#more important lore than this has been changed over the years

[vivalabunbun]

When It Rains, Why Does It Pour?

Summary: Sand is quite a nuisance, it creeps into every crevice and no amount of dusting can free oneself from its stubborn hold. Yet, the tide still greets the shore.

Word Count: 8.8k (oh no...)

Tags: Neuvillette x GN!Reader, human!reader, SFW, fluff, childhood friends AU, Slow Burn, Slow Fic, Angst, Hurt with Comfort, themes about reincarnation, TW: Themes about death and loss, themes about aging, immortal x mortal AU, not lore accurate, reader is an attendant, human prejudice, Spoilers Warning: His story quest and archon quests, speculations about his past in Fontaine, why is he so mysterious

Authors Note: This was a challenge trying to write from the POV of a man you don't even know the name of, but I just had to write something for him. A character study of Neuvillette. Enjoy!

How long has it been since he first arrived here? One month? Two? Or perhaps it has already been a year? The young dragon wasn’t too sure.

The days seem to blend together when one only eats, studies, and sleeps all on repeat. A cruel trait of time. The weather outside the glass windows didn’t provide any hints either.

However, he himself is to blame. 

A gray haze concealed azure skies as rhythmic drops of rain hit the earth. Blocking out the all-seeing sun and nurturing moon, the murky clouds above even hinder the stars from accompanying him.

A true reflection of his current solitude. 

The young dragon arrived in the human world, brought over by the lord of Fontaine. Due to the nature of his arrival to this nation, he was given status and importance in the eyes of the citizens. However, he has yet to receive acceptance. 

The grand estate in which he resides was staffed with countless butlers and maids, renowned chefs, and skilled tutors. He was wanting of nothing, yet still impoverished. 

He could see it in their mortal eyes, he could sense it in the tangible silence of the halls, he could tell from the distance each mortal put between themselves and him. 

Much like the towering stone walls which surrounded his private residence.

Was it to separate themselves from him or himself from them?

A question he entertains as lilac eyes scan over the aforementioned wall. Its gray stones are a welcomed change from the dry parchment with even drier content. 

As he observes the drab stones contrast against a dreary sky, a small flash of white cuts through the somber composition.

Catching his lilac eyes as they follow the strange shape, it drifts through the capricious wind before the breeze grew bored and tossed it to the ground.

Studying it a bit further, the young dragon identifies the object as a simple pillowcase. Nothing more than a scrap of fabric. 

He reasons that the wind must’ve stolen it from some clothesline. Just when he was about to return to the legal ledgers a rustling came from the bushes lining the bottom of the wall.

A small frame pushes apart the thick vegetation, creating enough space to finally free themselves from the entangled mess of branches. 

The towering wall, the one meant to separate him from the mortals, was defeated by a mere child.

A child who’s clumsy brushing the twigs from their garments and shaking a few raindrops from their hair. He watches as the small human trots toward the discarded pillowcase, a pout forming on their lips as they observe the mud that had seeped into the silk. 

Judging by the simple attire they don, they must be the child of a maid. 

Ah humans, fickle and temperamental creatures created by the usurpers. It took a conscious effort on his part to stop the frown threatening to appear on his lips.

Seems like he still needs to get used to their presence. 

It was as if the child sensed the bitterness in his thoughts because soon a pair of wide eyes connected with lilac. Even with the sun hiding behind dreary clouds, there was a light that twinkled in their irises. 

It was only for a minute, no, even less than that. But a young dragon and a young human held each other’s gaze. 

The child’s shoulders jolt as they turn their head back toward the wall, as if a voice called for them. Casting one last glance toward the young dragon, the child trots back toward the wall, disappearing within the murky viridescent. 

And that was the end, like the breeze that littered a scrap of fabric among the grass, the small human came and went.

Such fickle creatures, the young dragon gives it one last thought before returning his attention back to a cluttered desk. 

–

Amongst the soft drumming of droplets came a tap against the glass too sharp to be caused by the gentle rain. Causing the young dragon to turn away from the stacks of books laid out before him.

The wet glass obscured a small flicker of an orange glow, thus he walked closer to investigate. With each step, the figure outside the window became undeciphered.

That small human again. 

Locking eyes with the human outside the glass, the fickle creature’s lips curl up, the glow of their lamp illuminating the curiosity behind their gaze.

A human child doesn’t have the potential to cause much if any harm to him. Thus, he releases the lock, removing the glass barrier separating two breathes. 

“Hello! What is uh… your name?” They chirp out. 

His sharp ears picked up the clumsiness in their speech, the subtle unfamiliarity of the words they spoke. Distinct signs that you were still learning the language of Fontaine, much like him.

Although he understood your question, he was too distracted to answer. Lilac eyes wandering off toward the stone wall. Within the entangled mess of twigs, there was a small parting.

A part just wide enough to reveal the secret the bushes desperately tried to hide: A small hole along the bottom of the stone barrier. Just enough for a small creature to slip through. 

Discovering the truth behind how a small human was able to defeat such a seemingly impenetrable wall. 

The pattering of the rain was interrupted by the rustling of fabric, drawing his attention back to the small human in front of him.

The child rummages through their pockets before pulling out a lump covered by a handkerchief. Peeling back the layer of fabric to reveal some conch madeleines, presenting fragmented sweets before the young dragon. 

“It tastes good, I promise.” A small hand extends itself further through the open window. 

Observing the crumbly sweets laid out upon a handkerchief, the young dragon halted the rejection that almost escaped his lips. Remembering the concepts he had just been reading before this.

Humans tend to follow a set of unwritten rules, principles they like to call ‘manners’. There weren’t any punishments issued by law if those rules were broken, no imprisonment or fines.

However, narrow-eye stares and whispers behind backs were the punishments issued to transgressors by society. 

So, he accepts a piece, trying to ignore the sand-like sensation against his tongue. As he chewed, the grin on the human’s face only got wider.

“Now that you’ve taken one, you have to give me your name, it’s only uh… fair!” 

Ah, it looks like he’s been tricked. Falling into the clumsy sugar-coated trap only a child could come up with. Yet, as his lilac gaze caught the twinkle still ever so bright in their eyes, he didn’t have the strength to form a frown. 

Just a curious human child, only as dangerous as a firefly buzzing in his ear. There shouldn’t be any harm in disclosing the surname bestowed upon him by this nation.

“Neuvillette.” He finally said his first words to you. 

A peculiar pattern is recurring. That rainy night when Neuvillette opened those windows, it looked like he welcomed a phenomenon in as well. 

Even in his current state, a small human like you could pose no possible threat to him. Thus, whenever a certain tap was placed against the glass. He saw no reason to turn away the visitor. Allowing you to climb in through his window time and time again.

It would’ve been better if you used the door. However, he’s aware of the complications such a request would bring.

Perhaps it’s because he’s currently in the form of a young child, sharing a similar stature to yours. From his observations, humans do have a tendency to gravitate toward those with similar traits. Or perhaps, you’re just exceptionally brazen. 

Neuvillette glances up from his book, thick with endless sentences describing obscure and frivolous laws, landing on your frame lazing around upon a rug.

One hand holds onto a collection of fables, pages illuminated by the gentle rays of a star. While the other periodically reaches out toward a pile of conch madeleine.

A sight he’s come to expect now. 

Lavender eyes follow your hand as it brings another one of the crumbly sweets to your mouth again. You brought them over under the pretense of sharing them with him, yet they’re already half gone. The only hand reaching for the sweets being yours.

Just like how it was last time, and the time before that, and the one before that as well. 

If you felt this complacent in his presence now, then perhaps he can be more candid with you. As is common practice among humans to present a polite front that gradually wears away each recurring meeting. 

“You do not have to bring over any more conch madeleine.” 

The moment those words left his lips the motion of your hand halted, looking up to connect your sight with his, confusion pinching together your brows.  

“Oh? Why so suddenly?” The collection of fables now resting on the rug. 

It’s already been done, the first ripple in the frangible water between you and him. There is nothing that can cease the waves that accompany the first breach. He might as well say the whole truth. 

“They are dry, I cannot fathom how you can bring yourself to eat them.” Prescriptive eyes caught a faint flinch as you processed his edict.

“They taste fine to me…” You mutter, picking another one up. 

This time you chewed slower. The pinch between your brow only grew as you tasted the sweet again, searching for the perceived flaw.

As you met his gaze once more, he could tell your search brought forth no fruitful conclusions. Thus you asked another question in response.

“Then what do you like?”

Besides the pleasantries commonly exchanged between humans in Fontaine, Neuvillette recognizes he lacks the talent for small talk.

The room usually filled with your grievances about whichever tedious task you were assigned before you slipped away behind a wall and into his private residence. Ambient noise which accompanied each flip of a law book. 

It is long overdue for him to pull his weight in a conversation. 

“Water, spring water.”

“Huh?”

Neuvillette repeats his sentence but the scrunch of your brows doesn’t ease up, he couldn’t fight the urge to draw in a deep breath. So this is the limitation of the human palate, how regrettable. 

“Perhaps you are still too simple to appreciate the qualities of water.” 

The pout upon your crumb-covered lips morphs into a tight line, sealing away your voice.  The brightly printed cover of a storybook was shut as the last few remaining treats were bundled away in a napkin. 

Your tea break ended early today, impassive eyes following your figure as it disappeared among the thick vegetation beside a stone barrier. 

It was quiet today, not even a single parting uttered past your sealed lips. Therefore leaving the conversation unfinished. 

But that is today, you’ll have another tea break tomorrow, and you’ll come to him with your grievances about chores tomorrow as well. 

The young dragon returns his focus to the text in front of him. 

–

The soft hymn of raindrops against a glass window reverbed through the solitary study, providing a melody for the periodic flips of paper. But the melody was hollow, incomplete.

Shifting his body to look behind himself at the vacant rug, Neuvillette deduces why. The accompaniment was missing. 

That tomorrow he had come to expect never came. 

Had he committed a transgression? Overstep a line outside his place? Food is a point of pride for many humans, one oddity he’s yet to grasp.

These temperamental creatures tend to lash out when their pride is wounded, much like how a beast reacts to an unhealed cut. 

Neuvillette was curious as to whether this was an inherent trait of humanity or a learned by-product of the fickle principles imposed on themselves.

However, observing the abandoned storybook tucked away, the young dragon is leaning towards the former. 

Turning back to face his desk, his eyes could only glaze over the monotonous scribbles. Perhaps the cause of his spiritless attitude was disappointment, disappointment in himself. 

It looks like he was careless, deluding himself with the misconception that you and him were alike. Two outsiders who found solace in each other’s presence.

However, this was false. You were an outsider to Fontaine, but he was an outsider to this world where humans walked. 

He’s still too naive.

Fickle and temperamental creatures spoiled by the usurpers at the expense of his ancestors.

Why did he even entertain the thought that you and him could ever be alike?

Something stirred from within, like when pebbles were thrown into still water, but what were those pebbles? As Neuvillette ponders this conundrum, the drumming of the rain grows louder. 

However, it wasn’t loud enough to swallow up the sharp set of taps which interrupted his somber reflection. Jolting him from his thoughts, snapping his attention to the source of the noise.

There stood a figure distorted by the wet glass as another set of sharp taps sounded through the room. 

Before Neuvillette could even process it, his body moved without his command. Unlatching the lock and setting the window free from its frame.

Not sparing another second to the raindrops soaking into their cloak, the figure clambers through the window with practiced proficiency.

Without uttering a single greeting, not even one pleasantry, you situated yourself on his floor. Melting into an undignified lump on the pristine tiles as bewildered eyes watched you.

After catching a few breaths, an explanation finally makes its way to his ears. 

“T-they… they patched… up the hole,” you huffed out between short breaths. 

Ah, the small cavity in the stone wall that you used to escape from chores. Looks like the security at the estate finally noticed.

Gauging the height of the wall from his place by the window, he’s aware of how it towers over both him and you the same.

This brings up another question as he returns to observe your frame, still trying to catch the breaths that evade you. 

“I… ran… through the gates… before the… Gardes noticed…” Exhaustion evident in your eyes as pants break up your sentence. 

Ah, looks like his question was answered before he even inquired. To be puzzled or amazed, he wasn’t too sure how to categorize this ripple inside him.

The tomorrow that’s been missing for a little more than two weeks, is now right in front of him.

Panting and leaving a few muddy traces along the marble floor, but here nonetheless. 

With one deep motion of your lungs, you pushed your body up, finally getting ahold of your breath. The familiar rustle of your pocket, the audio cue for a certain dry sweet to appear. Neuvillette didn’t mind in the least.

Perhaps, he can bear the sandy sensation just for today. But tomorrow is always filled up with surprises, a glass bottle finding its way out of your pocket instead of sugary treats. 

“What is that?” An obvious question, but his voice found its way out of his mouth.

“Water, water from the servant’s well, I bottled it myself.” A small hand holds the bottle out more. 

“Thank you,” Neuvillette accepts it into his hands. 

He should really acquire some glasses to pour the water out into, it’s improper and bad manners to drink from the bottle.

However, his curiosity was greater. Or maybe, he didn’t realize just how parched he had become from waiting for tomorrow. 

Uncapping the clumsily packaged water, he takes a generous sip. 

“It’s sweet.” His tongue picking up on a subtle saccharine undertone. 

“Really?” Your hand reaches up as that familiar shine illuminates your eyes. 

Taking a sip from the bottle passed back into your grasp, your brows furrowing in concentration. Another sip was taken from the bottle as you continued to search for the sweetness in the water you’ve always drank.

A sight that tugged up at the lips of a boy still studying the shape of your quirked brows. 

Humans, fickle, perplexing, yet astoundingly curious creatures from the very beginning.

If he is to walk amongst the human world, then it’s best for him to be equally curious. To try and search for the harmony between two different breaths. 

A child of a maid far from their homeland. A status too insignificant to warrant the attention of Fontaine's factions, freeing you from their prying eyes and entanglements.

Therefore, it should be alright for him to continue observing you, no?

“Ahh… The rain is so unpredictable here in Fontaine, trying to hang out the wash here is always a gamble.” You sink further into the plush cushions of his settee. 

As the sun rose and fell, as the leaves grew green then gold, as the ground froze and thawed.

One thing remained unchanged throughout these cycles even as they repeated: your grievances over chores. 

The frequency of these complaints reaching his ears has increased, on the part that you now took over more of your mother’s responsibilities in managing the laundry of this estate. 

Besides your habitual complaints of the weather, one detail didn’t escape Neuvillette’s hearing: your proficiency in the Fontainian language has increased significantly.

Words no longer spoken clumsily or with unfamiliarity. Accent nearly indistinguishable from a native speaker. 

“The people here are fond of creating strange machinery, why can’t they make something to dry clothes?” You resume. 

The quill in his hand stops as he pauses in the middle of a sentence, glancing over his shoulder toward your slouching figure making yourself comfortable in the sofa that’s more familiar with your shape than his. 

“Perhaps you should be the one to create it, studying might do you some good as well,” came his curt response. 

His candid advice makes you sink further into the cushions with a groan. 

“I’d rather travel than study those jumbled-up books about machinery or whatever, in fact, I want to visit my homeland as soon as I can,” you grumble aloud. 

Ah, that’s right, you’re approaching the age where you could travel freely.

By law, you won’t be bound to the side of your mother, not needing any permission to come to and fro however you wish. No longer kept at this estate washing and folding sheets.

Indeed, you and him found yourselves in similar situations: on the cusp of freedom from this estate. 

While he was deep in thought, you filled the silence left behind by posing a question to him. 

“Do you plan on visiting your homeland anytime soon, Neuvi?” 

By now, the young dragon had stopped expending the effort to try and correct you in your butchering of his surname. Your reason being ‘it’s too long’.

Alongside you, he has grown in stature as well, elapsing you some time ago much to your dismay. If he wished to travel, not much would pose a problem to the young dragon.

However… where could he return to? A homeland… was there a section of his homeland untouched by the usurpers? If he were to go, would he ever want to return to this world?

Sensing the change in the air, dreary clouds blocking the sun’s rays from your skin, you were perceptive enough to ramble about a different matter.

Namely, how the chef of the estate recently changed the type of flour used in the kitchens, resulting in pastries and sweets that were less airy but more flavorful. 

Explaining to him the subtle improvements and deterioration in the quality of some baked goods. Filling the air of the study with bright-eyed ramblings until rays of light peek out from waning clouds. 

–

“Monsieur Neuvillette! It’s been a while since you’ve visited!” Soft patters of skipping steps made their way to the tall man. 

Tilting his sights down, Neuvillette greets the cheery melusine with a gentle smile which she returned with an equally bright grin.

While on a routine stroll along the riverbanks to stretch his legs after a long day, he found himself at the entrance of Merusea Village.

He wonders if it's his body’s natural response to get away from the Palais Mermonia and Opera Epiclese. 

Carrying him toward the direction of a secluded reprieve he discovered far away from the suspicious eyes of weary humans.

Condemnatory eyes were constantly pinned to the back of the young dragon who had recently emerged from a sheltered estate to sit in the grand seat of a Chief Justice. 

Days filled with nothing but a cacophony of voices echoing off the opera house walls. Screams from the accused and the eager murmurs of spectators blended into nothing more than a chaotic din in his ears. 

Gazing deeper into the small lake, the unsuspecting entrance to a hidden haven that the Melusines called home.

It would only take a moment, just one dip into the pristine water for him to disappear from the clamorous mortal realm.

Abandoning the overly grand seat of his post as easily as it would take for his head to vanish under the tranquil tide.

How great would it be to exist in the presence of creatures who could resonate with his own adriftness?

Maybe, he could finally discover the purpose of his current form and longevity in their company. Yes, that sounds about right. 

Just as the water wet the tip of his overly ornate shoe, all motion his body stills at a familiar call. 

“NEUVI!” Came a voice from just over the beaten path. 

Soon your silhouette follows the echo of your call, steps hurried yet worn.

When the young dragon departed from his temporary estate and into the Palais Mermonia, a certain specter followed him as well.

The same specter who’s currently huffing to catch their breath after such a rush. Trying to gather enough air to form their next sentence. 

“There you are! The grand tailor sent me to fetch you because you’re almost an hour late to the fitting of your new robe, they need to make sure the measurements are correct,” you chide. 

The exasperation of your words was most definitely caused by the fact you had to physically exert yourself in your search for the wandering Chief Justice. Evident by the pout on your lips and scrunched nose. 

His attention was quickly torn away from your recuperating figure by a faint tug of his slacks.

The Melusine had hidden herself behind his legs, creating a barrier between her and the strange mortal who seemingly appeared from the blue.

Her sudden movement caught your attention as well. 

Ah, that’s right. The Melusines have yet to be acquainted with humans, and humans with Melusines.

Two different species, two different breaths, and two different sets of eyes that can’t seem to see directly into each other. 

If his time within the wall of the estate and Palais Mermonia had proven anything, it would be the natural adversity humans had to differences.

Neuvillete certainly wasn’t prepared for such an event, nor was he sure how to handle it. 

In the midst of his inaction, your hand reached into your pocket, fumbling around before pulling out a handkerchief-covered lump.

Despite the soreness in your legs, you lowered your body until you were at eye level with the shorter Melusine. 

“Hello there, would you like some conch madeleines?” Unraveling the fabric to reveal the sweets which you seem to have an abundant supply of. 

The grip on his slacks tightened as she glanced up at him, lilac eyes catching the hesitance in her irises. Neuvillette gives a subtle nod, giving just enough reassurance for the small creature to release his pant leg.

Reaching a mitten-like hand toward the golden sweets, it only took one bite for the hesitance in her eyes to be replaced by a bright twinkle. 

“It’s tasty isn’t it?” Your lips formed a wider grin.

The Melusine responds with an eager nod, too occupied with bringing more of the buttery treat into her mouth.

At the sight of her restless chewing covering her cheeks with faint crumbs, you let out a giggle.  

“I’ll give you the rest of the sweets if you tell me your name,” you offered. 

After a few moments of the Melusine finishing her previous bite, she falls for the same trap he had many years ago. 

“My name is Carole!” She chirps. 

“What a wonderful name.” Your gaze softened further as you held out the treats, keeping your promise. 

As Carole reaches for more, she glances back up. Wide eyes twinkling as she inquires him with the one thought currently on her mind.

“Monsieur Neuvillette, does the human world have more treats as delicious as these?”

Ah, it looks like the stroll Neuvillette took today to relieve himself of mounting troubles only led him to more. 

The skies over the Court of Fontaine have been in a pensive stalemate, all too familiar clouds blocking azure hues. However, rain has yet to patter on the ground, as if the weather was unsure of itself. 

A feeling shared by the Chief Justice currently sitting at his desk, reviewing the details of the day’s trials. Albeit, half heartily. 

Much like the skies crowded with clouds, in the solitude of his office, his mind rang loud with thoughts. Neuvillette only had himself to blame for the current silence of his office, it’s been this way for around a week going on two now. 

Lilac eyes peered over the tops of the papers toward the shut doors, concealing him away. There hasn’t been a knock on those doors for some time now, due to the diligent Melusines who followed his request.

Turning away potential visitors with crafted excuses of ‘The Chief Justice is handling a very important case’ or ‘My apologies, but the Chief Justice is very busy’. 

Neuvillette recognizes that he’s currently no different than a child hiding away from the consequences of a broken vase. 

How childish, he chides himself as he returns back to his responsibilities. How would the citizens of Fontaine react to their Chief Justice conducting himself in such a manner?

He’s sure if Lady Furina were to catch wind of his behavior, she’d be greatly entertained. 

As if the mere mention of the nation’s archon presented a bad omen, the sturdy doors of his office swung open, revealing the face of a familiar visitor who’s been turned away one too many times. 

“My my, it’s been quite some time since I’ve seen the inside of this office, I almost forgot what it looks like,” you remark as your eyes hone in on him. 

The child’s hiding place under the bed has been exposed. 

“Good afternoon, I was not made aware you had any appointments with me.” Neuvillette’s own eyes trail past yours. 

From behind the door frames the figures of two Melusines quickly dodged away from his sight. A silent admission of guilt on their part, and Neuvillette didn’t have to look hard to deduce the crime they’ve committed: Accepting bribes. 

The evidence was right there in the form of buttery crumbs left on the corner of their mouths. Ah, you and with those conch madeleines of yours. 

It’d be best for him to finally handle the situation at hand, one he’s been trying to maneuver out of. 

“If I recall correctly, you were granted a vacation, why not take this chance to travel? It certainly is a prime opportunity-”

“Why have you been avoiding me, Monsieur?” you cut through the long-winded pleasantries and excuses. 

His lips press together, by now he’s well accustomed to your brazenness. However, the absence of a familiar name only said in your voice made the guilt weigh heavier on his shoulders.

Guilt which originated a few weeks prior. 

—

On a secluded riverbank, a routine walk under clear skies was halted. You were knelt down on the ground, uncaring of the sand sticking to the fabric of your clothes, as you held a Melusine between your arms. Two mittened hands clung to you as she soaked your shoulder with tears. 

“W-why? Why did he have to go?” Her sobs interrupted by sudden hiccups. 

As you rubbed circles into her back, something he saw humans do to soothe their crying young, Neuvillette watched from the side. Much like how he would observe those performances within the Opera Epiclese. 

Liath is her name, a diligent Melusine who patrolled the grounds of the Palais Mermonia. By her side, there would be a guard poodle who’d matched her skips with his prances. An inseparable duo, or it’d be more accurate to say, they were once an inseparable duo. 

Dogs are a species domesticated by humans, some might argue that they were created by humanity through generations of selection. So it stands to reason that they too would have a limited lifespan.

In fact, they have a lifespan even more restricted than that of the mortals who tamed them. 

The Melusines have just begun walking amongst humans, there were still many aspects their sheltered minds have yet to grasp. The fleetingness of mortality is one of them. 

Thus, Neuvillette did his best to caution them. 

However, just like how laws can’t completely stop crimes, his words can’t completely prevent such tragedies. All he could do was try.

“I’m sorry for your grief, this was the very reason why I cautioned you against getting too attached to him… A dog’s life is brief-”

“Monsieur Neuvillette.” 

The sentence died at the tip of his tongue as his eyes met yours. Gaze narrowed and brows furrowed, not even the Chief Justice dared to interject any further.

After you silenced him, your focus returned back to the grieving Melusine. 

Slowly standing back up from the ground, her frame cradled in your arms as her sobs continued. 

“I know it hurts,” you whispered, one hand patting her back, setting a steady rhythm reminding her to breathe. 

“B-but why? W-why is it so sad?” she hiccuped. 

You hummed, beginning to bounce her a bit within your hold. 

“Wouldn’t it be sadder if you never met him?” 

At your question, the Melusine stares at you through teary eyes. Expression lined with confusion. 

“To have loved him, and for him to have loved you in return…isn’t that enough?” You cooed, taking steps away from the riverbank. 

Still frozen in his place, the dragon could only stare at your back as it grew further and further away, soon disappearing from his view. 

He had misspoke.

Neuvillette recalled last Autumn. As the vivid hues of the foliage shriveled up to nothing more than a shadow of their former beauty, you laid your mother to rest. Burying her in a cemetery which overlooked the direction of your homeland.

His unsolicited reprimand must have been throwing salt into a wound that still bled. He had overstepped his authority. 

Murky clouds congregated in the once clear sky. 

—

Those were the events that transpired, events that have led to the current stalemate happening in his office. Lilac eyes couldn’t seem to find the courage to connect with yours. Another excuse finding its way to his tongue. 

“Didn’t you want to visit your homeland?”

“Oh?” Your brow quirks up, as your hands find their way to your hips. 

“And then who’d be here to repair the tears in your robe when you inevitably step on them?” Obviously unimpressed by his suggestion. 

“Surely there are other talented tailors here that can handle the task,” he rebukes. 

“Oh? Will they also untangle your hair from the ornamentation of chairs?” You press on.

“I can manage.”

“Then can the Chief Justice also manage all the uniforms for the Melusines? Can he sew every button and ensure they fit correctly?” 

Ah, with your last statement, Neuvillette concedes. A hush fills the room. 

The Melusines are still new to walking amongst humans, not many were willing to tailor specialized uniforms for their short stature. Thus, you took up the mantle. 

Perhaps out of a sense of responsibility, it was you who stirred their curiosity with those sweets of yours. 

It seems responsibilities tethered you to the Court of Fontaine, much like they did to him. After a few breaths, as always, your voice shatters the stalemate. 

“I’m not upset, Neuvi.”

With those words, his lilac eyes finally connect with yours. Finally able to see the soft curls at the corners of your lips.

It indeed has been a while since he last saw such a sight.

This time instead of replying with an excuse, he responds with a gentle hum. 

“Ugh, why are your curtains so dusty? When was the last time you went outside?” It wasn’t long before your attention returned to the state of his office. 

Strolling past his desk, your hands began to fuss with the thick drapes. Pouting at the dust that coated the lush fabrics.

All Neuvillette could do was follow with his gaze, papers long pushed to the side as for the first time in a while, an azure hue was seen peeking through the clouds. 

From his observations, it’s instinctive for humans to avoid pain. However, it’d be hypocritical of him to judge mortals for actions he’s been guilty of. 

“If I knew I had to work this hard now, I would’ve skipped more chores back at the estate,” you chuckle, pulling back the drapes to allow gold to illuminate his office.

To have loved and have been loved in return.

Was this the human rationale behind taming a dog? Having the reality of the future constantly lurking over each happy moment as the hands of time tick forward.

Why do humans dote on pets? Creatures that only live a fraction of a mortal life? 

Are happy memories a fair exchange for bitter grief, or are they the cure? 

As Neuvillette counts the strands of peeking silver that mingle within your lush locks, he prays he finds the answer soon. 

The clacks of ornate shoes reverberate down once unfamiliar halls, a towering figure lurks past bustling nurses who bow their heads at the sight of the Chief Justice as he passes by.

With a body like his, there is no reason for him to wander among these halls. Or more accurately, there once was no reason. 

The taps of his soles slowed as a familiar door came into view, the only detail which differentiated it from the rest of the hall being the brass numbers displayed. Bringing up a glove-clothed knuckle, delicate taps were placed against the wood.

Almost immediately, a muffled ‘come in’ resounded behind the frame. Granting the Iudex permission to turn the polished knob, allowing him entry as the hinges sang their welcome.

“My, my, if it isn’t Monsieur Neuvillette, to whom do I owe the pleasure?” A grin spreads across your face, crinkling the corners of your eyes. 

Instantly his frame stiffens in the midst of returning the door to its frame. Bringing his free hand up to his face, Neuvillette coughs as to compose himself once more.

“Please, forgo the formalities.” 

Though your eyes might not be as sharp as they once were, the delicate dusting of pink along his pointed ears couldn’t escape their sight. Making your eyes crinkle more.

Feeling entertained enough, you cease your teasing and gesture toward the vacant chair beside your bed.

Obediently, his towering figure strides up to the seat, the wood squeaking under his weight as he settles onto it. 

By now, the dragon has grown accustomed the structure of greetings, beginning with a layer of pleasantries. 

“How have you been fairing?” Lavender eyes scrutinize the sheets and pillows, searching for any unapparent flaws. 

“It’s just a mild case of pneumonia,” you muse aloud. 

Momentarily resting his eyes behind a slow blink, all he could do was sigh at your brazen nonchalantness. Yet with a ghost of a smile on the same lips that sighed.

It was a mild case of pneumonia, a common ailment during the frosty months. For someone as steadfast as you, such an illness might’ve surrendered to your stubbornness. 

It might've surrendered… if your body had remained as it once was.

How unfortunate it all is, that time is so cruel to mortal creatures.

Attentive eyes detailing each crease that settled by your lips, remnants of the many grins and laughs that stretched your face. 

The basking light of a selfish star catches in your hair, lush hues that have faded to brilliant ivory. A shade that you often compare to his while jesting, ‘We match now’.

However, Neuvillette begs to differ, the sunlight is much more luminous in your tresses.

Trailing his sights back to your gaze. Deep lines formed by countless dynamic expressions drew attention to the glimmer forever present in your irises. Like paths on a map that led lilac eyes to yours. 

“How are you finding your stay?” At times, Neuvillette found himself wondering how the azure tides appeared from your view. 

“Mm, quite uneventful, eating, staring out a window, sleeping.” 

He hums in response, contemplating if he should inquire you about such subjects. As you ramble, perhaps the dragon could grasp onto an inkling of understanding. 

“Well, at least I can say that my stay has been anything but lonely.” Your eyes motioning toward a corner. 

The bland, sterile wall overshadowed by a mass comprised of trinkets ranging from local flowers to any object whose surface catches light.

The heap grows day by day as each Melusine continues to bring their earnest gratitude to the human who sew each stitch of their coats. A sight that could stir even the most placid lake.

“They’re such sweethearts.” Each one of your words coated with endearment. 

Once more, all the dragon could respond with was a mellow hum. Slow breaths fill the complacent silence between two species, one blessed by time and one shunned by it.

Neuvillette has grown accustomed to the structure of conversations but, alas, he still has no talent for small talk.

In the absence of dialogue, the layer of short pleasantries long dissolving, Neuvillette is left with nothing but his inquiries. It was all he had left, and so it was all he could offer. 

“Are there any regrets you hold?” 

“Oh oh? Getting sentimental so out of the blue, Neuvi?” A familiar quirk graces your brow. 

“It’s nothing of the sort, just a musing that drifted in my mind during a stroll, I wish to know your thoughts on the matter.” 

“Mmm… I don’t feel that I have any regrets, living an honest life and having the fortune to never have stepped foot in the Fortress of Meropide.” 

“Is that really all? You never did get to travel like you dreamed of back at the estate.” 

“Haha, trying to stump me with that, Neuvi?” you chuckle. 

Relaxing more into the pillows which propped up your weary frame, you trail your sights toward the window. 

“Didn’t I tell you already? I’ll have plenty of time to travel once I become a cloud, I can go everywhere the sky can reach.” Smile softening on your lips. 

Neuvillette’s folded hands grasp one another tighter on his lap, his own lips pressing each other into a thin line.

The conversation was teetering closer and closer to the unspoken reality looming like a shadow in the room. 

He wasn’t sure when it started, maybe when the first silver strands appeared in your hair or when you discovered his skin won’t wrinkle along with you.

He wasn’t sure when your adamant belief of becoming a cloud once the shadow came to claim you started. 

Neuvillette wonders if this daydream was the product of those fables you browsed when you laid upon a plush rug.

Or was it your personally crafted fable to explain the incomprehensible to a creature who couldn’t fully grasp it?

A creature whose skin didn’t wrinkle, whose bones didn’t grow brittle. A creature seemingly untouched by time.

Fairytales do serve this purpose for children, magical fantasies to make uncomfortable realities palatable to naive minds. 

“...vi?... Ne…?... Neuvi.” 

A hand marred with age takes hold of one glove-clad hand, and a pleasant heat radiates through the leather. Coaxing Neuvillette’s attention back from its escapade. 

“My apologies, I was lost in thought for a moment.” He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. 

But the frown weighing down on your lips didn’t disappear, much like how retreating into musings couldn’t wash away any shadows.

Your chest moves with a deep inhale. 

“Maybe I do have one regret,” you began. 

Readjusting your ailing fingers in his hold so that he could hold them with equal endearment, his ears concentrate on your voice. 

“Actually, I have many,” you sigh. 

Before he could formulate a response, you continued.��

“I wish I could have shoulder the burdens you carry. I wish you would’ve shared them with me. And I wish I could even understand them, then maybe I could have understood you more.” Turning to face him, your disheartened eyes center on his frame. 

A child born from a maid, a maid who traveled to Fontaine in hopes of a better future for her child. That was your origin, an outsider with neither fame nor fortune.

Thus, even as you followed him from a secluded estate to the grand Palais Mermonia, you could never follow him in status nor influence. 

As unrest grew, as injustices mounted, and as tragedies took away friends.

All you could do was repair tears, sew buttons, and pour him a crisp glass of spring water as you waited for the storm to wash despair away.  

That was how you saw it. But Neuvillette rebukes that notion. 

The dignity of a newly established Chief Justice, who kept stepping on his overly ornate robes, was carefully maintained by you.

The Melusine’s uniforms, which solidified their presence in the human world, were crafted by you.

The patient hand that always offered silent comfort in the suffocating courts was yours. 

Standing by his side, even as your bones grew to ache, to ensure the storm would pass and the sun emerge once more. 

“You’ve done more than enough.” He states the truth, grasping your hand just a bit tighter. 

“Are you sure?” Those airy chuckles of yours made their appearance again. 

“I never even learned your real name,” you interject.

A knife, red hot and fresh from the forge, would have hurt less than the guilt which tore through him at that moment.

The Chief Justice, the symbol of honesty and conviction, is unable to tell the simplest truth.

What shall he do now?

The power of a name is often underestimated, the exchanging of names signifying the forging of a bond. One that would forever tether him to you and you to him.

Oh, what shall he do now? 

Before his hesitant lips could take action, they were halted by a squeeze from your ailing grasp. Firm and warm, like a light that guides him up from the bottom of a turbulent ocean. 

“You don’t have to tell me now, Neuvi, tell me when I come back from my trip.” Those gentle eyes of yours smile at him.

Reeling his hand in closer to you with your own, until the softness of your lips was felt along covered knuckles.

A common practice in Fontaine, one Neuvillette had witnessed time and time again as he passed the lovers who congregated by the Fountain of Leucine. Actions that dedicated promises to one another. 

“I swear, once I’ve traveled enough, once I grow bored of foreign scenery, I’ll fall back down like rain to your side.” You whisper into the kiss.

It was his turn now, and he shall honor this ritual. Tenderly bringing in your hand to him, Neuvillette places his oath.

“Then I swear, when you return, I’ll tell you my name.” He whispers in the kiss.

The sterile rooms echo your airy chuckles as he keeps your hand close to himself for just a bit longer. 

“Mmm… Where I should go first? Maybe I’ll just amble about,” you ponder aloud. 

Gracing him with a smile which stretched your face and brought that familiar glimmer into your eyes.

“I wish you well on your travels.” Neuvillette presses another kiss into your knuckles. 

–

Spring was always the rainy season for Fontaine, with gentle temperate showers to welcome the budding blooms back from their Winter sleep.

However, this year the torrential downpour was anything but gentle. 

Planned trips canceled for the season, clothes remaining damp in baskets, and streets empty of their vigor. Even the Melusines couldn’t bring a skip to their steps.

It was as if time itself was slowed by the burdensome downpour. 

The cawing of crows as their wings beat against the dreary winds adds to the lonely hymn sung by the raindrops.

At once the cadence of the rain increased, the downpour growing heavier, and the violent pattering grew deafening. As if the sky was now belting out their sorrowful ballad. 

The rain could try. The skies can cry all they would like. But time, a cruel and unforgiving mistress, won’t ever stop. 

To have loved and been loved, was it truly enough? 

In Neuvillete’s eyes, he was the tide and you were the shore. The ebb and flow of water as the tide and shore met, time and time again. 

Each crash into the shore stirred up something perplexing and disorderly within the tide, irritating like the sand that mixed into the pristine waves.

So the tide tried to retreat into the lonesome ocean. 

Each time, the shore followed through grains of sand which the tide couldn’t ever seem to purge himself of. 

Each time, the shore beckoned the tide to return to the sandy beaches of humanity filled with perplexities and disorder. 

And each time, the tide surrendered to the call of the shore, lured in by its warmth. 

But now, the shore has eroded away.

Where does the tide go now?

Drifting now in the vastness of a lonesome ocean, carrying nothing but grains of sand. What shall the tide do now?

Neuvillette still has a lot to learn, for he couldn’t answer this riddle conjured by his own mind. 

Unable to stop himself, the lone dragon stares off into the rain.

Eyes honing in the direction of a peaceful hill, one where a mother and child were laid to rest side by side overlooking a homeland they never got to visit.

Maybe that was the first destination of your journey. 

During these past short years spent in this land, the young successor of the dragons has gained traitorous knowledge. One that undermines his preconceived purpose. 

Neuvillette feels he’s grasped onto the faintest inkling of why humans, as fickle, perplexing, and fleeting as they are, were still the most beloved creatures of the gods. 

Perhaps, he even understands now why those usurpers were willing to uproot the earth just for those beloved creatures. 

The wet season transitions into the dry season, then the dry season will transition into another wet season. Again and again, on and on as the hands of a clock ticks forward.

Each new tick signifies another step forward in the march of time.

Each step brings change and each step pulls the present away from the past. 

The rainy season of Spring was no longer as troublesome as it once was, as there was now a machine on the market that could dry clothes without the help of a bright star.

Melusines skip along down the paved paths of the Court of Fontaine as humans turn to greet them with endearing smiles.

New cafes line bustling streets as Clockwork Mekas make their evening patrols. 

A great many changes have come to Fontaine, Neuvillette witnessed them all from his office at the Palais Mermonia.

A great many changes, yet some things are bound to stay the same. For example, the Chief Justice’s fondness for strolls along vacant riverbanks. 

The gentle patters of raindrops lull the chaotic sympathy of trials, paperwork, and duties to a standstill. Reaching a hand out in front of him, Neuvillette catches a few drops in the palm of his gloved hand.

Lilac eyes examine the diminutive puddle in his hand before ultimately releasing the water back to the earth. 

He supposes he’s been feeling a bit nostalgic as of late, like a child recalling a story which once soothed them to a peaceful slumber. How childish it was for him to believe he could somehow catch a certain raindrop in his hands.

Turning up toward the drab sky, he searches through the endless and identical droplets that fall down and leave trails along his face. 

No, not yet. Perhaps they have yet to see all that the sky has to offer. 

Neuvillette returns his focus to the path in front of him. The rhythmic clacks of his shoes match with the soft drumming of the rain, and in the midst of this harmony a voice sings out:

“Hydro dragon… uh… Hydro dragon, don’t cry.”

Halting his stride. Judging by the unfamiliarity of their tongue pronouncing the lullaby, Neuvillette deduces they must be a visitor to Fontaine.

Ah that local legend, just how far has it spread? Nevertheless, an unfortunate traveler who’s unfamiliar with Fontaine’s seasons is now caught in this rain. 

It would only be polite to offer them some assistance as the Iudex of this nation. Thus, he turns in the direction of the call.

His suspicions were confirmed once his gaze landed on a distressed frame, their face obscured by the jacket they held over their head in a makeshift umbrella. 

It only took a few steps for the towering man to make it to their side.

“There is a tree you can take shelter under just ahead,” he advises the lost traveler.  

Now aware of his presence in front of them, they lifted the jacket from their line of sight to peer up at him. Revealing the details of their face to lilac eyes for the first time.

That was all it took for the symphony of rain to come to an end.

Soft drumming decrescendos into tranquility. It seems as if there will be an earlier welcome of flowers.  

“Oh?” You gaze up at the azure hue now peeking out from receding gray, astonishment reflected in the glimmer of your eyes. 

You’ve only heard of a local Fontainian legend from a guide pamphlet offered to tourists as you awaited the Aquabus.

When the rain suddenly began to pour as you ambled about a riverside, in a moment of desperation as you scrambled for shelter under a thin jacket you uttered the phrase.

You weren’t sure if the hydro dragon could understand your botched pronunciation, but it looks like he did.  

 Turning back to face the kind stranger, you wanted to convey your amazement to him. But the words fade just off the tip of your tongue when you peek back at the towering man.

Your eyebrows scrunch together as dumbstruck eyes widen at the sight of the drenched man.

“Mister?… Are you alright?” You scan over him, turning your attention away to sift through your pockets. 

How bewildering it must be for you to witness a well-dressed and noble figure drenched to the bone. However, Neuvillette made no attempt to stop the rivulets rolling down his cheeks, a parting gift from the Spring showers. 

He wonders as his gaze never left your frame, were tears perhaps this warm too?

“Here.” Your concern-ridden hand offers up a neatly folded handkerchief to the drenched man. 

As your eyes connect with his, a strange sensation tickled the back of your mind. As if it was trying to recall where you’ve seen the familiar lavender hue.

Maybe they matched the shade of a flower field you stumbled upon during your travels, or maybe that lilac luster was revealed to you in a dream.

A strange familiarity you couldn’t name. 

“Thank you very much.” He accepts the simple piece of cloth with tenderness rivaling that of conservators handing the renowned paintings of old masters. 

The clouds were long gone by now, perhaps they felt that their purpose had long been fulfilled. The golden rays of a lone star shone with all their brilliance, finally free from behind their blanket of drap clouds. 

It was only now that Neuvillette found out. The rain he had been yearning for all these years did in fact see all that the sky had to offer.

They had grown bored of drifting over vast plains, missing the picturesque countryside of Fontaine. Or perhaps their curiosity grew too great, wishing to finally hear a truth that was kept from them.

So much so, they quietly fell down from the sky, to return to his side again. 

Much like the hands in a clock, the cycle of water and earth follows a similar circular path. 

The rain had eroded away stubborn earth with its diligent drumming over the years.

Bit by bit and piece by piece until stone fractures into bits of sand. Over and over until a sandy beach was formed by the side of a patient sea.

Then the tide will reunite with its long-awaited shore, to return the sand and promise it cradled within its waves for so long. 

~Fin

©️vivalabunbun DON’T PLAGIARIZE, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS. 

[possiblylando]

HTP; Ghoul Lore Audio Log Spoilers/Analysis/Discussion

Dude holy shit uh Spoiler barrier and then all in cause

Okay Okay fuck where to begin this episode literally changes everything okay I guess lets start at the Draught. Based on what we know about this unique Draught, it means Grimal might not be the ghoul?? If the ghoul potentially has this Draught (which I vaguely doubt will come into play in this arc specifically) it could mean anyone could be the ghoul so long as they were only in a place without 1 other person. Atleast I assume so because if they could use this high power Dominate on multiple people simultaneously then this whole operation would be cooked from the start. While I was very mixed on the idea of Gloria as the Ghoul previously, I think its far more possible now. This high level Dominate (Lets assume 4 dots) This ghoul could have access to Rationalize or Forgetful Mind, Or any others in that category. If Grimal is was being commanded to act that could explain why everything is so suspicious around her. Have someone else go in and take care of Occam while the ghoul sits with someone else and has the perfect alibi. So now I think the possibilities for Ghoul are; 1. Grimal is the Ghoul (The Draught is a red herring and simply setting up something in a future arc instead of this current one.) 2. Gloria is the Ghoul & has this Draught; this is based more on Vibes and the fact Gloria doesn't actually do too much in part 1 outside checking Occam's pulse. If she's the ghoul and commanded someone (Namely Grimal) to attack Occam, she would have a vested interested in knowing if the attack was successful. Okay thats about it for my thoughts on the Ghoul right now. Onto the far more important bit of this episode. Because this was not simpyl a Ghoul Lore episode, THIS WAS A MARCKUS LORE EPISODE TROJAN HORSE.

But before the deep Marckus shit- Markus was 12 in 1988. Door was present and seems to be in his 20s or 30s. Boy has not been born yet and Boy is 11 in 2006 so he was born in like 1995. So I think its reasonable to place door as being in his 20s here, having Boy in his 30s. This means Door is probably 8-15? (Maybe) years older than Markus which would make him roughly 40 in modern day. D does look markedly younger in these photographs but I'm not sure if thats art style or actually because he's aged. It does put a damped on my thoughts about D being MUCH older than he seems. But we do know his previous Ex-Wife Rozalia (The Ghoul) is roughly 108 in modern day. It seems to be implied D had met & later married her after she was pretty deep into being a ghoul so there probably was a large age gap already. But it still kinda stands out to me. D is very afraid or Marckus becoming a Ghoul because he sees himself in him. I don't necessarily think D was a ghoul (thought it could explain his weird age). Thought all this might be confirmation Bias as in the more recent episodes D's hair has been more consistently colored with grey streaks when compared to earlier episodes where it was more like a sheen in his hair. It just feels like D has done too much to only be roughly in his 60-70s and very fit. While older people can certainly be in good physical condition it doesnt seem like D has suffered any real negatives from aging? He's MINIMUM 18 years older than Door who is in his 40s but again that's a low ball. I don't know. Alright time for the Marckus stuff. So its rather basic background knowledge that HTP's main cast is inspired by the cast of Warhammer 40k TTS. Now up until this point I had thought it was mostly a baseline thing. Only really carrying over personalities and vague relationships between characters while having the freedom to change them with that background knowledge. But based on this episode it appears to be more relevant.

Whatever the fuck Marckus managed to summon, It was something not even D understood. This is in directly parallel with 40k's Magnus who Marckus is based on. For those who don't know about 40k lore (I don't blame you its VERY long.), Magnus is a Primarch (Emperor's special kids) who ended up being manipulated by 40k's god of trickery and ended up fucking up literally everything because of his lack of thinking things through and the influence of said trickster god. Gods in 40k are manifestations of humanity (and alien's) collective subconscious minds and often take the forms of their most volatile negative aspects. They're entited formed from 'The Warp' which is the source of magic in 40k. Magnus is very naturally tuned to the warp. Almost all the issues in TTS (and 40k) relating to Magnus are because he has a MASSIVE complex. He craves parental affection and affirmation but in TTS every time he thinks hes denied it, some shit goes wrong. When he actually gets that parental affection (Earlier season 2 iirc) he mellows out alot until finding out the only reason the emperor (D's counterpart) brought him back was so that Magnus would act as a pawn and decoy in his 5d chess game to deal with political enemies. Magnus is not happy about this. With all this background information, whats present in this episode slots into place. Marckus seems to have forgotten about the incident yes. The better case is that he blocked out the memory due to trauma. But the worse possibility is that a seed was planted. One that's been festering within him since that time. D may be planning to tell Marckus everything in a few months, But I get the feeling before those months are up, That seed will sprout. In one form or another, Marckus will be given the option to go down the same path of darkness as his predecessor. I don't think Marckus would go for such a path without a push but the one providing that push might be D, even if unintentionally. D is so focused on the forest that he's missing the trees.

[tyttamarzh]

Tallulah is Phil and Missa's daughter.

This will probably be very long, so if you want to read it, go grab some popcorn and get comfortable.

I have to talk about this because it's eating me up inside. I think I shouldn't give so much importance to comments coming from sewers like Twitter and much less Tiktok, but it makes me so sick (and I'm such a masochist that I even spend time looking for the shit they say to make me angrier and debate them xD).

I am very happy that it was finally made official, with papers certified by the federation, that Tallulah is the daughter of Philza and Missa, I think that was not entirely necessary for them, because they had assumed it for a long time (let's assume that Tallulah needed the pappers to end her W arc), although I suppose that more than anything it was done for those people who still cannot accept it or who deny the paternity of Phil and Missa (With Missa, although it bothers me, I can even understand it, he He hasn't been as present and many people don't know him, but god, it would be a crime to deny Tallulah's paternity to Phil, the man who has kept her alive and given everything for her throughout her life).

I'm glad that, although I have seen negative comments, the majority have been positive (even if it hurts them, it doesn't matter, it's official, screw them). Mainly, the negative comments have been from defenders of W and their arguments are so poor and weak that they are easily refuted. It is obvious that these people do not know Tallulah and have never met her, many do not even know how things turned out and say nonsense like that the current Llulah is an imposter, that it is not fair that they "rewrote" history and erased W (which It is false, Llulah's words make it clear that history was never changed, she simply moved on and that person remained in the past).

I refuted all those arguments on Twitter but screw Twitter, I hate the fucking character limit. So I'm going to expand (I have a lot of poison to get out of my skin). I have some points:

1- "That's not Tallulah" Of course it is her, those who witnessed her life and her growth during the year that passed, can realize that this was her natural evolution. She is the same girl who grew up overcoming her limitations, who suffered, who felt alone, who had abandonment problems, who everyone saw as a poor abandoned girl and who found comfort next to someone who has always loved her like a father and a brother who gave everything for her.

2- "They erased all her lore" No. Tallulah's lore is the one she built with Philza and Chayanne over the course of the year they lived together. Her relationship with W and her longing for him was only part of her story (although people made a lot of emphasis on that), but it was not the only thing that defined her, it never was and only people who never got to met her think that. They see her like an extension of that other person, as the only thing that kept him on the server, but did not see her as an individual character and definitely did not watch Phil's Vods and they never really knew her lore.

3-"How do they explain this in the lore?" Simple, there was someone in her life, someone who was her first father, but who spent very little time with her, who left a long time ago and who is currently no longer part of her life. She learned to let go of the past and focused in the family she has in the present, the family that loves her, that watched her grow up, that makes her happy and gives her security to believe in herself and that is the Death Family, Chayanne, Philza and Missa. Time passes, not all people stay, treasure those who are by your side and let go of what never brought you anything but pain.

4- "They should have created another egg and replaced her" Why replaceher? It has no sense or reason. She is a character who built her own story with her family, a story that never really involved that other person other than with one or another sporadic mention, why eliminate a character that evolved by itself? Little by little she separated herself from what she was at the beginning and that bond that she had with that first father was practically non-existent. What would be the point of eliminating it or replace her with another new character?

5- "No matter what other parents and appearance give her, she will always belong to W because she still carries the name he gave her" No. She never belonged to him. She lived with that man for 2 days and apart from leaving him the promise of a reunion, she did not contribute anything else to her life. She formed her own path, her passion for music was not because of him, it was something she already had before, her love for nature, for animals, everything was built in the days she lived with Philza (even with uncle Bad). She suffered for her first father but she moved on, she matured, she discovered her link with death and her powers as a medium, she acquired her own personality and little by little she built the Tallulah she is now.

She never belonged to anyone but herself and she always fought to prove that, but people insisted on dumping trauma on her and reminding her that she was an abandoned child waiting for someone who at a certain point was nothing more than an idealized dream, because There was never a real relationship between them, they never lived together long enough. She little by little made her decisions and chose the people she wanted to be her parents (and it's not that she had few options, Quackity, Bad and even F wanted to adopt her at the time and asked them to, but she was not a girl who was looking for parents). She could choose and she chose Philza, the person who had always been there for her and later she chose Missa, someone who despite not knowing her very well gave her his love unconditionally and gave her security when she needed it. Then she was able to feel the warmth of being part of a complete family.

6- "They should change her name because W gave her that name! That impostor is not Tallulah!" Why? Her name is not anyone's intellectual property, at the time it was given to her, it belonged to her for better or worse and yes, in some way it will always be a tie to her past, but a past she has already left behind and managed to overcome by creating new memories and dreams.

To a certain extent I understand those who became attached to her because she reminded them of that other person, but if they couldn't see her as her own character, it means that they never cared enough to make the effort to get to know her.

It would shock us all if a character we liked suddenly changed drastically and left behind what like us in the first place. But if they had really watched her, they would have realized that the change was not sudden, it was gradual.

She found in Phil a protective and understanding father who always put her and her brother before anything else, who suffered with her her pain and outbursts of frustration due to the depression caused by the absence of her first father. She found in Missa a cute and loving father who always showers her with love and helps her to have confidence in herself. She doesn't lack anything with them. She has closed a cycle of pain in her life and now she can heal.

She chose the look that makes her feel finally free to be herself, whatever the external reasons that led to that, she finally has a future ahead of her unbound by the past and prefers to be more like the people she considers her family now. If you can't see what all of this really meant to Tallulah and her evolution, it's because you never cared to see even 20% of her story. Well, since the middle of last year she began her journey to break away from a name and be herself, fighting to be seen for who she was.

If those people decide to continue supporting someone despite his shit, that is their right, but the server and the admin were also within their right to decide to kick him out and want to distance themselves from a person they consider unpleasant.

7-There were comments of another type, mainly from people who are really very lost with the lore, people who consider her the daughter of Quackity, even confusing her with Tilín (saying that Q didn't know if she was the daughter of W or Luzu and that she should get a DNA test), when we all know that from the beginning she was W's daughter as a single father and that the only reason Quackity could have become Tallulah's father was if to marry W, but that never happened, W didn't come back and Quackity was never able to develop that relationship with Llulah, she considered him a possible father because she knew W loved him, but Q always being kidnapped or something, they never really related much. There are people who, even with a certificate, continue to insist that Tallulah should have been given to Quackity to raise with Luzu (she had a tender interaction with Luzu and people were already asking him to adopt her, saying that she was alone and had no parents, I seriously hate them!) I shouldn't take seriously people who obviously haven't seen Philza even once and I know that many of those people are hispanic and are limited by the language barrier but if they don't have the slightest idea They shouldn't give their opinion… Tallulah is not an object to be passed from hand to hand, she chose and in order to do so she had to go through a very long and painful arc.

8- I firmly believe that it is a great win to now have a certificate that endorses who the people she considers her parents are, but I insist, it was not necessary, because that has been known for a long time and I am sure that if it was created it was to close the mouth mouth to all those people who are not capable of accepting that.

Tallulah is the daughter of Philza and Missa (and no one else), she is part of the Death Family, that is her story, it is not a whim, a whim is continuing to link her to something she is no longer a part of or wanting to make her a part of a lore that never happened or wanting to give her other parents different from the ones she grew up with (Quackity already had Tilín, Richas and now Pepito, I don't think she needs more children and Tallulah doesn't need any more shitty drama in her life).

Tallulah is a beautiful being, both with her old look and with the new and as Missa says "She deserves only the beautiful things in the world"

Tallulah is Phil and Missa's daughter!!! Tallulah is Phil and Missa's daughter!!! Tallulah is Phil and Missa's daughter!!! And I can shout it a thousand times because it's true and she always was, but now it's certified by the government and no amount of complaining or tantrums can change that fact.

Sorry for my bad english. See you!! jajaja ando re agresiva, pero es que nadie se mete con mi familia xD

[gojuo]

Ryan condom forgot that after rhaenyras death we sre supposed to follow aegon if he wants to continue after nyras death so he can put at the end of the series the crown on aegon III, so he eather tries to make people view aegon possitively or have the series end with nyras death and the crown on aegon’s head and people will riot like they did with the mad queen end of got, either way he deserves the hate he is going to get at the end of hotd. But now that i tnik of it the series starts with rhaenyra doing a voice over telling her story so i wonder if he will change the end of the story and all the lore just to have finally a targ kween sit at the iron throne

i've been saying this since forever but making rhaenyra the unequivocal protagonist of the story + writing this show with a protagonist-centered morality framework + shoving 30 years of court drama and political intrigue building up to the actual war in a measly 10 episodes is a huge fucking mistake because

1. the portion of the dance in f&b starts with alicent reading to king jaehaerys as he lays dying, and the dance eventually ends when alicent herself dies. this is thematically important

2. daemon is the unequivocal villain of everyone's story in the dance, including rhaenyra's, and him staying that way is just better and (i'm loath to say it) cooler for his character & arc

3. like asoiaf/got, they should have had multiple protagonists povs spanning different locations for viewers to follow. the teams debate + emotional investment, stakes and satisfaction would have been far more balanced that way

4. rhaenyra dies long before the war ends anyway. like please think ahead when you're writing a show like this dawg

5. aegon just has a better character arc than rhaenyra does (especially if he kills himself). bias aside, it's just factual 🤷‍♀️

6. season 2's issue is the glacial pacing of character arcs (and some are... straight up just stagnant) while the plot moves its merry way along. we went from blood and cheese to harrenhal exile to rook's rest to regency era to now the sowing but the character work isn't there (and continues to not be there since the set ups and pay offs are almost all offscreened or nonsensical) because condal & co have structured the story in a way that skips 30 years worth of character work and arcs and relationships in favor of getting to the action immediately. they're suffering from that decision now in season 2 rightfully so

[certifiablyinsanez]

This post is dedicated to our favorite sexual sacrifice, Emberlynn Pinkle, and why she is an important character even if we never see her again. Let’s buckle in for a crazy character analysis of someone we’ve only seen for 4 minutes.

There are many facets of this short that hold importance, including but not limited to the mysterious pendant, any potential foreshadowing, parallels between Emberlynn and pre-Ozzie’s Stolas, etc. What I want to talk about is the character of Emberlynn herself and what is truly represents.

Many anti’s of the show are foaming at the mouth over her, particularly the fact that Emberlynn is a caricature of the Hellaverse fandom that was created specifically to make fun of us. Funnily enough, many of us who have been in actual fandom spaces are not unfamiliar with people like Emberlynn, and at some point, a fair number of us admit to being like her, which is the main thing I want to touch on.

People watering Emberlynn and the short down to a cheap shot at fandoms and fans of the show is intellectually lazy. It can be seen as a critique of peoples’ own biases considering many of us that have been in fandom spaces have done so for a long time. And it’s funny, because these people have been threatening to doxx fans, harm them, send messages to their bosses to get them fired, to schools so they’d lose scholarships, etc. The kind of people that would order a hit on us in hell…Many anti’s and people who are against cringe culture often participate in it unwittingly. Take for instance, the anti’s of the Hellaverse shows who dedicate entire blogs to picking apart everything from character interaction to even three second frames. They take over the tags associated with the fandom just so they can pump bitter content out, and are actively hostile when fans confront them over their weird behavior. Because fans of Helluva Boss or Hazbin Hotel are normally not the kind of people who would watch entire seasons, keep up on content and lore, or interact with actors and fandom over something they hate. We would just…not watch it and not interact. And it’s that kind of strange behavior that is intrinsic in fandom. Fandom spaces have forever had a dark side, that much is undeniable, but now more than ever there has been an influx of people unaccustomed and socially unequipped to participate and interact in the spaces that have been infesting it.

I have been in fandom spaces since 2013 and my first fandom was Hetalia. If you know you know. Many people in these spaces have been targeted for being “freaks” for years, but the areas where we have thrived, made friends and enjoyed ourselves was relatively untouched by the “normies”. That’s definitely changed in recent years, especially when the pandemic forced people who would normally socialize in other spaces come to ours. We all remember alt fashion blowing up in 2020 just for people to be finding entire wardrobes of it at goodwill not even 2 years later. And when they came in, they started adding rules and stipulations. They would allow themselves permission to interact with us weirdo outcasts, but only in a way that could give them plausible deniability later when they knew the trend wouldn’t last. They would enter a space that was nerdy and when furry iconography would show up they would whine about furries “making it weird” when it was already “weird”. They would dress and call themselves punk but still think it was important to listen to “both sides”. And when it comes to the Hellaverse, it’s popular, and entering the mainstream via Amazon picking up Hazbin, but if you’re not willing to be critical of its unsavory parts then you’re complicit in things like rape, violence, drug use, etc.

These people have infiltrated our community, which sounds extreme but when I remember it from my teen years vs now, I think these people genuinely would’ve combusted on sight. Like I said before, I was in the Hetalia fandom for many years. If you don’t remember, people were cosplaying as Germany and doing the Nazi salute at cons and concentration camps. It was bad. It was equivalent to our new blackface Alastor controversy. Back then, the fandom handled it ourselves. We all agreed that that was unacceptable behavior, and people would express disgust, but they were also productive. Fans would post about how we needed to realize that there was real history behind this show and that we needed to be mindful when participating in that environment. I saw many cosplayers altering their costumes to be more mindful. Germany cosplayers would refuse to wear iron cross, which isn’t even technically solely fascisitic in nature, but did it anyway because it was seen as respectful. I’ve seen a resurgence of the fandom on tiktok recently and all of us are allowing ourselves to enjoy it, because for years we had to pretend that we were stupid weirdos for liking it to begin with. Fandom has to allow itself to be cringe again, as it has been affected by people that are in an echo chamber of self righteousness and acceptability.

Getting back to Emberlynn, I have hardly ever seen a take off of a character like this. Even when it was shown that Baxter was coming in season 2 of Hazbin I saw maybe a handful of fan arts and videos. But Emberlynn has EXPLODED. I watched the short when it had been out for only 26 minutes, and within the hour my feeds across all social media were full of her.

I genuinely think that it’s because she is the epitome of fandom, where all of our cringe has been rolled into one character. Her self insert name is literally a reference to old fandom. She’s a proshipper, a selfshipper, she gets into shipping wars and has been fighting with people online for almost a decade. She said the pendant was from an episode “569”, which is strange wording because episodes aren’t usually formatted that way in any sort of media, which could potentially mean that she’s watched over 500 episodes of Akuma no Otto. Her room is full of pornographic material, figurines, the BODY PILLOW. I mean come on. Her parents are fully aware that she watches hentai. She was upstairs moaning and crying while interacting with Blitz and being stabbed and her parents did not go up to check on her, nor think it was out of the ordinary. She is pastel goth, a subset of the gothic culture, and writes self insert fanfiction. She’s A MONSTERFUCKER. HELLO?? When everyone in the Hellverse is as hot as they are…come on. When she dies and goes to hell her sinner form has furry influences. All of us love her because even if we were never fully like her (ie stalkerish, obsessive), we’ve been like her in some way at some point, or even now. I write fanfiction. I’m part of alternative fashion and culture. I’ve been into cringe stuff for a while. I’m not necessarily super into furry stuff, but I love the suits, the artistry and even had an idea for an oc once. My profile pic is literally my Sinner OC.

Emberlynn is a return to form for the standard of fandom spaces and I think to those of us that truly embrace the lifestyle, it’s refreshing. She does not exist in the realm of acceptability; she’s fat, intense and unapologetic. And yet, she’s still super hot, funny, and entertaining. We don’t love her because she’s a respectable fan, we adore her because she’s insane. I’m a cofounder of a Facebook group about being fans of the Vees and we all agree that she would actually do well with Valentino, because that cutie needs some disrespectful eldrich cock ASAP lol. It’s refreshing, and even if we never see her again, I still find her completely relevant and interesting.

Emberlynn Light’ness Demonanya Pinkle, you are PRECIOUS.

[felassan]

Notes and thoughts on the August 30th dev Discord Q&A. (this post contains DA:TV spoilers from the recent Q&A).

Mother Ghil is a herbalist 😌

"there are opportunities in conversations, in dialogue, in scenes where you will, you know - a companion may ask you for a hug because they’re having a rough time and you are able to give it to them"

🥺😭 I'm worried (but in a good way, pls hurt me storylines) because this reminds me of DA:I when the Inquisitor can hug Varric after something incredibly sad happens as a result of our choices (Hawke's death in the Fade) oughh.

Influence on the fate of nations? 👁️

"Rook does become a fairly important figure" - this reminds me of Solas' line in a past trailer: "They call me the Dread Wolf. What will they call you when this is over?"

UNDERWEAR CHOICES

Taash is babey 🥺 it makes sense why in this screenshot she looks young. if Taash is in her early 20s, say 23, that means she probably can't have been one of the Five Belles of Hunter Fell as that was in 9:42 and she would have been like 13

Here is some further info about companion ages that came out since the time of the Q&A

Harding had to have been at least 18 ten years ago in 9:42 when she joined the Inquisition and became Lead Scout, so must be at least 28. but I think older, as I think she was older than 18 in DA:I by a fair few years. like around early to mid 20s at that point in time.

"they’re all people who have been through a lot [...] they’ve been through a tremendous amount by this point by the time you meet them" 🥺😭

"They’re more linear than some of the other parts of the game, because we feel that’s how we can tell the best stories, give you a very intentionally-paced experience, y'know, with lulls and climaxes, so it really hits you."

This was how Trespasser was and it was the best part of DA:I, the storytelling and narrative beats in that DLC were soo good.

Hossberg Wetlands! - new location confirmed, and also described as being one of the biggest like Arlathan Forest. also new location just dropped, Hossberg existed before in the lore but I don't remember hearing about the Wetlands! Hossberg is the capital of the Anderfels. it'll be awesome to see more of the Anderfels than only Weisshaupt. by the name these wetlands must be nearby Hossberg. I wonder whether they're around the Lattenfluss or more around this body of water to the south of Hossberg? the area around Kassel looks wet with multiple bodies of water, but there the nearest settlement is Kassel. we also learned that there's a Davrin-oriented quest there that he can show up in with Assan and help you clear the way forward

also, I remember reading before that "Thedas’s separate regions are connected by The Crossroads, which will allow players to venture out into", but from how The Crossroads was described in the Q&A, they sound kind've like an explorable area in and of themselves in the game like they were in Trespasser, and that's exciting. :D I'm so excited to explore in there some more and see how it has changed from DA:I/Trespasser:

"but this, isn’t necessarily the Crossroads as you remember it. So you’ll be able to explore this, this part of the Crossroads, and as you’re there, you’re absolutely gonna be discovering new areas, new quests, mysteries and new challenges"

like this sounds very 👁️. The Veil has been having a rough time lately and magic has been flowing into the world. reality is warping in places like Arlathan. we've seen the effects this sort of thing is having on the waking world. but what about the effects this is happening on the Fade and Fadey dimensions? I wonder if this game will still reflect that the Crossroads looks different for elves compared to other lineages?

"I wanna see that big 100% completed on my map. That’s gonna take you quite a bit of time."

I love that. :D

I totally agree that the cloth sim and hair sim in the game is beautiful and looks beautiful. you can see this when characters move their heads or when their capes and things move around as they move. its so cool!

"there is a unique Venatori-themed helmet. I, I don’t want to spoil what that is exactly, but, so, you can get a helmet, it is unique, it’s pretty interesting and ties into some of the events that can happen in the game but I’m just gonna leave it there."

inchresting... this helmet sounds like it has special powers or attributes and has some sort of presence in a possible plot somewhere.

I will still romance Strife Dragonage in my dreams

while Rook's romance is within the companions, iirc was mentioned elsewhere that sometimes companions may find romance both inside and outside of the party

Cat Vibing To Ievan Polkka

KFM: "So Taash breathes fire, Lucanis has wings, Harding is a dwarf who has magic. A lot of our companions have some strange abilities - is this because the Veil is compromised?" JE: "Oh, I’d say it’s, I mean partially yeah. I mean, we’ve talked before about how over the course of the time since Dragon Age: Inquisition, I mean, it started at the end of Trespasser. The Veil’s not in great shape. Corypheus already did a number on it, and Solas has very clearly, as you saw, in the [inaudible] preview, not been making things better in the intervening times. [...] because there’s all this magic that’s coming back to the world through the torn Veil"

This is inchresting and ties to what was said in these two previous quotes:

Lore/art direction: “Magic has started seeping into the world through Solas’ ritual”, “and so you’re seeing the effects of that on the space, and on the visuals as well” [post this is from, original source. original source is a John Epler interview video]

“Epler, who writes Bellara, tells me about her place in Thedas as an elf and the connection elves have to the magic of the world. He says if you’ve paid attention to the franchise, you likely already know that elves are historically an oppressed people in the games. Now, with two of their gods on the loose in Veilguard, magic has poured back into the world in a big way. […] A Quick Detour: Magic During my discussion, Epler spoke about magic’s place in the world and how it differs in Veilguard from previous Dragon Age games. Here’s what he said: "Historically, as you’ve mentioned, we’ve been in the south of Thedas and south Thedas is Ferelden, Orlais. Both are fairly still oppressed, they still have circles. Mages are viewed with suspicion, but Tevinter has always been this land where mages rule, mages are in charge, mages make the rules, mages run the show. So what does that look like? And as we’ve gone through [Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition], magic has become more and more present. And part of that is because Solas has been slowly preparing this ritual for longer than anyone in the Dragon Age universe is really aware of, but also, just going into the spaces where magic is, by definition and by the lore, much, much more present. And it’s been fun because, again, we do have rules; we want to make sure we’re not violating the lore or violating things we’ve said before. But it’s also, again, that permissiveness of, ‘Okay, what is the most interesting way to do this? What’s the most interesting way to tell the story? [In] Origins, II, on the Eclipse engine, we could talk about this fantastical magic, but the engine didn’t really allow us to show it. For the first time, we’re really able to let the visuals speak for themselves and not have to tell the player, ‘Trust us, it’s spectacular; this magic is really cool.’ We can actually show you and let you drink it in.” [post this is from, archive post of the original article as that went down when GI did]

The effects of this on space, reality, visuals, people and their abilities, ancient elven artifacts turning back on, and Solas' activities being part of what affected things in the time since DA:I. I wanna speculate that these ancient elven artifacts turning back on or becoming active again is part of why reality has been warping and "something [going] wrong" in Arlathan Forest. I wonder if the Morlyn clan journal relic began rewriting itself as a consequence of the magic returning.

Bellara was an interesting example though, she's a mage not a non-mage like Taash, Lucanis, Harding. was I parsing this right - is the implication that she wouldn't be able to interface with the artifacts that have turned back on if the Veil was in better shape and magic hadn't been pouring back in?

^ Bellara interfacing with an artifact

All the talk of magic coming back into the world are like Sandal's prophecy:

One day the magic will come back - all of it. Everyone will be just like they were. The shadows will part and the skies will open wide. When he rises, everyone will see.

and reminds of a few other bits too:

Ardent Blossom Faerie: "Pulling back the curtain. Let the light in. Let it burn. Bring faith. Bring hope. Bring dreams of life. - Morrigan: "Change is coming to the world. Many fear change, and will fight it with every fibre of their being. But sometimes change is what they need most. Sometimes, change is what sets them free." - Flemeth: "We stand upon the precipice of change."

I loved hearing about Bellara's friendships with Lucanis and Neve. it sounds so well thought-out, and I'm looking forwards to learning the relationships between each companion!!

Bellara believing that family is deeply important combined with a previous quote about her backstory,

"Whereas Bellara is somebody who has seen tragedy, and as you get into her character arc and get into her backstory, you realize this is a character who has seen a lot of tragedy"

makes me wonder if this tragedy has involved her family and if her family are okay. 🥺

Lucanis' belief in the deep importance of family makes me worried in case any of his personal arc/story involves the family tensions he has with Illario and Caterina

I love that Bellara collects newspaper clippings and was basically Neve fan before meeting her!

Neve must be a fairly prominent, well-known/successful private detective/investigator to have formed a large profile in print media

Taash and Emmrich [...] When you’re out in the field like exploring, or on missions with them, their banter is so good, because they do not see eye-to-eye on necromancy, like, at all, and, it’s really funny, it’s really delightful, I love seeing how it evolves

as a necromancer Emmrich doesn’t have a problem with necromancer (makes sense). I wonder what Taash dislikes about it? is it its bad reputation (per Josie in DA:I)? Solas freed the weak spirit the Mortalitasi in Tevinter Nights had bound to stir her drink. maybe Taash doesn’t like the binding part, or the undead helpers or servants part? maybe she just doesn't like the dead the way Bull doesn't like demons?

Having to figure out how Harding's new powers layer into her combat kit - Harding's new magical powers are part of her gameplay abilities confirmed!

Harding can also do Heavy Draw

Interesting - the more you help a faction the more gear you get from them. between that and transmog it means everyone can access the Antivan Crows awesome threads if they wanna :D

Both the specs and gear are themed around particular factions like aesthetically but aren't exclusive-to-them when it comes to use/gameplay

It sounds like each faction will have a quartermaster

Veil Jumper lore! they tend towards electricity/lightning damage and archery in their fighting style. and in general they're practically minded and dress as such because where they go and what they do requires care and protection and is dangerous, they wear boots/shoes etc for this reason

Veil Ranger info! it tends towards electricity, use of the Veil and use of that kind of magic. it also uses archery

The answer to the question about the Evoker spec made me reassured about the answer I wrote here ^^;

Great news that any piece of gear we find will unlock the appearance of that gear and how it can be applied to anything we want <3

Training dummy cosmetic - joke gear pieces like the Wedge of Destiny live on :D

I'm so psyched that we can even transmog our casual wear!! that's so cool and allows for so much agency. I find when I play mages in the past I'm always looking for the.. least magiest-looking mage gear to wear, and previously there wasn't crazy amounts of choice in casual wear, so this is amazing dbgfjdbd

very personal GIFTS for the blorbos 🥺 the gift system sounds so lovely and thoughtful. I think maybe some of the empty shelves that can be seen in the new screenshots of the companion rooms in the Lighthouse just miiight be where the companions will display the gifts

"A really big thing for us on this project is making sure that the gameplay reflects the characters, their arc and their personality as much as possible, so."

looking real hard at Lucanis' wings rn, especially given the context of what else we know about him 👁️

"you’re not even going to see everything necessarily in a couple of playthroughs"

Aaaaaa :D

as a warrior fan the love for the warrior class was really heartening. (love you Inky)

The Missing setting up some of the characters we'll see in the game makes me even more sure that alongside Strife&Irelin and Evka&Antoine we'll see Teia&Viago in the game (plus the characters in the release date reveal trailer that totally look like them ofc)

Emphasis that themes and events/things present and explored in Tevinter Nights are present in the game

It sounds like Vows & Vengeance is set in the weeks before the prologue of DA:TV kicks off

There is a buff called Rally Party where Rook triggers a surge in their companion's ability

MAAEEEEEEEEEE 😭😭😭 this was so good I was like yelling OMG. I'm sooo happy about this, this is so great. she's been on my 'DA4 wishlist of stuff' for so long and we waited to meet her since 2012 (12 years ago!!!). I'm soo excited to meet her oh my god. this reveal was honestly the highlight of the whole Q&A. pack it up, we can go home now. Mae.. 😭 I hope we get to see her interact with Varric. and I wonder if she has some involvement with the Shadow Dragons (Varric said something about "some old friends in Tevinter said the Shadow Dragons were pog to work with" in the gameplay reveal..), and how things are going with her and Dorian's faction the Lucerni

It sounds like Lucanis' parents were killed at some point in some Crow-Crow politics. probably when he was quite young, since when Lucanis thinks back on being raised by Caterina she did things like making him spend days without food or water, which makes it sound like he was quite young when he entered her care

No jealousy dialogue is interesting

I hope for a poly romance option in a future game

ABILITY TO SAVE CHARACTER APPEARANCES for use later in CC aaaa. Amazinggg. thankyouuu. a lot of thought has been put into the quality of life features of this game :') pausing cutscenes is another great one.

KFM: "The question is, is Lucanis possessed?" JE: "So, again, spoilers, everyone has been warned, fairly warned. So Lucanis Dellamorte is also known as The Demon of Vyrantium. And, he has spent a lot of time killing Venatori, who are mages, and who do know a lot about demons, so. Yeah, somebody decided that it might be a good idea to make that nickname stick."

👁️👁️👁️ Aaaaa. Inchrestinggg. From this and The Wigmaker Job I would guess that this "somebody" who decided that and did that to him is Zara Renata. she ended that short story like [evil anime villain laugh] "huehuehue":

"From flying vermin to malicious spirit. That's quite the promotion." [...] "A true maleficar knows demons cannot be killed, only controlled. If this Crow fancies himself a demon, then I look forward to using him to his full potential. He'll be duly punished"

Who else could the "someone" be? Zara, when I catch you.. 😠

I'm sure it will be different this time around as it always is! - both Wynne's situation (the specifics of it, how it came around, the effect it had on her) and how it was explored in the story was different to Anders' which was again different to Justice's in DA:O's to Cole's etc. (speaking veeery broadly in terms of the 'spirit companion' archtype, I know for example that Cole isn't possessed, simply a spirit. yk what I mean). I'm super curious about the take on this theme this time around ^^

(Lucanis possession-y-type-situation evidence [plus his demon-y looking tarot art, plus the wings and purple magic abilities of course])

I love the agency companions are given by them showing up in the field to help you, waiting for you somewhere on a quest they want to go on, or you encountering them out randomly somewhere doing there own thing (like the tidbit from a magazine about encountering Neve). it makes them feel like real people

I wonder if Taash's keen interest in the main story mission & the challenges of its arc in the far reaches of Arlathan Forest (it's strong enough that she shows up there impatiently if you don't take her) has something to do with the eluvian that's in her room?

"Far reaches of Arlathan Forest" is music to my ears btw as someone who has wanted to explore in there for the longest time

"You’ve just been around them, you’re aware of their techniques, and you wanna take that on yourself." - sensical explanation of what 'specs are aligned with/tied to factions' means ^^

KFM: "This next question is, where is the equator in Thedas, or the planet Thedas is on, relative to places we’ve explored?" JE: "That is a great question. So, I will say that, you know, it’s funny until I saw this question, it’s not something I’d ever thought a lot about, but as I started thinking about it a little bit more deeply, based on how the climate changes across Thedas, you know, obviously, to the south are the Avvar and things get a little bit more wintry, and then up north is a lot more tropical, I’d say that Thedas is a southern continent on this world, so."

I feel like the answer that was given here matches what a lot of fans have speculated or headcanoned on this topic. ^^

"There are these times where a companion, either their faction or their story arc is so closely tied or intersects with the events of a main story mission that they do become required, but it’s not the standard"

This makes sense. It sounds like Liara on Thessia in ME3.

When someone asked "Can a companion leave due to your world decisions, and if so, will their partners leave with them?" and John Epler mentioned that he would only answer half of this question as the other half is a spoiler, it made me wonder if companions will leave at certain times due to our world decisions

No mechanic behind companion-companion romances is so nice, it's more organic and real that way. I'm really looking forward to seeing the friendships and relationships between the companions develop

DAVRIN INFOOO 😭🙏 He sounds amazing. I wonder which companions in particular bring out his kindness

"He’s not just a Warden who sees fighting monsters as, you know, just part of the job. He believes in turning this into a skill-set that he alone, you know like, he has more than anyone else. Learning how to defeat monsters, learning their weaknesses, and that does show up a lot in his character arc, so."

this ties back to a related quote from a lil while ago.

I know it can be inferred from her vallaslin, but this Q&A is the first place I remember (atm) Bellara specifically being stated to be Dalish

We already saw each companion's Lighthouse casual wear here

Emmrich?? what are his casual threads like? :D

I wonder if Lucanis being one of the team cooks is part of why he appears to sleep in the kitchen storage/pantry

"It’s funny, I’d say that Dragon Age: The Veilguard is probably the most we’ve talked about food in a context of Dragon Age, ever" - it makes sense that it was only recently that the DA cookbook came out hh :D

Some of the companions being so bad at cooking that they'd burn water and die took me out. who do you think are the ones that aren't even 'passable' cooks but terrible ones hh? :D

So do the Crows in general quite enjoy the finer things in life and in food?

I wonder if part of Lucanis' interest in food and cooking stems from when he was young and Caterina made him go for days without food and water? :(

"So one of the things I really love is, you know, Bellara and Lucanis actually end up being, essentially, the team cooks. Bellara, you know, spending a lot of time out in nature, learning a lot about, you know, different types of cooking, is really big on experimentation, she likes to, you know, try different things. Lucanis comes from the Crows, Lucanis is very big on the finer things, so between the two of them, there’s a point in the story where they basically decide, if we don’t do this, the entire team is going to starve, so let’s just call ourselves the cook, cooks, and make sure that nobody dies of food poisoning, so."

I love this so much 🥺💜 ooh my heart. (its so wholesome and so funny at the same time). also Bellara's creativity and love of learning and exploring expresses itself in her cooking too!

It's great that fine, fancy dwarven-style beards are returning :D I wonder if there are also hairs with beads woven in? Strand hair in the beards 👌 beard physics working with different armors 👌 (amazing work!!). Dwarf Rooks shown before launch 👌 as many options in CC being universal as possible 👌 I love what I'm hearing!! I would guess from this that it means hair isn't gender-locked and mostly isn't lineage-locked (I can understand qunari hair may have to be) and things like that.

It wasn't in doubt ofc but this Q&A is the first time I remember hearing a clear mention that Solas was written by Trick Weekes in DA:TV

I'm really curious about the Rook faction background-dialogue with that same companion. it sounds like some have only heard of them and some may have known them a bit more directly. Like for example, is Antivan Crow Rook also from House Dellamorte, or another Antivan Crow house? Has Grey Warden Rook ever been to Weisshaupt (some Wardens don't seem to have)? Did Veil Jumper Rook ever go on adventures with Bellara? Did Emmrich and Mourn Watcher Rook ever be direct colleagues in the Necropolis? etc.

"maybe even heard of you leaving the faction to go help Varric to track down Solas" - this snippet makes it sound like part of Rook's backstory may involve having left their background faction when getting picked up/tapped by Varric for the work. inchresting

This screenshot shows an example of the Veilguard team hanging out together

"Rook and Solas have a connection, they have a bond'' - my guess is this is to do with Rook interfering with Solas' ritual, and the Lyrium dagger passing from Solas to Rook

I'm curious about the differences in Solas' connection/relationship with Rook to the one he had with the Inquisitor

"there are followers who, you know, are going to have a more complicated connection and complicated relationship with just, Solas as an entity, you know, Bellara, for example, is an elf, she’s Dalish, and this a person from her pantheon, so. There’s going to be a lot more of a, I guess, like I said, complex relationship between the two of them. Davrin is another example, someone else who is Dalish, so, you know, their views on the gods in general are going to be a little bit different"

I was happy to hear this. ^^ it would be odd if this sort of thing wasn't explored or at least acknowledged in the game. you can hear a bit of this in Bellara's release date trailer line, "Our gods are back. Our gods." it was also hinted at a bit in this Game Informer article I feel.

It sounds like Bellara and Davrin have slightly differing views on the elven gods.

It's so cool that we have 2 Dalish elf companions in the team this time! I missed a Dalish perspective in the roster in DA:I.

Turning off some of the UI components is great for taking screenshots and stuff

I think that Bellara's unique exploration ability is Tinker

Party swap-points confirmed?

Rook's ability to channel the companions' exploration abilities through the Lyrium dagger is super interesting 👀 I wonder how that works and how that comes about? Is it to do with lyrium? the Veil? the runes that can be put on the dagger? the mysterious entity in the Lighthouse that assists with crafting? do the companions each have some kind of connection to Rook sort've how Rook does to Solas? back in the day, when Solas led his own band of followers during his rebellion, when Solas' Lighthouse was filled with his own group of companions (Solas sees himself in Rook etc), did he channel his own companions' abilities the same way using the dagger? Was Felassan once essentially a party member of Solas'?

Great news on the helmet situation :). I wonder if the vitaar variants of helmets thing also applies to Taash?

Here's an example of qunari vitaar, two

Themed color-variant cosmetics 👀

Flowing faction-themed capes 👀

ASSAN SIBLINGS... after the Mae reveal, this was the highlight of this Q&A for real :D and it makes sense, griffons seem to lay clutches, so unless Assan was created or something wild or all the rest of his clutch died somehow, there would be others around in the world. I wonder what role the others will play in the game, and what the plotbeat around griffons is more generally

Confirmation that if companions showed up previously in TN they were at that point intended to be companions. It gives you an idea of how long some of these characters were worked on and developed for

Rook's surname being referenced in dialogue quite a bit 👀 interesting, I wonder when. Neve and Varric have called Rook "Rook" in videos from the game

Confirmation that the shape of Morrigan's crown is meaningful and tied to Flemythal stuff/themes

"In the case of Morrigan, she’s coming to terms with a lot of truths about both herself but also her mother, you know, you see her with Flemeth’s crown, or a variation of it, and that’s speaking to her personal journey of, what I would call, kind’ve acceptance of who she is and how she connects to Flemeth, because ultimately we want this to feel like a real world"

It sounds like all of these hints are coming to fruition now:

"A soul is not forced upon the unwilling, Morrigan. You were never in danger from me." - "Mother is the inheritor, she who awaits the next age." - "Designer’s Notes: This is Flemeth from the previous two games. In this game, Flemeth’s story comes to a head – she knew that Solas would summon her, and that he would need to steal her power to further his plans. She knew that because they are both elven gods…yet Solas has slept for a thousand years and his power dwindled, while she was killed long ago and a spark escaped from her into the body she now holds. She has nurtured that spark, and knew that Solas would need it. He was once her oldest friend, but she knows in his drive to save the elven people he will kill anyone – even her. She intends to let him have the power, so long as she can pass the essence of her god-hood onto Morrigan, a gift Flemeth had always planned for her daughter yet one Morrigan misunderstood as hostile possession."

Even mundane Kieran's dialogue line about who his mother is ("She's the Witch of the Wilds") touches on this. The old Witch of the Wilds, Flemeth, is no more. Morrigan has taken on the mantle, in a manner of speaking. These things seem especially impactful in worldstates where Morrigan drank from the Well. I am curious about how Well-drinking Morrigan vs non-drinking Morrigan will play out.

In a way, Morrigan has already stepped into her mother's role in the world of Dragon Age. Flemythal used to show up dramatically and mysteriously in every game to interact with the main character of that story. Morrigan has also been doing that, also now for 3 games. I'm reminded of Varric's tombstone in the Fade, Became His Parents. especially if she continues to do this while she gets older, the similarity is apparent.

It's cool that you don't have to be Spellblade spec to use orb and dagger

"while City Elf versus Dalish Elf is a lot more of a useful distinction in, you know, Ferelden, Orlais, we’re in northern Thedas, things are different up here. And a great example is Rivain. Dalish settlements, you know, they have Dalish settlements within cities, integrated into the cities, because, again, they don’t have that same bias, that same distinction."

New lore, or maybe a return to older lore? in DAII Isabela tells Merrill the Dalish haven't reached Llomerryn. but prior to that around 2009, David Gaider mentioned that the Dalish elves in Rivain have a semi-permanent settlement in Llomerryn. this sounds like that, and it sounds like it's not only Llomerryn. of course, Bela could just have been mistaken or this could be a recent development that began in the last decade or so in the world. I think it makes sense for what we know about Rivain.

"It’s a lot more about, how you play into the faction, you know, and, in some cases it matters more that you’re an elf, in other cases it doesn’t actually matter to the people of that faction, they’re just looking for someone who could do the work. A great example, and I’ll just, very, very light spoilers, Mourn Watch is a great example where, they just care that you are capable of, you know, executing the duties that you’re given, so."

I'm curious about which do and which don't for this, and not only for the elf lineage. an elven Veil Jumper may have more to say on or different investment in the artifacts they find and places they explore. an Antivan Crow who was employed because humans often find them attractive, or an Antivan Crow who was an enslaved elf or enslaved human and then bought by the Crows may have different thoughts on/experiences being a Crow than say a human who was born into it. (this is previous lore stuff, the Crows favoring recruiting elves, Zevran was bought etc). etc.

Lastly a quick recap on the things that came up in the Q&A that the devs said they would be talking about more soon:

They will be going deeper into settings, accessibility settings/features and similar things closer to launch

(On accessibility features, Corinne Busche mentioned that she thinks they are doing a feature, some kind of blogpost on that subject)

They will be talking more about exploration next month

They will be talking more about the Lighthouse next month

They will be showing some dwarf Rooks before launch

[transcript link]

[starbylers]

Will Byers main character of season 5 “emotional arc tying up the show”, mysterious connection to the main villain AND the supernatural lore, “it started with Will and it’ll end with Will”, outstanding questions surrounding his disappearance which kicked off the entire show coming full circle, written for seasons as slowly falling in love with his best friend and that point being driven home extremely hard the season before His season….that Will Byers….is NOT ending up with some random side character lol. If you think that’s the most likely outcome I’m sorry but you haven’t been paying attention.

Like truly how do people envision that scenario? Will spends the season going through presumably life changing events grappling with his identity and fighting these deadly supernatural forces alongside the people he’s most closely bonded with in the entire world including his best friend who he is literally in love with and who’s relationship with him is obviously going to be important, full on saving the world in conjunction with his personal coming of age…and then when it’s over he just trots off with cute guy #373848 who has fuck all to do with any of this, or with the story of the show, who Will absolutely would not have had time to build a convincing relationship with given all of the above. A few scenes of what, someone flirting with him? Being nice, being friendly? does not an endgame make for someone who’s not only the main focus of the season but integral to the core mystery of the show. The love interest of a character like that would need to be front and centre alongside him (oh wait…..).

And in what universe could random new side guy compare to and in fact overtake - because that’s what they’d have to pull off - the depth of his relationship with the boy he currently loves, his best friend?? There’s no time or set up for that. Will is a main character. Even Robin - who I adore but she does play a much more minor role - gets a two season love interest who’s involved with the main cast, and don’t get me started on all the complex multi season straight relationships.

An endgame relationship for Will was never going to be an afterthought. The sentiments of I hope the Duffers are brave enough to go for Byler or they’ll just give Will someone else makes no sense to me because this has been planned for YEARS 😭 they were not making season 4 with their minds undecided about Mike and Will’s fate. They were not sitting in the writer’s room like oooh this is fun and messy let’s just slap in this major plot point between two main characters and figure out why tf we did it at a later date.

They made Will, the boy at the centre of everything, love Mike so intensely while actively not presenting a single other viable option (and having him grouped up with Mike yet again next season), KNOWING from the first introduction of Will’s feelings how it was going to turn out. If they planned all along for him to end up with someone else, there would be set up (à la Rovickie but honestly more than that, probably someone who could’ve taken Argyle’s place, or at the VERY least show signs of him letting Mike go). Meanwhile by s4 finale, there’s no other candidate in sight and his heart remains with Mike more devoted than ever like ?????

Will is important. His love is important. I’m so over people trying to downplay the legitimacy of his emotions toward Mike. Gay characters feelings aren’t disposable just because they inconvenience a straight ship, and the Duffers didn’t put Will in this position without an end goal in mind. You decide what makes more sense with what they’ve shown us so far. If you can see the threads (and not see certain other threads) it’s for a reason. Writing is intentional.

[alukardtheabysswalker]

I find interesting the relationship (or lack thereof) that Ulysses Dies At Dawn has with The Odyssey.

For starters the name of the character, no Odysseus there, however the full album and story takes heavily from The Iliad in fact almost the same general plot and resolution, changing the political and romantic conflict to a revolutionary and still heavily political but in a different way conflict (not mention of Helen or a parallel of her at all).

So Ulysses is Ulysses and has not gone through an Odyssey yet they did spent over twenty years at war and then in regret. Original Odysseus wanted nothing more than to get back home, to his kingdom and son but mostly to his dear Penelope, a woman who did everything to wait for him, in fact what else she did was focused on making sure everything was in place for when he got back. So obviously The Mechs (in meta) wanted to avoid that stereotype (that in some ways was set by the legend of Penelope herself) but this is where we do get to how UDAD does in fact relate to The Odyssey, somewhat.

Ulysses wins the war and regrets the massacre if not outright genocide they committed so they spend a decade or more drunk, high and or fucking but no Penelope to go back to. We find out in the end is because she is dead, but for how long? When did she die?

Admittedly I haven't read all of the lore posts so this whole thing might have been answered already but when she died is important here. If she died before the war on Ilium it sets Ulysses' mind (did the people of Ilium kill her somehow?) during the war also could have affected them (did she participate?) Or was it after the war? And for how long?

The tree next to which she is buried is stated to have been a beacon of rebellion that at least Ulysses if not her as well wanted to use, long ago. That beacon, that thing it symbolizes is death. True death, death as freedom, as liberation from the oppression of The Olympians.

That is what Ulysses is after, truly, they want to return to Penelope, to reunite with her, which they can only do in death.

Their Odyssey is to die.

[cityzenshark]

If S2 doesn't improve the story focus...

Decepticon fan speaking here. I love them, I want to see them getting the limelight, but Earthspark isn't their show. It's about the Terrans and their relationship with the Malto family. There are over a dozen other media where your favourite classics get their spotlight but this show might not be one of them. We have to accept that.

However, EarthSpark's big problem is its disregard of its own main characters to the point the audience care more about the side characters.

Long ramble ahead.

.

From Season 1, Earthspark has the tendency to disregard their own main characters for the sake of already existing ones. Thrash, Robby, Jawbreaker, and the parents are big victims here.

Thrash, despite being the other first Terran, gets little to no development. He only had one focus episode that shifted his positive view of Cybertronians yet it didn't affect his characteristic or the family dynamic whatsoever. He could've been involve in other episodes focusing on the triplets, specifically with Nightshade, like Twitch with Hashtag, but he doesn't. In the end, his canvas is just like his paint job -- empty white.

Robby could've get 4 episodes about him only for 3 of them to be shifted to Twitch & Wheeljack, Starscream, Mo. Never mind the Wheeljack episode and "Prime Time" but "What Dwells Within" is the worst of them all. Now it appears Season 2 is heavily focusing him after S1 dismisses him multiple times.

Starscream, I'm sorry what you've been through, but that episode should never be about you. Robby is sick, the Terrans got rocky with other due to the lost link which triggered Hashtag's trauma of getting possessed, and then they lost their LIFE SOURCE WATER. Earthspark wanted the audience to side with Starscream so bad they put him in the pity light instead of laying out hints of his past in previous episodes and allow the viewers to decide for themselves. The dude's a millennium old soldier, not another Terran.

EDIT: The same case goes for Grimlock. As bad as the dude has gone through in "Home", he's also a millennium-old soldier. He knows he's going through PTSD but Jawbreaker doesn't. JB is a newborn. Instead of celebrating JB when he finally got his alt mode, the moment made viewers hate him because it focuses on Grimlock's point of view.

[IMPORTANT NOTE FOR JB FANS: DO NOT GO TO TRANSFORMEMES SUBREDDIT!! RECENTLY, A USER THERE CAUSED TERRAN HATERS TO POP UP AND WISHING J.B TO DIE A HORRIBLE DEATH BECAUSE HE ACTED LIKE AN OVEREXCITED KID]

The parents... Oh dear their potentials are wasted soooo much. Ignoring Dot's relationship with Megs, they've become mere placements to remind the audience that Robby & Mo aren't poor orphans.

Dot being a veteran is to make her relationship with Megs sound plausible, that's all. Meanwhile Alex's profession in Cybertronian history is only relevant in the pilot episode and he only told the most basic one in lore. They never fuss about the cybersleeves, they seem available all the time but not really, they're ignorant of their children's activities, completely fine with them becoming child soldiers. Dot could've been the one to beat Mandroid to pulp in Prime Time like the Mama Bear she's described to be but no - let the nine year old beat him with alien powers. Alex could've played a bigger role for the Terrans to know about Cybertronians in general; for Nightshade especially by being the one who enables their intelligence and tinkering skills - not just leading them to finding their alt mode.

The show should've made Mo the same age as Robby. You can't ignore that they act like twins more than Twitch & Thrash despite the 5 year age gap. For a nine year old, she has high emotional intelligence yet so inconsiderate and naive at the same time in certain episodes. Pick one personality, please.

Finally, why oh why didn't they fix her face and head size? It looks a lot worse now.

TLDR; don't be surprised by the sudden change in character of the Cons. Earthspark doesn't respect their own main characters except Twitch. So let us heed Season 2 with low expectations.

[shihalyfie]

It's a loaded topic that I generally try not to bring up much because of the various controversies surrounding it, and a few years ago, I was hesitant to mention this in public because there was no way to frame it in a way that didn't sound like a hate post. (That, and admittedly, I probably was not in the right mental frame to handle it well back then; a lot of things have changed in the last few years.) But now this has been on record and even alluded to via official sources, and I don't see a point in being touchy about it anymore, so here's something I really wish more people would understand when they talk about tri., Kizuna, and 02TB:

Between tri. and Kizuna/02TB, almost the entire production system was overhauled, and there are almost no key staff members in common.

I know it's tempting to treat "Toei" like it's some kind of monolith, but it's very important to remember that any stylistic differences in approach or concept between tri. and Kizuna/02TB aren't just because of answering critical reception, but also because almost the entire production system was scooped out and redone from scratch. The one key member they have in common is Kizuna/02TB producer Kinoshita, who was brought onto tri. as late as part 5 and has explicitly stated that he wasn't involved on its story.

The reason this overhaul happened also wasn't just because of something like "people didn't like tri. (in terms of story content)". For one, tri. was subject to a lot of troubled production behind the scenes -- and I'm not making this up, it's on record that they ran out of budget halfway through and had to rewrite the rest of the plot. But another important thing that may not be as clear to people who only learned about it after the fact is that tri. was a downright PR disaster at the time it was going on, such as:

The infamous "nade-nade" incident (ask anyone who was present during the tri. announcement and they'll probably be able to tell you the details)

The director openly saying things like the fact he deliberately does not look at the source material when making adaptations because he sees it as too limiting, accompanied by a number of other inflammatory statements in magazines, etc. suggesting that he probably had never seen the original Adventure to begin with and saw it as a series he needed to make as more "mature", even to the point of rejecting character-accurate scripts for it (that said, it is very important to remember that a series is far more than just one staff member, and there are other staff members who did say they watched it and clearly did their research, so the point I'm making is that the director's attitude naturally made a lot of people in the audience very angry and is a big reason he started currying a bad industry reputation during and even after tri.'s run)

Magazine interviews with staff members and other Q&As generally being so vague and unwilling to answer questions clearly that it got people upset (for example, when a social media campaign soliciting questions for a Q&A session was held for a screening of part 6, it was said to be "suspiciously" too dark to actually answer the questions)

So when you see discussion about tri. being controversial because of "contradictions in the setting" or whatnot, it's not people getting petty about characterization, it's because the production system for tri. managed to make a ton of public relations decisions that unilaterally pissed a ton of people off, so having contradictions in the lore and characterization came off as being due to carelessness and negligence more than anything.

Right now, the series has been over for more than five years, so I'm not bringing all of this up because I want to start an angry mob against the series or anything (I myself have a lot of favorite things that had clearly troubled production issues and controversial statements from staff members, so I'm not saying this alone should be grounds to evaluate a series). The point I'm making is that I see way too many people talking like tri. and Kizuna/02TB were made under the same mentality by a vaguely-defined concept of "Toei" and that any differences in approach are from some bizarre hypocrisy where they keep contradicting themselves. What happened here was that they saw the public relations fallout, realized it wasn't a good idea to continue getting people mad, and completely overhauled everything with entirely different people and an entirely different approach -- and the fact they did not do a similar complete overhaul between Kizuna and 02TB is conversely why they share more in common.

[feybeasts]

For funsies, and to flex my writing muscles again, I thought I'd write up a little faux-research-article on the wereplush concept I've been playing with and y'all seem to enjoy- what follows is both a vague lore framework and description of the curse via one of its first bearers... yours truly!

If it's a fun idea and you wanna subject yer own OCs to it, by all means, feel free! I'm not gonna act like I have the last say in a fun little idea, ehehe.

Below the break, then, I present to you:

THE CURSE OF THE WEREPLUSH: An Examination of Virulent Arcana

by Lena Hart.

Foreward

If there is anything I'm known for among my kind- and the many friends I've made across the greater multiverse- I would hope that chief among these qualities is my dedication to my work. In the scant few years I've acted as the Spirit Archives' caretaker, I've worked hard to document, understand, and put names to its many lost pieces of arcana, its once-nameless denizens, its peculiar quirks. I've treated my responsibilities with the utmost care no matter what sort of proverbial wrenches are thrown in the works, whether that be restless spirits, outside intervention, or- and I will fully admit this one is significant, even if it embarrasses me somewhat- my own... let's say poor luck with volatile artifacts. Such a dedication is not always easy, for when one's form is often altered, one's mind assailed, and one's breaks frequently disturbed, properly-written research papers can be the last thing on one's mind.

Even so, I endure not because I'm stubborn- though I AM that- but because this work is important. Because I believe in it.

So, with that prefaced, I hope you can fully appreciate the gravity with which I say now that the following report is... one of the most difficult things I've ever had to write. Not because the subject matter is transgressive or challenging; no, if anything, it's anything BUT that. What I've taken to calling the Curse of the Wereplush is, if anything, frankly ridiculous on the face of it- but what makes it difficult to write is... well...

...The effect that selfsame curse has had on me, as patient zero.

As far as I can surmise, I am the first wereplush in the modern age, as any mention of such creatures is... all but nonexistent before now. Before me, there was simply no such thing, no papers written, no need for classification, and that the curse has now reached such a pitch that I feel the need to write all I know on it... well... that stings a little.

"My bad," as they say.

Of course, I'd be a bad scholar if I proclaimed my difficulty in writing about a subject is borne entirely of my proximity to it. No, the challenge in writing this paper has been almost exclusively physical, as you'll soon understand. The transformation I've undergone has been so drastic both in its effect on my body and the changes in my very mind, that I've had to rely on voice transcription to write, which may lend this paper something of a more... conversational... tone than you'd expect.

Still, I carry on, and I hope that the information provided in the following pages serves some use to anyone in the future who needs it- even if it seems more and more likely it's... too late for me.

Section One: Overview

The Curse of the Wereplush is a transformative contagion of wholly magical origin. Insofar as this scholar can tell, there are no records of its creation, no mention of its original creator, and no previous cases before... well, before myself. Though it bears some outward similarity to the likes of lycanthropy in its physical transmission and transformative effects on the victim, hence the name I've given the curse, it differs significantly both in its physical effect and its... peculiar... set of 'rules'.

Upon becoming afflicted with the curse, a victim experiences a rapid set of physical changes after a brief delay, and then further set of physical and mental changes over time. In the short term, usually a few minutes to hours after transmission (depending on, as far as I can ascertain, one's magical resistances,) a victim experiences a rather dramatic physical transformation. Their body, whether previously biological, mechanical, or even magical in nature, becomes a simulacrum of itself made of living fabric and some manner of thick, soft polyfill. Defined shapes become simplified forms, digits lose dexterity, and their eyes become simplistic pseudo-plastic dots. In essence, the victim is transformed into a living plush toy, complete with knitted seams (though no actual yarn or string is visible, as far as I've been able to tell,) and a tag somewhere on their form. In addition, the newly-made Wereplush gains a squeaker somewhere within their body, usually within what was once their abdomen. Though the transformation is dramatic, it isn't painful, and in some ways, the added weight, plushness, and soft, fuzzy "skin" is... rather pleasant...

Given the wildly varied natures of the faefolk, this alone wouldn't register as much of a shock- I've personally met everything from living boulders to a rather talkative sentient volleyball, but this initial set of changes also isn't the most pressing thing about the curse. No, it is what comes next, in the ensuing days, weeks, and months, that truly makes the Wereplush curse unique- and in some ways, insidious.

To be a Wereplush is not an unpleasant thing, if I'm wholly honest. One loses the need to eat, gains impressive flexibility without bones getting in the way, and it's hard to deny just about all victims of the curse are... rather delightful to observe. It would be hard to call it a curse when one is first affected, and indeed, once you're used to your new body, you may even consider it an improvement. But one must not forget that they don't stop changing after this initial metamorphosis, and it is these slower, persistent changes that represent the more... concerning... aspects of the curse.

The first of these changes is mental. Slowly, the pleasantness of being in this new shape changes into a sort of dopey self-affection for the victim. One finds they greatly enjoy squeezing and handling their new form, a sort of mental stimulus not unlike a cat's desire to scratch furniture or a dog's need to wag their tail. Slowly, this need to be handled and squeezed begins to become their primary concern, rendering most other thoughts an easily-forgotten haze at its worst. The harsher edges of one's personality fall away, it becomes harder to grow angry or agitated, and laughter comes easily. A developing Wereplush becomes someone who is delightful and huggable, and this is only made more pronounced by the second change that occurs over time. This characterizes itself as what I can only describe as "pillowfication".

Simply put, the longer one remains a Wereplush, the plusher they become. Limbs become thicker, bellies swell rounder, cheeks fill and fill to crowd out one's snout. After a week or so, a formerly skinny Wereplush may seem to have grown chubby, but after a month, they can hardly hold their increasingly-orbicular body upright. Stuffing eventually crowds one's body in such density that they become a sort of enormous, living mattress, and this process, as far as I can ascertain, does not cease. Even if I wanted to, having been this way for so long now, my digits are too thick to hold a pen, and I could hardly lift either of my arms to do so if I wished, nor see past my own... prodigious... abdomen to boot.

Less... nuanced friends have told me I quite resemble a pink hippopotamus now... if said hippo was the size of a house.

To say I'm soft to the touch, squeezable, well, that would be the understatement of a lifetime, but it is exactly this nigh-comical plushness that presents a problem, for though one is tempted to cuddle a developed Wereplush for all they're worth, it is exactly this process by which the curse is spread- for as I mentioned previously, every Wereplush has a squeaker within their cursed form- and if a non-Wereplush manages to squeak it, usually through such unrestrained contact, the curse is transferred to them.

It almost seems ridiculous, doesn't it? Accidentally get a Wereplush to squeak, and you turn into one. And make no mistake- even at my size, one can easily still strike my own; with how deeply the curse has taken root within me, they even get a rather... dramatic headstart on their pillowfication. The last poor soul who couldn't help themself nearly instantaneously became so round they had to be rolled away, though they did seem quite pleased with themselves...

But I digress. These aspects combined have made the curse quite... astonishingly virulent, and yet they've done so simply by exploiting a desire nearly every living being has- the need to squeeze something soft.

Section Two: Origins, Treatments, Cures(?)

As I've mentioned previously, the origins of the Wereplush curse are a mystery, though I am in a unique position to speak on the original transmission vector. Deep in the Spirit Archives' storerooms, where I've tried to organize yet-uncategorized artifacts before they are studied and displayed, I have boxes upon boxes of smaller objects- pins, buttons, tags, odds and ends. In a moment of clumsiness, I was pricked by a rather nondescript sewing needle, and thinking nothing of it, I tossed it out. That the spot I was poked did not heal, instead forming a patch of strange, felt-feeling fur should have been my first indication that something was amiss, but it was only later that evening, as I readied for bed, that the curse overtook me. By then, the needle was long gone, and all that remains of its origin is the tag now affixed to one of my flanks- one that depicts the very same needle, pulling a length of pink thread, as if taunting my mistake.

Having no shortage of magical know-how at my disposal, I've tried every method I could think of to cure the curse. Brute-force dispelling has no effect, and as a Wereplush cannot eat or drink, potions and alchemy are hardly viable. I've even tried transformation magic in desperation, but even the wildest polymorphing only makes oneself a Wereplush in the shape of a given animal, it does not restore the old form. I must admit, then, that without the original implement of my transformation to study, I am without any other avenues to seek a cure, and finding it- well, that's like finding a literal needle in a proverbial haystack.

With no apparent cure, then, I must turn to treatments, ways to minimize the more... dangerous effects of the curse. Chief among these, for the safety of others, is that under no circumstances must one allow themselves to be cuddled or squeezed by a party not affected by the curse. Though a Plush is a lovely, huggable thing, soft and squishy beyond compare, though it brings us no greater joy than to be needed, loved, cuddled... transmission of the curse under such circumstances isn't simply probable, it's all but assured. To nullify this, I've found that cuddling with other plushes can satisfy the need somewhat, if not entirely. If a non-plush coming in for a hug is unavoidable, try at least to direct them to your tail, if you have one, or less important limbs- squeakers are known to migrate, but this at least helps to reduce risk until the mortal can be made to... restrain themselves.

As for pillowfication... I'm afraid there are even fewer ways to mitigate the onset. There is no visible cause of it, one does not gain weight in the traditional sense, and though one may be tempted to try to pull apart a seam and empty themselves of fluff, as far as I can ascertain, our fabric "skin" is completely unbreakable. Pillowfication is an inevitability once you bear the curse, so the best one can really do is find loose-fitting, comfortable clothing, and get used to their newfound bulk as it grows. Though it isn't much of a silver lining, I can wholly attest that the process is quite comfortable, and if nothing else, the lack of a biological body means one will never become wholly immobile.

I would like to consider this paper a living document, and rest assured- if in my research I can find a cure, I will do my best to disseminate the information promptly, but for now, the best any of us can do is try to mitigate the effects on ourselves and others.

Section Three: Miscellaneous Points

As I've been asked a number of questions that I cannot place within the broader text, and there are peculiarities to the condition I've only recently discovered, I'll try to provide a few below in bullet-point.

As mentioned above, Wereplushes appear to be functionally indestructible. We're fireproof, waterproof, can't be cut, and flattening is really just inconvenient. More aggressive victims have been kept at bay with large weights laid atop them, which work well enough, until they're too plump for the weights to find purchase, anyways.

The process of pillowfication feels not unlike having eaten a large meal, albeit the sense of "fullness" permeates one's entire body. Quite honestly, by this point I feel quite like I've been feasting for ages...

Though lighter than one's biological body at first, as a Wereplush's condition grows more advanced, their internal fluff grows denser. A new plush may be quite soft and malleable, but a deeply pillowfied plush feels like memory foam, and is just as heavy to boot!

A Wereplush's voice can change over time, some becoming squeakier and higher, some deeper and more syrupy, some not changing at all. It is unclear if this holds any significance.

Even if they were once human, a humanoid synthetic, what have you, all Wereplushes seem to take the form of anthropomorphic animals, with more animalistic folk more closely resembling their original form when transformed.

A Wereplush's tag seems to embody some aspect of themselves or the circumstances of their transformation, and is usually a simple pictogram depicting some aspect of their personality or history.

The rate at which a Wereplush pillowfies seems to vary from victim to victim, and the extent of the process appears to be limitless, though it slows once they've grown ploddingly large.

The sensations one feels if they've hit a Wereplush's squeaker, and warning signs that they've been afflicted by the curse, are an immediate sense of lightheadedness, butterflies in the stomach, and difficulty standing upright. These feelings intensify up to the point of transformation, at which point their body changes into their new, plushie self.

It is unclear how many Wereplushes now exist, but given the multidimensional nature of the Spirit Archive, and the decent number of initial and subsequent victims, there could be hundreds, even thousands...

[blathersthecat]

AU where Ford is a paranormal investigator who's specifically obsessed with the ghost side of things. He'd seen plenty of the average ghost but he wanted to know how their plane works and if there's a way to bridge the gap.

Ford at some point finds the writings in the cave as usual and doesn't know he summoned a straight up demon. Bill actually died with the rest of his people in his dimension, but while the others either moved on or became ghosts (that dwell inside Bill's mind), Bill became a demon instead.

Ford of course, eventually tries to stop making the bridge and gets stuck in the other plane and Stan (with Fiddleford in this) tries to bring him back to the land of the living.

Important context for the next line: Fiddleford's gun is different in this AU. It isn't much of a memory gun but makes the target be more inclined to ignore or become straight up blind to paranormal activity. So it's instead just called the Paranormal Eraser.

The Eraser, when used on Stan's mind, erased the paranormal activity in it, which Bill was, entirely. It was not made to be used at such a high power though (enough power to erase a literal demon) so this is what caused the memory loss because of all it erased.

Fiddleford has a lot changed in this AU so it's all below with some other lore:

- Fiddleford saw Bill in his demon form and heard screams of the dead when he saw across the bridge.

- Besides what happened to Stan, no one ever had the memory side effect like in the show. In this AU, Fiddleford stays fairly sane and doesn't ever start a cult since he regrets what he did pretty quickly after he realizes the paranormal can still mess with him but now he just won't know when they are and that terrifies him.

It's like seeing a ton of roaches in your room and putting on a blindfold so they won't stress you out, but obviously, you know they're still there and it makes it worse - IDK HOW ELSE TO EXPLAIN IT LMAO

- Fiddleford goes back to the shack to try to tell Ford frantically about his grave mistake. But he meets Stan instead. He starts to help Stan with the bridge out of guilt that Ford got taken by this awful stuff in his absence. He blames himself and thinks that Ford would've been okay if only if he stayed.

- Fiddleford has soo much anxiety when it comes to this stuff. He also regrets heavily how he can't help the family much whenever they need him because of his paranormal blindness. Fiddleford can't even see or hear Bill at all at first.

- During weirdmageddon, his head hurts constantly and he feels incredibly disoriented from all the paranormal stuff going on everywhere. But since it's so overwhelming, the effects of the gun start to wane and he actually starts to be able to see the paranormal again.

- Fiddleford was in on the lies with Stan (knows he's called Stanford, tries to tell the kids that Gravity Falls is completely normal, and goes to work with Stan every night)

- Gravity falls doesn't have tons of random anomalies but only has tons of paranormal/ghostly activity.

- The mystery shack is more spooky themed. Stan has a pretty funny blue and green van instead too. He definitely didn't do that to reference anything - the colors are also mixed up for 'copyright reasons')

- Ford was not able to be killed in the other plane since he was technically dead but it was perfectly possible to feel pain and be tortured so he definitely wanted to avoid that.

- Ford has to get used to having to eat, drink, and sleep again now that he's back alive.

- Ford is less upset with Fiddleford than with Stan which seems unfair to Fiddleford who gets very frustrated with Ford because of it since he has gathered a ton of respect for Stan over all these years.

- Bill's goons are other evil spirits.

- The zodiac circle is replaced with an exorcism circle.

- Fiddleford, Stan, and Ford all become ghost hunters together after the kids leave.

Feel free to send any asks about this AU. This is my pride and joy now, oh my god

[johanna-swann]

In continuation of my previous post, the reason why I don't like the lore around the Timeless Child is basically the same reason I don't like Rey being Palpatine's granddaughter.

Rey could've been a completely self-made woman, a no-one from nowhere who still mattered and grew strong anyway. By making her Palpatine's granddaughter they took that from her. She was strong because she came from a strong bloodline, she was a key player in the story because her family has always been important to the bigger picture. Her strength wasn't earned through years of struggle and growth, she was born special.

I always liked the idea that the Doctor was just this random person who ran away from home and they became special over time. They've become the stuff of legends, a war hero to Gallifrey, a myth to many other civilisations, they were granted more regenerations than any other timelord, they already have such a long, complex and impressive story.

But that wasn't enough, was it? The Doctor had to have been born special. They're not just some "mad-man with a box", no. They're the specialest creature in the universe, not because they lived and learned and grew, but because they were born special, they were always special either way.

In my personal opinion this takes away from the Doctor's character. It completely changes who the Doctor is at their core. Other fans may feel differently about this, but I immediately thought about Rey.

[boldlyvoid]

A Court of Seeds and Sight

Elain x Azriel

Summary: After 6 months apart, Elain sees the way Lucien looks at her new, healthy, body and it reminds her of her mother. The look of disappointment. The look of never being good enough. A reminder that she's spent most of her life letting others make choices for her. she decided in that moment that she's hand enough. While standing up for herself, Lucien suggests they dissolve the bond, letting her go free.

What happens when she's staying at The House of Wind to recover and the male she's dreamed of, the male she's wanted to pick for herself for over 2 years now, is there with medicine and goods to help her feel better?

Warnings: light fatphobia, severing a bond, made-up lore (i had fun making it up) hurt/comfort, the house of wind is my favourite character in this, First kiss, first times, oral sex (fem receiving), multiple orgasms, new bonds snapping into place, lovemaking, rough sex

Word count: 10.6k

She knew he was there the moment he walked into the house. 

There was a little tug on the bond, the first she’d felt in 6 months now. Where Lucien lived in the human realm, as well as his visits to the spring court, both places brought him out of the bounds of their bond. She went most of the year without feeling him, having heard from him through her sister and her mate, but Elain hasn’t felt him. 

And what a blessing that had been. 

She has been working in gardens all over the city, bringing florals to the night court in a way that keeps their traditions in mind. She’s made hanging flower baskets for lamp posts, displays for windows as well as potted trees and bushes on the street. Bat Orchids, black Dahlia, Persian lily, and Dark Dimension. Black and blue and purple roses. Hollyhock and Hellebore. All darker flowers, but the feeling is still the same. She wanted to bring life and beauty to the city that changed everything for her. 

When she’s not in the garden covered in dirt… she’s in the kitchen covered in flour. Both activities include help from her favourite fae. 

Azriel, ever the traveller, albeit for work, was always bringing her back either a packet of exotic seeds or a new recipe from a cafe or hotel he visited. She’s planted everything, either in her greenhouse outback or in little pots scattered around the house. She wanted them to last, and the best way to do that was to keep them in their desired environments. Food-wise, he mostly brings home recipes for pastries and baked goods. Only a few times has there been a savoury dish, which she made for the whole family for dinner, upon Az’s request. 

The tug on the bond pulls her away from her baking, she’s working on lemon pastries. A fluffy, puffed pastry with lemon filling and a delicious icing drizzle on top. She makes them in a variety of flavours, this one happens to be Azriel’s favourite. 

“Can you watch these for me? Take them out if I’m not back when the timer goes,” she asks Cerridwen and Nuala. They both nod, knowing where she’s going, as they also feel everything going on in the house, stronger than she ever could. 

She makes her way towards the main entrance, wiping her hands off on her apron, she’s only going to greet him because it’s right. It’s a nice thing to do. She doesn’t like him more than an acquaintance, he’s her sister's work partner… he’s important to their court but not to her heart. And she feels awful about that. But she’s heard the stories, she knows that not all bonds are happy. Most of the people she’s met have horror stories about how much their parents hated each other, but the bond needed them together to procreate. Because the cauldron knows what offspring will change the world. Like Rhys himself, his parents were not meant to be, but the world needed him. 

She could put up with Lucien, she could tolerate him. She just couldn’t imagine sharing a bed or making children with him. He may be her “soul-mate” but he is not her type. He was not the male she would willingly choose if she had the choice. 

“Lucien,” she smiles at him. 

He looks her up and down, taking a step back to do so. But it’s not in the usual way he looks at her. He’s taking in how much she’s changed in the half a year he hasn’t seen her. 

She’s put on some weight. For the first time in her life, she has had the luxury to do so. Eating well, lounging in the sun, reading in her room and cuddling with her nephew. She’s not working out like her sisters, she doesn’t have a job that requires her to be able to kick ass in a moment's notice. She’s done what she’s always wanted to do; put a little meat on her bones. And she loved it. 

“What?” She asks, slightly offended. 

“Nothing… I’m just surprised,” he explains, unable to stop staring. “You’ve… changed.”

And it’s not the good kind of staring. His eyes are sharing with her more than she would ever hear leave his mouth. This isn’t the fae he’s been imagining in his daydreams these last few months. His look is one of disappointment, wondering why the Cauldron would match him with someone he’s also not attracted to. 

“Need I remind you that I own my body, it’s not for you to ogle or have an opinion about,” she spits, feeling the fire in her blood, having never related to her older sister until this very moment. “I never wanted this stupid bond, I don’t need your opinion of me. I’m happy, I’m healthy and I’m blessed to be able to reach this size, so if you don’t like it… you can fuck right off.” 

She honestly can’t believe those words just left her mouth. But she stands a little taller, glad that it did. 

He can’t believe it either, “the apple doesn’t fall far in your family, does it? I never even said anything and yet you were ready to pounce on me like a wild animal. Like that human side of you is still perfectly intact.” 

“I understand we have to keep things cordial for the court, however, if I never had to see you again it would be a day too late,” she continued without a second thought. “My sister and the high lord need you and your alliance, I understand that perfectly, but I am not a pawn. I am not here to keep the peace. I trust you’re a good man, that you can keep up the alliance even if things between us aren’t good.” 

“Then let’s get this retched bond removed then, shall we? The last thing I want is to be shackled to someone who could never even give me the courtesy of pretending to love me,” he spits right back. 

“We can do that?” She asks, shocked she never knew it was an option. 

“We need a priestess and a few days rest, but it can happen,” he explains. “Do you have a preferred priestess or shall we just walk into the nearest temple and see who’s available?”

“I’d prefer Merrill a the House of Wind.” 

Knowing she’s a strict witch of a fae, from Nesta’s stories, there was no one else she wanted to sever this, no one else she wanted to deal with Lucien than her. 

—

Rhysand and Feyre winnowed them in, having spoken to both of them about the risks of separating the bond as well as what this would mean for the court. Lucien agreed to stay emissary, his only request was that he stay in another house, paid for by Rhysand when visiting and that they meet there or at the house of Wind for meetings, so he didn’t have to see Elain again. They understood perfectly. 

“We’ll be back in an hour,” Feyre explained, a hand on Elain’s arm, wishing her luck. She simply gave her sister a smile in return, showing she was ready, albeit a little nervous. 

The happy couple flew off after that, leaving the others to start their quiet walk to the temple inside the mountain. 

Merrill meets them at the door, pissed off as usual. She blinks at them, arms crossed, “I have cleared the temple for the next hour while we do this, no matter how much it stings or the emotions you are feeling, the male must be gone when the hour is up. This is a safe space for the priestesses who live here, I am not ruining it for them. No matter who you are.” 

“I understand,” Lucien agrees, no real fight left in him. 

Inside the temple, they walk past rows and rows of pews towards the front, where a rock is draped with a light blue silk runner and topped with two cups of tea and a book. 

“Do you know the risks?” Merrill asks. 

They both nod, having learned from Rhys that severing a bond wasn’t a difficult act, it was the after-effects that were the most challenging. They could feel sick, possibly emptying the contents of their stomach and unable to consume more. The headache from losing the bond can be anywhere from an annoyance to mind numbly painful and there is a chance they could slip into a year-long melancholia. Sleep helped, but not by much as the cauldron often retaliated with terrible dreams that would keep them up. 

They were both willing to do whatever it took to get rid of this thing. 

“Are you absolutely, 100% sure, you want to dissolve the bond?” Merrill asks, staring them down. The stone above her hood shone in the faelight. Glaring at her. This was real, this was serious, and there was no going back. 

Elain nods, “Yes, I’m sure.” 

“I just want her to be happy,” Lucien shares, solemn and defeated. 

“Alright,” Merrill just pushes through. “Join hands. I’m going to say a couple of prayers, then you’re going to drink the tea and you’ll feel it happen. It can be painful, like holding a metal wire as it snaps, it can whip you as it ricochets.” 

That made her swallow sharply, she wasn’t sure she was ready to hurt again, but if it meant freedom— then the hurt would be worth it. 

Taking Lucien's hand in her own, it feels weird to touch him for the first time since they were bonded by the cauldron. It starts the moment they grip each other's hands, she has no idea what Merrill is saying, it’s in the old language. It sounds beautiful, but she has no idea what it means. She can feel it, there’s a hum that rushes through her and

She’d never experienced an earthquake before, and yet the way her body shook during the prayer had her concerned that it was not just her rumbling. It feels as though the whole world is reacting to the bond being severed. She tries her hardest to keep a brave face, standing on wobbly legs is difficult, however, the shaking stops as soon as the prayer is complete. 

Merrill hands them each a cup of tea, allowing them to stop holding hands for a moment. Pulling away doesn’t feel as intense as she expected it to. If him simply leaving a room used to make her heart ache, physically separating should’ve felt more intense. The prayer essentially numbed the feelings. The tea would snap the bond. The priestess continues her chants while they drink, all but chugging the warm liquid down. It tastes very earthy, almost as if she was drinking bark and dirt… she never even asked what it was before they did this. 

They both look disgusted as they bring the cups down, staring into each other's eyes, unable to hear the other's thoughts but it was evident. That tea was gross. 

They wait for Merrill to finish her prayer and then it happens. 

The snap isn’t as intense as she expected. It feels like walking through the woods and tripping over a root. It pulls from the earth and breaks against the ankle, leaving a welt, but nothing more. No sprain, no twist, just a slight ache. She’s able to walk away from it. 

She looks at Lucien once more and there’s nothing there. Her heart doesn’t flutter, her mind doesn’t race… she simply looks at him the way she would look at a stranger on the streets. He’s just there. 

“How do you feel?” Merrill asks. 

“Fine,” Elain answers while Lucien bows his head. 

“Terrible,” he whispers. He reached up to hold his temples, “what was that?” 

“Olive tree bark tea,” she explains. “Olive trees are a distant cousin to ash trees. it’s not as potent or deadly, it gets the job done.” 

“Can I leave now?” Lucien asks, turning away from them the moment Merrill starts to hum in agreement. 

She doesn’t hurt at all. Her heart is fine, her head is silent… she’s just empty. 

“Thank you, Merrill,” she gives the priestess a small smile. “I appreciate you taking time out of your day for this. Is there anything I can do to repay you?” 

“I’ve heard rumours that your family recovered the harp. In my previous research, I was developing a theory that there are multiple universes stacked on top of one another, upwards of 26 universes, actually. I heard the harp has 26 strings. I would like to study it. Can you put in a good word with the High Lord and Lady for me?” 

She nods, “I’ll see what I can do. That sounds very interesting, I’m sure they’d want to know more about these other universes as well.” 

“Be well, I’m doing the dusk service tonight if you need anything, you’re welcome to join us,” Merrill shares a rare smile and then she leaves, heading off into the back rooms of the temple. 

Elain starts the trek back to the balcony, where she’s meant to meet Feyre for her ride back to the river house. Lucien is staying at the townhouse, he’ll be leaving with Rhys first. She’s given him more than enough time to leave by now. But she doesn’t want to. Leave that is. 

She sighs, resting a hand against the wall, “Would you be alright if I stayed here for the time being?” She asks the house. 

In response, the lights flicker down the hallway, telling her to follow. She follows their lead, all the way to the bedroom she used to occupy when she first arrived in Velaris. Only it’s different, it’s brighter. There are plants and flowers on the tables, hanging from the veiling and vines wrapped around the 4 poles of her bed. Speaking of, the sheets are a beautiful pink, soft silk and topped with the fluffiest pillows. There’s a book on the bed, beside a tray of chocolates and a bottle of her favourite wine. 

“Oh, I love you,” she swoons, holding her hand over her heart. “This is the most beautiful spot to recover. You are so wonderful to us.” 

The house simply sent a warm breeze her way, wrapping around her face and shoulders as if to hug her. 

Within seconds, she can hear footsteps approaching her room and she knows it’s her younger sister by the way she floats down the hall. She stops at the open door and smiles, “You’re staying here, correct?” 

She nods, “how’d you—

“You dislike nothing more than feeling like a burden, here you can recover alone with the help of the house,” Feyre smiles, knowing her too well. “I packed you a few outfits, mostly sleepwear because I don’t expect you to leave the bed for a while. I will be here in 3 days, waiting in the entryway around mid-day, if you’re there I’ll bring you home. If not, I’ll give you another 3 days. Send word if you need me.” 

“Thank you,” she reaches out to take the suitcase but the house handles it for her. Taking it with its magic, the house puts everything away and sets out a fresh set of sleepwear on the bed as the bath starts to run in the other room. 

“You’re in very good hands,” Feyre approves. “I love you, and I’m proud of you, I hope you know that.” 

“I know,” she smiles back. “I’ll see you soon.” 

Once Feyre is gone, she closes her bedroom door and heads right to the bathroom. Her book, chocolate and wine are now on a little side table near the bath. The bath smells of roses and jasmine, the bubbles float over the room as they escape the tub, the lights are dimmed, and everything is perfect. 

She strips, gets into the bath and just sighs. “I expected to feel awful,” she shares. “I just feel free.” 

Her glass is filled with wine then as if the house is telling her to just lay back and enjoy the freedom. So she listens, she takes the wine in one hand, the book in her other, her eyes raking over the summary. 

It’s a romance, one she knows that either the house loves or Nesta does, either way, it’ll be raunchy and delicious. The main character is a florist, she has just escaped a terrible relationship with a man who didn’t appreciate her. Thinking she’ll be alone for the rest of her life, something unexpected blooms with the man who delivers her orders once a week. She hums, it sounds quite interesting, so she flips to the first page, takes a sip of her wine and settles into freedom. 

—

Before she knew it, the bubbles and wine were gone, and the bath water was still warm thanks to the house, as she reached the middle of her book. Hours pass, her body is pruned from the water and limp from how relaxed she’s become. She sighs, “Can I have a bookmark?” She asks The House. 

On the table by her empty wine glass, a clear, acrylic rectangle with dried flowers trapped inside appears. Around the flowers are gold flakes, her name is engraved into it with gold. It’s beautiful. “Thank you.” 

She gets out of the tub, and dries off with a beautifully fluffy towel only to walk naked back into her room to don her silky underclothes and slip into bed. “May I please have some soup… something creamy and hearty?” 

Then,  a beautiful creamy soup appears on a tray on her bed. She stirs her spoon around, noticing the bits of broccoli, shredded carrot and cheese and cubed chunks of potatoes. All her favourites. And then she notices the bowl, it’s a crusty sphere of bread hollowed out to hold the soup. “Thank you, this is exactly what I wanted.” 

She devours the soup, peels apart the bread bowl and savours the remnants of the creamy soup on the crunchy bread. It’s life-changing, she feels full and warm, happier than she has felt in a while. A little drunk from that whole bottle of wine, however, the bread offsets it. The tray disappears once she is done, and her book reappears on the bed. Candles are lit around the room, the curtains are still open to let in the last of the daylight while the faelight over her bed brightens just enough for her to read. 

She’s another 3 chapters in when there is a knock at the door. 

“Come in?” She says, unsure who would be home. Nesta and Cassian are in Illyria training younglings for the next week. 

The door opens slowly and quietly, the shadows bellow at his feet and she knows instantly. Her best friend has come to check on her. 

“Az,” she smiles. “I didn’t know you were back tonight?” 

He smiles right back at her, “I went to the river house, I left the new seeds I found in the greenhouse. Nuala told me where you were…” 

“I’m okay,” she assures. “It didn’t hurt. Did you know they used olive tree bark in a tea to do it? Apparently, it's in the ash family, it’s not enough to maim but it did the trick.” 

“I did not,” he looks instantly worried. “I did, however, bring you something…” 

“Come in,” she beckons him in closer. Closing her book and resting it on the bed, she pulls her sheets up over her chest to keep her modesty and watches as he sits on the edge near the end, resting against the post. 

“I went to see Madja,” he explains, pulling a few things out of the inside pockets of his jacket. “This is the same headache powder you gifted me, well, a new one, but the same kind. And these are ginger candies, they’ll help with any nausea you may feel. Have you eaten?” 

She nods, “The House made me some lovely soup.” 

“Good,” he nods, looking down at the bottles in his hands with a smile. “I’m going to be sleeping here tonight, you know where my room is?” 

“Just above mine,” she points upstairs. 

“Exactly… ask the house to make my lights flicker 3 times and I’ll know you need me, you don’t need to leave the bed if you don’t wish to,” he explains. “I’ll leave these here. You should get some rest.” 

“Thank you, Azriel, I really appreciate you.”

His smile is remarkable, “this is what friends are for.” 

His shadows leave the room first, leaving him to place the bottles on her night table and saunter off after them. As soon as the door is closed again, she waits to hear him retreat upstairs but it’s impossible. He’s so quiet, he stalks around like a cat on the prowl no matter where he is. So after enough time has passed, when she knows she’s alone again, she sighs. “He’s so… wonderful.” 

The house blows a wind that shuffles the pages of her book to what she expects is a random page, only it’s not. The love interest brings the main character flowers she doesn’t sell in her shop, something exotic and new just for her to behold. For no reason other than he wishes to see her smile. And suddenly she gets it, why the house picked this book for her out of the entire library both private and the extensive one below them. 

“There is such a remarkable light cast upon him,” she swoons. “It’s no wonder he’s followed by shadows.” 

A second book appears on her bed. 

‘Bonds, Mates and Why The Cauldron Fates Them.’

She’s quick to pick it up, flipping towards the first page, she starts to read as fast as she can absorb the knowledge. She should’ve looked for a book like this long ago, should’ve asked questions about bonds and how they come to be and how they dissolve. She always just assumed it would be there until one of them died… she never wished that upon him, never once. She just assumed that was how it would end. 

Turns out, the cauldron makes such bonds either because it knows the union will be fruitful, that the children they’d bring to this world will be of great power or importance. Children like Rhysand, he was born to be a leader while his parents could barely stand each other. Meanwhile, Cassian’s father stepped out on his bond mate, doing the foulest thing a male could do to a woman and creating one of the most important warriors to grace the world in the last 5 centuries. 

The bonds aren’t set in stone, while they can be wonderful and loving and everything two faes could ever dream of… they could also be awful. Like Lucien’s own mother and father. Beron is an awful man, controlling and mean, it’s unknown if he’s abusive but from the stories told. The atrocities that he’s committed, it’s not a far stretch to consider that he hurts her. The Lady of the Autumn court is strong, she’s stayed put and dealt with what the cauldron forced upon her— even in those 10 years she was with the Lord from the Day court. She stayed, she raised her children and she’ll be free when Beron dies. 

Maybe that’s why Lucien let her go. Why he would suggest dissolving the bond rather than dealing with it for the rest of time? Sure, he was already close to 500 years old, he could live to be 500 more and he was not going to shackle her to himself the way his father did to his mother. She needed to find a way to thank him. Maybe in a century when they got over this, she’d send him a fruit basket. Or a new fur throw. 

The more she read, the more she understood. 

It’s not unheard of for someone to have 2 bonds in their lifetime. 

After the death of the first mate, a second bond can snap into place. It’s happened to young widows and widowers alike, bringing them a second chance at happiness for the rest of their time here. Other situations in which a bonded couple gets bonded to a 3rd fae are more unlikely, but it still happens. Polyamorous bonds are rare to come by, seen only once or twice in a millennia, they can include upwards of 5 fae, at least in recorded history. She couldn’t even imagine how that would work. 

There was still hope for both herself and Lucien. He could get another bond, he could find his true soulmate out there… or he could just love someone and be loved the way he deserves to be loved without a bond. It’s not the end all be all. Maybe he’s meant to be with Vessa? Or Vessa and Jurian… they all live together most of the year, and he loves them quite a lot. Anything could happen now that he’s also free. 

Bonds snapping into place at first sight is common, that’s what happened with herself and Lucien. Others exist your entire life and you don’t know until the snap reverberates through you, like what happened with Feyre and Rhysand. He knew it longer, he could always feel her out there, it wasn’t until she started to fall in love with him that she began to understand what it was. That the bond was meant to be there. They were meant to be. 

Nesta and Cassian had a similar situation, the bond lingered from their first meeting and became stronger on the battlefield when she called after him. Grew more powerful after that first kiss when he thought he was dying… it wasn’t until she accepted it, until she announced with her whole being that she loved him, that it snapped into place for good. 

Azriel’s never had a bond. He loved Morrigan for centuries to no avail. He slept with countless fae… he’s gotten close to Elain herself, so close she thought he would kiss her. So close she could smell how much he wanted her. Only for something, or someone, to scare him off. 

Rhysand didn’t often go into her mind, it was typically Feyre who did. Often to share gossip or wish her goodnight from the other side of the river house. But Rhys was in Azriel and Cassian’s mind often. Barking orders, sharing jokes and simply catching up. He loved his brothers, but he loved his court more. She suspects that’s why he was so… so official while speaking to her and Lucien this afternoon. He was willing to do anything to keep Lucien in their good graces, to keep him as emissary. 

What wouldn’t he do?

She puts the book down, breathing heavily as it all hits her. He only called their almost kiss a ‘mistake’ that day because Rhysand was in his mind, telling him to back off, so that he didn’t have to pick between Shadowsinger and Emissary when the fight for her hand officially broke out. Because he would always pick his brother, he just didn’t want to have to.  

“How long after breaking a bond can another emerge?” She asks, watching as the house flips the pages of the book to the near end. The light shines on a specific paragraph more than the others and she knows she has her answer. 

Within moments of a mate's death, a new bond could snap into place. It’s happened in recorded history a handful of times, usually during war. A male would pass and his female, working in the infirmary, bonds to a wounded soldier. A female passes from sickness and her mate, standing beside her lifelong friend at the funeral, bonds to the only person who loved her as much as he did. Sometimes the second bond is stronger than the first, sometimes it’s the more important bond. The first mate was to teach a lesson, the second was for a lifetime of happiness. 

She feels her heart in her throat, her breathing still heavy, her thoughts racing to all the possibilities. Was this why she was so drawn to Azriel? Why she never bonded with anyone in all his years? Why it didn’t hurt when the tether snapped on her end, unlike Lucien's instant pain? 

Before she can even register it, she’s up and moving, out of the room and down the hall. Up the stairs and around the corner. The house makes the lights flicker, drawing Azriel out of his room in an instant, and having them meet in the hallway. 

She keeps walking until they’re millimetres apart. She places her hand on his chest and looks up into his dark and stormy eyes. “Tell me the truth.” 

“About?” 

“Why was it a mistake?” 

“You know,” he breathes. “The seer always knows.” 

She just smirks, “I will not talk down about your high lord… but sometimes he’s a royal pain in my ass.” 

He just smirks, “he spent centuries perfecting that quality.” 

She lets out another sigh, being this close to him just feels so right. Like there’s a magnet pulling her towards him. “Please tell me you feel it too? I don’t want to skirt around it for months like my sisters did.” 

“I’ve felt it for almost 3 long years now,” he whispers, his voice so low it reverberates through her, going right to her core. 

“Tell me about it?” She requests, “I want to know your mind, I want to know how you think. Walk me through it.” 

He picks her up then, making her squeal slightly, “I will tell you in the comfort of your bed, where you should be.”

Around the corner, down the stairs, through her hallway and into her bedroom. The books have been removed from the sheets, and more candles have been lit while the lights have been dimmed down low. He places her on her bed, waiting for her to pick a side before getting in himself, “where should I start?”

“What you felt when we first met?” 

“I thought you were so strikingly beautiful when I entered your house the first time,” he explains. “Like Cassian, I already knew I would do anything for Feyre’s family, but the way I would kill for you… that scared me. I hadn’t felt so strongly about a female in— maybe ever? I loved Morrigan, I thought she was beautiful. She is beautiful. But you, you changed everything about how I feel. I was noticing the beauty in everything after you, I was stopping to sniff flowers and following scents on the street just to bring you a baked good just so I could see the joy on your face. There is nothing I love more than seeing joy on your face.” 

She blushes hard, “I feel the same about you. Making the recipes you bring me, showing you how the seeds have bloomed into flowers, those are the best moments of my life.” 

“Even in the worst moments of my life, all I could think of was you,” he whispers again, almost afraid to admit that. “When you were taken, everyone warned me I might not make it back. They thought it was a suicide mission… I knew I would get you back, if not for me then for your sisters.”

“I have never experienced Rage like I did during the war,” she shares. “Kicking that beast off you, feeling your blood on me, it scared me. what I could do if you died.” 

“I think I’m pretty indestructible now,” he teases. “I’m not going anywhere on you.” 

“Until you have another accident in the middle of nowhere,” she pushes back. “I’m never going to ask you to not be the spymaster, but I will ask that you always, always make it home to me.” 

“Home?” He asks as if he wants to know where that is. 

“we could get a little tent and live in the woods for the rest of our lives and it would still be a home because you’re there beside me,” she assures him. “But I was thinking… I love the river house. I love my friends and the kitchen and my garden. I’d like to be there every day, no matter where we end up living together.” 

“I can ask Rhys if I can build a home on the property, a little 2-story house, just big enough for us, so you can walk over there every day,” he offers. “I have more than enough funds to build a castle, too, if that’s what you prefer.” 

She just smiles, “We can live in the townhouse, or maybe even the house of mist until it’s ready… I have a feeling if the bond snaps into place, we’re going to be just as bad, if not worse than the others.” 

He laughs, that beautiful hearty laugh she doesn’t get to hear often. Not unless they’re alone or everyone is drunk… before he can reply she sighs, “I love you. I really do.” 

A blush creeps up his face, “I love you. More than I can explain, I love you in ways I never thought possible for me.” 

“It’s possible and it’s happening,” she whispers, moving in closer to him. She cups his cheek, staring into his eyes. “I’m just so glad it’s me.” 

“Me too,” he whispers back, a thickness in his throat that lets her know there are more emotions buried behind his stern exterior. “Can I ask… can I ask what happened that made today of all days, the day that you decided to leave him?” 

“He looked at me… and I saw that same look my mother used to have. You see, I never had the privilege of being my own person, growing up. I had to stay skinny, I had my eyebrows plucked and my hair had to be long and I wasn’t allowed in the garden because pretty girls don’t get dirty. When she died, I had 3 years of peace. I didn’t go to as many balls, I wasn’t interacting with the princes and dukes she wanted to marry me off to. It was just me. And I put on weight. Just a little, enough to not see my ribs and round out my face. But it was a weight that I chose to gain. It kept me warm, I liked filling out my dresses. And then we lost all our money and I went back to starving.” 

She watches his face as he catches on, he looks her over, “You’re so healthy now, you’ve just made yourself even more beautiful, somehow. As if that was even possible?” 

She gives him a little smile. “I know, and not in a conceited way. This is how I prefer to look. I like having strong arms from carrying around bags of soil and heavy cement planter boxes. I like having thick thighs and a tummy and I like that my cheekbones aren’t as striking anymore. I love looking in the mirror and seeing myself now. Because I got to make the choice to look like this. I get to wake up every day and make choices for myself.” 

“And the bond, it wasn’t your choice.” 

She shakes her head, “it reminded me of my mother. She always wanted me to marry well. And what’s better than a male who’s the heir to not one throne, but 2?” 

He sighs, “I wanted to tell you there were more choices out there. That you didn’t have to suffer through it.” 

“I have words for Rhys when I get back,” she assures him. “He watched not only his mother but Morrigan, get pawned off to men who didn’t love them. He’s seen the hurt first hand and yet he wanted me to stay with him, to endure a loveless life, simply so He could have a better connection with the human queen. I don’t know if he didn’t realize it, or he's so used to thinking of the greater good that my happiness wasn’t on his radar, but it hurt. It hurt to see both my sisters so happy in bonds they chose, with males who love them, while I didn’t.” 

“I snapped at him that night, after our almost kiss. I never thought it was fair that there are 3 of you and 3 of us and yet only two from each family got to be happy.” 

“I’ve felt that too,” she admits. “I never wanted to try and make it work with Lucien. I was just going to be cordial with him until the time came when I had to have his babies or… and I never wished for this, but I knew he’d pass away at some point and I’d be free to love someone for real.” 

Before Az can even validate her feelings, she continues. “And then he showed up today, I felt his presence and I went out to greet him and he looked me up and down the same way my mother would. I could read it in his face that I was no longer the female he dreamed about, I wasn’t the same fae he envisioned all these months he was away. And something snapped in me. That fire that lives in both my sisters just spewed out and I lost it on him.” 

Az smiles, “yeah? I heard the house almost shook.” 

She shakes her head with a smile, loving when he teases her. “In that moment, I only thought about myself. For the first time in my life, no one was standing in front of me to protect me or talk for me or anything. For the first time in my life, the words I needed came to me and I said them. I didn’t want him. I had never wanted him. I was put into this body against my will, I was bonded to him against my will and I was suffering for it… and I thought about all those seeds you brought me. How they were never meant to be here, most of them have never been in the night court, even clipped in a bouquet. But I managed to grow them, give them life, feed them, protect them and help them flourish. I wanted to flourish, too. So the second he said we should get the bond dissolved, I jumped on it. I had no idea it was a possibility, either it was kept a secret from me or it just hasn’t been done in so long that no one thought to mention it— either way, I wanted it. We did it. And now, I’m free.” 

“And you always will be free,” Az assures. “Even if we don’t bond, even if this pull that we feel for each other is just love… I shouldn’t say just. Love is so powerful on its own. There are millions of couples in this land who love each other without a bond. I want to love you for the rest of my life, in whatever capacity you want from me.” 

“I would enjoy being Mrs. Shadowsinger,” she teases, making him laugh as he pulls her in close. She tucks her face into his neck and breathes him in, “If we don’t have a bond, I still would like to have a huge, disgustingly expensive wedding. I want everyone in the world to know I picked you. That it was my choice to pick you, it was my choice to let my heart keep loving you the way it desired to.” 

He soothes his hands down her back, kissing the top of her head. “It feels like a dream… hearing you say all these things.” 

She pinches him, making him roar as he slightly shoves her away. Elain giggles, so abundantly happy it’s pouring out of her. “See, you’re awake.” 

“And you’re a menace,” he retorts. 

She pushes him so he’s flat on his back and straddles his hips, looking down at him, “I have dreamed about teasing you like this for years now. Making you blush, reminding you how loved you are, making you feel so happy that your shadows turn pink.” 

He laughs, “We could try.” 

“I want to kiss every part of you. I want to know every scar and freckle and tattoo. I want to know your body as well as I know my own… but we can’t tonight.” 

He understands, “Are you feeling okay? Headache or nausea? Are you tired?” 

She shakes her head, “I haven’t taken the contraceptive tea since I was a human… since I gave my maidenhood to my previous betrothed.” 

He takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly, “And you haven’t bled since becoming fae?” 

She shakes her head, “I never really had them as a human either. Madja said that was likely because I was so underweight, now that I’m healthy, it should happen in a few months.” 

He nods, “so tomorrow, or the next day, when you’re feeling up to it, we’ll go to the apothecary and get what you need.” 

“Aren't they open all night?” She teases, making him smirk. “I’m kidding, we can go tomorrow.” 

Just then, a steaming cup of tea pops up on her night table. “Oh, mother?” Elain stares at it and then back at him. “Is that—“A warm breeze brushes past her, a silent yes from the house. “Is it from Nesta’s collection?” Another breeze. “How fast does it take effect?” 

A book drops on the bed, turned to a page that starts with the world ‘instantaneously.’

“She is amazing,” Azriel compliments. 

“My sister?” 

“No– well yeah, but,” he laughs. “I mean The House.” 

“How do you know they’re a she?” 

“The way they take care of us, the motherly touch, the love… no male soul could compare.” 

The house takes the book back, leaving a chocolate that Elain knows to be his favourite in its wake. 

“Do you have a name?” Elain asks, now sitting against the headboard with the tea in her hands, “I always want to thank you, but I don’t know your name.” 

Another book appears on the bed, the title of the book is ‘Nameless.’ It’s a book about creatures who’ve lived on this earth so long that memory fails to recall their names. 

“So take some time, look through all the books in this house and pick a name that suits you. You have the choice now,” Elain explains. “Pick a name and we’ll make sure everyone refers to you as such.” 

More candles are lit around her room, and rose petals are on her bed and around it. The curtains are drawn, the fire roars in the corner fireplace… and they’re suddenly alone. 

Elain chugs her tea, drinking down every single last drop, he sighs once it’s gone and passes the cup to Az to place back on the night table. “I’m nervous.” 

“Me too,” he agrees. “But… I’m more nervous for a bond than the lack of one.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I don’t know how to ask for a week off,” he teases. 

“Well… we could just stay here, have the house lock the doors knowing Rhys can’t winnow in, we just don’t have to leave for a week.” 

His eyes get darker as he crawls over her, resting between her legs, holding himself up with those deliciously strong arms of his, he looks like a feral animal about to pounce. “I like the way you think.” 

“Go easy on me?” She whispers, visibly nervous now. “I’m practically a virgin again, it’s been so long.” 

“Don’t worry,” he assures, leaning in to press a kiss to her cheek and then her nose. Her eyes close and he takes a moment to kiss both eyelids. “I’m going to treat you so well, my love.” 

She blushes, “are you going to kiss me for real, or what?” 

He balances on one arm, cupping her face gently, he watches her close her eyes as he brushes his nose against hers. She feels as if time stops, she’s frozen in anticipation for what feels like forever until his lips are on her. 

It’s then that the magnetic pull becomes something more. Stars explode behind her eyes, she wraps her arms around him so tight, pulling him flush against her body as if she can’t get him close enough. Their souls become one, she is his and he is hers. 

He wraps his arm under her, pulling her in just as close. Her legs wrap around his hips, pressing his groin flush against her heat. His lips part, introducing her to his tongue, she hums into his mouth, not yet confident enough to moan… his hand slips down from her cheek, over her breast, noticing the hardened peaks of her nipples. He palms them, trying to entice more noise out of her. 

She’s heard from her sisters just how sensitive the Illyrian wings are, so she reaches up, running her fingers over the silky membrane as seductively as possible, making him shiver… he grinds against her, hard in his sleep pants. That’s what makes her moan against him. Knowing she’s contributing to his pleasure, that he wants her just as bad as she wants him. 

She brushes over his wing again just as he pinches her nipple between two fingers, moaning in tandem this time. He kisses the side of her mouth, along her jaw and down her neck, leaving her to pant as she stares at the ceiling. This is real. This is happening. She has Azriel in her bed, soon to be inside her, too. Her whole body heats up at the thought, wetness pools between her legs and within moments, Azriel’s kisses become nips and sucks, his tongue and teeth on her neck, leaving marks as he feels down her sides towards her hips and pulls her up against his hardened cock once more. He grinds against her, slow yet forceful, showing her exactly what is to come. 

“Az,” she whines, face pink as her sheets, she can’t believe how needy she feels and so fast. “Please? Touch me, please? I need you. I need to feel you. It’s been too long.” 

He smiles against her, fiddling with the hem of her sleep shirt, “can I take this off you?”  

“Gods, yes!” 

He sits up on his knees, pulling her forward, he slips the top off of her and tosses it to the floor. She lays back down and she watches his eyes rake over her makeup upper half, “sweet mother…” 

“Your turn,” she breathes. He looks at her confused so she sits back up, gripping his shirt in her hands. “I want to see you.” 

He simply grips the front of it and pulls it, tearing it off his back, she hears the sound of the seams ripping and the cotton tearing before the fabric is chucked on the floor beside her shirt. She presses her hand to his bare chest instead, the tips of her slightly chilled fingers running over his heated abs, down towards the tuft of hair leading down and disappearing under his pants. “All of you,” she adds. 

“You first,” he interjects, getting her to lay back once more, she lifts her hips as he starts to tug at her bottoms, freeing her from the fabric. 

He’s quick to kiss her stomach, spreading her legs before she can make him take his own pants off to make things even. He kisses her all the way down, over her mound towards her hip and then the crease where her leg meets lip. Breathing her in, his eyes roll back in his skull, “fuck,” he groans. “Can I? Please?” 

She nods as if her head is on a spring, dying to experience this. She’s read about it, dreamed about it… she all but pushes her hips against his face as he drags his tongue along her sex. She moans, back arching off the mattress, she grips her breast and allows him to continue however he sees fit. 

He kisses her most sensitive spot, sucking on it gently before lapping up her wetness, sticking his tongue deep inside of her to gather it all up. His nose bumps her clit as his shadows come up to play with her. Black swirling smoke circles around her breasts like mini tornadoes, playing with the hardened peaks of her nipples, she drops her hands to her sides, gripping the sheets for dear life as she feels him everywhere. 

In the 2 years she’s been left with just her own hand and imagination, it’s never been this easy for her to feel her climax approaching. It usually took a while, multiple imaginations, moving positions, adding more fingers… but Az, tongue deep inside of her for this short amount of time, has caught her stomach aflame. The heat spreads through her whole body, the blood in her veins feeling like molten iron on a mission. She reaches out for his hair, holding on tight as her climax rips through her. She’d never been so loud in her life, letting go, feeling it all so intensely, she didn’t even care to try and be embarrassed, not when she looked down between her legs to see that beautiful smirk on his face, the shadows clearing out once again.

“Holy fuck?” She says between gasps for air, feeling as though she just ran up all 10,000 steps to this house. 

He just laughs, deep and lustful, “I didn’t know that word was in your vocabulary.” 

“It’s reserved for moments like this,” she teases right back. “When I’ve been thoroughly fucked by the best lover in the world.” 

“Don’t let your sisters hear that, I can’t imagine the fight that would break out trying to compare us all,” he teases, returning to his knees. His cock hard as a rock in his pants, he starts to push the fabric down, freeing the monster. 

“Please, don’t mention my sisters when you’re that hard,” she groans. “Gods… I’m going to be impaled on that thing.” 

He laughs again, maneuvering out of his pants, they end up on the floor with everything else. He gets as close to her as possible, grips his cock and rests it over her, allowing her to see just how deep he would be able to get. A shiver runs down her spine, “You really do have the biggest wingspan…” 

“Hey, don’t talk about my brothers when my cock is on you,” he says through a smile, clearly just saying it to even the score. 

She just shakes her head, laying back, still worn out from that first orgasm, “Mother almighty, please make it fit.” 

“It’ll fit, especially now that you’re nice and relaxed. That’s the key part, you stretch better if you’re relaxed,” he explains, pulling back. “It might be easier if you’re on top, too.” 

“and that doesn’t hurt your wings at all, laying on your back?” She worries, sitting up as well. 

He shakes his head, “No, they’ll be fine.” 

“Okay,” she smiles, reaching up to take his face in her hands, she pulls him in for another kiss. Missing the way his lips feel against her own, tasting herself, she knows it from her own curiosity, she hums into his mouth. 

Her hands slide down his chest, over the trail of hair leading to his cock. She grips it at the base, letting him bite her lip in surprise before she starts to stroke him. She pulls away enough to look into his eyes, “what’s more sensitive?” She runs her thumb over the head, gathering the precum that’s been leaking since she had her legs wrapped around him. “This or your wings?” 

“I don’t know,” he breathes out, deep and dark, his eyes going basically all black, blown out with lust for her. “The only being who’s ever touched my wings is the healer…” 

“Well then, I have some experiments to do later,” she assures, letting go of his cock before taking him too far. “Lay back for me?” 

He nods, listening to his lady. 

Resting his head against the pillows, his cock laying back against his stomach… those big majestic wings spread and the tips hanging over the edges of her bed. She marvels over him. Taking in the sight, she sighs,  “You’re more beautiful than I ever dreamed.” 

He blushes slightly, “I’m glad you think so.” 

“By the time I’m done with you,” she says, hiking a leg over him, resting her heat over his cock. “You’re going to believe me when I say you’re beautiful. Handsome,” she leans over him, cupping his face before pushing his hair back, “everything I’ve ever wanted and needed wrapped up in one. You are going to feel so loved.” 

“I believe you,” he whispers back, unable to find his full voice in his surprise. 

She hovers slightly, gripping his cock once more, “ready?” 

He nods, “are you?” 

She just smirks as she angles him towards her entrance and begins to sit down. The stretch is glorious, she takes him inch by inch, forgetting how to breathe the deeper he goes, she rests both her hands on his abs and stares at him, mouth agape. She lets out an exasperated breath, “holy gods…” 

“Take as much time as you need to adjust,” he assures her it's okay, biting his lip. She can tell he wants to thrust, he wants to take advantage of the tight, wet heat wrapped around him currently. 

She waits half a minute, the longest half-minute of his life, and then starts to pull back. His hands find her hips, helping her as she pulls off his cock an inch, barely, and grinds back down. Finding her own rhythm, he simply guides her hips alongside her own movements, “That’s it, sweet fuck, you feel so good.” 

“You’re one to talk,” she grips her breast again, head tipping back as she rides him, “this is glorious… but I need more.” 

“Tell me,” he growls. “Tell me what you need and I’ll be it for you. Forever.” 

“I need–” she stops to bite back a slight moan, still riding him to the best of her ability. “I want you to fuck me, I can’t— I want to lay back and let you have your way with me.” 

“Okay,” he agrees, sitting up slowly, he wraps his arms around her and maneuvers himself onto his knees without ever pulling out of her. Her arms were quick to wrap around his shoulders, holding on tight as he moved them. He rests her back, her head at the foot of the bed, still wrapped around her, he looks into her eyes, “How hard?” 

Her hands trail down his shoulders, admiring his tattoos. She looks down at his chest, down to where they’re connected, and then back up to his eyes, “slow at first… I want to savour this. Making love to the man of my dreams for the first time. Our first time.” 

He pulls out ever so slowly, more than she was able to on top of him. She feels him leave, the emptiness left in his wake… and then he pushes back in. Starts to explode behind her closed eyes, her head once again thrown back. She grips his arms tighter as he does it again and again, hitting a spot inside of her that she never knew existed. He’s so deep, filling her perfectly, she can’t believe any of this is real. 

“Az,” she gasps his name as he picks up the pace, leaning in, he tucks his head into the crook of her neck and covers her in kisses, sucking gently, afraid to leave any marks, even though she heals fast and has 3 days of uninterrupted peace lined up. 

She doesn’t hold anything back, moaning as loud as she wants, running her nails over his shoulders and back hard enough to draw blood. It feels too good to care, she’ll put some cream on him later… but for right now, she lives in this euphoria and doesn’t give a fuck about anything else. It’s just her and Az and two impending orgasms that might bring the mountain down. 

There’s a hammering in her chest, a pang that contracts and expands with each thrust. It doesn’t feel like her heart, it’s not her lungs, either. Sure, she’s breathing heavily the faster he goes, but this is entirely different. This is… this is 10 million times more intense than when he tumbled from the cauldron and looked at Lucien the first time. This is a bond that she knew was there, buried deep inside of her, waiting to be awoken when the time was right. 

She’s so close, she’s right there, but she needs more. She wants to reach between them and rub herself but she also wants to keep holding him this close, “Az, can— holy fuck, can you,” she starts to ask him for help, too overthrown by passion. “Shadows, down there,” she simplifies it. 

He nods against her. “Yeah,” he breathes, hot and heavy under her ear. 

She doesn’t see them, but there’s a presence between them, the same twisting, tingling feeling dances around her clit as it had her nipples. Ghosting over her, adding just enough pressure to push her to where she wants to be, she pulls his face out of her neck and slams her lips against his. Breathing him in, becoming one. 

While her bond with Lucien was described as a metal wire, cold and formed against her will… the feeling of this new bond coming into existence is so much brighter. Lighter, full of life, love and happiness. It drapes over them like ivy and wisteria taking over a house, blooming eternal purple, white and pink blossoms all around them. Growing wilder as the years go on. She was covered in him, he was covered in her. This was how it was always meant to be. 

He pulls back just enough to rest their foreheads together, breathing against one another now, he holds her tighter, “Mine.” 

“Yours,” she agrees. Letting another few thrusts pass before she adds, “And you’re mine.” 

“Yours,” he whispers. “Forever.”

“Forever,” she repeats as the feeling returns. 

Heat builds and builds, swirling in her gut, mimicking the shadows she’s engulfed in. Wrapping her arms around him tighter, she brushes over his wing, making him whine. She does it again, pushing him to the edge alongside her. He’ll catch them both when they fall. Her stomach drops, her eyes squeeze shut, her body goes limp as pleasure pulses through her with a high-pitched, repeated moan as she rides it out. 

And he’s gone then too, filling her up, she feels his cock twitch with each rope of release, only elongating her own orgasm. It’s everything she’s ever wanted, him, all of him, inside of her, making her his for life, and hopefully in whatever comes after. 

He slumps against her, she can take his weight just fine, it actually feels wonderful. Crushed by his safety, his big delicious body pressed to her own. Wrapped around each other so tight they’re like a ribbon tied in a knot. Breathing heavily as they come down, that pang in her chest still strumming away. 

He kisses her cheek, over to her ear, along her jaw and down her neck, she wonders if he’s feeling it too. “Az?” Hesitation in her voice. 

“I know,” he whispers. “It happened for me too.” 

She holds him even tighter somehow, tears slipping past her eyes as she lets out a sob. Happier than she could ever imagine being. He struggles to push out of her grip, holding himself up to look at her with genuine fear in his eyes, she just shakes her head, “I’m fine, I’m… I’m so happy.” 

Tears blur his own vision, she watches one of them slip out, roll down his cheek and land on her chin. She just cups his face, brushing off the wetness. “You’re everything to me, everything and then some. You’re my favourite friend, my lover, my confidant. My test dummy, my best reviewer, supplier of my seeds—

“In more ways than one now,” he jokes, having to make it funny before he really sobbed. 

She laughs too, “You make the world so much brighter for me.” 

“Really?” 

She nods, “you are the sunshine to my flower, you make me flourish and grow and love being alive… your light is so bright, of course, you have a shadow.” 

By the look on his face, he never ever thought of it like that. “Thank you,” he lowers his head, brushing their noses together, “I love you.” 

“I love you.” 

The kiss they share is… everything. Full of love and respect and wanting. Lust and need and friendship and yearning. Every emotion at once, so strong, it knocks the wind out of both of them, causing them to pull away enough to breathe, mouth to mouth. Sharing their souls, trading them back and forth, learning them more intimately than ever before. 

“Mine,” he whispers again. 

“Mine,” she reminds him, owning him just as much as he owns her. 

A second wave washes over them, another round of need. He’s not as gentle this time and she’s perfectly okay with it. Flipping onto her stomach, he absolutely rails her, fingers digging into her hips while she screams into the mattress. 

He’s definitely going to need that week off. 

—

When things settle a bit, when there’s nothing left to come out of him and she’s barely able to stop her legs from shaking, the house drops two of their favourite danishes on the bed. Allowing them to make it real, to accept the bond before anyone in their lives can make an opinion of it. 

He takes one, she takes the other, and like a couple on their wedding day, they bring it to each other's lips, arms crossed, and they feed one another. The beating in her chest steadies out, becoming one with her heartbeat as she swallows the pastry down. Her heart and his beat the same, sharing a rhythm, bonded to each other, forever. 

She just smiles at him, “It’s real now.” 

“It always has been,” he assures. “I knew from the moment I met you that this was going to be the outcome, and I would’ve waited 500 more years for it to happen.” 

“Well, now we get those 500 years to be happily in love,” she adds, face dropping a bit, “Forever will never be long enough.” 

“No it won’t,” he agrees, putting the pastry down and cupping her face again. “Let's make it count.” 

She nods, “you know… I still want a big wedding.” 

He laughs, “I do too. I want everyone and their mother to know you chose me.” 

“And I would choose you again, over and over, in every universe. Always.” 

He steals another kiss, having to do something to stop himself from crying. It’s a dream come true for both of them. 

“Of course, the seer’s dream would come true,” he whispers against her. “I’m just blessed to have been the dream.” 

“Hopefully we can make them all come true,” she teases, smirk on her face. “I’ve had some… rather colourful dreams about you.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Mhm, we’ll have to explore them all this week.” 

“I’ll fly down and tell him I’m not available this week, the second the sun comes up,” he assures. 

“Take me with you, I want to see the look on his face when he realizes what happened,” cheeky as ever. “Maybe we should all take a week off, see who comes back the most relaxed.” 

He laughs again, “well one couple has a kid, the other is with the Illyrians, I think we’ll win.” 

“And thank the mother for that,” she leans in for another kiss, unsure how she could even sustain another round but her lust for him overpowers logic. 

This was going to be a long week. 

A/N: the house picked the name Anvita: who bridges the gap, who connects home and heart. 

[bee-ina-boat]

hello gay people. i mentioned awhile back about a possible concept for a tma au but its mixed with mythology/religion based stuff. i have since finished this chunk of concept/reference art of the Ceaseless Watcher for this au!!!

im dubbing it: The Magnus Mythos!! please talk to me about it i am insane

putting my rambling au nonsense under the readmore!!!!!

edit!!!: new mythos post just dropped :3

alright- bare with me because my thoughts are everywhere lol

random various au information:

the fear entites are instead more general gods, much like those from various mythologies (greek, norse, egyption, etc.) like the eye, rather than an entity that feeds on the fear of being watched, is rather the god of knowledge and sight!

all of the gods have influence over the world, some mortals will devote themselves to one specific god entirely, others will become devout to multiple, and some will simply be neutral among all 14 and live life out as they please.

avatars are mortals who have been blessed with power by the gods while creatures (like mr spider, the not them, etc) are simply beings who have been born into the world by the gods power seeping into it. artifacts are items that have either been blessed/cursed by the gods or avatars, or have been affected by the gods power seeping into the world also.

theres multiple sects, cults, and churches for each god much like how many real life religions have different sects with their own rules and standards. some have beef, others do not.

the gods themselves are entirely morally neutral, they have their own interconnected relationships with eachother, and kind of view mortals as pets in a way, picking favorites and seeing them as of lesser importance in comparison to themselves.

since the gods here arent necessarily evil and theyre actually sentient beings, their titles are changed to be more fitting (the mother of puppets -> the mother of fate as an example)

the story is set in an era resembling the early 1900s because idk. vibes are neat i guess

thats all the basic world building crumbs for now, ill go deeper into it when i have more art and story stuff ready!

for now- heres some actual lore :3c

Jonah magnus is basically eye jesus. thousands of years prior to the start of the story, the eye favored him and he became a messiah of sorts.

the House of Magnus is a church sect of the eye founded in what is now london. but it doesnt operate JUST as a simple church. many sects of the eye devote themselves to gaining knowledge of the world around them and the House of Magnus is no different there. operating with a library, research centre and all. the research not just on history and knowledge, but also the holy and divine. documenting stories that deal with the divine powers and researching cursed/blessed artifacts aswell.

its a common legend that if one tells their story under the eyes watch (either in a church of the eye or directly to an avatar of the eye) that theyll receive good fortune and foresight, and since the House of Magnus has become a well known sect of the eye, many will come far and wide to detail their accounts under its roof

all of this documentation leads down to the Magnus Mythos, a large archive under the church where the written documents are filed, curated and cared for by the head Archivist. as such, the position of Archivist has become a most sacred role among worshippers of the eye comparable to the head of the church itself.

they arent just revered for their care of the mythos (though the devotees of the eye view the care of documented knowledge to be a sacred and ever important responsibility) Theres a prophecy, hand woven by the Mother of Fate herself, one that states an ordinary archivist will one day be gifted by all 14 of the gods and awaken the great change, bringing about a new and blessed age.

but is this newest archivist even ready for such pressure and commitment? and what if the prophecy is more devious than one might think?

oooOOOOoooOO mysterious lore- i know this is heavily self indulgent but i refuse to apologize for that because im havin FUN. if you read all of that just know i love you so much and i hope you liked it ;w; im very excited and ive been working on archivist +archival assistant lore for the past few days and im excited to do art for them ;_;

[measlyfurball13]

Seeing as your one of the only people I know who is into Transformers, would you mind info dumping about it?

I know very little of anything about it besides the old "Micheal Bay!" Joke, and that it was initially made to sell toys, but that doesn't really mean anything.

So tell me, is there "more than meets the eye" to this franchise?

HOOOOOOOOO BOY

The single most important thing to know about Transformers is that there is no singular canon. Rather, there's a TON of different continuities, or basically alternate versions of the same universe. Transformers is a franchise that basically tells the same story over and over again, altering each time while keeping some very basic core themes and characters.

Optimus Prime is the leader of the Autobots. Megatron is the leader of the Decepticons. The Autobots are the good guys, the Decepticons are the bad guys, and they have been fighting a war for millions of years. It is rare for continuities to change these core facts. They might be modified, but they will never be unrecognizable.

In one continuity, Optimus might be a younger, more inexperienced leader. In another, he may be old, wise, and powerful. In some continuities, Optimus and Megatron have personal beef with each other through their backstories, making them almost lost brothers of a sort. In others, Megatron is a stranger and Optimus is an impersonal victim of his cruelty. Each time this story, the story of Transformers, is told, little details like this change.

Generally, continuities try to keep a certain "feel" to them. While sometimes a continuity will completely reinvent a character, most of the time it will try to keep a character within a few (arbitrarily chosen) character traits and/or role.

So, if this story has been told over and over again, and there's certain established expectations for characters, what was this all based on? The answer is the original 1984 animated cartoon! This cartoon is referred to as "Generation 1", or just "G1" for short. This is the cartoon made to sell toys. The animation quality is poor, the dialogue and music are cheesy, and I absolutely love it to pieces. I would highly, highly recommend that you watch the first three episodes, which basically acts as the pilot for the whole show. It really writes the characters at their most iconic and introduces the setting.

Now that you understand that G1 is the base, you can go from there and explore other continuities! Remember, continuities don't connect across different mediums (with the very distinct exception of one specific continuity, which I'll get to right after this) so feel free to find one that interests you. In general, each cartoon (or close series of cartoons) is a continuity. Allow me to list some of the more popular ones:

Transformers Beast Wars. This is arguably the continuity that follows the established G1 pattern the least, since this is the cartoon that followed right after it. In this one, the transformers turn into animals and battle on a prehistoric earth. This one is well-renowned for its surprisingly deep character writing, but the antique 3D animation is the biggest hurdle to enjoyment. It's kinda the continuity that's the most forgotten.

Transformers Armada, Energon, and Cybertron. Also known as the Unicron Trilogy (no, not "unicorn"!), this one was made in Japan and then dubbed and exported. They introduce a lot of anime-inspired features into the lore such as powerups and the like. Armada is regarded very highly with good writing, the other two not so much. The continuity between them is fairly loose. You could absolutely get away with watching just that one. Here's a link to Armada.

The Michael Bay films. You already know this one. These live action films are in a continuity of their own. In all absolutely fairness, the first movie is pretty good, barring Bay's more childish flairs. If you don't mind the U.S. military being portrayed as the absolute good guys, I think you'll genuinely like it.

The Bumblebee movie. Special shoutout to this one! This live action movie is in its own continuity that's really fun. This is an excellent movie and I love it so much, please watch it at some point.

Transformers Animated. This is one of the most widely beloved continuities in the entire franchise. People really, really like this show. It takes the franchise in a refreshing new direction, with the first season feeling almost a bit more like a superhero cartoon than a "traditional" transformers cartoon. The Autobots are the absolute underdogs in this one and it's hard not to root for them. Here's a link. This one's a good one to start with.

Transformers Cyberverse. This one is a web series that was focused for a younger audience for the first season, gets decent in the second but then gets absolutely and insanely fucking unhinged in season 3. I. . . don't recommend this one for any beginners? It's a trip. That first season is pretty unbearable. The second season starts out feeling like you missed something, and then gradually gets kinda better. Season 3 is insane. Look, just tackle this one after you've tackled the others. Don't start here.

Transformers Earthspark. The newest of the bunch, this one is releasing on Paramount Plus. I've really enjoyed what I've seen of it! It's a much more down-to-earth approach to the story. It changes some characters but in interesting ways. The new characters are excellent as well. You can definitely start with this one.

And finally, without further ado:

Transformers Prime.

I fucking LOVE this one.

This one is my favorite and was what really got me into the Transformers fandom. This cartoon takes the good innovations from the Michael Bay movies and then actually tells an amazingly competent story with it. It's the Transformers cartoon with the darkest tone by a long shot, and it really sells that this story is about a war. Characters die! The serialization is suuuuuuuper tight- one of my favorite examples is that injured characters have to spend time onscreen healing back up.

This cartoon also gives a significant amount of focus and exploration of the Decepticons as a faction as well, which is rare for the franchise. Both the Autobot and Decepticon characters will charm their way into your heart.

This show is equivalent in quality to Avatar the Last Airbender to me. I know that's probably overhyping it. You may not like it as much. But I really really really love it.

Here is a link to the first season.

But wait! There's more. Welcome to the Aligned Continuity!

Transformers Prime is actually part of the franchise's first attempt to really connect a story across media platforms. The result was. . . mostly successful? Definitely a lot of plot holes/errors, and some of the continuity is trash, but I want to highlight two videogames specifically:

Transformers: War for Cybertron. This game is a third-person shooter by High Moon studios. They do an absolutely stellar job with this one. Taking place on Cybertron, the home planet of the transformers, this one acts as the first part of an indirect prequel to Transformers Prime.

Transformers: Fall of Cybertron. If the first game is good, then this game is amazing. The devs layer on more amazing mechanics to those introduced in the first game, with some of my absolute most favorite moments in all of gaming happening in this one. It acts as a second part of the prequel to Transformers Prime.

The writing in both of these games is so amazing, and the gameplay is so much fun. I know you love videogames, so that's why I'm recommending these two you. HOWEVER, the cost is that these games are stupid difficult to get ahold of. You'll most likely have to sail the high seas, yo-ho-ho, if you catch my drift. I play these on my Xbox 360. Best of luck to you!

Anyways, there are other entries into the Aligned Continuity. There's a set of three novels that I've heard are stellar. If you're looking for a show for young kids but that is also fun for you to watch, you could always check out Transformers: Rescue Bots. That one has a small but devoted fanbase of older fans.

But do NOT touch the cartoon in this continuity called Robots in Disguise. Do not. It's marketed as a sequel to Transformers Prime. It is not. Not really. It's like the Halo 5 of Transformers. Every day I am reminded that it exists I am in pain.

---

And there lies the end of my introduction! If you actually did read all of this, congrats to you. Ironically, I'm not sure that you've really ended up more knowledgeable than you started. I didn't really go over anything specific about characters or plot or lore or anything. But I hope I've illustrated my point that to do so would be fruitless- this story exists in so many different iterations that you just have to go out and find the one that resonates the most with you, y'know?

My recommendation for getting acquainted with the franchise is to start with those first three G1 episodes, then move on to either Animated or Prime. You could also pick Beast Wars if you're looking for something with a more retro 90s charm, which I know you like from Marathon.