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chimaerakirin · 6 hours ago

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To Ashes And Blood

Stereotypes often come from facts. It's a fact that vampires own nightclubs. It's also a fact that the Fae like to dance. So really, Shigaraki Tomura, Heir to the Prince of Kanto, should have expected to get at least a few patrons who happen to be allergic to iron at some point, and maybe Ikeda Yayoi should have expected to find the owner of her new favorite dance floor to have fangs and a liquid diet. Then again, both are Western monsters living in the homeland of the Yokai, so their surprise might be forgivable. Either way, things are going to change around here, and maybe not just for their personal day to day lives.

Supernatural AU, no Quirks, Heroes, or Villains. Faerie lore heavily inspired by the October Daye series by Seanan McGuire. MDNI.

CW: Smuuuut. Also bargaining with the Fair Folk, but smut. BJs, PIV, cum eating, pretty basic.

Negotiation

Tomura shrinks in on himself, wondering if he can get away with burrowing entirely under the blanket. "Tha— At least you didn't say 'we need to talk…'" he mumbles, cutting himself off before he can finish what he's pretty sure is considered a dirty word for the Fae.

"It's rude because it implies there's still a debt, by the way. That means that the deal was unfair, and the person you're saying it to is by extension either a cheater or bad at judging value." Yayoi regards him with some amusement. "The first word in the plural is less rude than both, but most Fae don't really expect proper manners from humans, even if they're still insulted. It's kind of like dealing with Americans. They're going to be loud, especially when saying the quiet parts. That's just how it is."

He snorts, then coughs awkwardly. "Uh. Yeah. So… What did you figure out? I only remember bits and pieces clearly…"

"Your friend Giri—"

"Kurogiri."

"Kurogiri then. He explained that my blood basically only did that to you because you didn't ask permission first. We have to have a bargain if you're going to feed from me safely. In theory I could just make a few implications about what you'd owe me without actually explaining anything, then let you have at it and collect a blank check later, but even by pureblood standards that's a bit rude considering you aren't technically human. By changeling standards on the other hand, it would be considered less exploitative to just steal your bank card and glamour the bank agent who calls to ask about fraud."

He frowns. "That's not very reassuring…"

"Sorry, I'm used to explaining this kind of thing bluntly, it's literally my job."

"So what counts as a bargain?"

She hums. "Last night, you paid for the yakitori, then I brought you here and danced for you. That was a simple bargain. You like watching me dance, so you gained something. The minimum requirement is that we both get what we ask for, but ideally we both benefit, tangibly or not."

He does like watching her dance. "What's a less simple bargain?" he asks.

"There's a few ways to read that question. Simple can mean 'easy immediate price' or it can mean 'one-off with clear terms.' Less simple on the former generally means there's a bigger, maybe more abstract price somewhere down the line, or that there will be a chance for one side to try to wiggle out. But 'easy immediate price' is also how the konbini works, you give them the specified amount of yen and they give you the item, repeatable in perpetuity."

He takes a moment to process that, then cringes. "Can we not use yen here? Or actual money in general. It feels too much like you're for sale, and I'm not looking for a blood-whore."

She tilts her head. "That's a thing?"

"Yes," he hisses through his teeth. "No one respects blood-whores. They're seen as groupies that get off on being used, and it's rare that the assumption is wrong."

"Then we won't bargain for coin," she says simply. "I have to tell you that Kurogiri already said he'd pay me if you had to spend the day here. Room and board, he said."

"What does that include?" he asks suspiciously.

"Isn't it obvious? There's a human legal definition even, so you don't have to worry about squirmy Fae traditions of Hospitality. Historically those range from 'you can shelter from the rain in my barn' to 'I don't have an extra bed so I'll take the couch' as far as accommodations go. Bath access got added with the invention of indoor plumbing." She raises a finger, a serious look on her face. "But it's generally considered rude to invite a guest into your house at dinnertime and then not feed them, and 'room and board' specifically means a place to sleep and meals."

That still sounds like money for blood.

"No, it's host duties." Did he say that out loud? "You're a guest that I'm getting paid to house and feed, so I should make a reasonable effort to feed you."

"Most people wouldn't consider having to bleed reasonable," he points out.

That just makes her laugh. "If I was most people, you wouldn't be here in the first place. Now, since you're getting dangerously close to the Angsty Reluctant Vampire trope, I'm going to give you a chance."

He shudders at the description. He actually likes being a vampire, thanks. "What kind of chance?"

She rolls over and fishes around under the bed, then comes up with his 'lunchbox' flask, which sloshes when she shakes it. "You finish this, and if you can convince me you're satisfied with it, then that's your breakfast. You can use the kitchen to reheat it if you want."

"…Bet." He takes the flask. He knows as soon as he opens it that she hasn't done anything to the contents. He also knows he's not going to be honestly satisfied by it. She implicitly told him he can try to lie though, so he knocks it back as fast as he can, a move that would never fly in front of Kurogiri or Atsuhiro. But if he doesn't have a chance to linger on it, maybe he can get away with faking it.

…He can't get away with faking it. He almost gags on the taste, and can't quite suppress the cough. Damn it. It was just on the wrong side of mediocre last night, and the flask itself is spelled to maintain the contents so it's not cold or congealed. It should still be mediocre. Instead it's bitter. Weak. Dry, even. Like the butcher shop blood his family reserves for drinking games and bets.

"Is it that bad?" she asks, taking the empty flask and capping it.

He coughs harder. "Worse. I don't understand… There shouldn't be anything wrong with it."

"Yeah, we'll be asking Kurogiri about that later. He seemed to know what was going on beyond the obvious fact of you tripping balls. So." She rolls back and brushes her thumb over his mouth. "You lost that bet. I'm feeding you."

"You're very eage-rrrf—!" He loses the rest of the sentence as her thumb dips into his mouth and brushes across the point of one fang. Instead all that comes out is a groan because the few drops that leak out across his tongue are everything that the blood in the flask wasn't and a few things more. Then there's a few more drops, and a few more, and he has to lick her sliced skin repeatedly to make it stop. "You did that on purpose."

"Yes."

"Why are you so eager to be bitten? Normal people don't want to be eaten by a monster."

She smiles. Her expression is just the tiniest bit too wide, her teeth just the tiniest bit too sharp, her eyes the tiniest bit too hungry. "Silly. Did you already forget? I'm a monster too."

The sample made him hungry. The smile makes him want more than just food. He throws the blanket off his legs to keep it from tangling around their feet and moves to kneel over her. "I'm going to pick up where we left off last night," he warns her.

"Good. I didn't exactly enjoy being left high and dry." She rises off the bed just enough to kiss him, a hand around the back of his neck pulling him down with her when she falls back. Her teeth are as sharp as they look, like ivory chisels, and he'd cut his tongue six ways from Sunday on them if he didn't have decades of experience avoiding that with his own teeth. He does vaguely wonder how he didn't have to worry about it last night, but she distracts him quite thoroughly with the first thing she says when they come up for air. "Not that there was anything dry about it on my part."

The implications of that — can it really be called an implication when it's so explicit — go straight to his dick. "I can fix that," he rasps.

Tomura's never liked playing with his food. Master made sure he knew how, but he's never been inclined to use the knowledge the way it was intended. He's used hypnosis to leave a woman thinking she had a good ride without noticing she's a pint lighter, he's given a woman a good ride without ever touching her neck, but it never felt right to feed in bed. Or to fuck in the kitchen, as it were. The thing in the back of his head that's always shied away from that idea isn't doing that now. It's not gone either though. For once it wants him to take both opportunities. So he will.

He kisses her again, hands roaming over her skin until he reaches her breasts, then he starts to tease. He's pretty sure he's going to get addicted to playing with her tits, because they feel perfect under his fingers. Her skin is soft and smooth, the curve just big enough to fill his entire hand without overflowing, and they're exactly the right firmness to give under a squeeze without jiggling like a badly programmed physics engine. Her nipples are a strong dusty rose color, perfectly sized to be plucked at with three fingers, and they have a pleasantly springy stiffness when they react to his touch. They taste good, too, when he dips his head to lick at one. Not like human skin usually tastes, but vaguely like that flower wine Kurogiri came up with once.

She liked it when he sucked on them before, he remembers, so he does that again, and relishes the way her breath hitches and her fingers clench in his hair. Measuring her response is almost automatic, and once her legs are squirming under him, he gives her tits one last matching pair of licks before working his way back up to her neck.

"Tell me if you need me to stop," he whispers, and she nods.

He doesn't know why the effect of his kind's bite is so variable. Why if he's tearing open an enemy's skin it acts like salted knives on their nerves, but to a friend it's soothing bliss. Why it's so helpful in convincing the nameless women they're being expertly fucked when he has no intention of touching them like that. He mostly expected the second option last night, and he's not sure if that's what he got. But the sound she makes as her blood floods into his mouth tells him it's probably the third one.

Self-control is almost impossible, she tastes too good and frankly drinking the utter garbage in the flask somehow only made him hungrier. But when she tugs on his hair, it catches his attention enough for him to process her words.

"Tomura, annwyl, finish up please."

He slips his fangs out of her jugular and licks the wounds closed, cleaning the skin carefully, then he brushes his lips across the remaining pink marks and raises his head to look at her. Her pupils are blown wide and her mouth hangs half open. "Was that too much?"

Instead of answering verbally, she pulls him down for another kiss. The moment her tongue slips into his mouth, she lets out a moan, grabs him, and flips them both, leaving her straddling his waist.

He stares at her, wide-eyed, and she gives him another hunting smile. "I think I know what I want to bargain for," she breathes into his ear.

"What?" he manages. Her ass is grinding back against his hard-on, which makes it very difficult to think.

"Can't tell you now. Not fair. You'd agree to anything when all your blood's south of your belt." She bends down and scrapes her teeth across his pulse. Again.

She might as well shove her hand down the front of his jeans, for the effect it has, and he's not even sure why. "Fuck!"

"We're getting there," she teases. "Is that really such a sensitive spot?"

He nods tensely.

"Hm. That could be useful. See, I have a little dilemma. Potentially conflicting interests, you could say."

He grits his teeth. "Yeah?"

She nods. "On the one hand, I really want you to fuck me senseless. Frankly, I've been having thoughts about that for weeks, and I'm getting a little bored with my own fingers. On the other, I just realized that I also want to suck you off. All the way off, you understand. I'm not going to assume it's not possible to do both, but there's the whole downtime thing to consider, so it's nice to have—"

She squeaks as he picks her up by the hips and moves her to the side so he can sit up and unbutton his jeans. "As much as you just fed me, there's nothing to fucking consider," he growls, scooting backward out of his pants and boxers. "I can give you that much."

She shimmies out of her own pants — she changed into plaid pajama bottoms while he was asleep — then leans in to kiss him again, sweet and teasing. Slowly she works her way across his jaw, down his neck and chest. She trails down his ribs to his hipbone, then inward, until he can feel the heat of her breath right where he aches.

"Are you—" He's not even sure what he was going to say. It doesn't matter. Her lips brush across the tip of his cock and all rational thought flees his head. "Fuck!"

She spends a minute licking him like an ice cream cone, dragging and swirling, then she raises her head. "Oooone second…"

"Yayoi, please…"

Something shimmers on her teeth. "Almost forgot. Don't want you to get hurt…"

Then she settles low again and takes him into her mouth. First just the head, tongue flicking back and forth across the slit, tracing what he half-hysterically thinks is a flower pattern of all fucking things on his nerves. Then she starts to suck, and in the process works her way down, taking more and more of his shaft into her mouth. He expects her to stop when he feels a pressure on the tip, the back of her palate. And she sort of does, pulling back and giving him another few licks. Then she doesn't. She takes him in again, and when the pressure comes back, she tilts her head and keeps going.

She keeps. Fucking. Going. He feels the clench of her throat around his cock, and when he forces his eyes to focus, he sees her nose buried in the coarse hairs at his base. He reaches down to brush trembling fingers across her throat, and she grabs his wrist to hold them in place. Then she pulls back almost to his tip and plunges forward to swallow him again, letting him feel him fill up her throat from the inside and the outside, the slight bulge of her neck as her tissues move to accommodate him.

He can't remember the last time he was deepthroated, or if he ever was, and she's unfairly good at it. She grips his cock so tightly even as she fucks him to the hilt with her mouth, and with no more hesitation than if he was pounding between her legs. He meant to give her something there in return while she blew him, to run his hand under her panties the way she practically invited him to, but by the time he remembers, he barely reaches her hip before he's too far gone to actually do anything useful, and all he can do is squeeze her ass while everything narrows down to the friction and the pressure.

He barely remembers to warn her, and tugs weakly at her hair. "Ya— Yayoi, 'm gonna, needa—"

Instead of pulling back, she doubles down, taking him all the way in and staying there, switching to humming around him instead, a song that lasts until every muscle in his body pulls taut and his vision goes white. She swallows it all before drawing back and giving his cock a quick inspection, which concludes with another kiss to the tip.

"You're so good for me, annwyl," she coos. "That was fantastic."

He might have stopped breathing at some point, he's not sure, but it would explain his lightheadedness and spotty vision. "I, hah, I should be telling you that."

"Oh?"

If she's fishing for compliments, she's earned them, but something in her expression is genuinely surprised. "I'm not lying. I'm not even exaggerating. That was the best blow I've ever had. How did you even… Your throat doesn't hurt doing that?"

"Glamour has a lot of uses. It lets me pass as human. It takes the edge off my teeth. It turns off my gag reflex. Hell, if I do that last thing right, it inverts the feedback so that hitting those spots relaxes those muscles instead of constricting them." She gives him a mischievous look. "Since they aren't really meant to do that, keeping pressure on them feels good. Still provokes swallowing too."

He gapes at her. "Where the hell did you learn to do that?"

"Grimoires. Technically it's a form of sex magic." Holy fuck, if he wasn't still hard he'd definitely be getting hard again at the reveal that she's studied sex magic. "It's only a supplementary technique on its own though."

"…How wet are you right now?" he finally demands.

"Incredibly." She peels her panties off and offers them to him. The seat is soaked almost to the point of transparency.

"Good." He sets them aside and pulls her against his chest, then flips on top of her. "Because I'm gonna fuck you now. I won't go slow, and I don't have the patience to give you my fingers first."

"You say the sweetest things, annwyl." She smiles up at him, the shimmer on her teeth gone.

He lied, just a little. When he settles between her eagerly-spread legs and lines himself up, he doesn't rush. He takes the time to absorb the feeling of her flesh against the tip of his cock. The hot grasp of her cunt around the head. The way her insides stretch to make room for him. The faintly indignant look on her face as he inches deeper, then stops when he bottoms out.

He gives her a teasing smirk, holding her hips still as she tries to roll them against him.

"Tomuraaa," she whines.

"Do you know how perfect you feel?" he whispers. "You take my dick like you were born to do it."

Her eyes widen, black swallowing copper irises again. "Tomura?"

"Will you let me come inside you?"

Her expression shifts from stunned to hungry in an instant and she growls. "Don't you dare come anywhere else."

His control snaps, and he starts to move inside her. Hard and fast, deep pounding strokes that she moves with like music, that she matches like they're dancing. With every thrust, he winds tighter and tighter, and so does she. He can feel her inner muscles dragging at him every time he withdraws, then gripping at him every time he slams back in. Then she tilts her hips just so, and for a split second he feels a slightly different texture, then she cries out sharply enough that she can probably be heard three blocks over and her cunt clenches and ripples, while her back bows up and her legs snap around his waist to hold him in place. That's okay. She's coming hard enough to set him off too, and he's not about to disobey such an intoxicating order. He wants to be as deep as he can get in her while he blows his load, and he wants to stay there until he has nothing left to give her.

"There you go, baby, take it," he murmurs. "Take it all…"

She shudders under him, staring up at him with the most satisfyingly fucked-out expression he's ever seen. "You fill me up so good, annwyl. My mouth and pussy both."

His softening dick twitches inside her, even though he's hit his limit. "You like it when I stuff your holes?"

"Love it," she croons back. "But what I love most is what you give me when you do."

"Hm?" Does she mean—

"I offer you a bargain, Shigaraki Tomura." She fixes her eyes on his, and something in him doesn't let him look away. "I will give you my blood that you may live open-eyed and sated. In return, your pleasure is mine. Your seed will be reserved for me, spilled only in my body or on our skin where I can take it."

It takes him multiple literal minutes to process that and formulate a response. He needs to ask clarifying questions. "What about… accidents?" It's hard to have a wet dream when you don't dream at all, but he has been dreaming lately.

Copper gleams. "One fluid lost, another replaced, red for white."

"You'll take my blood in compensation?"

She nods, her smile baring sharp teeth. "I am not an herbivore."

Holy fuck that's hot. "We might need to check with Kurogiri, trading blood is how you turn someone."

"Measure for measure. You're not that… productive." But she doesn't disagree.

There's another question though. "Am I allowed to jack off?"

She laughs. "I'd love to watch you do so. Or are you talking about being overwhelmed by my absence?"

"Uh… The second one."

She tilts her head thoughtfully. "I do hate waste, but you wanting me so badly that you can't wait is flattering. I'll forgive it if you tell me exactly what drove you that far when it happens. Or ideally give me all the details as you go."

"Like phone sex?"

"I like to listen. Or sexting. With pictures."

She. She is actually asking for dick pics. That's like finding a fucking unicorn, according to Dabi, except he's pretty sure unicorns are actually real, so it's even more impressive. He swallows. "I can do that."

"I hope you won't abuse the option though. I still want regular sex."

He shakes his head, freezes, then nods. "Right. Anything else?"

"Exclusivity. You don't feed from anyone else unless it's an emergency, and you don't fuck anyone else at all. The same applies to me. I don't give anyone else my blood, or take another vampire's, and the only person who touches my body is you."

He narrows his eyes. Wording. Loopholes. "Would you take a non-vampire's blood? Or get into verbal or virtual bed with someone else?"

"For the first, I like my steak rare, so arguably yes, but definitely not from anything that can tell me why I shouldn't. For the second, no. Only you get to fuck me, by word or by deed."

"And how long does this bargain last?"

"Until we agree that it doesn't anymore, or the terms are deliberately violated."

He replays the conversation in his head. "So I get to feed from you as much as I need. In exchange, you get all my cum, which means we have regular sex, exclusively with each other. If you make me so horny I can't function when you're not there to take care of it, I can take care of it myself but I have to tell you all about it, live in real time if possible, and I have to give you an amount of my blood equal to the cum you're losing out on. You don't feed anyone but me, and I don't feed from anyone but you unless I'm about to die and need it to heal. Does that cover it?"

"You said trading blood is required to turn someone, so 'emergency feeding' can also include that process if you're saving the life of someone you'll regret losing. And they have to agree to it."

"Good to know."

"Then yes, that covers it."

"Then I accept your bargain."

He isn't sure exactly what he expected. Some kind of lightshow, maybe. Or the sixth-sense pressure that comes with psychic or magical effects. Isn't this some sort of magical binding? He thought that was what the Fae do, their racial trick. But there's not even a sense of finality. Just her pleased expression.

"Good." She kisses him again. "Now, as much as I'd like to spend all night in bed sexing you up, I need a shower and food, and we're expected over at your place."

He groans quietly. "Right. Shower. Can I use yours?"

"Sure, just let me go first." She nudges him off and climbs off the bed, giving a delicious-looking shiver and shifting her stance. He can see a pearl-white droplet clinging to the inside of her thigh, and another one just starting to roll down the same trail, and he gives her a slow smirk.

"Right. You are kinda making a mess…"

"Your mess," she points out, wiggling her eyebrows.

"True. Come here." He reaches out toward her and wipes the creampie up with his fingertips, then holds them up near her mouth. "You hate waste, right?"

She licks the digits clean, holding eye contact with him. "So thoughtful. And delicious."

His eyebrows shoot up. He knows women don't usually enjoy that flavor. "Say that again. Use a complete sentence."

"If you want." She leans down, lips brushing his ear. "I really like the way your cum tastes."

Then she turns and saunters out of the room, leaving him with one thought running through his mind.

Fae can't lie.

-TA&B-

She doesn't take as long in the shower as he was expecting. When she gets out, she gives him his phone back with a quick apology for forgetting it, then offers him a clean towel and points out which soap is which. They're all in unmarked glass bottles for some reason. Only the ones she says are Mina's are scented at all, and those only weakly. There's a few bottles of perfume on the neater side of the sink though. When he gets out, he finds last night's clothes folded neatly on the toilet seat, and dresses quickly.

In the kitchen, he finds her poking at a bunch of sausages in a pan on the stove while the microwave whirrs. When it beeps, she reaches into it and takes out a small plate of souffle pancakes, flipping each of them and stuffing them back into the machine for another minute, all without taking her eyes off the sizzling meat.

"You weren't kidding about the frozen pancakes," he observes.

"Yeah, I make a giant stack of them once a week and reheat them like this for breakfast. I hate rolling tamagoyaki, and the crack of dusk is way too early to bother with it."

He snorts at the phrasing. "And the sausages?"

"Not an everyday thing, but I want protein. Fae are more durable than humans and heal faster, but blood loss is blood loss." She nudges the sausages into rolling over, then stabs what looks like a blister on one, causing a loud hiss as the melted fat inside hits the hot metal. "That reminds me though, I do need to ask a couple of things."

"Like what?" He leans against the wall, picking his fingers through his hair to undo any knots before they can set.

"I'm running on the Hollywood Misinformation Package for vampires. Ironically, I know more about Japanese undead than I do about Western types."

"Yeah, I can see how that—" He blinks. "Wait, why's that ironic?"

"My great grandfather is the Welsh shinigami. You'd think if anyone would know about dead Europeans…" The microwave beeps again and she pulls out the plate of pancakes.

"Fair enough. Anything in particular you're concerned about?"

"Most relevant at this exact moment, I'm quite fond of the allium family of plants in my food. Sativum included. Is that a problem?"

He frowns. "You mean garlic?" She nods, and he snorts and shakes his head. "Garlic used to be considered a whole-ass vegetable on its own back in medieval times. It got roasted and eaten whole. We've got a strong sense of smell, that's all. You don't wanna share an elevator with someone that's just cracked open a durian fruit, do you? I'm not sure if humans just assumed or if we picked it up and ran with it as a decoy though."

"Good to know."

"What else… Religious symbols don't do shit unless both sides legitimately believe in it. A cross means jack shit to anyone but a devout Christian, and even then it won't work if it's being held by a Shinto priest, for example. It also won't work if the vampire doesn't see a contradiction between what they are and what they believe. I think the Catholic ones are most likely to get hit there."

She snorts. "Yeah, Catholic Guilt is a capital-letters Thing."

"I think Master said something about that…" He watches her poke the sausages again, then turn off the burner and dump them onto the plate with the pancakes. "Sunlight is a pain in the ass, we do the lobster thing within fifteen minutes, then we peel and start over, which is annoying as hell and really drives up the hunger meter but not lethal. A hoodie and some sunglasses is usually enough, as long as I'm not out for too long. The hard part is staying awake once the sun's up. We're inclined to shut down for the day, resisting takes practice and doing anything active takes even more."

"I prefer to work at night because, y'know, the sun? Bright? Yuck!" she quotes, then snickers. "Yeah, Fae are nocturnal. Sunlight weakens enchantments, and dawn itself unravels them. It doesn't matter whether you're exposed to the light or not. I never took my glamour off last night. It evaporated on its own. It's… painful, a little, in that moment."

He scowls. Something about that rubs him the wrong way. "Salt. Sodium chloride crystals specifically. Shit burns."

"Same. It's like a contact allergy. Poison ivy, you know? Margaritas are murder."

"But only crystals, not if it's dissolved in water. Hm… Fire. And silver."

She bites her lip. "I'll trade my serious knife in then. We don't like steel, it's too close to iron. We make our weapons out of other things, and we have ways of hardening them so they can hold up to the stress. My best one is hardened silver, I can swap it for glass."

He blinks. "Do you just… do that at the store or something?"

"Sort of."

"…Can non-Fae go shopping there?"

She blinks back. "Do you like knives?"

"Toga's obsessed. She calls them her 'pocket fangs,' doesn't even feel safe unless she has three on her. She'd go gaga over functional blades made of stuff that shouldn't work."

"Technically that part of the Bluffs is open to anyone as long as you can see where you want to go. I can show you the way." She starts eating. Quickly. She must be hungry. It only takes her five minutes to go through four sausages, four pancakes, and a giant glass of orange juice. Then she ducks back into her room to finish dressing, coming back out with her hair tied up and last night's leather jacket, his hoodie over her arm.

"Aren't you going to put your glamour on?" he asks as she reaches for the doorknob.

"I already did. Feel my ear."

He does, and his brain glitches out slightly as his finger follows a human curve without cutting through the point that his eyes can see. "How the fuck does glamour even work?" he demands.

"It just does." They step out and she locks the door behind them. "Don't stare at the pixies."

#vampire au #bhna #shigaraki tomura #ikeda yayoi (oc)#shigaraki tomura x oc #shigaraki smut #more details on how vampires and fae work #talk of sex magic #in conjunction with dubious biology

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zootzbootz · 2 months ago

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guys PLEASE PLEASE if anyone knows of any ACTIVE roleplay/art (preferably moreso rp) servers that allow ocs and don't have a super complicated lore that's easy to get into (preferably one that doesn't like. require forms but I'll take what we can get) no like school rps if u can help it

AND - AND THIS IS THE MOST IMPORTANT THING - is accessible to plurals in the way it has pluralkit and isn't anti-endo. (it doesn't necessarily need to be a pro-endo server? that's preferable. but we'd take it if they're just neutral or don't allow syscourse)

please some1 hook us up. we want new places to rp in but it's such a coin toss if the server we join will be accessible for us as a system. DM us, comment, reblog, whtv. yes it can be a server you own or mod.

#plurality #rp server #roleplay discord #discord #syscord #plural #pluralkit #roleplay #please help #we are getting desperate #sighs

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talonwings · 4 years ago

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Mythland Language and Culture

here it is, the official followup to my Grimlands post, featuring my second favorite evil empire! (honestly i do love the aesthetic and lore of Mythland even though Sausage is making very questionable choices rn)

-Their names tend to be 'fantasy-esque,' for lack of a better word, reflecting their empire's deep desire to be associated with magic. ex. Alloria, Lystra, Kaedan, Dorian

-Their native language, Mythik, sounds like a cross between Latin and the Celtic language family (Gaelic, Irish, Welsh), with frequent 'y's and hard 'k' sounds for the letter C, as well as Latin-like pluralization (singular 'um' to a vowel, like 'datum' to 'data').

-The higher class, especially sorcerers, can also speak the Rivendell dialect of Elvish, which is often used in magic rituals.

-Mythlanders are obsessed with magic, to a degree that concerns people not from Mythland. They revere anyone who can do magic, and many strive to learn it for themselves. Of course, innate magic (like that of the Crystal Cliffs or the Undergrove) can't be learned, so they have found...other ways of channeling magical energies.

-They are also obsessed with blood sheep--both loving the creatures for the power their sacrifices provide, and hating them because they are creepy as hell with their too-human eyes and their weirdly sharp teeth. There is blood sheep iconography everywhere.

-Mythlanders value power, but also courage, ambition, and decisiveness. They will be the first to rush into battle with swords and staves raised if they have decided it's what they ought to do. Sometimes, however, they can be so quick to decide that it manifests as impulsivity, and they often get themselves involved in things without thinking enough about whether they should.

-They adore King Sausage, but like the blood sheep, they also fear him--his moods, his unpredictability, his chaotic behavior. Things are best and calmest in Mythland when their ruler is happy, so they strive to make it so.

-Their currency is iron coins stamped on one side with Sausage's likeness and on the other with the emblem of a blood sheep.

Let me know if there's anything you'd like me to add, and if you'd like to see another empire next!

#empires smp #mcyt #mythicalsausage #mythland #worldbuilding #language #culture

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themousefromfantasyland · 5 years ago

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Creatures of Yuletide: Krampus, the Christmas Demon

He sees you when you're sleeping

And he knows when you're awake

He knows if you've been bad or good

So be good FOR YOUR OWN GODDAMNIT SAKE!!!

Christmas season is full of magical beings and creatures that travel through our world. Jolly old men from the north, elves that sleep in our homes, goats that give presents, the holiday season is full of all sorts of weird and wonderful characters. However, Santa Claus tends to me the most famous among them, and the most remembered in popular culture. This was, until some years ago, when a forgotten Christmas character rose in popularity in pop culture as an antithesis of good old St. Nick. I’m talking about Krampus, the Christmas Demon from German and Alpine lore.

One of the reasons why I believe Krampus became so popular recently is because he’s a scarier and less commercial alternative to Santa. In older posts I talked about how people used to tell scary ghost stories during Christmas and how Christmas once had this spooky side to it. Then one day it hit me that, in a way, Krampus is exactly a call back to these traditions. While not a ghost, Krampus brings back the scary atmosphere to the holiday. People tell stories about Krampus, they dress like him, they fright their neighbors in these costumes. People in general like to be scared, and in particular, even though they won’t admit it now, children too. Krampus is celebrated because he brings back the fun that overly commercialized Santa took out from Christmas.

Jeremy Seghers, organizer of the first Krampusnacht festival held in Orlando, said this in an interview to the Smithsonian Magazine:

"The Krampus is the yin to St. Nick's yang. You have the saint, you have the devil. It taps into a subconscious macabre desire that a lot of people have that is the opposite of the saccharine Christmas a lot of us grew up with."

Krampus is mainly a holiday tradition from the Alpine region and Central Europe in general. His name is derives from the German word krampen, meaning claw. On the night of December 5th, the eve of Saint Nicholas Feast, Krampus, and Saint Nicholas himself go out in the streets to punish or reward kids. This makes him one of the Companions of Saint Nicholas, a group of holiday figures that would help him in punishing kids. While they do the punishment, jolly old Nick brings the kids gifts, in a sort of Good Cop, Bad Cop dynamic.

Our friend St. Nick fills the shoes of good children with fruits and sweets. Krampus carries birch branches for senseless beating the misbehaving ones. On his back he is often depicted carrying a sack or a basket. This is to carry the naughty kids to his layer for more torture later. He can also eat them, threw them out in the river to drown, or bring them straight to the depths of Hell. In some parts of Austria, Krampus presents the families with gold-painted twigs that are to be displayed year-round in the house, constantly reminding the kids of his ever-watching presence.

What lovable fellow!

It was common in the 19th century to exchange Gruß vom Krampus, “Greetings from Krampus” cards that contained humorous rhymes and poems. In these Krampus is depicted looming menacingly over children. In others the creature receives sexual undertones, pursuing scantily dressed women.

There is also the Krampuslauf, or, Krampus Run, where people dress up as him and parade through the street dressed in fur suits and carved wooden masks and carrying cowbells. This one is very important for understanding Krampus origins.

Now, no one really know where Krampus comes from. The most popular theory is that he was a fertility god from the Alpine Region before Christianity retconned him as demon. Scholars often link him, Pan, and the satyrs to the archetype of the Horned God. Some claim he’s the son of Hel, but I didn’t find any real or credible source to this.

What we do know is that Krampus has some connections to a goddess in the Alpine region called Frau Perchta.

Now Frau Perchta is a very mysterious figure from the German folklore. She had many different names depending on the era and region. We don’t know a lot about her before Christianization, but what we do know is that in the folklore of Bavaria and Austria, she was a witch said to roam the countryside at midwinter, and to enter homes during the twelve days between Christmas and Epiphany. Good children would find a silver coin in their shoes. Bad children would have their bellies sliced open, their stomach and guts removed, and she would stuff the straw and pebbles in the hole left behind. She had two forms in which she could be encountered, beautiful and white as snow, or elderly and haggard.

Perchten is plural for Perchta. Originally, the word referred to female masks representing her, but the name come to refer to the animal masks worn in parades and festivals in the mountainous regions of Austria.

A Perchten mask

In the 16th century, the Perchten took two main forms: Schönperchten, "beautiful Perchten", or the Schiachperchten, "ugly Perchten”. The beautiful Perchten came during the twelve nights of Christmas and festivals to bring luck and wealth to the people. The ugly Perchten, who had fangs, tusks and horse tails which were used to drive out demons and ghosts. Men dressed as the ugly Perchten during this time and went from house to house driving out bad spirits.

From the Smithsonian Magazine: A man dressed in a traditional Perchten costume and mask performs during a Perchten festival in the western Austrian village of Kappl, November 13, 2015. Each year in November and January, people in the western Austria regions dress up in Perchten (also known in some regions as Krampus or Tuifl) costumes and parade through the streets to perform a 1,500 year-old pagan ritual to disperse the ghosts of winter. (DOMINIC EBENBICHLER/Reuters/Corbis)

People would masquerade as these devilish figures and march in processions known as Perchtenlaufs. The Church didn’t like these creatures and tried many times to ban these practices, but due to the sparse population and the rugged environments within the region, the ban was useless.

In Catholicism, St. Nicholas is the patron saint of children. His saint day falls in early December, which helped strengthen his association with the Yuletide season. A seasonal play that spread throughout the Alpine regions was known as the Nikolausspiel, "Nicholas play". In these plays St. Nick would make questions about morality and reward children for their scholarly efforts. Eventually the Perchtenlauf, in an attempt to pacify the Church, introduced Saint Nicholas and his set of good morals. Krampus, the in-chains helper of Saint Nicholas, was then born.

In 1975, anthropologist John J. Honigmann wrote that:

"The Saint Nicholas festival we are describing incorporates cultural elements widely distributed in Europe, in some cases going back to pre-Christian times. Nicholas himself became popular in Germany around the eleventh century. The feast dedicated to this patron of children is only one winter occasion in which children are the objects of special attention, others being Martinmas, the Feast of the Holy Innocents, and New Year's Day. Masked devils acting boisterously and making nuisances of themselves are known in Germany since at least the sixteenth century while animal masked devils combining dreadful-comic (schauriglustig) antics appeared in Medieval church plays. A large literature, much of it by European folklorists, bears on these subjects. ... Austrians in the community we studied are quite aware of "heathen" elements being blended with Christian elements in the Saint Nicholas customs and in other traditional winter ceremonies. They believe Krampus derives from a pagan supernatural who was assimilated to the Christian devil"

Is worth noting that this is exactly what happened to the Yule Goat. He was a pagan symbol, people dressed like him to keep winter spirits at bay, but the Christians demonized him. There are illustrations of Saint Nicholas or of Father Christmas riding the Yule Goat during Christmas and these were meant to represent the power of God over the power of the Devil. Krampus is represented in chains by the same reason. However, the Yule Goat came to become a gift-giver and a more positive force in holiday lore, with people dressing as goats to deliver gifts to their families in the 19th century. Krampus didn’t have the same luck. I really wonder if the Yule Goat and Krampus came from variants from the same or similar cultural traditions, but that took drastically different routes.

I must say that, although I'm more in the team Santa, I learned to love Krampus over the years. It’s undeniable the amount of fun he brought to those who wanted something a little more darker and creepier in the holidays, and as someone who identifies itself as 90% lover of cheesy, cutesy and sappy stuff and 10% lover of everything earie and macabre, the idea of a monstrous boogeyman in the shadows of good old Santa Claus is fun. I personally think there’s enough space for both, the terrifyingly scary and the joyful jolliness.

Fun fact: Krampus, the one people rescued from German obscurity to combat the overly commercialized Christmas, is now being criticized as being too commercialized. C'est la vie

Story time: In my country I once heard the tale of a guy that went as Santa to deliver Christmas presents to children in a poor community. He brought many gifts and toys with him. The children loved them, until there were no more gifts to be delivered. The remaining children and their parents became so angry that they chased away the guy, throwing rocks at him. The guy came to them with free stuff, helped as much as he could, and people still threw rocks at him and chased him away, almost seriously hurting him.

I admit, there are cases where Krampus is truly needed 🤣🤣🤣

Art by Helen Mask

#The Creatures of Yuletide #christmas #holiday season #gruss vom krampus #krampus #Greetings from Krampus #Gruß vom Krampus

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danetobelieve · 5 years ago

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Toss A Coin To Your Friendapist || Nell and Winston

Winston and Nell had more than enough time hanging out to fill a life time of memories. Yet despite that, when they got to spend quality time together it was a true blessing. Apparently this was something that magicians could do, Morgan’s PDFs had explained a technique of literally throwing energy to one another and as they stood in the backyard of Nell’s apartment, Winston pulled back and threw a glowing sphere of energy spiralling through the air and watched it drop towards their friend. “I can’t believe that we’re here and that we are doing this and that I am actually casting magic with you and you’re here doing it right back to me and it is all really amazing and wow.”

Truly, Nell had been reveling in the fact that not only one, but both of her best friends had been showing magical abilities in the past month. She loved that she could share this literal magical bond with Winston nowadays, that she didn’t have to hide it from them anymore. And this game reminded her of something she and her sisters had played when they were younger, and learning to harness their powers. Mindlessly, she caught the ball in hand, letting it’s momentum carry it around her back before shooting it back towards Winston. “You’re making killer progress like- soon you’re gonna be busting down doors and creating little hurricanes or like- whatever the hell you magically want to do!”

Winston concentrated hard for a moment, watching the path of the ball of energy as it arched across the back garden and through the air towards them. Focusing on it’s momentum, they reshaped it’s path and managed to mimic the trick that Nell had just demonstrated. Surprised at their initial success however they dropped the ball and had to quickly whip it up before it singed the grass too much. “It’s going okay I guess,” Winston found the theory and lore surrounding the magic was much easier to get to grips with then the actual practical applications of it. That was where they had experienced the majority of their problems. “I’m not sure how good my progress actually is, it is difficult to know what to gauge it against.”

Nell watched the ball carefully as it traveled, knowing that Winston had certainly come a long way, but also knowing that magic could be...fickle. The last thing they needed was to start a little grass fire. Or even worse…a Winston fire. Nevertheless, a wide grin spilt her lips as she saw Winston get the trick fairly easily. The fumble afterwards was easily forgiven as Winston quickly recovered. “Well a month ago you couldn’t even do magically willfully so- it’s a big step.” But just as the ball was tossed her way once more, a flash caught the corner of her eye in a separate part of the yard, somewhere behind Winston.The game was forgotten, and the ball quickly catapulted into the ground, leaving a scorched trail behind it. “Shit,” Nell cursed before blipping the magic ball out of existence, leaving her and Winston in the darkness of the recently set sun. “Sorry I- thought I saw something.”

“I know, I know, everyone tells me that I should be happy with my progress but the truth is that I’m not.” Honestly, they hadn’t really been expecting any of this to be anything but a fun game and sometimes things went wrong. Winston looked around them and was not surprised to find that they were in the same place, with the same things going on. Maybe Nell was just having a tough day. “Something?” They had began to learn to question everything, after all if there was something that could potentially go wrong then in White Crest it really would go wrong. “Do you have something a bit clearer and much … much less vague then something?” Winston didn’t want to risk … something.

Nell nodded, knowing her friend well enough to not be surprised by their frustration. Winston had always been like that. But sometimes it was difficult to relate to it. After all, she’d been raised in magic. The fundamentals that Winston was learning now were ones she barely remembered learning at all. Her and her sisters had been so young when they started, it was just as much a part of them as her arm or her leg might be. “You’ll get there. I know you will.” The promise of ‘something’ had her distracted, though, no longer able to focus on what they’d been talking about. “Yeah….something…” Just then- another something cracked in the night behind Winston, startling Nell in a way that had her lashing out blindly with magic in their direction, though it skimmed around them and went for whatever might be lurking behind them, summoning it out of the darkness towards them.

One moment Nell was encouraging them that they would be able to do this, it would just take time. A moment later and Winston was seeing a flash of what was definitely offensive magic. They trusted Nell implicitly. It didn’t occur to them that this was perhaps a mistake, so they decided that maybe this was time to practice. One of the texts that they had located had a few techniques about redirecting and repurposing offensive magic and so as the flash of energy lanced through the air towards them, Winston focussed. “Woah,” they muttered to themselves as they did their best to center themselves, they did their best to locate their serenity and similarly to how Nell had with the ball, they focussed on wrapping the energy around them and sending it spiralling back towards Nell before adding a little something of their own to it.

For a moment, Nell didn’t entirely register Winston’s magic coming towards her, and her reaction took a moment longer than it usually would as she stepped out of the way of the magic. After all, she’d been too busy staring at the spot behind Winston. “What?!” she exclaimed in surprise after her dodge. “No! I wasn’t going for you! I thought it was the...thing! Behind you!” As if her words had summoned it, the ghost of Evan stepped from the edge of the forest, and Nell’s face went white as a sheet. At least by now, she knew Winston wouldn’t be able to see them. No one had been able to see him so far. Not even Blanche, strangely enough. “I- nevermind. I was wrong. Nothing’s there,” she said quickly with a tinge of nerves.

Frowning gently, Winston looked left and right at the scene in front of them. They were honestly confused. What was Nell talking about and why were they so taken aback by everything that was happening. “Oh, shit, sorry…” they fell silent and frowned gently, “I didn’t mean to hurt you or anything are you … are you sure that you’re okay?” they didn’t just mean because they had cast an offensive magical spell at their friend. There was clearly something going on with Penelope and as Winston felt their body grow tired from the magic use they stepped forward. “Nell, what’s going on?”

Nell was never a person to really show nerves or fear, and the fact that she seemed even relatively shaken at the moment was drastically out of the norm. “It’s fine. It wasn’t clear.” Gone was the lighter Nell that generally inhabited her body, leaving a focused and somewhat shaken self in its wake. “And yeah- I’m good,” she said forcefully, as if trying to convince herself of it as well. She’d chosen to keep Evan’s ghost around by not getting rid of her coin, she had to deal with this. “It’s- nothing. I’m just….always ready to launch magic into dark forest, is all.“ She knew she wouldn’t be able to tell Winston about Evan’s ghost, not when she was the reason he was a ghost in the first place, and Winston had judged her so harshly for talking about murder before. Trying to get back to the sense of regularity, she offered, “Did you wanna keep playing catch?”

Winston and Nell had been best friends since before Winston could remember. They were roughly the same age and they’d been at school together. They were close and Winston knew when she was lying. There was something going on and she was not being honest. “Nell, it’s me,” Winston replied with a shake of their head, “I know that you’re not fine or good or however you want to put it. Just tell me the truth. Please.” They bit their lip, hoping that Nell would be honest with them. “Not till you tell me what’s going on…”

Nell couldn’t hide the little flash of guilt that crossed over her features as she looked at Winston, not wanting to lie to them. She’d spent so many years not telling them the truth about the supernatural and magic, and starting up the cycle anew wasn’t something she was interested in. But wasn’t this different? She shifted uncertainty on her feet for a few moments, gaze flicking towards Evan where he stood on the edge of the forest before simply saying, “It’s just a ghost. It doesn’t matter. I thought it was something else.” She didn’t have to tell the whole truth, right?

Raising an eyebrow immediately, Winston didn’t have to be Nell’s best friend to know that some shit was going on. She was still, well maybe not lying but not telling them the whole truth. “You’re seeing ghosts?” they asked with a frown wondering what the hell was actually going on because Nell was a spellcaster and not a medium, so unless she knew something that they didn’t there was something most definitely not right about this. “You shouldn’t be able to see ghosts unless your name is Blanche Harlow or some other medium or exorcist that I didn’t know that you were, what’s going on?”

“Not ghosts plural,” Nell mumbled, still reluctant to be having this conversation. “Just the one.” A wan smile came with her words, as if having less ghosts somehow made it better. “It’s the coin,” she sighed. The coin she was meant to be rid of by flinging it in the ocean along with everyone else. But instead, she’d hung onto her’s. “So that’s what’s going on- that’s all.” She knew it was pretty much futile to pray that Winston might stop asking questions, as curiosity tended to be just as big a part of their nature as it was her’s, but she could hope, right?

“Just the one?” Winston replied with a frown, “okay well that doesn’t sound like something Blanche related.” Winston frowned as she showed them the coin. “Did Blanche forget to tell you how to get rid of yours too?” Winston really hoped that they weren’t about to find out that Nell had kept this deliberately. She always had these noble ideas of self sacrifice but this seemed dumb even for her. “Who’s the ghost of?” Winston asked curiously, worried about their friend. “Is it someone I knew?”

“It’s not Blanche related. She knows about the ghost because I asked her about it when he first showed up, and I didn’t know it was because of the coin. But- I don’t know- she probably thinks I got rid of him already.” Then Nell was shaking her head, still wishing this conversation hadn’t been sparked in the first place as a rock seemed to begin forming in the pit of her stomach. “No, she told me! Did she- forget to tell you?” Nell asked, a little frown on her lips. “It’s- does it matter?” Dread began to join the lump in her throat, an almost choking feeling beginning to manifest as she looked nervously at Evan’s ghost, as if to reassure herself that Winston couldn’t see him. “No, you don’t know him. I met him when I was...travelling.” With a flicker of surprise, she remembered she still hadn’t told Winston exactly what she’d actually been doing while travelling.

“Cool, I’ll keep it on the downlow until told otherwise,” Winston replied with a shrug and laughed, “Only for like a few days and she apologised and Ricky had been locking me in my room at that point anyway because I was ending up in some really compromising positions and it was starting to become a safety risk. But I threw it in the ocean already, so the sleep walking has stopped.” They paused and looked at her, she seemed like she was in a lot of pain about this and Winston shook their head in response before dropping their hands. “No, it doesn’t matter, but you know, you’re my bud and I have your back, so whatever you need, we can talk or we can not talk about it, but, I don’t know, you seem like you’re holding a lot of emotion related to this.”

Nell didn’t want to confirm nor deny Winston’s offer of hiding the ghost, not wanting to keep things from Blanche either, but the less questions she had about the thing, the better. Let Winston decide what they did or didn’t wish to do when it came to telling. “Well- that’s better than nothing, I guess. I’m glad you got rid of your’s, though. Especially with Miriam around.” Her shoulders relaxed a bit as Winston spoke, unsure how to handle the situation at hand, but appreciating their offer of emotional support. “I just- I don’t know how you’d react or- how it might change your view of me. And- well- things have been changing so much recently with us- with all the magic and stuff-” What if they didn’t like the parts of her she'd been hiding?

Winston wasn’t going to lie to any of their friends unless it concerned their safety, they’d made that mistake already and they didn’t want to make it again. But Nell was entitled to some degree of privacy with her personal life, irrespective of Winston’s opinion on the matter. Winston swallowed at the thought of the vampire that hunted spellcasters. “Yeah, plus waking up in strange places was really not great.” They hadn’t loved some of the places they’d found themselves in. “I obviously -” Winston bit their tongue, “I’m new to this …” they paused trying to think of the best words for this particular situation, “I want to learn more and I’m starting to realise that my world view doesn’t work anymore … not in this world. The more I consider Miriam, the more I struggle. Despite the fact that she’s a ruthless murderer apparently, she is also charming and generous. We have no way of putting her through any form of a justice system effectively, she’d just kill everyone and disappear. But killing her seems wrong.” Winston frowned, realising their tangent. “My point is, I’ve got so much to learn and I’m not going to judge you for choices you’ve made in this batshit crazy world, whatever you did or whatever you think is so bad, I’m still just me. You’re still just you.”

“The supernatural it...adds some complications.” It was hard for her to speak to when it had always been a part of her existence, but she did her best to understand Winston’s point of view. Nell waited patiently as they spoke, trying her best to ignore the form of Evan as they did. She wanted to focus only on the person in front of her, the one that was tangible, the one that had been a staple in her life since before she could remember. Winston was as much a pillar of Nell’s life as Bea and Luce might be, having been there since the beginning. And she’d been excited to share this supernatural world with Winston, so that they might both co-exist in it together, no more magical secrets between them. But perhaps what she hadn’t realized was that you couldn’t select what secrets came through or not, you couldn’t pick and choose. If she truly wanted to welcome Winston into the world, she had to give all of it to them. “Don’t tell anyone...if I tell you. Please. I don’t- I don’t like thinking about it in general and- I don’t want people asking about it.” And she didn’t want people to think she was some sort of monster because of it. “It was a few years ago. His name is Evan. The one that I’m seeing. I’m- well I’m the one that-” she choked over the words for the moment, her fear of abandonment trying to drag her back down and hide the truth. “I killed him.”

Honestly, of all of the things that Winston had been expecting to hear from Nell, this was not the worst thing that it could’ve been. Still not great, but after everything that had happened with the vampire Winston wasn’t about to judge someone else for any life taking mistakes that they may have made. “Nell, you know that I wouldn’t ever tell people something that you told me, I’ve never told anyone about the time that you accidentally broke that vase and we blamed it on the pets,” Winston replied with a sigh, “this is obviously worse then that but you know that it is the same principle. This lip is zipped.” Winston mimed the movement of turning a key at the corner of their lip and throwing it away before swallowing and nodding. “Okay, that, won’t lie is not the great start that we would’ve liked, why did you … you know….”

The smallest hint of a smile quirked the edge of Nell’s lips, glad that Winston seemed to at least be trying to lighten the mood. “Well...it was the pets. We were perfectly innocent.” They’d neve been innocent a day in their life. At least- not if it was something Nell had pulled Winston into. “But thanks, Winston.” She knew asking them to keep this a secret could potentially be...a lot, though. Especially considering his work with the WCPD. The small grin he’d managed to tug from her was quickly gone as she once again became immersed in the feelings that came with thinking of the past. Winston couldn’t even say the words killed when it came to her. Nell’s mind went a little haywire as she tried to keep it from spiraling, worrying if he was already beginning to hate her. “So- you know when I was travelling? Part of what I was doing was going around helping people deal with supernatural stuff. And- well- I came to this town, and someone was using him as a cover. Blaming him for all the shitty stuff they were doing. It was some Hunter that had gotten bored and decided to just- start shit. Like- murdery shit.” Her hands fiddled with one another, nerves at the forefront of her demeanor as she explained. “The guy I’m seeing as a ghost- Evan- he’s the one they were blaming, and a new vampire. He didn’t- he didn’t really know what he was yet, though. So I told him. He didn’t like it. Didn’t want to be it.” This was where it became harder for Nell to tell the story, her words halting more often. “I told him about how he needed to feed to keep himself safe, so he wouldn't jump anyone that so much as bled. But he- he decided- if he was going to be this thing that stole blood from people- that could kill- he didn’t- that wasn’t something he wanted to be. So he starved himself. Purposefully. Made sure I was there when he snapped- when he was about to attack an innocent because of how hungry he was. I had to help them! And in the process…” Her hands spread wide, bottom lip jutting out as she was unwilling to say the words aloud. “He was my friend.”

Winston knew better then to believe Nell’s proclaimed innocence. “You know that i’ll always be here for you no matter what....” It was true. Nell could’ve killed someone and Winston would be by her side. Listening carefully to her explanation, Winston bobbed their head in agreement. “That sounds gross,” Winston replied truthfully, though a good part of them wasn’t even remotely shocked by it. They didn’t speak again. The tear balancing in her eyes. The bottom lip. It was all tell tale. Winston didn’t need to say anything, they simply stepped forward for the embrace. Just in the same way that they had done a thousand times before and would do a thousand times again. Just in the same way that Nell had done for them anytime they had scraped a knee, anytime anyone had fucked with them in high school. They would hug it out and things would be okay. Taking a step back, they tucked her hair behind her ear and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. “I’m so sorry Nell,” Winston looked at her and knew that they would never be able understand her pain, “I can’t imagine the pain and sacrifice that must have taken.” It was cruel of Evan to do that. Very cruel.

In a life that had been perhaps too full of friends coming and going, Winston was one of the few constants. It was the reason she’d do quite literally anything for them, why they had such a strong hold on her. “Thanks…” was all Nell could begin to say, never knowing just how she could tell Winston that they were one of the most important people in her life in a way that would actually convey the depth of just how strongly she felt bonded to them. “You know you’ve got me, too.” For a long moment, she simply relaxed into their hug, letting the world go quiet as she felt safe in their arms, and then as they pressed the kiss to her head. But the feeling of serenity couldn’t last, not when she could still see Evan lurking over Winston’s shoulder. “It was shitty,” she managed to get out, voice strained with the effort of trying to keep it together. “But- I should have found another way. Or stopped it. Or seen it coming. Either way-” It was why she had kept the ghost around. To remind herself to do better for her friends, the ones she loved.

Quietly, Winston squeezed her shoulder affectionately and nodded as best they could in the midst of an embrace. “Anytime, always here for you.” They didn’t have to say that. They knew that Nell knew it. But this was still … important to them. It was important that Nell understood just how much she meant to Winston. She was their oldest friend after all. “I mean, that’s one of the reasons I say anytime, because I have never fucked up and so when I eventually do it it is going to have to be way more spectacular then your fuck ups, and you’ll have no choice because you owe me.” They winked and gave her a bright smile. Winston looked down at her and tried to consider the impossible situation that she had found herself in. “You were put into a situation that I cannot even begin to understand and yet your reaction was to try and help in whatever way you could, I know that what you did doesn’t feel right and I could never imagine whether or not you feel a specific way, but you have to forgive yourself eventually. Maybe part of that is letting the coin go.”

Nell was beginning to return to her usual state, trying to brush away the unwelcome memories and thoughts as Winston joked and smiled. She didn’t want to dwell on this, didn’t like the way it felt when she did. “Yeah, you’d never done anything wrong it your entire life. Such a perfect little person,” she teased, reaching out to pinch his cheek between her fingers. The smile fell as the got back to the more morose subject of Evan, and Nell simply shook her head, not ready to agree with him on that front at the moment, but tired of baring her emotions when they’d come here to play something fun. “Maybe,” was all she offered, knowing full well that she had currently had no plans to throw the coin back to the ocean. “Let’s see how long you can actually keep our little orb going though.” And with that, she’d brought the magic ball back to life from her fingertips, ready to carry on.

#wickedswriting #toss a coin #p: penelope #para #chatzy para #chatzy #// this isn't nine potw old sh

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ayearinfaith · 5 years ago

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𝗔 𝗬𝗲𝗮𝗿 𝗶𝗻 𝗙𝗮𝗶𝘁𝗵, 𝗗𝗮𝘆 𝟯: 𝗠𝗶𝗱𝗱𝗹𝗲-𝗘𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗵

"We may put a deadly green upon a man’s face and produce a horror; we may make the rare and terrible blue moon to shine; or we may cause woods to spring with silver leaves and rams to wear fleeces of gold, and put hot fire into the belly of the cold worm. But in such "fantasy," as it is called, new form is made; Faerie begins; Man becomes a sub-creator." - J.R.R. Tolkien, 𝘖𝘯 𝘍𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘺-𝘚𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴,1947

Though this series will largely deal with “real” mythology, religion, and folklore, I felt it would not be complete without a few references to significant examples of more modern myth. To say the works of J.R.R. Tolkien have had a profound impact on the perception of myths in the English speaking world (and beyond) would be an understatement. “Middle-Earth” is the name of the continent that is the main setting of his myths as showcased in works like 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘏𝘰𝘣𝘣𝘪𝘵, 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘓𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘙𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴, and 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘪𝘭𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘰𝘯. It’s name is derived from the Old English version of the Norse realm of mankind “Midgard”.

𝗔 𝗡𝗲𝗲𝗱 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗠𝘆𝘁𝗵

Tolkien created and revised his mythology for most of his life. He coined the term “mythopoeia” to refer to the act of creating mythology which he considered to be different from the simple act of writing a fantasy story as myths require history, continuity, cultures, etc. in order to create a larger and more credible setting. This was an extension of another passion and ideology: creating languages. A linguist by trade, Tolkien fashioned his world to house the languages he had been creating since childhood. He believed that language is ultimately tied to culture and therefore needed a people to speak his languages in order to give them life. When writing his works Tolkien sought to fill what he thought was a damning lack of English mythology, as distinct from Celtic or Germanic mythology. Whether or not he was correct about the absence of English myth, he was very successful in installing his own. Many aspects of his lore are now so deeply embedded in English pop-culture that tropes he established are now viewed as cliché, and reference to things he created or influences are so common we sometimes forget we were referencing him at all.

𝗖𝗵𝗿𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗮𝗻𝗶𝘁𝘆, 𝗣𝗮𝗴𝗮𝗻𝗶𝘀𝗺, 𝗔𝗰𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗺𝗶𝗮

Tolkien himself had a long-standing interest in mythology which was unusual for academics at the time. Mythology was seen by many as being little more than fairy-tales fit primarily for children or to pass time. Tolkien was one of a vein of academics who fought for mythology to be taken as a serious part of history and culture. His particular focus on Norse and Finnish mythology can be seen in many aspects of his stories ex. the wizard Gandalf is one part Odin, the Norse king of gods who is portrayed as a bearded wanderer and practitioner of magic, and one part Väinämöinen, the heroic bard of the Kalevala. His obsessions and creations were not without some mild controversy from within his own religion: Roman Catholicism. However, Tolkien felt his works were very much in-line with his own faith. Though there are other great spirits in the universe of Middle-Earth, there is ultimately one supreme god. The rebellion of Melkor is very much like that of the Christian Satan. He even writes that only mankind experiences death, while the spirits of other creatures of Middle-Earth are either reincarnated or otherwise bound to the physical world, insuring that the sanctity of man’s souls and the Christian covenant are not violated.

𝗘𝗹𝘃𝗲𝘀, 𝗗𝘄𝗮𝗿𝘃𝗲𝘀, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗢𝗿𝗰𝘀, 𝗢𝗵 𝗠𝘆

As mentioned above, Tolkien established many aspects of fantasy we now take as givens. Here are just a few prominent examples. Elves and Dwarves are both supernatural human-like creatures from Norse and broader Germanic mythology, however modern conceptions of both have been heavily influenced by Tolkien. Despite devoting a whole section of the cosmos to them, surviving Norse texts mention elves sparingly. Other than being some class of supernatural person, generally conceived of as good though also being responsible for certain illnesses and other maladies, there’s not much we can definitively say about them. In the middle ages the word “elf” became increasingly generic and lost its footing to other similar words like “fairy”. If you imagine an elf as a tall, pointed eared person, gifted with long life and magic powers, your fantasy is one of Tolkien’s influence. Dwarves are somewhat better attested from antiquity, though they too are made significantly more concrete by Tolkien. The idea of them as gruff creatures in opposition to elvish elegance is his, as is the spelling “dwarves”. The “authentic” plural is “dwarfs”, but Tolkien felt the “v” gave it an authentic Old-English feel. The orc is one of the more impressive feats of Tolkien’s. Now a staple of modern fantasy, these are 100% a Tolkien original. When creating his “evil race”, which in Middle-Earth are actually corruptions of elves, a name was needed. The word “goblin” is frequently used, though as a diminutive term was not always appropriate for larger and more intimidating specimens. For reasons unknown Tolkien did not go for other well-established terms, like “ogre”, and instead pulled an obscure reference to Beowulf, wherein exactly one line mentions “orcneas” alongside elves and giants as cursed pagan races. Like with Elves, Dwarves, and other facets of the Tolkien's mythology, the concept of the orc as a distinct supernatural entity would spread across such popular fantasy games as Dungeons and Dragons and Warcraft.

Image Credit: Barbara Remington, 𝘈 𝘔𝘢𝘱 𝘰𝘧 𝘔𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘦-𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘩

#A Year in Faith #Middle-Earth #Tolkien #AYIF #Mythology #Religion #day 3

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eeveevie · 6 years ago

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dragonborn challenge [11/30]

day eleven - the werewolves of jorrvaskr

Did they join the Companions?:

Kind of? There’s a lot of game-canon-divergence that happens in relation to the Companions Questline.

Fiona encounters the Companions outside of Whiterun (Aela and company) and is intrigued. After meeting with Jarl Balgruuf about the dragon attack in Helgen and defeating the dragon at the Wester Watchtower (and learning she has been summoned to High Hrothgar), Fiona first goes to Jorrvaskr to learn about the Companions.

She meets with Kodlak and Vilkas and runs a few errands for them within the city and goes to Dustman’s Cairn with Farkas. She agrees to become a member of the Companions upon returning to Whiterun but shortly thereafter (pretty much after they ask her to be a werewolf) leaves to journey to High Hrothgar.

Fiona does not return to the Companions for a long time, while she is in Whiterun here and there (running jobs for the Thieves Guild, mostly). She eventually does return, wanting to tie up lose ends with the first group that took her in, and after a run-in with Aela and Vilkas in Riften leaves her feeling rather guilty (as she had become good friends with them).

How did they react to learning they were all werewolves?:

When Farkas transformed before her in Dustman’s Cairn, Fiona’s first reaction was not fear (though she was a little shocked)—considering what she had been through in recent weeks (a near execution, a dragon attack, “hey, you’re Dragonborn!”). Up to that point, Farkas’ personality seemed harmless enough that even with a werewolf lurking beneath the surface, she was not worried in the slightest, knowing he was able to discern friend from foe.

Learning that there’s an entire “inner circle”? That gave Fiona cult vibes. Especially when Skjor calls it a blessing (Vilkas calling it a curse worries her even more). They are such fierce and noble warriors, out to good work for Skyrim—and seem to be true neutrals, like Fiona is, but with this information, she is heavily torn on if she wants to remain. However, after speaking with Kodlak and learning that he is actively looking for a cure, she decides she will become a member of the Companions but would not accept the “gift” of becoming a werewolf.

How did they react to becoming a werewolf themselves?:

This is where the canon-divergence comes in. When Fiona returns to the Companions to tie up lose ends, she agrees to help them hunt down and defeat the Silver Hand but on the contingency that she not become a werewolf. (I mean, if she can turn down becoming a vampire, why isn’t turning down becoming a werewolf an option?).

This is simply just not something Fiona wants—she already has to deal with her body being a vessel for Akatosh—being Dragonborn is enough power for her. Her time with the Companions does give her a new appreciation for the “tame” werewolves, however.

How do they feel about werewolves?:

Fiona’s opinion on werewolves was pretty much the same as Dragons when she first arrived in Skyrim—wait, what? There are werewolves? It’s not a myth? After the initial shock subsides (and considering she encounters dragons—plural! —first), she’s conflicted between the more rabid werewolves that have lost their minds like the storybooks depict and the ones she has found in Jorrvaskr.

After working with the Companions, she is more inclined to believe that there is likely far more people out there than she realizes that are keeping a werewolf identify hidden beneath the surface—Aela explains that many are able to live their lives normally, keeping their bloodlust in check as long as they find the appropriate line of work, like the Companions do. While its not the choice for Fiona, she ultimately respects the Companions that chose to stay werewolves.

Fighting for honor’s a good living. Do they agree?:

Yes. Fiona was a traveling mercenary (okay and somewhat of a thief but the Companions don’t need to know that) for years before coming to Skyrim and slowly became enamored with the work—she developed a sense of pride with helping those in need and even when there was little to no coin to be had, she would still accept the job just to say she completed the work. With the Companions, she finds they are far nobler (I mean, they aren’t thieves—no stealing!), but encourage Fiona’s fighting style despite the fact its not as one-on-one combat as the others use.

Will they lead the Companions to glory as Harbinger?:

No. Fiona finds the role of Harbinger ironic, as the Companions go on and on about not having a leader, and yet, seemed to really put Kodlak as that. And she has enough responsibilities by this point (Guildmaster, Dragonborn, etc), and has no intention of leading another group of followers. Upon their instance, she hands off leadership to Aela and Vilkas, and vows to check up on them when she is in the area. The Companions agree to do the same with her when they are in Riften.

How do they feel about the Companions?:

Fiona truly respects the Companions. She finds that she is most morally aligned with them (regardless of what natural talents she has a thief)—a neutral mercenary that finds honor and pride in doing work for the commonwealth of Skyrim, preferring to stay out of politics and wars. As individuals, she also gets along with the Companions.

She’s an excellent hunter and bonds well with Aela, especially when it comes to hunting down bandits around Whiterun hold in the dark of night. Those bandits never see the two women coming. They are fierce women in a “man’s world”, and for that the two spend many long nights discussing their lives and what brought them to where they are now. They will also sit and spend time at the Skyforge, making their own arrows, Fiona sharing her blend of poison to tip the arrowheads.

Fiona has fun with Farkas and the “footpads” (Guild term, she knows, but she can’t shake the term of endearment). Drinking, sparing, friendly brawls with gold on the table—drunken bard lessons with horrible lyrics about the “dragonborn” where she insists he make new ones up for her instead. She’ll train with all the others and entertains Farkas’ request to lift his Warhammer over her head (hey, she’s stronger than she looks!).

Fiona has a more traditional friendship with Vilkas; while she thinks he’s too studious for her personality, she realizes he’s just a walled-off person until he gets to know somebody—just like her. So they get along just fine after the initial awkward “get-to-know-you” phase. They bond over a love of books and knowledge—Nordic lore and history, and spend quiet mornings meditating as the sun rises across the Whiterun fields. I’ve mentioned this before, but I’d like to think that there’s somewhat of an unrequited fancy-ing (Vilkas to Fiona), that fades away when Fiona disappears from Jorrvaskr and Whiterun, first to see the Greybeards before running off to Riften. (No hard feelings though—and I still love Fiona’s first in-game husbando).

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#elder scrolls: skyrim #dragonborn fiona #fiona bloom-holt #dragonborn challenge #day eleven

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