thing they’ve ever heard in their LIFE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! n isn’t he so HANDSOME????? enchante indeed my good sir ;)... gives the toy a kiss too.

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

other groupies of the band: self explanatory a little.... i dnt have a name for the band yet bt all can b worked out..... i picture them as kind of. not that nice but like. there for a good time........ rock genre.... bit chaotic...... to say the least........ they dnt have to have come there w the band like nyla n the others they cld have been adopted in their time there.... whoever wld b wild n down fr a good time <3

chaotic trash goblin friends: idk what this title rly means it just came to me in a vision....... jst ppl tht r rly kind of off the rails n don’t care abt anything...... they r who nyla tends to mesh very well w......... they rly r living in their own world n by their own rules n they like ppl who do this too <3 inevitably they get up to no good n party far too much...... cld be angst to this if they enable each other’s bad habits...... world’s our oyster. opens my office door. let’s talk abt it.

nyla set up camp on their front lawn: maybe jst w a fold out chair. maybe w a literal pop up tent w someone else too. genuinely so bizarre of them bt that’s what we’re dealing with. they poke their head into the tent n nyla’s lying down crunching on a cracker crumbs over their tits n they just hold it out to them nt even fully consumed n are like hey polly want a cracker? :)

they responded to her craigslist ad: they posted one saying they cld cleanse their house of demonic energy bc they’re an all seeing eye in touch w the spirits. this is a lie. they came n waved sage around n did a little dance as they did it w bird sounds playing on a special cd they brought fr the occasion (had weird indistinct doodles over the case it ws brought in) n then ws like OOH! scary.... n jumped at something in the hall. they go in thinking maybe they’ve seen a ghost bt they just were startled by their own reflection in a mirror n is like. scary mirror placement...... might wna reconsider that........ they charge them merely 10 dollars fr their time n is like this was so fun we shd do it again some time :) also i think u have mould on ur bathroom tile! vanishes. they dnt recall them ever going to the bathroom.

came knocking asking for items for a garage sale: yes. u heard that right. they’re asking for ur muses things to set up their own garage sale. selling items that do not belong to them. they think this is a genius business strategy n don’t understand why ppl think this is so strange or why they cant just ask ppl to donate them things to sell bc hey they’re an entrepreneur? they even had a pencil behind their ear when they knocked on the door so why aren’t ppl taking their business seriously? probably got distracted several times trying to explain their pitch n chattered abt random other things instead.

honestly anything... fwbs... flings... good influence... someone who cnt stand the fact they’re barely coherent.... someone they stopped on the street one day n asked for their opinion on water beds.... we cn do literally anything. fling ur chara my way n we can talk.

[kaaras-adaar]

Every Heartbeat

Characters: Kaaras Adaar, Aith, Stenn, Taali Pre-Inquisition (Kaaras 25 years old)  Warning: Contains profanity, character death, adult themes, alcohol mentions

He didn’t even have time to grieve as she lay there, the gore covering her body. An axe, and a big one. It didn’t matter how powerful the woman had been, she was no match for multiple assailants. No match for a fucking ambush! An ambush which could have very well been avoided. But this was what happened when the majority of a group voted, wasn’t it? And when Kaaras didn’t have the last say in such orders.

 Never again.

 He’d already told himself that this was it. It was over. How could he possibly continue to work for people such as the Ralshokra when they were so rash in their thinking, in their strategies? This was what happened when money was more valuable than a person’s life! And not just any person, but his trainer, his mentor, the woman he’d been training with for years now! Over ten years! And now she was gone within the blink of an eye. How easily a life could be taken…

 It was a miracle that he was alive himself, and he’d managed to take a few men out, but when it came down to it, Kaaras didn’t really blame the enemy—especially when they knew no better than to see Saarebas as a savage oxwoman who would kill any man who crossed her path. She looked the part, yes, but she was like a second mother to him. She had been there for him when his father had died, when he could not look his mother in the eye after it all happened. She’d never just been a mentor to him, but family. And there was another one to add to the damn list! Another name on his fucking hands. This would have never have happened if he’d put his damn foot down harder! If he’d been calling the shots. If he’d stood up and made his point clearer. Of course… he turned to self blame. Kaaras always did.

 He warned them! He warned them that the mission was dangerous. And yet, to a mercenary, nothing was dangerous provided the coin was enough payment. And they’d been given such a large sum upfront that of course Taali wouldn’t deny it. Greedy. Fucking greedy! No coin, no riches, was ever worth someone’s life!

 Shaking, Kaaras panted as he marched his way back to the meeting point. The mission was done, they’d get their coin, but at what cost? If he knew that this would have been the outcome, he’d have never agreed to take the job. Alas… time was something he knew he could never turn back. It was too late, Saarebas was dead, and there was nothing he could do to bring her back.

 But there was something he could do to make damn sure that this would never happen again…

 Pushing the door open, the young mage moved over to their captain, and eyes were fiery red, not just because that’s the colour they were, but they were angry, burning, and perhaps even tear-stung. He’d not even been able to retrieve her body yet, not in the mix of everything.

 “Are you happy now?” he barked. “A valuable part of this team has been killed! That didn’t have to happen, and you all know damn well that it could have been prevented!” To say he was furious was a damn well understatement. The young qunari was deeply upset and disturbed by the outcome.

  Taali stood up, the woman taller than him—although it didn’t take much for any qunari to be taller than Kaaras. He was the runt of the littler, even if he was a good build and a strong mage.

 “Calm down, Adaar, you got your coin.” She shoved the little bag into his hands, and it was immediately tossed onto the floor, clinking with a heavy thud, just to signify the amount that was within. An easy job never got heavy coin.

 Kaaras seethed. “I don’t want your coin! I want Saarebas alive and well!” Which very well wasn’t going to happen, and he knew that. It didn’t stop the words from spewing out of his mouth, thick with daggers in her direction. Because, yes, it was her fault that this happened. Bad orders were made, and as the captain of this mercenary band, she had to take responsibility of the lives within.

 What was there of the group moved a little uneasily at the scuffle that was going on between the two. Taali’s eyes moved to the elf that had joined up with Kaaras, his adopted sister of sorts. But when she went to put a hand to his arm, he just threw it off. Temperamental mage, he was. He’d always been hot-headed, and she knew that the moment they started working together, but Kaaras’ heart had always been in the right place. In her eyes… that wasn’t always a good thing. It got in the way of their work. Such as now.

 She clicked her tongue in a scoff. “Look, Kaaras, you knew the risks of being a mercenary when you joined Saarebas and her company before coming here. I don’t know how they do things in Ferelden, but the Marches are different.  A lot more people here, too, and a lot more bad people. A lot more coin and a hellova lot more competition. We got the job done–,”

 “Is that all you care about? That you got some fucking coin!?” Kaaras’ voice was strained, disbelief cracking through. He couldn’t believe it. He knew that things were different up north, he also knew that mercenary life wasn’t always the most ethical in nature, but this was drawing a line.

 He drew a heavy breath, hands balling into fists as he tried to keep his temper down to a minimum. It was to no avail. He didn’t like being angry, in fact, he hated it. He feared his anger turned him into a monster, like so many people had said about him, even when calm. He was a qunari, he was a savage. He thought that the humans of Ferelden had just been cruel, but this… this made him worry that perhaps what they said about his kind was in fact true. And that shattered his heart.

 He’d worked so hard to not be that image, to be a kindhearted individual, giving and compassionate. And now, what stood before him was the opposite. She cared for nothing but her coin. Even her people were expendable. It didn’t matter so long as her pockets were heavy and her sword was strapped to her back. It made him sick to the stomach.

 “One of your people died today, Taali, and you… you can’t show at least a little bit of sympathy?” Why was he even bothering with it? He’d seen it before. People died in companies every day, just as bandits did. And honestly, he was starting to feel like that’s exactly what this company was. A group of thugs. The only difference was that they got paid, whereas bandits simply raided for the sake of it. Perhaps that was even worse.

 He couldn’t do it anymore. He couldn’t stay… Not when it was clearly alright that people died so long as they got a little coin in their purse. That wasn’t what he stood for, and it never would be. Kaaras simply wasn’t the type. He became a mercenary to help his mother survive, so he and Aith could grow up and provide for themselves and they could keep a place they could call home. He knew it wasn’t easy work, and he knew it was dangerous, but he couldn’t work like this and feel proud of himself anymore. He felt no more than a common thug, and that went against everything he believed in.

  Taali shook her head and gruffly sighed. “What do you want me to do, Adaar? Sing a song for her? That’s not my thing, and it’s not gonna bring her back either. We move on and we do the next job. If you want a eulogy, then talk to Stenn.” She threw her thumb over her shoulder.

 “Hey, have some respect!” the small elf snapped from beside Kaaras. She could already tell that Kaaras was at breaking point, and Taali wasn’t making it any better with her quips. She wasn’t going to sit by and let her speak about Saarebas like that. That was her friend, too. She may deal with her grieving a little differently than Kaaras, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t upset that the woman had died.

 This was just getting tiring. “Stenn, I’m done, can you please deal with your boyfriend?” She gave a huff and sat herself back down, eyeing the coin that was on the floor from where Kaaras had thrown it, but Aith saw her and snatched it up, shoving it into her pocket. Smart girl. Kaaras, in his own tiff, probably would have just left it there. At least someone in the damn family knew how things were. Took an ex Dalish to as well. Balls, Kaaras could be so dumb sometimes.

  Stenn had been sitting at the table within the room they were all in. Currently, the older qunari male was nursing a tankard of ale. It was around about now that he’d usually be writing his next ballad after a job well done. Unfortunately, he didn’t like the outcome of this one, but he also had been on Taali’s side for this mission. Sometimes, people were lost, and there wasn’t much to be done about it.

 Alas, he cared deeply for Kaaras, and had for the last year. The young man had been… troublesome when he’d come to them, moody, drinking, guarded. Incredibly guarded. It took patience with Kaaras, patience that Stenn had, and he’d fallen for the young lad. Still, it was times like this that he was reminded that Kaaras absolutely wore his heart on his sleeve, and at times it was… irrational.

 Standing, he gestured for Kaaras to follow him, taking his hand carefully. “Come with me, we’ll take a walk outside, get some fresh air.” His smile was gentle, tender, and he saw Kaaras’ eyes flicker back to Taali. He knew that the Vashoth needed time away from the situation to settle.

 “C’mon.” It was a soft, encouraging order, and his hand moved to Kaaras’ back, quietly ushering him out of the door. When there was no argument from the blonde, the corners of his eyes creased in a smile, the warm, city air hitting his skin when they stepped outside.

 Kaaras took a deep breath, and there were tears in his eyes now, the shock of Saarebas’ death finally starting to settle in. He swallowed thickly, and desperately tried not to let the tears slip down his cheeks, looking away from his lover. If there was someone other than Aith, surely it was Stenn who would agree with him.

 “I’m sorry…” he murmured, putting a hand to his face and trying to wipe away the tears from his glazed eyes. They continued to come, though.

  Stenn shook his head, frowning. “Oh, Kaaras, don’t apologise.” He took the man’s hand and lowered it, only to see Kaaras lower his head and close his eyes, the tears being forced from his eyes. He pulled him into a careful embrace, and then he felt the smaller man’s sobs shake through his body.

 Losing someone was never easy. Taali didn’t have a lot of sympathy, no, and she could have dealt with the situation better. But Stenn had to agree that they got their coin and the job was done. It had its losses, yes, but… they all knew the risks—including Kaaras.

 Pulling him tight, Stenn moved his hands over Kaaras’ back, cooing to him softly. “I’m sorry, Kaaras. Taali should not be so rough, but you know her. She’s a ‘get the job done’ kind of woman. It’s nothing against you.”

 Kaaras’ eyes clenched shut against the warmth of the other man’s chest and he pressed his face into the crook of his neck before he withdrew, tear stained eyes looking at the older man. “Don’t… don’t stick up for her. She knows what she is doing. She just doesn’t care.”

 “That’s not true, Kaaras.” He put his hand to the man’s stubble-covered cheek, eyes caring and soft.

 “Bullshit. You saw her just as well as I did back there. She didn’t even bat an eye at knowing someone died.” Kaaras wiped his face down and pushed the tears back. Not here, not like this. He would mourn when he could, but he wasn’t about to bring Stenn down with it, too.

 “Maker’s breath, I… She’s still back there, Stenn. I… I have to get her body. I have to burn it.”

 The Ferelden tradition, Stenn knew. Burning the bodies so they did not catch the Taint of the Blight. “What Taali said back there… about me saying some words. I can if you wish, Kaaras, I don’t mind.”

 Kaaras shook his head, sniffing softly. “No… it’s… it’s alright.” He looked back up at the older man and offered him a sad smile. “It’s something Aith and I should do alone. Just… wait for me, please? I don’t think I’ll be getting much sleep tonight.” And he was still furious about Taali, but there was little he could do about that now. At least, she was out of his sight.

  Stenn nodded, and he planted a kiss on the mage’s forehead. “I will wait up for you.”

 With a soft sigh, Kaaras licked his lips and pulled his shoulders back, putting a brave face on. He needed to go and collect Aith, and then they’d travel back to where he’d moved Saarebas’ body. He should have carried it back with him, but it had been too risky. Now, the woman’s corpse sat alone, bloodied and gory. He’d at least do right by her, by saying a final goodbye and burning what remained.

*****

 It was late by the time Kaaras got back in, and the tavern they were staying in had all but died down. There were some common folk who were still drinking, and Kaaras could smell the alcohol in his nostrils. It took every ounce of his strength in such a state of mind to just continue walking up the stairs. He desperately wanted a drink, but all his hard work would be for nothing. He couldn’t lose that tonight, too.

 The smell of ash and burning was against his clothes. The scent of death, blood and gore. He needed a bath, urgently, and he wanted to be alone. He wanted to be back in Ferelden, home and away from this place. He wanted to be away from the Ralshokra and the city. Fuck, he hated the city so much! It was smoggy and reeked of plague illness and death, as well as drunkards. He missed the smell of hay and grass, the farm back home. But every day he was away from Ferelden was more coin he earned for his mother so she could still keep that farm.

 Tugging his collar undone, the Vashoth pushed the door open to see Stenn laying on the bed, quill and a pot of ink there. He was writing a tale, he assumed. But even right now, Kaaras couldn’t deal with listening to such sweet and symbolic words. He was tired, so tired, and his eyes stung from what felt like a fountain of never ending tears, the salt drying on his lashes.

 At the sight of his lover, Stenn leant up, putting his quill aside. “Did everything go alright?” he asked. “Do you wish to speak of it?”

 Kaaras just shook his head. “It’s done… that’s… that’s all that matters right now.” He made his way over to the small desk inside the tiny room, the boards beneath him creaking as he did so. It wasn’t quite over, though. Kaaras had had time to think when he and Aith were there with what remained of Saarebas. They did more than just think, too.  

 He couldn’t be here anymore. He couldn’t work with the Ralshokra anymore. It hadn’t been the first time his ethical conscious had prodded him and he’d felt uneasy doing a job. Things were different in Ferelden, with Saarebas leading them. The jobs they did still meant hard work, but they weren’t… like this. Breaking the law wasn’t something Kaaras enjoyed doing, even if it was for coin. And while not all jobs were like that, he knew, there was still enough to make him feel uneasy, and unhappy. He wanted to be proud of his work, and here, he simply couldn’t.

 Sensing the tension within the other man, Stenn pushed himself up from the bed and approached the younger qunari. “Kaaras, I know you’re going through the mourning stages, but–,”

 “I can’t do this anymore.”

  Stenn blinked, trying to analyse the look across his lover’s face as one of confusion spread across his own.

 “I… I can’t work with this company.” Kaaras swallowed thickly and folded his arms against his chest, his expression stern, but still hurting. The sound of his voice was more trying to convince himself than anyone else.

  Stenn felt his brows furrow. Because Saarebas had died? Was it all because of that? “Kaaras, you’re grieving–,”

 “No.” The Vashoth shook his head. “It’s not that, Stenn. It’s… it’s the way this company runs itself. Someone died today, someone close, and a part of this team, and Taali just shrugs it off like we mean nothing! Like life itself means nothing!”

 His hands slapped back down to his sides. “You’ve been here longer than I have. Don’t you see how that’s not alright? It wouldn’t have mattered if it were someone else, and it’s not just because Saarebas was my mentor,” although that was pretty serious, considering, “I am here to make a difference, to try and better this world. How am I doing that when people are dying?”

  Stenn shook his head, putting a hand to Kaaras’ shoulder. “Bad things happen, Kaaras, you can’t save everyone. You know this,” he explained. “You’re upset, and you are hurting, and I understand that, but please take a moment to listen to yourself. What you are saying. You’d give up your work here, because something bad happened? Because we lost one man.”

 One man? That woman was his family! And Stenn was…

 Kaaras’ brows arched as he watched the expression form across his lover’s visage. How did Stenn not understand, because what he was saying was simply that he was upset because someone died. That someone wasn’t just a someone to him! And that someone could have been any other man or woman in this company and he’d still feel the same! And they should be mourning! People weren’t just items that got slashed to pieces every damn day, they were people!. Real, living people!

 “And you’d stay? Knowing that your captain is a heartless, greedy, coin mongering bitch?” he asked.

 The expression on Stenn’s face hardened at the name calling. “Kaaras, that’s uncalled for.”

 “No, you sticking up for her is uncalled for!” He shook his head in disbelief. “Because that’s what she is. She doesn’t care for anything other than her coin! And perhaps it’s unfair for me to call her a bitch, but you stand there and tell me she isn’t. Because every mission we go on, she’s always been up her arse over it. She doesn’t listen, she doesn’t care who gets injured, so long as the job is done. I will not stand by when coin becomes more important than people’s wellbeing!”

 The older man’s frown didn’t disappear. “This is how we’ve always done it in the Ralshokra, Kaaras, and when you joined, you knew what was at stake. I am sorry that Saarebas didn’t make it, but you are acting like a child.”

 Kaaras’ ears pricked back and his jaw grew tight. So he was a child because he cared? Because he didn’t want to be part of a group that was fine with their members dying off so long as a job got done and coin went in their pockets?

 To say he was disappointed was quite the understatement. He was pissed off and hurt, and even more, he felt betrayed that Stenn could stand there and call him a child for his compassion. He knew that his temper could get the better of him at times; he also knew that his moods made him hard to be around. But he would never take back the fact that he cared about people more than the weight of his coin purse.

 Stubborn til the end, he stood his ground. “I have made my choice, Stenn. I’m leaving tonight. Aith and I, and a few others who have agreed with me.” Which was why he’d taken so long to get back tonight. He’d spoken to a few of the other members of the company, and they agreed that they could no longer take part in the group’s activity.

 A few others? Stenn’s expression turned to concern, but he was just as stubborn. Kaaras was still young, and highly emotional. He had gotten better now that he was off the hooch, but even then, the man was exceptionally emotional at times. He’d come back, surely. Once the morning came around, all of this would blow over. Kaaras, after all, needed the coin, despite his caring nature. He was also (usually) a reasonable man.

 “Kaaras, I can’t stop you from leaving, but please sleep on this. What you are saying is… unreasonable.” He chose his words carefully, not to stir the other up again. “Taali may not be the most tender of leaders, but you can’t deny that she does get the job done, and that that work has made you wealthy in your stay here. What do you expect? For her to beg for you and the others to come back? Begging is not in her nature.”

 “No,” Kaaras stated calmly, but still blunt in tone. “I don’t expect anything, Stenn. I already said I have made my decision. We are leaving come morn, and you are welcome to come with us.” Part of him wanted to beg that the older man would come with him. Was he foolish to expect his lover to follow him? Perhaps. But this was not his choice to make. He’d already made his, and he was leaving. If Stenn wanted to stay (and he hoped he did not), then there was little he could do.

 What was he saying? Stenn took a breath and tried to make sense of it all. Damnit, the man was stubborn! But he couldn’t just up and leave. Unlike Kaaras, this was his life, and it had been for years now. He couldn’t just stand there and give it all up because Kaaras was being stubborn and throwing a tantrum.

 Putting a hand to his forehead, he looked back at the ruby eyes. They were clearly waiting for an answer. Stenn had none. For once in his life, he didn’t know what to say. No poem or ballad could get him out of this.

 Kaaras saw it, though, and he felt his chest clench tight before his heart fell to his very bowels. “You don’t need to say it,” he commented, “your silence and hesitation is enough.” Stenn wanted to stay.

 When Kaaras turned to grab his things, Stenn pulled his arm back. “Wait, Kaaras, please reconsider.”

 “There is nothing to reconsider. It’s done… We’re… we’re done.” And it burned to say it, and his heart shattered into a million tiny pieces as the words escaped his mouth. The anger from his expression was gone, morphed into something else. But he couldn’t stay here, and if Stenn couldn’t come then that was it. The both of them were simply too hung in their ways.

 “Don’t do this, Kaaras. We can work something out. Let me talk to Taali for you, she might listen to me, I’ve known her longer,” he tried to explain. Damnit, the man didn’t have to leave! And yet, it seemed that this had been something Kaaras had been considering for quite some time. Maybe this was just the thing that pushed him off the precipice.

 “And what? Have her ignore you, or worse, lie to you? Nothing will change, Stenn. You said it yourself, you’ve known her longer. Look me in the eyes and tell me that it will change, that she will change.” When the other man said nothing, Kaaras just nodded. That was his answer once more, Stenn couldn’t tell him anything else, nor could he convince him that things would be different. He needed out.

 “Taali and I are too different, and that—that’s fine. I’m not asking for her to roll over, and I’m not about to mutiny against her. This is her company, Stenn. Not mine. But I can no longer work for her, and that is my choice. Just as it is yours to stay here.”

 There was silence between them for a moment, and Stenn tried to think of something he could say that would make Kaaras change his mind. Nothing came, though…    

 “I’ll write to you… We can meet up, catch up with one another.”

 That only stung more. Kaaras couldn’t do it. He couldn’t do it to himself and he couldn’t do it to Stenn. If he’d not cried all the tears his body was capable of producing when they burned Saarebas, then he’d be crying this second. But he also didn’t want to, he didn’t want to make Stenn feel guilty, he didn’t want to manipulate him, he didn’t want any of this! But he had to do something.

 Closing his trunk, he stood back up and turned to the man he’d almost said he loved on so many occasions, and the words still lingered there at the tip of his very tongue. They wanted to come out so badly, he wanted to tell the man that he loved him. If he said it now, though… that was only cruel. Cruel to the both of them.

 “Thank you,” he said instead, his eyes raw and tired, but honest. “For everything you ever did for me, Stenn. You helped me more than anyone in this world has, and I will never forget that.” Before he broke down there and then, he opened the door and made his way out of the room as quickly as he could. If Stenn tried to stop him, he didn’t know what he’d do, and he couldn’t afford it right now.

 He was wrong, there were still tears there, and they were quick to blur his vision as he made his way down the stairs. When he got outside, he pressed his back to the wooden wall and sunk to the floor in a crouch, his hands covering his face. Why’d he do it? Why’d he say goodbye? Fuck, he didn’t even say goodbye! But he couldn’t stay here anymore, he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t work like this, and it wasn’t just him either. He had to look after his sister. If Taali ended up putting her on a mission and she got herself killed… He’d never forgive himself. The only reason Aith was here was because of him.

 This was the right choice. He knew it, Aith knew it, and the others who agreed knew it, too. Taali was restless, brash in thinking and eventually she’d get everyone killed, including herself! And as much as it hurt to do what he just did, he could no longer stay. And it was clear that Stenn couldn’t go with him.

 Drawing his scarf up around his face, he wiped his eyes with it, the scent of the other man still clinging to it from their time shared together. There was nothing he could do now, though, but move forward.

 Taking a deep and controlled breath, he pushed himself back up, swallowing and wiping his face. He’d not forget the nights spent of passion with him, the soft words and even softer kisses. He’d not forget the nightmares and shakes he suffered, sweating while detoxing from alcohol and feeling utterly useless while Stenn encouraged and supported him every step of the way.

 He had become a better man because of Stenn, and he would never, ever stop thanking him for that. But he also had to keep being that better person, and staying here… he could not achieve that. It didn’t matter how much his heart ached right now, from two losses this night, he had a family to protect, to care for and look after, and that included himself.  

 Gathering himself, he took his trunk and headed towards the meeting spot they’d previously spoken of. It would be empty now, but he couldn’t return to the tavern. He’d wait for morning to come, and a new day would dawn. A new life for him also. It hurt now, but in due time, Kaaras knew that the pain would make him stronger, and that it was time to run his own life.

[pulaasul]

Ode to the Departed

An Ode to the Characters who died in the Harry Potter series of books.

FFN I AO3

--------

Ode to the Departed.

Colin Creevey

Colin Creevey was a young wizard, Who trained at Hogwarts. He was an excited fellow, Exuberance you cannot mellow. Magic brought him joy, Even more than a toy. When his home away from home was attacked, He left the comforts of his family and came back. He took the risks that returning entailed, It didn't matter if he failed. As long as his training was repaid. Even if he became pale. His debt to his hero was paid.

Cedric Diggory

Cedric Diggory was a Hufflepuff, The glory he sought was rough. It wasn't for self-satisfaction, Rather, it was for his faction. To dispel the nasty names that took root, As loyalty was his boot. The glory he sought was in his hands, But a traitorous rat had other plans. To Dumbledore's army that didn't matter He was an inspiration for others, His path may have strayed to the Dark Lord's But as a Hufflepuff, he never left Harry alone.

Fred Weasley

Prankster, Jokster, Charming are some things to describe, This particular bloke, those who knew him subscribe. Fred Weasley was one of a kind, Even if he did things with his twin by his side. His last action however wasn't with his twin, But with his estranged brother, they took a win, The price of victory however Would take root forever A set of twins was subtracted by one But his smiles were always fond.

Severus Snape

Spite and Bitterness were the things that pushed him to join the Dark Lord, One declaration later, he had to cut the cord. Severus Snape was Dumbledore's spy, In a wizarding world that's full of lies. To protect he had to sneer, While doing his side job without fear, It did help that the one he protected, Was the son of a man he hated. Even if he was also the son of the woman he loved. In the end it didn't matter, For the boy would soon after, Win the war with his sacrifice, And survive the curse twice.

Remus Lupin

Remus Lupin was afraid of many things. The full moon, family and friends. He feared that all his relationships would end. If people knew of his affliction, He knew they would leave without condition. Some of his fears were unfounded, As he found himself supported, By friends dearly beloved, And a wife that loved him dearly. He left behind a son, A son who would understand That they fought to protect his future And time would be his suture. Lupin's fears stem From Things out of his control He soon found that they were unfounded And found himself beloved.

Hedwig

A loyal companion to the very end, Who's job was to deliver mail She went beyond the call of duty And protected her owner, truly She was born to soar and deliver And died as a protector.

Albus Dumbledore

Wisdom in spades Intentions in shades. Greater good was his mantra It was one of his centra. Albus Dumbledore was a Headmaster Also the Elder Wand's master He acted as a mentor and confidant, This gained him a lot of covenants. He founded the Order of the Phoenix, To combat the ever changing helix. The Dark Lord has introduced, Philosophies he induced, That lead to a war that reduced. In the end, Dumbledore's intentions were pure, That, all of us are sure Questionable, his actions maybe, It couldn't be denied that he wanted this war to cease and for everyone to live in peace.

Nymphadora Tonks

Cheery, clumsy, snarky and a bit zany That's what Nymphadora Tonks was to many Sweet, Loving and Caring, She was to Remus Lupin after marrying. She hated her given name with a passion, She'd hex even in the middle of action, If you're caught referring to her name You'd best apologize before you go in flames. She left behind a son, Who, no doubt, she'd love, She fought for his future, So he may prosper, Without a Dark Lord looming over. Tonks fought for love and peace, Something the Dark Lord doesn't have a piece, It didn't matter that she and Lupin left him, Because she knew others will love him for them.

Sirius Black

Sirius Black was always Sirius. As a Maruder, he was always not serious. Easy going, and a joker. That's what he and the marauders were after. Everything changed when his best friends were killed, A treacherous rat forced him a cell to fill. A simple explosion seemed to fit the bill. Transfiguring himself to escape, The dementor-filled hellscape. Once escaped however He took a vow forever, Be there for his godson Like how his best friend's parents treated him as a son. He once had other plans, To fillet the rat in a pan If not for his godson's nobility He'd have truly been a murderer in reality.

Ted Tonks

Ted Tonks was Eden's apple, To a family of pure-blooded people. He was a good father and husband, Even when his wife's family acted like a baboon band. And agreed with the unfortunate name of his daughter. As he was on the run, Due to the propaganda, Introduced by Voldemort. He protected a child, From the Dark Lord. A muggle-born he may be, A decent man is all you can see. Loving as a family man Hero to everyone.

Regulus Black

A boy strayed by family and prejudice, Following the family's tradition and malice. Served dutifully as the Dark Lord's vassal, Until something happened that he cancelled. Discovered how atrocious the Dark Lord at the crux, The making of the darkest artifact – a horcrux. He recovered the artifact, replaced it as a matter of fact, Rebelling against the Voldemort He didn't even end up in a morgue. Killed for his defiance, But gave everyone a chance.

Dobby.

A house elf who only wanted to protect Harry Potter from a threat that was erected He offered protection in the most roundabout way, Aiming to steal, injure and maim just to get his way. While the life threatening situations were unwarranted, The intention of those actions were appreciated. It got him freed from his master, Making him a free house elf, offering help faster. As his own master, he aided his friend Which ultimately got him to his end To escape captivity From Voldemort's activity.

Amelia Bones.

Fair, Just and Uncompromising This Department head was promising Law Enforcement was her game Bribery and Trickery was her bane. Amelia Bones was an amazing Department Head. She's what Dark Witches and Wizards dread. One of the many reasons why she was among the first To be killed in the Dark Lord's Immortality thirst. Murdered, she may be Among the first casualties we see But she was among who the Dark Lord feared The threat she posed would put a stop to all his dreams, he supposed. Hence she was opposed and killed in her home.

Dennis Creevey

Excitement and Joy You'd think he received a toy. His first bout of adventure Was meeting a deep water creature That was even before he was sorted To brave Gryffindors where his brother was first posted. Dennis Creevey was a lot like his brother Excited with magic all over Not all is what it seems however As magic also dimmed his life forever He sneaked into the battle Despite the teachers' prattle He fought alongside his brother Protected some others When he saw his brother's corpse lay Was when the floor gave way Fallen to pits unknown His body nowhere known.

Alastor Moody

Stared at the darkness more than once or twice Paranoia has become his vice. "Constant Vigilance" was his motto, It saved his life and others thereto. He died during the battle of the seven Potters, Escorting someone polyjuiced as Harry Potter, Despite the boy's utter disapproval of the plan. Mad-Eye, he was known to everyone who knew him Without him, the world would have been a lot more dim. There was a time his motto worked to his detriment When the Dark Lord ordered one to impersonate him His imposter copied him to great effect Even jumpstarted the Dark Lord's return, unchecked. By making sure Harry Potter's name was ejected, From the Goblet of Fire – An ancient object.

Others

Casualties were many during the wars Many of whom were innocent by far. No idea of the war they were involved in Ignorant of the ideals against them. Some died as heroes who protected, The people who were neglected. Muggles who gained the Dark Lord's ire Ignited the heroes' protective fire. Fighting what they think was right In protection of others, with might. Others who had a greater sense of self-preservation, Something that Gryffindors need to be taught with vocation Died on the run, hoping to outrun the Death Eaters Even if the circumstances were worse than any eaters. Others died after defecting Hoping to escape the inevitable ejecting. Alas they failed But their sacrifices has derailed The Dark Lord's plan from fruition Even if they were without recognition. And others may view it as dying in cowardice Worse than dying with avarice. I will say this in explicit No one really wins in wars Both sides lose so far Both sides suffer casualties Both sides suffer injuries This is for the Departed For all factions that interacted Voldemort's, Grindelwald's, Dumbledore's Hoping that future generations learn From mistakes we earned. For the departed May your lessons that have imparted Would bring us to a bright and hopeful future And in time heal our sutures.

[sharpen-jadescythe]

A Himbo Man and his... Wolf? Wolves? Himwolves?

Sharpen reflects on a hunt gone wrong and the true nature of his very kindred wolf pet Cuda.

Sharpen unbuttoned his plaid shirt and spread out on the couch. What a long day. Cuda, his wolf, had found some humanoid bones up in the mountains. A hike turned into a sort of investigation, which turned into a sudden panicked pitch-battle with a man-eating yeti.

The burly Night Elf man had tried to stop his wolf from taking it too far—the bones were older. But then they came across some boot tracks that were fresh and much too close to the den for whoever it was to be safe.

Flashes of what had happened made him inhale a sharp breath now. The red of blood, the flash of fangs, his own furious shouts competing with that. Everything, his steel knife, his voice, all clashing against the stone walls. And at the time, what Sharpen feared could have been—this fight exploding out of his control at any minute. A routine hike through the woods with his wolf turning savage, evil, a claw cutting too deep, or cutting into his neck, slashing open his belly. Dragging him back through the snowy woods of Winterspring, freezing and covered in his own blood. Never making it. Every wild encounter was like that. Death was always at the brink of things.

But control the fight, engage the monster directly and control it, win, and you’ll live.

Sharpen remembered feeling foolish and then getting angrier than he had been in a while. This nightmare wretch was taking and killing men. Going out of his way to hunt mortals like him. The damned yeti knew better, this dominant male was big enough and so old enough to have seen plenty of encounters just like this one, with something that wasn’t meant to be prey suddenly using a gun, a sword, a shield, anything against him and fighting for their lives. But this was cruel on the yeti’s behalf. The way the big male sat quietly and let the tamed wolf wander into his territory, only attacking when the mortal man, the wolf’s master followed. In moments, Sharpen and Cuda had become the prey.

Sharpen had been slammed against cold rock wall. He remembered seeing black, wondering if he’d knocked his head and cracked it open. If he was bleeding inside his skull, then he was done, whether he got a lethal strike on the creature or not. The yeti, its shoulders far above him, came down like a thunderhead then. That yeti gave a roar that could rattle bones, and they did clatter all around the dark cave. Sharpen had a knife, only a knife. The beast had snapped his hunting bow in half.

Sharpen remembered his gaze racing up and down the yeti’s torso, trying to judge the logical spot to stick the knife in. He knew that same hand was shaking and it was down to making a single, perfect strike to end this. Or, his best hope was to at least mortally wound the creature, bring him enough pain to get around him and get the hell out of there.

That was when the wolf Sharpen called Cuda showed his stripes. Out of nowhere it felt, because the only heat in that deadly moment was between the two warm bodies, one about to end the other, the yeti and Sharpen the man, suddenly something even more terrible, without scent, without heat, without breath itself, sifted between them. The only warning Sharpen or the yeti had was that shifting of the air itself, that warping of the plane of life and light that men and beasts existed upon. For, before either of their brains could rationalize or justify what they were seeing, the wolf who was flesh and blood was suddenly a ghost, a pure wolf spirit between them, and Cuda had decided to pounce as vengeance incarnate. Twisting in a space that no lupine creature could ever fit or wedge themselves, the ghost wolf suddenly swifted up through the air, more of a wind, and then was suddenly a big head, glowing eyes and fangs that sank into the yeti’s neck. And the translucent gray wolf who could have just been a mere shadow, it held on and held on, impossible to dislodge as the yeti staggered back, then lost its footing and fell.

A wolf shouldn’t have been a real challenge to an alpha yeti, so Sharpen was still at the edge of his nerves, ready for Cuda to fail in his attempt to rescue him. And then Sharpen knew he would have to make the terrible decision to leave his wolf friend to whatever his fate might be and save his own life. But the real Cuda, his flesh and blood self that projected this strange wolf shadow ever since Sharpen first found him in the Western Plaguelands, that crazed wolf was on the other side, savaging the back of the beast’s neck. Both of them, wolf and his shadow, were working like a pack of two to finish off the one who had attacked their master.

Sharpen had guessed Cuda could do that, but this was the first time he was actually seeing it, and able to finally believe in it.

Now, Sharpen was home. One flesh and blood wolf wandered into the living room to sniff his hand and check on him. The other, the ghost wolf, was relaxing before the fire, back to the flames and ethereal eyes watching Sharpen in this eternal way. As if Cuda’s ghost shadow was not watching Sharpen the man, but his spirit.

Sharpen let out another anxious breath and scratched his mane of wild green hair.

He’d tried asking a shaman about it once, but they didn’t believe him, that such a thing was possible. To have befriended the wolf as well as his undead shadow. Sharpen admitted that he didn’t fully understand the Plague or the Scourge and what they did to raise the dead in an unholy way. A part of him was afraid to ask too many questions and risk some paladin of the Silver Hand informing him that they needed to exorcise his wolf.

Cuda just seemed… fine the way he was. Eerie, but fine. After a time, the spirit would fade and rejoin its body. But for now, Cuda seemed to want to be a pack to watch over his master.

“You wanted to fix that, didn’t you? You wanted to end that yeti for your own reasons.”

Because Sharpen was sure as hell too chicken to go and take that bloodthirsty monster out by himself with a knife and a bow that wasn’t even one of his best.

He spoke to Cuda again, blinking rapidly in disblief. “But there is no way we could have done that alone, not normally. You just charged in, you totally barged in there without another thought, Cuda. You didn’t see that?”

Cuda couldn’t really understand him, like any pet. Sharpen knew he was just venting his frustrations. But it would surely be the last time he was going hiking without something good enough to protect man and beast from, yes, an actual monster that wasn’t supposed to be along a simple hiking trail.

Cuda and his shadow both looked at Sharpen in that unraveling way for a long time.

Sharpen felt himself starting to sweat. He was an animal trainer but this was starting to ruin his own instincts about what to do with beasts in intense situations like this one. Cuda was a deeply unsettled animal and who knew what was simmering inside of his lupine mind now.

“Alright! Who wants din-din!”

Both wolves leapt up at once and started wagging their tails like mad, whining that they would love an early dinner.

Sharpen, eyes wide at how that actually worked, got up slowly, then went to the kitchen.

Sharpen put his hand on the bag of high-protein kibble he used for his canine pets, then hefted it up onto the kitchen counter, his biceps more than able to take the strain. These were high quality pellets, not fresh meat, but Cuda seemed not to mind it. Cuda didn’t seem to mind a lot of compromises a normal wolf would never put up with in a million years. And Cuda was prone to acting like a silly dog, getting stuck in long sessions chasing his tail or staring at boring walls, and all that.

“Well. Maybe we are well-suited after all, Cuda. Though, a spirit animal with your sort of powers should probably be off doing something way more important than din-din and slumming it with me, right? Like, shouldn’t you be in Ardenweald serving the queen or somethin?”

“Wait, Cuda. Does that mean… Are we both himbos?”

[riveir]

wishlist plots & aus.

i’ve been meaning to do this for a while but because i’m a person that really strongly prefers plotted interactions and also runs into problems with actually getting those more developed things going, i figured compiling wishlist stuff and stuff that comes from my own brain might be helpful. i’ll keep this linked in the pinned post if anyone ever wants to draw from it for a starter call or whatever, and to also make it easier for me to find if plotting ever hits a road block.

peace corps. this would technically fall under the umbrella of one of river’s canon au verses, the one in which he lives but is in the less realistic scenario where he rejects his parents’ wishes and goes ahead and joins the peace corps. this could be a really good way to get muses from two different canons / universes / etc. to meet, because the organization brings all these people together into one group sent to work somewhere overseas. river works as an english education teacher, and where they’re working can be totally open. could be used as mentioned before, but also as sort of a stepping stone for river to start a life beyond the states / open up opportunities for him that will take him away from home, etc etc. just a fun way to take him out of his usual settings and throw him in a new place under new circumstances, whether your muse is in the corps with him or if they’re just in the same place and they meet under different circumstances.

political dynasty. rather than holding a high position with goldman sachs, river’s father has an influential political position ( like a diplomat or foreign ambassador, which could explain river living years of his life at least somewhat abroad ), something that would put the family under a microscope on a national scale. could be a very kennedy-esque thing where politics is sort of just like the family business and river would be expected to carry that mantle as well ( which, obviously, he doesn’t really want ). this could go a number of different directions because the barkleys would be considered high profile individuals: bodyguard stuff, danger stuff, etc. i’m open to anything here, this would just be the groundwork to set up some conflict that would be more specific to your muse and their circumstances, since this is pretty adaptable on river’s end. i’d also be willing to write river older than i usually would ( as a younger adult ), because i think being nationally known would change his circumstances a bit and yada yada i can elaborate on that more if anyone asks, if we wanted to go the route where river himself is the political figure, probably a junior congressman or something. he could pretty controversial, as mental health advocacy and gun control would probably be two of his biggest agendas / two of the most important components of his platform.

modern royalty. similar to the above, but rather than coming from a political family, river comes from a monarchical family. obviously not based in the united states but could open up similar plotting opportunities as listed above. for one example he could still be attending a traditional university, and could open up opportunities for your muse to be a classmate of his ( as a friend sure but maybe there’s some benefit your muse could gain from making friends with him or something shadier like that ), or maybe you’re super annoyed that he’s there because like who cares about the royal family and why does he get so much attention, or maybe your muse knows he hates the attention and it gets to a point where he actually has to be fearful about it and there’s some way your muse can help him out.

fake dating. this is a jam of mine always. river could have several reasons of his own to be in a fake relationship, and this could work especially well in another au like the political dynasty or modern royalty scenarios, but it could totally come more from your muse’s end as well. it could also be a thing where river’s parents are trying to set him up with your muse if that would make sense, because that’s a very wasp-y rich people thing to do. 

period aus. this one is super open but river could work really well for this type of thing, especially because his family is so old fashioned in a lot of ways and very traditional in how they expect their family to be and how they expect river to be and all that. also could work super well for this letter writing plot i have in my wishlist tag.

ghost!river. this would have to be plotted for sure because the way river’s “ghost” canonically manifests is as an extension of the other person; he exists to give them advice or as their moral compass/conscience or something like that. it can be different depending on the muse, but he manifests at their own will and serves some sort of purpose for them. he’s more of a guiding force of some sort rather than an actual ghost coming back to reveal new information or anything like that. he wouldn’t do anything that the other muse wouldn’t think he would do, and wouldn’t tell them anything they didn’t already know. the exception to his in river’s canon is when the protagonist has a near-death experience and sees river in the afterlife and they have an actual conversation as two separate entities, and that could definitely be something i’d be up for, too.

champagne problems. this song off of evermore has enormous river energy. from the genius description of the song: “’champagne problems’ tells the story of a woman who shocks her would-be fiancé and their loved ones by turning down a marriage proposal right before christmas ... the song depicts ‘longtime college sweethearts [who] had very different plans for the same night, one to end it and one who brought a ring.’ the song implies that the protagonist has a history of mental illness, which the town subsequently stigmatizes in their gossip surrounding the failed proposal.” river could be either of the people in the couple for obvious reasons ( either the wealthy person from the well-to-do family all expecting the proposal, or the person who breaks it off and is subsequently - or, maybe, already is - the subject of that gossip ). the circumstances of the breakup can vary depending on the specific relationship between the muses: maybe they were really in love and had a great relationship but the influential family just had too much influence and pressure, maybe the stigmatization and gossip was a bit too much, maybe neither of their hearts were really in it and it was just an advantageous thing that appeased the big family but the other person ultimately just decided they couldn’t go through with it. as i am with everything i’m totally open here. it also totally doesn’t have to match the exact circumstances and can just be based on the general idea. ( in the same vein, here’s a link to some cool folklore-based plots )

apocalyptic danger. or to be honest, any sort of scenario that creates a life or death (or near life or death) situation for one or both of our muses. in all honesty i just love raising the stakes.

musician or actor river. even though it’s not my favorite alternative path to explore for him to seriously pursue acting or music as a career, it could open up some potentially cool dynamics that i’d be down with. maybe river plays piano in a bar or restaurant or whatever at night during college and your muse loves open mic night. maybe they’re doing a show together in college or maybe even out of college if i think it would make sense that river could get to that point in life. maybe river’s actually achieving some level of success and has some degree of notoriety. idk this is just an option that could be cool if we develop it enough ( cause like i said, without that development and specificity to our muses i’m not as into this route for him specifically)

childhood best friends to lovers. ( or some variation ). self-explanatory, just my favorite trope. some wishlist stuff here.

wishlist post #1: “i just want a plot where it’s two rich kids who live in neighboring estates and their families always throw parties together and they have vacation homes in the same spots and their elite parents are too busy to notice when they sneak off to fuck in that second guest bathroom that no one uses or get high in the back library and makeout”

wishlist post #2: “give me a we broke up because i had to move away because of school and we knew we couldn’t do long distance but oh my god i’m home for christmas and you’re still beautiful and we’re wine drunk slow dancing to the sound of elf on the television and you smell like hot chocolate and i miss you so much please don’t let this end again plot !!!!!”

wishlist post #3: “someone give me “you live in the apartment across the hall and you’re so fucking hot but i get so awkward around you even though you act completely normal and i stutter every.time. you’re out of my league anyway but then one night my stupid roommate locks me out and i forget my key and you see me sitting the hallway so you invite me in. and obviously i say yes but holy crap what is happening” plot pretty pls”

wishlist post #4: “au where it's a blind date gone wrong/really awkward first time/two people who just get off on the wrong foot but keep on running into each other and then slowly fall for each other”

wishlist post #5: “give me best friends who harbor feelings for each other . they’ve acknowledged the feelings but they don’t do anything about it , because the friendship is too precious . and when one of them is finally ready to say “ fuck it, let’s take the risk ” , they see the other making out with another person”

i also always just want more college things and things in pre-established canon universe aus ( all linked in my pinned post, but including hogwarts, gossip girl, legacies, riverdale, etc ). i’m also always down for plotting ships.

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers #216: “... To Avenge the Avengers!”

February, 1982

"Avenge us, Tigra! The Molecule Man must die!”

Eesh, the Avengers plus Silver Surfer have gone full Hamlet’s Dad on Tigra and she’s gonna cat Molecule Man and his plush himself to death. But he’s ready for it.

But why? Well...

Last time: Silver Surfer inadvertently gave Molecule Man the idea to eat Earth. The Avengers and the Surfer teamed up to stop him but he just Molecule Manned their sweet gear into nothing, captured them all, and then stomped them under a giant boot-o-matic crusher! Except Tigra who he kept around because he wanted someone to talk at and because Tigra had claimed that she liked him!

This time: “Tigra... the Last Avenger!”

Nice touch that the book name inside the book has been changed to match even if the cover hasn’t.

That is a tough hat to wear. Did you know its only been a little over a week since she joined the team?

And in that time she got thrown into space by an Elf-Queen, watched a founding Avenger have an emotional breakdown and try to kill his friends to make them like him again, had her soul set on fire, been repeatedly harassed in public, and watched the whole team be killed with her life only being spared because she begged for her life!

Is this the worst week and change in Avengers history? IT MIGHT WELL BE!

“She was spared. The fear of death has drained away now, leaving only emptiness behind. She has never felt so alone.”

This narration set in the same panel where Molecule Man is all but slapping the giant boot and going ‘this bad boy can crush so many fucking Avengers in it.’

Well really, its more like

Molecule Man: “Well, cat-lady, they’re dead! Captain America, Iron Man, Thor, and that Silver Surfer guy -- squished flat by my giant boot-o-matic crusher! You know, I made this thing out of molecules from a scrapyard! Yessir, I believe in recycling!”

But that’s about the same level of dissonance between jolly goofus villain rambling and hollow despair.

Anyway, Molecule Man calls her out on being such a bummer because she’s moping over there when he’s feeling good about killing the Avengers and really Tigra try to consider how he feels geez.

So she shakes off the despair and asks hey what exactly is Molecule Man going to do with her?

Tigra: “Am I going to be your mate or...”

Molecule Man: “What? Nah! I never got along with girls! I mean, you know... that way! Yessir, mom always warned me about... that! And she was right! You can be my friend! No! Make that -- my pet! Here, kitty, kitty!”

Wow.

That. That dodged a bullet in a cool Matrix bullet time way right into another bullet.

Let’s please not get too creepy with this, huh? You listening to me, comic published nearly forty years ago? Let’s not get creepy!

Molecule Man decides to be a responsible pet owner and feed his pet. He can control molecules so obviously it should be no trouble to just rearrange them into any configuration he--

Okay, its apparently really hard to make food! Way too complicated!

He’s going to be an irresponsible pet owner and not feed Tigra. And meanwhile he’s going to chow down on some undifferentiated mush or possibly a pile of dust. Its all molecules so its all the same to him.

Tigra didn’t even want food but asks him where the bathroom is.

Molecule Man: “Bathroom? Hmm... well, I really don’t understand how plumbing works, so I couldn’t make a bathroom! If you want, though, I could sort of fake it...”

Tigra: “No, I’ll be all right! i just feel a little sick...”

Molecule Man: “So go be sick for a while! I’ve got to get started on my little project anyway! If I’m going to eat this stupid planet -- I’ve got to prepare by clearing away all the living things from a few square miles of land.”

And he gets started! A giant ridge of land just peels up from the ground, like Molecule Man is skinning a fruit before eating. Also a volcano erupts. Pretty sure there weren’t any volcanoes in New Jersey before now.

Fairly sure.

Outside the dome, thankfully the army has been evacuating everyone in a fifty-mile radius or else a lot of people would be dead. VOLCANO.

Then the Fantastic Four arrive.

Yayyyyy! Oh whoa whoa, Fantastic Fourrr!

They’ve got the best Molecule Man mashing record so they’re here to do what they do do.

Which in this context is fail like champs.

Ben Grimm the Thing tries to shatter the dome with a punch and no dice. Then Human Torch cranks up to nova flame and applies the heat of a sun on one little spot on the dome.

Johnny about wears himself out doing it and still no result.

Guess Iron Man, Thor, and Silver Surfer > a pinpoint miniature sun.

Meanwhile inside, Molecule Man tells Tigra hey get a load of this. And then he levitates a couple billion gallons of water from the Delaware River and dumps it on the Fantastic Four, plus the army, washing them away.

Invisible Woman: “Reed, it -- it doesn’t seem possible!”

Mr. Fantastic: “Everything is made of molecules, Sue! Anything is possible for the Molecule Man!”

Molecule Man far too hax.

But meanwhile, gasp, the Avengers weren’t actually all killed in a book with their name on it! This is unprecedented!

And Silver Surfer is ready to explain their unlikely survival of giant crushing boot.

See, Silver Surfer wasn’t quite as knocked unconscious as the three Avengers so he played possum. When Molecule Man put the Avengers plus Silver Surfer in the crushing boot and when it was just about to crush, Silver Surfer used the Power Cosmic to disintegrate the bottom part of the boot so that the Avengers and him fell to a lower floor. Completely uncrushed!

So that’s good.

The bad is that Silver Surfer has to report that Tigra is still in Molecule Man’s clutches.

The awkward is that Iron Man and Thor lost their armor and hammer respectively so Cap is like ‘wait, what are Tony Stark and Perfectly Normal Dr. Donald Blake doing here??’

So Tony and Don come clean about his secret ID.

Tony Stark, Actually Iron Man: “I feel a little foolish about keeping that secret from you till now! I’m sure Don feels the same way...”

Donald Blake, Dr. Thor: “Right, Tony...”

So now Cap is in on the secret which previously bound Tony and Don together as the Best Friends Avengers Who Aren’t Beast and Wonder Man.

Remember when they discovered each other’s secret IDs? Good times. Well, weird times. That was the issue when that hates-robots group suicide bombed Vision for dating a meat woman.

Also, Tony was only wearing underwear under the Iron Man armor so Don gave him his suit jacket to wear as a loincloth. Mighty nice of him.

Silver Surfer has just been standing on the sides not caring about all this secret ID nonsense or personal drama so he chimes in to point out that Molecule Man is going to eat the planet unless they stop him.

Cap decides that he and the Surfer have to strike before Molecule Man realizes they’re alive. Tony and Don have the important mission to hide somewhere safe.

Tony and Don object to being sidelined. Strongly.

Tony: “You think Iron Man is just a suit of armor, Cap? Is that what you’re saying?”

Don: “I found this rod to use as a makeshift cane! It won’t change me into a thunder god, but it’ll help me get around -- if only to draw fire!”

Tony: “Like it or not, we’re with you!”

Don: “The Avengers stand assembled, Captain America! Now, lead us!”

Cap: “All right! I get the message! I should have known better than to think you’d -- I mean, you two are the best...”

Tony: “Save it, Cap! We’ve got work to do!”

Aww.

This is everything I could have hoped for out of secret ID reveal. Cap starts thinking of them as civilians now that they have real person names but ultimately it brings them closer as teammates.

I love it. Granted, I love it because my favorite form of Avengers is a group of friends and set of interpersonal dramas roughly shaped like a superhero team.

Later, in the nighttime and in the room that Molecule Man made for Tigra.

... Wow, Molecule Man.

Wow.

So we’ve got a giant cat shaped bed. A giant, terrifying cat head on the wall. And a giant ball of yarn. But not giant sized cat tree? Fie and shame.

Anyway, Tigra is sitting on bed lamenting and decrying the Fantastic Four’s failure. Especially as it pertains to her situation.

Tigra: “I -- I just can’t believe the Fantastic Four failed! How could they let me -- and the world down like that? How could they? Right now, Reed Richards is probably locked in his lab trying to invent a gizmo that’ll pierce the dome! Hmf! Who knows how long that might take? The Molecule Man plans to eat the Earth tomorrow morning!”

Nothing like a nice filling breakfast, I guess.

She grants that Reed doesn’t know there’s an everyone’s-deadline so instead Tigra bemoans that it’s all up to her.

Tigra: “I should have tried to jump him today! I can’t believe I didn’t! I was standing right next to him a couple of times! I’m cat-quick! Why didn’t I lunge at him and claw him to shreds before he could move? Could it be because my muscles felt like jelly -- ? I was trembling -- ? In shock -- ? Afraid of him? Hey, shouldn’t I be? I mean, I saw him crush my friends to a bloody smear! And I had a spooky feeling that he was somehow, secretly ready for an attack -- and hoping I’d give him an excuse to dice me into furry cubes!”

And because this is a Tigra character beat page, she also thinks about how easy the hero gig used to seem when it was for smaller stakes. But with the actual literal fate of the world at stake... “I never thought that when the big test came I’d be a scaredy cat!”

But she remembers what Cap said during the Ghost Rider story that its not wrong to be frightened if you don’t let fear dictate your actions.

So she creeps out into the night to Molecule Man’s bedroom.

Oh, that’s a neat touch.

Her shadow on the wall looks a lot like a tiger because her hair curls at the end like a tail.

Neat.

So anyway, she doesn’t understand how Molecule Man can be so confident that he’s just sleeping with his door wide open and with no defenses and wonders if there’s a trap or whether he’s just counting on her to think that there’s a trap.

She’s about five seconds from a full-blown I know you know that I know that you know episode.

The only way to find out is just go for it so she creeps into the room. The garish room.

This is even more wow than Tigra’s room.

But as she creeps into the room and up to the enormous, ridiculous bed, she realizes that she has to kill him. If she attacks and doesn’t kill him with the first strike, what he could do is too horrible for her to imagine.

But what she doesn’t realize is that Molecule Man isn’t sleeping soundly and isn’t unprepared. 

He’s stretched monomolecular filaments across the room, too thin for even Tigra to spot.

Now usually monomolecular filaments is one of those ‘oops I’ve been cut to pieces by invisible wires’ thing. You’ve probably seen it in a couple of anime. But this is more like a bunch of cans on a string.

Tigra breaks one of the filaments while she creeps forward. Something that she couldn’t possibly know but which instantly alerts him.

And his response is a “Oh, ho! Just wait’ll she tries it! This’ll be fun!”

Because Tigra’s instinct was correct. Molecule Man was keeping her around just to kill when she finally tried anything. Its been a game. See how far he can push Tigra and how messily he can deal with her when she loses.

This is pretty tense stuff! Well, it lasts a page so it doesn’t overfocus on this specific tense scenario but still!

Tigra: “I’m in range! All I’ve got to do is spring and... and kill him! He murdered my friends! He’s going to destroy the whole world! I’ve got to kill him! Come on, lady! Do it! What’s wrong? He deserves it! He’s a murderer -- ! A rotten little wimp! He calls you ‘kitty’! Kill him! I hate him! I hate him! but... i just can’t kill him!”

And apologizing to Cap for not being able to go through with it, she slinks out of the room trying to think of another way.

Inside the room, Molecule Man sits up disgruntled, just not understanding at all why she didn’t go through with it. There’s no way she could have known that he was ready for her so why wouldn’t she try to do a murder!

And then as Tigra is wishing she had someone to talk to, someone grabs her and pulls her around a corner.

Boom, a comedy after all that one page of tension.

And it’s Cap because there’s like four people it could have been.

Tigra is elated that the Cap is alive, that she’s not alone anymore! And she tries to confess that she attempted to kill Molecule Man to avenge the Avengers. That maybe she should have because now she might lose them again!

Tony: “You did fine, Tigra! Relax!”

But she doesn’t feel like she did fine so she tries to explain that she let the Avengers down by giving into cowardice. She told Molecule Man she liked him to stay alive.

Cap: “Good strategy, Tigra -- preserving your life so you’d be able to carry on the battle!”

She tries to explain it wasn’t strategy so much as being terrified but she gets distracted because she’s just realized that in this group of Cap and Silver Guy there’s two people she doesn’t know.

Cap: “Dr. Don Blake, who’s secretly Thor and Tony Stark who is Iron Man’s alter ego!”

Her mood immediately flips.

Tigra: “You guys are really Thor and Iron Man? Really? And it’s okay for me to know? Really?”

Tony Stark: “Why not? Somehow those secrets seem pretty trivial, what with the world on the verge of being the Molecule Man’s breakfast!”

He says that but he still looks pretty annoyed at Cap just blurting it out.

And geez, Cap, you gotta let people reveal their own secret identities. Or make up some dumb excuse that everyone instantly believes.

Its the done thing.

In terms of Avengers drama though this is pretty good. Thor, Cap, and Iron Man have been working together for a really long time. Even though Cap didn’t form the Avengers he’s basically been there so long they consider him an honorary founder.

Cap learning Iron Man and Thor’s secret identities can be a ‘we should have told you sooner!’ thing.

Tigra just joined the team! Like a week ago!

They need to work together now and there’s probably no smooth lie that could paper over where Iron Man and Thor went and why these two are here now but its probably still a little galling that Cap just blurts it out to the newest person on the team.

Its great. I’d love to see the repercussions of this.

Anyway, time is short so Tony gets to explaining the plan.

He found his broken armor and managed to scavenge enough bits and pieces to make a little device he’s calling a screamer. It’ll emit a high-pitched noise that should disorient Molecule Man.

And then the device just poofs into smoke in Tony’s hand.

Whoops, Molecule Man overheard their plan to beat up Molecule Man and also heard Tony call him names.

So he pulls together all the loose dust in the room and uses it to strangle Tony.

Wow, they’ve gone from having a “layered assault” to watching someone literally choke on Molecule Man’s dust. That’s got to be the quickest turnaround from hope to nope.

Tigra goes wild, rushing at Molecule Man and screaming that she shoulda killed him before and she’s damn well going to scratch his face off now!

But Molecule Man asks her to talk to the hand. Zing.

Puns.

Although “Don’t scream at me, Kitty! ‘Cause I’ll slap you down!”

Sure. That’s good wordplay too.

Having just been comedically (although seriously) WHAP!’d across the room, Tigra has her own words to say.

Tigra: “You -- you weak, slimy excuse for a human being! How could I have stooped so low as to humble myself to garbage like you? So you’ve got power! Big deal! You were a nerd before -- you’re still a nerd! You were a mistake! You shouldn’t even have been born! You crybaby! All you do is blame the world for your own inedequacy! Go on, kill me, nerd! I despise living in the same world with you!”

Wow. She really took all those personal details he shared and slapped him upside the head with them.

Goes to show. Don’t try to destroy the world. People will have rude things to say.

Meanwhile, Cap and Silver Surfer are trying to save Tony but can’t clear the super condense dust faster than Molecule Man gathers it.

Cap tells Tigra to get Molecule Man because that’s their only chance but Tigra is too hurt from being slapped by a giant hand.

Molecule Man: “I’ve got to hand it to you guys, it must’ve taken some doing to escape my crusher! This time, I’m going to make sure you’re dead! Hmm... someone’s missing! But who?”

And he’s done process of elimination and realized that the guy Thor turned into is missing and figures he ran away when Entirely Normal But Furious Dr. Donald Blake tells Molecule Man to grit his teeth.

And then Molecule Man runs off yelling because Dr. Donald Blake can throw down. He possibly broke Molecule Man’s nose with that one punch.

Good job, Dr. Donald Blake.

With Molecule Man not focusing on the dust thing, Tony is free of the dust thing but unconscious. Dr. Donald Blake tells the others that he’ll take care of Tony and that they should go chase Molecule Man since they can run better than he can.

So Cap, Tigra, and Silver Surfer go off in pursuit of Molecule Man.

Silver Surfer reminds that he can track Molecule Man’s unique energies. Cap helpfully points out that they can also just track the trail of blood drips from Molecule Man’s nose. And Tigra goes ‘also I can smell him’ because its good to have three different ways to find a guy.

They find him in some sort of throne room (curled up in pain on the throne) and charge at him. But he’s not in the mood for their shenanigans.

So he sends a tidal wave of molecules at them.

Cap shouts for Silver Surfer to do something and he does do something indeed.

The Surfer blasts the wave of matter with the power cosmic so hard that it transmutes into raw energy and just explodes through the top of the palace in a beautiful pyrotechnic display.

It also completely exhausts the Surfer and he just kind of plops down for a nap right there on the ground.

Cap tells Tigra to watch the Surfer and then goes to take the Molecule Man on alone.

This isn’t a great plan but also their already small roster has kind of dwindled to this point.

And maybe Cap sort of doesn’t want to throw Tigra at Molecule Man when she’s already been hurt and was voicing all those doubts earlier. Can’t say for sure. She’s about to offer for help but Cap is like ‘WHOOPS NOW OR NEVER!’

Molecule Man must be in a whimsical mood, I mean more so than usual have you seen what he’s been getting up to? Because he converts some of the furnishings into a bunch of stars to shoot at Cap.

Its funny because Cap wears a star. It’d be ironic if he got smacked in the face with one, probably.

But Molecule Man activated Cap’s speechifying and that buffs him because nobody likes hearing Cap talk about freedom and justice and doing right more than Cap probably.

What I’m saying is that he leaps and gambols between the stars and I feel its because he has Stuff To Say that he’s doing so well.

Cap: “You make me sick, mister! They say power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely,  and you’re living proof of it! You might kill me! After all, I’m just an ordinary man -- but men like me have always found a way to bring high-and-mighty tyrants like you to their knees! There’s never enough power to save madmen like you -- from ultimate, bitter defeat!”

WAK!

And perhaps it wasn’t just his agility that was improved by inspirational speeching himself. Because he knocks Molecule Man down with that one punch and he doesn’t get back up.

Or maybe Molecule Man just has a glass jaw.

Don Blake and Tony Stark show up and Silver Surfer wakes up but he runs in with the rest anyway for some reason. Tony tells Tigra to watch Molecule Man while he has an Important Debate with Cap.

See, Tony has realized something. Knocking down Molecule Man is just the first step. If Molecule Man gets back up, he might start eating the Earth again and the Avengers might not be able to stop him.

So he asks Don Blake if there’s a medical way to just sort of keep Molecule Man knocked out.

Don Blake: “How? We can’t just keep hitting him on the head -- this isn’t a T.V. show! I mean, how hard do you hit him? How many times can you do that before causing serious brain damage... or death?”

Realism? In a comic book? What are YOU doing here??

Anyway, Tony doesn’t see any other option but to kill Molecule Man.

Cap protests that Molecule Man is a human being with rights to due process and a trial by jury of his peers!

But Tony is convincing the others. As an Actual Doctor, Don Blake doesn’t like to hear this. He wants to save lives. But he can’t refute Tony.

And Silver Surfer also seems on Team Tony.

Silver Surfer: “I understand what it is to sacrifice one life so that a multitude, a world might live! It seems clear that this Molecule Man cannot be imprisoned or held in check! He... must die to save the Earth... though I could never bring myself to slay him!”

Don’t you have the power cosmic? Surely there’s a power cosmic option available?

To be fair though his the power cosmic might be exhausted at the moment.

Still. Geez, Silver Surfer. ‘He gotta die but 1-2-3-not-it’ is really how you’re playing this??

Meanwhile, Tigra has decided that being asked to watch Molecule Man implies a certain duty perhaps even responsibility to tell him how much he sucks. Which is a lot.

And recall that she’s already told him how much he sucks earlier in the fight. So she has found a second wind in telling him how much he sucks.

Tigra: “You little jerk! Don’t you see? Cap was wrong! Power very seldom corrupts! It usually doesn’t change anything! It just magnifies what’s already there, whether it’s good and noble or evil and petty!”

“You were a nerd before... now you’re a powerful nerd! Big deal! Dummy! The shame of it is that with your power you can build... you can contribute! You don’t have to be a loser anymore!”

“Why are you such a fool? Why can’t you see that killing a planetful of people doesn’t make you even -- it just make you lonelier than ever!”

Wow. It feels like Tigra could hypothetically be talking about all different kinds of entitled nerds who then become the jerks as adults!

Anyway.

Tony and Cap are still arguing.

Tony, at least, isn’t going to ask someone to do something he wouldn’t do himself. I.e., he’s going to kill Molecule Man himself and save four billion people.

Cap: “Tony... please! I can’t let you do this!”

Tony: “You can take me in for murder afterward, Cap, but for now, stand aside! I’m warning you...”

Cap: “You’ll have to go through me, Tony...”

You’re warning him, Tony? You don’t have armor. You don’t even have pants. What are you going to do to supersoldier Captain America?

Logic aside, what strikes me is how much this foreshadows.

Before Civil War contrived that superhero registration, the big hot button superhero debate issue is whether superheroes should kill in extreme circumstances.

Spoilers for the NINETIES but the Regular and West Coast Avengers will come to schism and Cap and Iron Man will basically break up over whether or not to kill the Kree Supreme Intelligence after it engineered a war that killed 90% of the Kree people on purpose.

Shooter is long gone by that point but I guess someone is going to pick up the thread.

Because the debate doesn’t get settled here or rather does, sorta, in favor of Cap but not in a way he expects.

Interrupting the sad fist fight between Cap and a nearly naked man, Molecule Man pops up and tells everyone that Tigra has convinced him to turn his life around.

Tigra: “Guys, Mr. Owen Reece and I have talked, and, well, I convinced him to give himself up!”

Mr. Owen Reece: “Yes, I want to start seeing a therapist!”

Cap: “huh?”

Mr. Owen Reece: “I know I’ll have to go to jail... but that’s okay! It’ll give me time to think things out! I’ll make an opening in the dome now so you can call the authorities!”

Don Blake: “s-sure!”

God, that is just great. I love this as a resolution so much. This is a resolution that Squirrel Girl would bring us, although we’d get more of the actual convincing.

Still very, very good. Good to be optimistic in comics sometimes. Sometimes villains can seek redemption if only a cat yells at them long enough.

Although I think the best part is how baffled everyone is by the plot twist.

So with but a “Soon...” caption, the police have come to pick up Mr. Owen Reece and brought Miss Hanrahan who is going to be his therapist.

Holy crap, a therapist in Marvel who isn’t Doc Sampson but will work with superpowered nonsense!

Can we bring Miss Hanrahan back??

A couple things I like here.

One is that Mr. Owen Reece has changed off-panel into a suit instead of his supervillain costume. Now that’s him making an honest effort.

Two is Very Annoyed Tony Stark in the back of the pack of Avengers. He’s wearing a handkerchief as a mask because someone might recognize him as Tony Stark and then wonder ‘hey why is Tony Stark here.’

Three is the proud smile from Tigra when seeing Mr. Owen Reece meet his therapist.

Melts my heart a little.

Before he goes away to jail, Mr. Owen Reece takes a quick sidebar with the Avengers.

He retroactively feels just awful about ruining their various gadgets so he decides to make right.

He reintegrates Mjolnir, Toomie the surfboard, and Cap’s shield exactly as they were. Original molecules and all! They were so weird that he remembered where they all went.

As for Iron Man’s Iron Man armor.... look, he did his best.

Mr. Owen Reece: “But your armor, with all those complicated electronic gadgets is just too tricky for me to reassemble! You needed something more proper to wear till you get home, though -- so I whipped up some red and gold cloth and made you an Iron Man leisure suit! I hope it’s okay!”

Amazing. Simply incredible.

Although I think my favorite part was Mr. Owen Reece realizing ‘hey Iron Man should be wearing pants!’

Anyway, he also takes apart his Molecule Man Doom Fortress and puts those molecules back where he found them. More or less. He tries.

And, yes, he does rebuild the entire town of Netcong, New Jersey. Except the plumbing.

In a funny call back to Reece admitting he doesn’t really understand plumbing, none of the plumbing in the rebuilt town works.

Later, back at Avengers Mansion, Silver Surfer is offered a spot on the team but turns it down.

FOR THE PATHS OF DESTINY DO BECKON HIM DOWN A LONELY ROAD THAT MUST BE TRAVELED ALONE

Its the only who he has ever known. Except for all the time he spend with Galactus. Or the Defenders. Or later on when he has a companion to take on space nonsense.

Tigra also takes this time to say farewell.

Tigra: “I’m just not in the same league as you guys! I mean, sure I’ve got lots of super-ability, and, usually, I'm even pretty heroic -- but not up to your standard! I mean two of you, without your powers, no less, really showed me what it’s all about back there! And let’s face it, you guys mess with some heavy-duty opposition! I think I’ll quit while I’m ahead!”

=C

Noooooooooo

But but but Tigraaa you were a source of joy and fuuuuuuuun

You only joined at the end of #211! It’s only been about a week in-universe!

Darn.

The three other Avengers all say their goodbyes.

Thor reminds her that she was the one who turned around Mr. Owen Reece but Tigra says she got lucky.

Iron Man gives her one of Tony Stark’s cards and tells her to call Tony Stark who is definitely not him anytime she needs anything.

Jarvis even tears up at her leaving, although he denies it because a good butler never dies on duty and then blames his allergies.

And then Tigra is off. Damn. If I didn’t know who might be joining the Avengers soon I’d be completely inconsolable instead of just very.

So now the Avengers are down to just three members. That’s not a team. That’s a crossover. Probably why Jarvis wonders if a membership drive is in order.

NEXT: The return of... Yellowjacket, the Wasp, and Egghead!

I’m game for Wasp coming back! Don’t think it likely that Yellowjacket is just going to come back to the team just like that! And Egghead? The villain who blew up a city with a killsat and killed Hawkeye’s brother? Unlikely recruit!

(No I know that’s not what the NEXT means)

Hey, follow @essential-avengers​ because the Hank Pym just keeps happening. Like and reblog too please. Be sad with me that Tigra is gone.

[galadrieljones]

writer’s review

tagged by @ma-sulevin and @a-shakespearean-in-paris. thank you! i’ve never done this one before.

I will tag @thevikingwoman @shallow-gravy @littleblue-eyedbirdchirps @roguelioness @pikapeppa and anyone who’d like to do this. Please tag me if you do!!

Rules: Post two snippets of your writing. The first should be one of the oldest examples of your work that you can find (the older the better!), and the other has to be an excerpt from something more recent. Compare the two side by side to see the difference between what your writing looks like now and how it did then.

Since I have way too much old writing from my life, I am just going to stick with my fanfiction. I chose to compare an excerpt from my older Solavellan work The Dead Season (2016) to my current The Last of Us fic As You Were (2020). 

I put this under a cut, as it’s a little long!! 

From The Dead Season - Chapter 8: The Emprise du Lion

For the first three nights, they’d had to camp in a quarry surrounded by the dead lit veins of red lyrium. The lyrium glowed through the fire, illuminating the snow, keeping everyone awake, bandaged and bruised, all four of them piled into the Inquisitor’s tent where nobody wanted to be alone. Death was too nearby, they decided. Things were better together. Exhausted, hardened, dirty, cold to the bone. Drinking warm ale brought in by Scout Harding’s people, gnawing pieces of rabbit Sene had hunted herself and then cooked on a spit. Iron Bull tried entertaining with mad stories from his stranger youth. He and Solas played whole games of chess through the power of memory alone, and Sera braided Sene’s hair, and asked her all kinds of questions about her childhood and her love for the elven man. She told her about Dagna, that the two had started a quiet affair, and she had such stories of Red Jenny and her foreign life as an elf of the city. Sene listened eagerly, all the time, finding Solas with her eyes, and he would give a small touch. Security in a place of death and blood in the snow.

Despite Sene’s dreams, whenever they slept in the Emprise du Lion, Solas held her with serious possession. He slept deeply when he drifted, without stirring, and his arms hardened around her as stone. A carefulness and new severity imbued them, each movement guessed and exchanged as mind-reading. Somehow, it felt new. Sera noticed one morning, as Solas helped Sene into her jacket: “You do that like it’s all you’ve ever done,” she said to him.

“Perhaps it is,” said Solas. “Perhaps each night I help Sene out of her jacket, and then each morning, I help her back in again. Would that shock you?”

“The two of you,” said Sera. “Like green on sky. Eggs on toast.”

“Interesting perspective,” he said.

From As You Were - Chapter 6: La Crosse (Pt. 1) / The Lapp Farm (Pt. 1)

Joel and Noah drove until they hit what looked to be the town. They parked at an O’Reilly’s Auto Parts, hauled their backpacks onto their backs, and loaded their guns. The signs continued, most of them nailed to other kinds of signs: COTHS, they read. C.O.T.H.S.

C O T H S.

La Crosse had never been a big city. Joel didn’t know a lot, but he could gather as much. It wasn’t big, but it was a college town, and that college was big enough to have a football team. It would have been home to a lot of people during the initial Outbreak, probably forty or fifty thousand, and it was probably a metro-hub for these little Driftless, farming towns, too, with a good hospital, warehouses, factories, and some semblance of a retail industry. It would have been a lot of meth, he thought. Maybe not so much in the city proper, but in the outskirts, in the tin cans and the trailer parks. As a city on the banks of the Mississippi, it would have pretty pockets but mostly, it was just franchises and mini-malls, like anything else.

But this was strange, thought Joel. The goddam of it was, it seemed empty. Really empty. Like, god no longer smiled upon this place, as if something evil had given up on this place, gone on its way. There was nothing. Nothing bad, nothing good. Just the trees, and the nature noises, the grasses, which had grown so tall, they engulfed the cars abandoned at the side of the road. There was a McDonalds sign, growing out of a massive, twisted heap of vines and bramble and it made Joel think of small things that still broke his heart from childhood. He pushed it down.

“This is fucking weird,” said Noah. The air smelled ripe in some places. Rotten. Like an overgrowth of mold in the washing machine. “What the fuck is that smell?”

“Something bad happened here,” said Joel.

“Hey, look,” said Noah. He was headed toward another one of the signs. It said: COTHS.       

“Yep, another sign,” said Joel.

“No, look,” said Noah. He got closer. He had to snap a couple saplings to get to it. This sign was on the ground, leaning against a tree. He pushed back the tall grass, and the milkweed to reveal the rest.

Comparison: I settled on these excerpts because they are both descriptions of places and situations that are new to the characters involved. The biggest difference between my writing in 2016 and my writing now, as shown here, is that I have hugely simplified my prose and my approach to descriptive writing. Four years ago, I was still very flowery, and the dark, magical setting of Dragon Age only encouraged my dreamy, expansive sensibility. I used a lot of adjectives, figurative language, and fragments, and I tended to write big, sweeping descriptions of situations, rather than setting simple scenes. Tbh, I hadn’t really figured out scene-writing yet, at that point. It took me a while to realize how to make scenes do a lot of work in a short amount of time. Notice how I barely enter the scene in that first excerpt. It’s vague. It’s all happening at once. There is not really a specific scene being set in a specific setting at a specific time. I try to avoid that sort of thing now. While I don’t hate my old writing, and I think sometimes I do a nice job of hitting on the right atmosphere, my unwillingness to just enter the scene concretely is a little sophomoric and noncommittal here. Setting scenes is actually hard as hell. In doing this, I was avoiding the hard stuff without even realizing.

Now, I will say that while I am still improving, my writing has become much more concrete and to the point. I use figurative language, but I am much more judicious with my metaphors and similes. I prefer realism, it turns out. I want to describe true things, not ideas. Most of what I describe is there to build setting, whether it be through concrete description of place or a character’s actions in a place. Sometimes I will use my language to evoke a certain kind of atmosphere, but I try not to go overboard. I want my language to be practical, not tricky and overblown. I like strong, complete sentences (with the occasional fragment) and descriptions of specific actions and scenes in real time, rather than fragmented, dreamy language or a style that is overly stream-of-consciousness. I still use Free Indirect Style at times, and I will narrate thought, because I like going into my character’s heads, but I now practice much more stoicism. I do not let my readers know too much directly about what my characters are feeling. I find that this is much more true to what I want to evince with my writing. I now try to imply thought and emotion via what my characters do, what they don’t do, what they say, and what they see. Moving away from Solas, a very “talky” and intellectual character has helped me do this. While I love Solas, writing Joel and Arthur really improved me tenfold, as they tend to speak very little. They are not terribly ponderous in all they decide. They choose their words wisely and let their actions speak most of the time, helping me do the same.

In the past, my focus was almost always on language, ideas, and atmosphere. I wanted to evoke bigness at every turn. Drama, beauty, unfolding abstract ideas and feelings made of synesthesia, using my language to elevate simple feelings and ideas into something epic. But now, and maybe it’s just because I’m getting older or I have less time, idk, but I just want things to be what they are. I want to reveal feelings and themes, not evoke them through force. I want the scenes to speak for themselves. I let the reader do a little more work. I withhold much more. In fact, I rarely write interiority these days. Inner-monologue and emotions come sparingly. One sentence here and there. Never in rambling, abstract, unfurling paragraphs, which The Dead Season is full of. I am always reaching for economy now, and efficiency. It is better for me! Though I do play around still, from time to time, with my language. I will always be a little playful.

[goldenzingy46]

so i found i regulus black as potions master au

...and whilst it’s (unfortunately) anti-snape, it’s also fucking funny.

FIND IT HERE

and if that didn’t convince you, read below for some extracts:

And he goes home to his creepy obsessive mother and says, “Hey mom, guess what, the Dark Lord just tried to off me,” which is debatably true but guaranteed to piss her off, And suddenly the Official Black Viewpoint on Voldemort is that he Needs To Be Dead (which dismays Bellatrix but is actually something of a relief to Narcissa), Unfortunately Sirius is a bit busy being a covert operative for the Order of the Phoenix and doesn’t hear about this, and also he’s still basically disowned on account of being a reckless Gryffindor idiot

But because he’s there, Snape does not manage to get the job, which doesn’t help at all with his ‘everyone is out to get me’ worldview, and then Lily Evans is murdered by Voldemort and everything goes to hell and Snape doesn’t have Dumbledore’s backing and ends up in Azkaban just like everyone always knew he would, the greasy bastard (says everyone who has the time to think about it). Amusingly enough, he ends up across the hall from Sirius Black, who has been tossed unceremoniously in Azkaban for betraying his friends, murdering Peter Pettigrew, and blowing up seventeen Muggles. This has the somewhat unexpected side effect of causing the Dementors to avoid that entire hallway, because there are Absolutely No Happy Thoughts available, on account of Snape and Sirius being so busy hating each other. Like seriously, they basically come up with a schedule: up at seven, bowl of gruel, sneer at each other for two hours, have a screaming fight, bowl of gruel for lunch, three hours of furious glowering, another screaming fight, bowl of gruel for dinner, nasty sniping insults until bedtime. The Dementors have never found two humans so perfectly suited to torture each other before.

Voldemort was wrong and also had created Horcruxes and yeek, dude, those are so evil even the Black Family Library only has one book on them and it’s How To Not Create Horcruxes.

Incidentally, Grimmauld Place has been renovated, because after Regulus’s mother died, he looked around and went, “Wow, this place is creepy as hell. Kreacher! We’re going for a new aesthetic,” and Kreacher went, “Yes, wonderful Master!” and now the whole place is in white and green with silver accents and actually looks like a place you might want to spend time for reasons other than “on the run from the law and haven’t any better choices.” 

He does still end up mixed into the whole mess with the Stone, because this is Harry we’re talking about, but the Trio pretty much figures out the problem is Quirrell from the word ‘go,’ because Professor Black is not sweeping around being Gratuitously Evil all over everything and therefore is not the immediate target of suspicious eleven-year-olds.

Regulus Black hates Lockhart, because no one ought to be more fabulously dressed than Regulus in his own school, you flamboyant fucker, I will out-magnificent you if it’s the last thing I do

Malfoy is still a prat. Some things never change.

Sirius Black breaks out of prison during the summer, for reasons no one can figure out, and the only person to see him go is Severus Snape, who is found laughing hysterically and raving about a black dog, and has therefore clearly been driven mad by Dementors, ah well, no great loss, moving on, nothing to see here. 

If anyone is going to be able to master the Animagus transformation without any training, in Azkaban, for no reason other than Pure Spite (™), it’s going to be Severus Snape. 

Regulus is like, “werewolves are not supposed to be this calm and likeable, I do not even know what is going on, am I friends with a werewolf? I might be friends with a werewolf. Or allies. I can be allies. Allies is a good Slytherin term. We are both on Team Keep Potter Alive Until Voldemort Is Dead.” 

So then Sirius grabs Ron (to get to Peter) and everyone ends up in the Shrieking Shack and there is a lot of shrieking, which includes Sirius yelling “Get behind me, Harry, Regulus is a Death Eater,” and Regulus yelling, “Get behind me, Potter, Sirius is a Death Eater,” and Remus putting both hands over his face and going, “Oh Merlin, two of them, there are two mad Blacks in my life, what even the fuck.”

Unfortunately Sirius is still technically an escaped convict, so he turns back into Snuffles before they get to Hogwarts proper, and Regulus in a moment of Utter Glee (™) is like, “Oh, this is my dog, he’s very devoted to me,” and Sirius has to fawn doggily on his brother. 

Which is actually hilarious, because he walks in for the first time in fifteen years and goes, “Wait, do I have the wrong house?” because everything is light and airy and open and really quite pleasant, and there’s no screaming portraits anywhere, and even the house-elf heads have been relocated to Kreacher’s room. 

So anyway Ireland wins but Krum gets the Snitch and Harry and Ron are having the time of their lives, and honestly Sirius is too because he gets to cadge food from everyone and he gets ear scritches from Remus whenever he wants them and he gets to growl at that supercilious fuck Malfoy whenever he likes. 

Sirius is...not known for his Tactical Planning, and rushes off to Confront the Fake Moody, which honestly goes better than it ought to, because Barty Crouch Jr is not expecting Professor Black’s enormous dog to suddenly turn into Sirius Black and hex him senseless 

When the Lord of the Ancient and Noble House of Black rips off his own sleeve and screams, “Does my Mark look fucking gone to you, you incompetent asshole?” at the Minister for Magic, and said Lord is also one of the most well-respected Professors at Hogwarts, the Minister’s approval ratings tend to tank. 

Regulus is a Slytherin, he’s supposed to be cunning and sneaky and fly under the radar, he shouldn’t be number two on Voldemort’s hit list, this is frankly embarrassing. Sirius is kind of indignant that his brother is higher up Voldemort’s hit list than he is. Really, Sirius? Remus says. That’s what bothers you about this situation?

And after the third nightmare which is pretty clearly a vision not a nightmare, Sirius goes right down to Regulus and is like, “So Harry is having visions in which he’s seeing through Voldemort’s eyes,” and Regulus is like, “Well fuck, that’s what that Horcrux does.” 

Sirius learned Occlumency from his father, who had a lot of things to keep from his mother, and then later from the Department of Mysteries after he became an Auror. His version has a lot of “setting traps in your mind so your enemies really regret trying this.”

Regulus learned Occlumency from his mother, who had a hell of a lot of things to keep from his father, and then later from being servant to a batshit insane Dark Lord. His version has a lot of “hiding everything important under lots and lots of obfuscating facts and memories.”

Voldemort does try to convince Harry that his godfather is being held in the Department of Mysteries. Since Snuffles is asleep on Harry’s feet at the time, that doesn’t have quite the intended effect.

1) Sirius stops following Harry around as a big black dog and starts following him around as a human

2) ...and then realizes that’s not going to work so well at Hogwarts and goes back to following him around as a dog.

3) Sirius formally takes custody of Harry, his godson, and declares that Harry never has to so much as see a Dursley again

4) Regulus points out that since Sirius is the elder son, this makes Sirius Lord Black

5) Sirius has a fit of the screaming meemies at the thought of politics and formally abdicates the title in favor of his brother, who’s been doing a pretty good job so far

Voldemort spends the summer moving into Malfoy Manor, which the Order of the Phoenix figures out after Sirius gets very drunk and flies his motorcycle to Malfoy Manor in order to “glitterbomb those pretentious wannabe-Blacks.” Glitter apparently does not register as a threat to the Malfoy wards, even when it’s been spelled to be unremovable. Not that glitter really needs to be spelled to be unremovable. Sirius figures out who exactly is in residence when a rainbow-glitter-covered Voldemort comes out of the Manor at speed and tries to hex him off his motorcycle. In retrospect, it wasn’t Sirius’s brightest idea ever, but he did learn where Voldemort was!

Harry’s sixth year is the year that Severus Snape, fuelled entirely by Pure Spite (™), reinvents the Animagus transformation from scratch and escapes from Azkaban as an extremely angry bat.

At this point, Snape is rather dubiously sane, on account of fifteen years in Azkaban, which even if he didn’t have to interact much with the Dementors was fifteen years of either solitary confinement or confinement across from the man he hates worst in all the world. Snape therefore has two driving obsessions right now:

1) Voldemort killed Lily Evans and must therefore die.

2) Snape has to outdo Sirius Black, or die trying.

So about a week after the news that Severus Snape, Death Eater, has escaped Azkaban, Hagrid goes out to open the main doors and discovers a dead Death Eater on the front step of Hogwarts with a neat little note that says, “For Lily.” General consensus is that this is Weird.

The night that Malfoy was supposed to get his Great Duty from Voldemort, which was going to be Killing Albus Dumbledore, was the night Sirius decided to glitterbomb the Manor. And Voldemort, whose Priorities can be skewed by Utter Wrath, decided that Malfoy’s Great Duty was going to be Killing That Fucker Black, How Dare He Disrespect Me, I Want His Head. Malfoy is actually sort of okay with this at first because his hair is covered in shiny red glitter and he looks like an off-brand Weasley, which is Not Acceptable.

So what he does is call Sirius in and say, “Hey, brother, do you want to fake your own death and have an enormous funeral so I can kidnap Cousin Narcissa?” Draco is in the corner trying to figure out when his life took an abrupt left turn into Weirdville, Population Him. Sirius is like, “OMG enormous funeral can I come as a Grim and frighten everyone? Please?” Regulus, who is only the practical one if you ask him, is like, “That is a great idea, it will give me a perfect opportunity to kidnap Cousin Narcissa, truly we are tactical geniuses.” Sirius wants there to be So Much Glitter and is rather put out when Regulus vetoes that plan. Harry, when told about this, decides that Amateur Dramatics on the theme of My Godfather Is Dead And Everything Is Terrible sound like a lot of fun, and wants to be chief mourner at the funeral. Hermione is So Done with all of these people. Remus declares that he will go to the funeral in ashes and sackcloth and rend his clothing dramatically at appropriate points for extra pathos. Hermione is Even More Done and goes off to write to Viktor, who can be relied on to talk about sensible things like spellcrafting and also say nice things about her hair. Albus decides that having Sirius be Officially Dead might actually be a good tactical move in the war, and authorizes the use of Hogwarts grounds for the Epic Funeral, but adds some... tactical revisions to the Kidnapping portion of the show. Minerva joins Hermione in the corner of Done With Everything. Sirius designs his own fake corpse, because of course he does. The Epic Funeral goes off without a hitch, somewhat to everyone’s surprise, and Narcissa is exceedingly surprised to be invited to Post-Funeral Tea by her Cousin Regulus and given a Portkey to a secluded and well-warded villa in France, to be used when necessary. Snape, who watched the whole funeral upside-down in a tree, is Delighted. He has Outlived Black! He has Won! Take that, Black! Voldemort is also Delighted. Tiny Malfoy is just as useful as Larger Malfoy!

Albus looks Wise and Cunning and strokes his beard thoughtfully. Regulus does not say Rude Things about Albus’s overblown sense of the dramatic, mostly because he knows perfectly well he doesn’t have a leg to stand on after the Epic Funeral

Albus hatches a Plan (™)

The first bit of seventh year is actually pretty uneventful, and Harry spends it waiting for the Other Shoe to drop, but the only things that drop are another large handful of dead Death Eaters, who show up on the doorstep every week like clockwork 

The Battle of Hogwarts ensues, Highlights include:

1) Ginny Weasley being cornered by Bellatrix Black and nearly killed, except that a fucking enormous bat interposes itself between them and takes the Killing Curse meant for Ginny, and dies with what everyone swears is a look of utter satisfaction on its face

-Literally no one ever figures out what the fuck was up with that, but the bat is buried in Ottery St Catchpole with full honors

2) Neville Longbottom drawing the Sword of Gryffindor out of the Sorting Hat (delivered courtesy of Fawkes) and beheading Nagini

3) Regulus Black being cornered by about eight furious Death Eaters and being rescued by his brother, who surprises the Death Eaters by appearing abruptly behind them and yelling, “Back from the dead, fuckwits! Eat that!”

4) Remus ends up facing off against Pettigrew, who has a silver hand which is poisoning him to death on account of the lycanthropy and Voldemort being Terrible. Pettigrew ends up dead. Eyewitnesses report he may have thanked Remus for the mercy.

5) Ron, Hermione, and Viktor Krum (a late and rather surprising addition to the Order) being a really quite effective team (“Er-my-own-nee is brain, I am brawn, you can be good looks,” Krum is heard to say. Ron spends the entire battle blushing furiously.)

6) Harry and Albus and Hedwig taking Voldemort on together

It turns out the Power the Dark Lord Knows Not is that of a really pissed off snowy owl doing her damnedest to claw his eyes out, during which rather chaotic interlude it’s surprisingly simple for Harry to trip Voldemort off the main dais. Landing on one’s head on a stone floor is liable to break even the most Dark Lord-y of necks. A whole bunch of historians have despaired of making the Battle of Hogwarts sound properly heroic when the Chosen One just tripped the Dark Lord and he broke his own fool neck by landing wrong.  Nonetheless it’s remarkably effective.

The most interesting thing to happen to Harry for the rest of the year is testifying in front of the entire Wizengamot that his godfather is, in point of fact, Not Dead and that the whole thing was an elaborate act for the purpose of fooling Voldemort.

NOW GO READ IT!!!