#snippets from various parts of the story

[green-eyedfirework]

“No.”

“Bruce—”

“Absolutely not.  Do you have any idea what you’re proposing?”

“It’s not a proposal,” Dick said with a calm he didn’t feel.  He’d already numbed himself to the idea.  “I am not asking you, Bruce.  I’m telling you.”

“I am not letting my son walk straight into the hands of someone who wants him dead,” Bruce snapped, eyes flashing, as he shoved upright from the council table.

“And I,” Dick replied levelly, meeting Bruce’s gaze, “am not letting someone else suffer for a war I caused.”

Bruce shook his head, deflating slightly as his expression pinched.  “You didn’t cause it, Dick,” he said quietly.  “It was a set-up.  You know this.  King Slade knows this.”

Dick’s mouth firmed to a thin line.  It didn’t matter if Slade knew now that his son had been captured by extremists and tortured until he was a weapon aimed at Gotham.  It was still Dick’s sword that had ended his life.  “I killed him,” Dick said softly.  “I killed Prince Grant and Slade will never forget that.”  Never forgive that, never mind the grudging treaty created when Hive’s treachery had come to light.  “I will not let someone else take my place as a target of his rage.”

No one trusted the treaty.  Not in Gotham, not in Defiance.  The hostage exchange was the only thing grounding the flimsy sheet of paper—one noble from Defiance, one noble from Gotham, each with a permanent stay in the other kingdom’s court.

“Dick,” Bruce said slowly, “you’re the Crown Prince.”

“I’ve been removed from the succession,” Dick said, half-shrugging.  “Your advisors won’t let you reinstate me.”  Hot-headed, impetuous, reckless—whatever Bruce believed, Dick had started a war by killing a prince, and several nobles in Gotham had never wanted the son of aerialists to ascend to the throne.

“Dick—”

“You can’t stop me,” Dick crossed his arms.  This was his mess, and he was going to clean it up, whether Bruce liked it or not.

Bruce slumped back into his chair, and buried his head in his hands.  “Dick,” he said quietly, “please.”

“I’m sorry, Bruce,” Dick said, equally quiet.  “But I can’t watch someone else take my place.”

Bruce let out a slow, shuddering breath.  Finally, he spoke, “You won’t go as a prince.”

“What?”

“You won’t go as a prince.  Under your real name.  King Slade has never seen you—” That was true, once Bruce had realized why an army was at their border, Dick had been carefully guarded.  “He won’t know who you are.  We can make up a minor noble family for you.  A lordship on the other side of Gotham.”

“But—”

“Dick,” Bruce looked him in the eyes, his face grave and pale.  “He despises you.  And I will not send my son to his death, do you understand?”

Dick nodded mutely, the words ringing in his head.

He despises you.

And Slade had every right to.

~#~

It was safe to say that Slade wasn’t in a good mood.  Hadn’t been in a good mood since he’d received word that his firstborn was dead, and his initial fury had receded to an ever-simmering flame of rage, a perpetual bad temper that sent everyone fleeing.

If he’d had his way, he would’ve razed Gotham to the ground and stuck every member of its royal family on a pike before he stopped.  Unfortunately, King Bruce had managed to find evidence that the terrorist group Hive had been involved, muddying the facts to claim that Prince Richard had merely been acting in self-defense, and it had been enough to sour Slade’s kingdom on a costly war.

So now he was supposed to play nice with the kingdom his son had died in, signing a treaty that wasn’t worth the paper and ink, biding his time until he could have his revenge.  Gotham was sticking to its best behavior for the time being and Prince Richard had vanished after he’d been removed from the line of succession, leaving Slade uselessly seething.

He glared at Wintergreen as he approached the throne.  “Is that it?” he asked, gesturing to the near-empty throne room.  “No petitioners to hear today?”  Very few dared to show up, all of them showing a healthy fear of his temper.

“The Lord of Owlcourt has arrived,” Wintergreen said.  Right.  Their noble hostage.  Slade had sent Drakon to Gotham days ago with careful instructions to watch and listen but do nothing unprovoked.  He doubted that Gotham would give him an easy excuse to go to war, the kingdom wasn’t as cutthroat as its neighbors.

With the exception of its reckless prince.

“And I have to be here for that?”  He didn’t want to greet whatever sacrificial lamb Gotham had sent, he didn’t even want to acknowledge that they existed.  As minor a lord as they could find, most likely, or maybe even a merchant willing to play at being a lord for a generous payout to his family.  According to Wintergreen, Owlcourt had been a royal territory until very recently, which meant that Gotham had magicked this lordship out of thin air.

Wintergreen gave him a sharp look, but didn’t start the long lecture Slade was half-expecting.  Everyone was treating him like he was a piece of fucking glass, and Slade dearly wanted a fight.  Wanted to draw his sword and hack away until everyone that would hurt him, hurt his children, were dead.

In his imaginings, the bodies all had dark hair and golden crowns.

“The Lord of Owlcourt,” the guards announced as they opened the doors, and Slade got his first look at the noble.

Young, younger than Slade had been expecting, dark-haired and light-eyed, expression steady as he flicked his gaze around the room, not shivering or scared.  Slade flicked a glance at Wintergreen to make sure he wasn’t overthinking things.  His steward had his mouth pressed into a thin line, eyes narrowed.

Slade wasn’t sure if it was supposed to be a taunt or a deliberate provocation, but if they wanted him to lose his composure, they’d have to try harder than sending a lookalike of their prince.

“Your Majesty,” the lordling dipped into a low bow.  Lower than a lord to a foreign king usually bowed.  The idea that they’d foisted a lordship on some random commoner was looking more and more likely.  “My name is Dick Grayson, and I’m—”

“The Lord of Owlcourt, yes, we did receive the message,” Slade said, cutting him off.  He made no attempt to hide his glower as Grayson straightened.  “Neither of us need to pretend this is anything but what it is.”  His noble hostage could rot in a tower for all Slade cared.  “You will obey our rules.  You will not leave the castle without permission.  You want anything, you will ask Wintergreen and he’ll see if it’s necessary.”  His steward inclined his head as Grayson darted a glance at him.  “If you’re on anything less than your best behavior,” Slade paused, scanning the young lordling’s face.  Wariness aplenty, but no outright fear.  “There will be consequences.”

“Understood, Your Majesty,” Grayson dropped into another bow.  Someone should teach him some etiquette before the whole court figured out he wasn’t a noble.  “Thank you for your hospit—”

Slade got up from the throne and walked out before he could finish.  The pleasantries had been met, and he had no intention of getting closer to a Gotham lord.  Especially not one who looked so similar to the man that killed his son.

This time, when Slade dreamed of destroying his enemies and venting his grief, the corpses looked like the young Lord of Owlcourt.

~#~

Dick had half been expecting them to throw him in the dungeons and was pleasantly surprised when he was led to a room.  Nowhere near as large as his quarters in Gotham, and the simplicity was clearly intended as a slight, but the room had a writing desk and a window, and didn’t seem overly cold.

“Your trunk will be brought up after it’s searched,” the steward said—Wintergreen, Dick remembered, cold eyes watching him with eerie intensity.  “Anything we deem too dangerous to let you have will be destroyed.”

Dick took a breath and nodded.  He hadn’t brought anything valuable with him, had correctly assumed that Defiance wouldn’t treat his possessions with any sort of courtesy.

“It should go without saying, but your best option is to keep your head down,” Wintergreen said sharply.  “Do not test the King’s temper.  War has been narrowly avoided, I suggest you try not to court it again.”

Don’t flinch, Dick chanted mentally in his head.  Wintergreen didn’t know who he was talking to.  Didn’t know how accurate his words really were.

“If there is something you require, you come to me.  You will not be assigned a chaperone or a guard, and you will be stopped if trying to enter a restricted area.  Meals will be served in the Great Hall, the library is open if you wish to read, and the training areas are usually empty in early morning.  You will not be allowed sharpened weapons.”

That was more freedom than Dick had expected.  There weren’t bars on the windows and the door appeared to lock from the inside.

“Do you have any questions?” Wintergreen asked, tone perfunctory.  Dick shook his head, throat still dry from his interaction with the King.

“Very well,” Wintergreen inclined his head.  “Lord Grayson.”  He swept from the room before Dick could breathe through the sting of the title.  No longer a prince.  Never a prince again.

He’d half been prepared for his disguise to fall apart the moment he’d reached the castle’s gates.  The steward’s eyes had narrowed dangerously when he’d seen him, and Dick had seen the way King Slade’s expression had flickered with surprise before cooling.  They might not have seen him before, but clearly they’d heard of his appearance.

He’d thought about dying his hair, but he couldn’t bank on getting the materials to keep it up in Defiance.  His only shield was a name lost to time and the prayer that they wouldn’t put it together.

Dick sank down into the chair and exhaled slowly.

It had worked.

~#~

Unfortunately, the Lord of Owlcourt was a model guest.  He’d made no demur over his sword and dagger being seized, no protest at being forced to file a formal request for every additional piece of furniture for his rooms, no complaint at being ordered to attend every meal in the Great Hall.

The last had been Wintergreen’s idea.  If it was up to Slade, he would’ve locked Grayson in a cell and thrown away the key, but Wintergreen had pointed out that Slade had sworn to treat the hostage with courtesy.

So Grayson had a decent set of rooms in the guest wing, had meals with everyone else, was allowed to roam the castle without fear of retaliation.  It helped that he was an unrecognizable face—Slade didn’t doubt that Grayson had fought in the war, his hands bore sword calluses, but no one in Slade’s court had any personal animosity with the young lordling.

It also helped that the Lord of Owlcourt was charming.

~#~ ~#~

Slade turned back when he reached the door, and had to fight his twitching lips.  Dick had spread out on the bed, curling up in the warmth Slade had left behind, and had pulled the blankets over his head to block out the sun.

Not a morning bird, then, but a cat.  Slade shook his head as he left his room, and refused to call the emotion fondness.  He wasn’t getting fond of the Lord of Owlcourt.

And what if you are? a tiny voice asked in his head.

…And what if he was.  Dick was from Gotham, true, but he would be staying permanently in Slade’s court.  No one had heard of Owlcourt in Defiance, so it wouldn’t ruffle any feathers amongst his court.  And—and Slade couldn’t spend the rest of his life wrapped up in misery.

Dick was amusing, and a challenge.  Smart and fierce and bold.  Good at politics too.  He was everything Slade looked for in a partner, and Slade had to admit that what was supposed to be a temporary relief had turned into a more permanent arrangement.

He recalled the way blue eyes sparkled as Slade pinned Dick to the bed, dark hair ruffled by the pillows—as much as Slade detested the underhandedness of the Waynes, Slade wouldn’t have gotten this if they hadn’t tried to provoke him.

For a moment, Slade tried to imagine what it would’ve been like if they’d actually sent over Prince Richard.  If Slade, or someone else, didn’t kill him, Richard would’ve probably spent the entire time locked up in his rooms, perhaps plotting how to murder the rest of them in their sleep.  There was certainly no way they would’ve ended up sleeping together.

The very thought was ridiculous.  As if Prince Richard would’ve ever—

“I volunteered.”

“My cousin.  She’s a tutor for the youngest prince.”

“I learned swordsmanship from the very best, Your Majesty.”

Slade came to a stop in the middle of the corridor.

No.

That was—impossible.

No one would ever—

Dick, on his knees, almost trembling, and the snarl of what did they teach in Gotham, that he thought Slade would ever do such a thing forestalled by his fury for the young lordling, what kind of royal family sent someone to sacrifice everything for their mistakes?

“The King is a good man,” Dick sighed, “And his family are good people.”

“It’s my duty,” Dick said quietly, “For my kingdom.”

My.

My.

But no king would ever send his heir as hostage if there was another choice.  No father would ever send his son to someone who wanted him dead.

Slade was being ridiculous.  Dick was just a noble’s bastard son with a passing resemblance to the Crown Prince of Gotham.

…Dick was a short form of Richard.

~#~

“It’s a pity,” Slade said softly, “That we don’t have Prince Richard to explain away this one too.”

The courtiers laughed.  Dick didn’t.

Slade was staring directly at him.

~#~ ~#~

Dick laced his fingers around the cup, and took another sip.  It was refreshing.  It was water.  It was something to do that wasn’t looking up at Slade, because he didn’t think he could handle looking up at Slade right now.

He’d been ready, when he approached the castle, for his paper-thin disguise to fall apart.  For Slade to kill him where he stood, and know that at least in death he kept his kingdom safe.  He—he had not been prepared to watch Slade’s face twist into hate after softening, after he knew what Slade looked like grinning sharp and victorious, or solemn, or sleepily content with the early morning sun splayed over his face.  It…hurt.

Dick took another small sip of water.  The cup was already three-quarters empty.  He wasn’t sure how much longer he could drag this out.

The door opened again, and Dick’s fingers tightened on the cup.  The boots in front of him jerked, and turned to face the newcomer, but Dick didn’t look up.  It wouldn’t make a difference.

“Wintergreen,” Slade said flatly, sounding both confused and displeased at once.

“Slade,” the steward answered in the same flat tone, “And here I was half-expecting he’d already be dead.”

Dick raised his head, bewildered.  The way Wintergreen had said that—

“You knew?”  Oh, Slade sounded furious now.  “Since when?”

Wintergreen didn’t seem the slightest bit bothered by his king’s agitation, instead studying Dick as Slade growled.  “A week or so after his arrival.  Before you, I wager.”  Dick’s stomach twisted—how long had Slade known?  Dick hadn’t noticed any sudden difference in him, anything to suggest that he knew Dick was the person that had killed his son.

Before sleeping with him?

After?

“How?” Slade demanded.

“I already told you of my findings regarding Owlcourt,” Wintergreen said mildly, “But if he was some merchant’s son or a farmer, no amount of drilling in manners would’ve been able to replicate being raised a noble.  So that must mean he’s a noble.  But then why hide his real title, why give him some random royal territory?”  Wintergreen shrugged lightly, “If he looks so much like the prince, then perhaps he is the prince.”

“And you didn’t tell me,” Slade bit back.  Dick took another quiet sip of water.

“No, Slade, I didn’t tell you, because you would’ve killed him,” Wintergreen snapped back, “And started another war, hostage or not, by murdering Gotham’s Crown Prince.”

“I’m not,” rang out into sudden silence.  Dick winced, but—but he couldn’t stay silent forever.  “I’m not the Crown Prince,” he said quietly.

Slade and Wintergreen were both staring at him now.  Dick fought the urge to hide.

“We just went over this,” Slade began, but Dick cut him off.

“No, not—I was the Crown Prince.  I’m not anymore.”

Slade narrowed his eyes, but it was Wintergreen who spoke.  “What are you talking about?” he asked.

“The council,” Dick explained, “One of their conditions was that my adoption be revoked.”  Bruce had been furious, but his court had agreed that it was an elegant solution—if a prince had not slaughtered a prince, the consequence would never have been war—and by that time, Dick had already made up his mind to go so it had been a moot point.  “So I’m not.  A prince or a Wayne.  I—Owlcourt is a royal territory, yes, but I have a claim to it, through my great-grandfather.  My name was Grayson, before Bruce adopted me.  It—wasn’t a lie.”

Slade and Wintergreen were staring at him, silent.  Dick swallowed, and bowed his head.

“But it’s a deliberate omission,” Dick said quietly, “I understand why you’re angry.”  Still two sips of water left in the cup, but Dick put it down, before shifting forward to fold onto his knees.  “Killing me won’t start a war,” Dick almost whispered, and squeezed his eyes shut.

Another stretching silence, before boots came closer.  “Out of curiosity,” Slade said, his voice level, “How long did you think you’d get away with it?”

Dick—didn’t know.  There had always been an end date in sight.  All he could do was push it another day away.  “Hopefully long enough that tensions would’ve died down,” Dick said quietly, because he was still a hostage, and if Slade killed him without provocation, the treaty would be in turmoil.  Too soon after the war, and angry, grieving people might seize the opportunity to attack again.

Slade made an irritated sound.  “I’m not going to kill you,” he snapped, one boot nudging his knee, “Get up.”

Dick processed the order before he processed the statement, so he stuttered halfway up, nearly falling back down before he recovered and straightened fully.  Slade wasn’t looking at him, but his face was set in a glower.  Wintergreen looked…mildly amused.  Or satisfied.

[thegreatyin]

why does the scoundrel speak in first person plural :0?

i am SO GLAD you asked :)

see, the scoundrel is madly emphasis on madly in love with the one and only mr wines, a canon fallen london character that's crucial to her backstory, motivations, and just generally everything about her current state of being. wines is one of the masters of the bazaar, aka one of the scoundrel's current coworkers. it's. well. it's an Interesting bat, to say the least.

there are many, many, many things you can say about wines, both for better and for worse. it's a liar. it's a cheapskate. it's a tyrant. it's a drunkard. it's a whore. it's a pimp. it's, in the scoundrel's extremely delusional eyes, a living god.

but there is one thing (mostly) consistent about wines- its manner of speech.

wines, with few exceptions, always speaks in first person plural (perhaps better described as the "royal we", given its backstory). while this is a trait basically all of the masters slip into at some point or other, wines is the only one who does it consistently enough to qualify as a certified Character Quirk™.

so, well.

say you're the scoundrel. and you desperately want to emulate the bat you love more than anything else in the world. the bat- no, the god that saved you from a life of dull misery. the being you owe everything to. Everything. you want to give all you have, all you ever will be, in order to be Just Like It.

and thus- much to everyone's misfortune- the scoundrel talks just like its idol.

for better or for worse.

TLDR: the scoundrel talks in first person plural because she's a huge fucking loser who's purposefully trying to emulate her crush, an evil alcoholic who sucks. aren't bats beautiful?

[shittybundaskenyer]

"This thing, this ain't that bad. It's old as time, believe me, I was there. Havin' a Hive pal is gonna complicate things, sure, but it'll make you so much stronger. Think about the god killing you do on a regular basis… With a bondmate you can kill twice as many without breakin' a sweat."

"So this whole thing is for… god killing?"

"I thought you were a smart girl, starshine."

"I just… Why a monster? Why him?"

"The Light works in funny ways, sister. Anyways, Hive doesn't taste that bad. It's like very stringy, very black chicken."

"I won't eat him!"

"Just sayin'... There's always a way out if things go bad. Trust in Uncle Drifter, starshine. It's gonna be okay."

[makingqueerhistory]

I feel reasonably certain you're the one to ask, but if not, i hope you can point me in the right direction.

A while back, you put up a quote from someone about realising their queer identity being akin to wanting to quietly change train carriages. That particular idea has stuck with me, and I wanted to find the exact quote so I could remember it properly. Do you know who it was that said it, and in what context?

I know exactly what you are talking about! The quote you're thinking of is:

"I confess that I am one of those passengers that Fate put in the wrong train. Should I have caused an alarm? I chose the second, quieter way: I applied for a rewrite of the ticket.”

Which was said by Zdeněk Koubek, who was an olympic athlete!

Here is a snippet from our article about him:

"Koubek was born December 8, 1913, in Paskov, Czechia (Now the Czech Republic). Growing up with eight siblings in a poor Catholic household, he was an active child and very fond of athletics. His family moved to Brno while Koubek was still a child, and there he became interested in track and field. With very little formal training, he managed to reach peak performance. He had a decent education and considered becoming a clerk, but chose to dedicate himself to sports. Due to his outstanding performance at 17, he moved to Prague and joined the Prague University team, also working part-time as an instructor and coach. In 1932, at the age of 19, he broke his first national record and shortly after set five more. He won two medals in the Women’s World Games in London in 1934 and set two world records. It was at this point, due to his excellent performance and his gender-non-conforming nature, that rumours started circulating. Newspapers pointed out his “masculine” behaviours. Following this, there was an anonymous request for Koubek to be examined by Olympic-sanctioned doctors to ensure he was not lying about his gender. As this happened, Koubek left competitive sports entirely. Around the same time, writer Lída Merlínová wrote a biography about Zdeněk Koubek titled Zdenin světový rekord // Zdena’s world record. Merlínová was known for her writing on queer people, publishing the first Czech book about lesbians. In Zdenin světový rekord, Koubek is written as various degrees of gender non-conforming, androgynous, and masculine, and this book also added to the controversy of Zdenek’s sportsmanship. After disappearing from sports for some time, Koubek resurfaced with The World Record Woman. Published in Prague Illustrated Newsletter, Koubek himself wrote the 20-part biographical series. In it, he spoke of how doctors had mistakenly assigned him female at birth and how this had affected his life for over two decades. He once again disappeared, this time journeying to the United States of America for six months. He held lectures and told his life story. Upon his return to Prague in 1936, he underwent gender affirmation surgery and changed his legal name. He lived the rest of his life in Prague with his wife, later joined his brother’s rugby team, and never returned to the world of competitive sports. He passed away at the age of 73."

Zdeněk Koubek

[felassan]

Dragon Age: The Veilguard info compilation Post 1

Post is under a cut due to length.

There is a lot of information coming out right now about DA:TV from many different sources. This post is just an effort to compile as much as I can in one place, in case that helps anyone. Sources for where the information came from have been included. Where I am linking to a social media user's post, the person is either a dev, a Dragon Age community council member or other person who has had a sneak peek at and played the game. nb, this post is more of a 'info that came out in snippets from articles and social media posts' collection rather than a 'regurgitating the information on the official website or writing out what happened in the trailer/gameplay reveal' post. The post is broken down into headings on various topics. A few points are repeated under multiple headings where relevant. Where I am speculating without a source, I have clearly demarcated this. if you notice any mistakes in this post, please tell me.

as this post hit a kind of character limit, there will probably be at least 1 more post. :)

Character Creation

CC is vast [source] and immensely detailed [source]

We will enter CC straight after Varric's opening narration [source]

You are given 5 categories to work your way through in CC: Lineage, Appearance, Class, Faction, Playstyle. Each of these has a range of subcategories within them. There are 8 subcategories within the "head" subcategory" in "Appearance" alone [source]

Lineage dictates things like race (i.e. human, elf, dwarf, qunari) and backstory [source]

Backstories include things like factions. Factions offer 3 distinct buffs each [source]

There are dozens and dozens of hairstyles [source]

There are separate options for binary and non-binary pronouns and gender [source]

"BioWare's work behind the scenes, meanwhile, goes as deep as not only skin tones but skin undertones, melanin levels, and the way skin reacts differently to light" [source]

CC has a range of lighting options within it so that you can check how the character looks in them [source]

There are a range of full-body customization options such as a triangular slider between body types and individual settings down to everything from shoulder width to glute volume [source]. There are "all the sliders [we] could possibly want". The body morpher option allows us to choose different body sizes [source]

All body options are non-gendered [source]

They/them pronouns are an option [source]

Rook can be played as non-binary [source]

Individual strands of hair were rendered separately and react remarkably to in-game physics [source]

Special, focused attention was paid to ensuring that hairstyles "come across as well-representative, that everyone can see hairstyles that feel authentic to them, even the way they render" [source]

The game uses strand hair technology borrowed in part from the EA Sports games. The hair is "fully-controlled by physics," so it "looks even better in motion than it does here in a standstill" [source]

The ability to import our choices from previous games is fully integrated into CC. This will take the form of tarot cards - "you can go into your past adventures" and this mechanic tells you what the context was and what decision you want to make [source]

In CC we will also be able to customize/remake our Inquisitor [source]

A core tenet of the game is "be who you want to be" [source]

There are presets for all 4 of the game's races (human, elf, dwarf, qunari), in case detailed CCs overwhelm you [source]

Story

The story is set 9 years since Inquisition [source]

The Inquisitor will appear [source]

Other characters refer to the PC as Rook [source]. This article says they are "the Rook" [source]

The ability to import our choices from previous games is fully integrated into CC. This will take the form of tarot cards - "you can go into your past adventures" and this mechanic tells you what the context was and what decision you want to make [source]

The prologue is quite lengthy. A narrated intro from Varric lays the groundwork with some lore and explains about Solas [source]. In this Varric-narrated opening section, the dwarf recaps the events of previous games and explains the motivations of Solas [source] (Fel note/speculation: this sounds like this cinematic that we saw on DA Day 2023)

What happens first off is that Rook, who is working with Varric, is interrogating a bartender about the whereabouts of a contact in Minrathous who can help them stop Solas. The bartender does not play nice and we are presented with our first choice: talk the bartender down or intimidate them aggressively [source]

The first hour of the game is "a luxurious nighttime romp through a crumbling city under a mix of twinkling starlight and lavish midnight blue" (Minrathous) [source]. The game begins with a tavern brawl (depending on dialogue options) and a stroll through Minrathous in search of Neve Gallus, who has a lead on Solas [source]. Minrathous then comes under attack [source] by demons [source] (Fel note/speculation: it sounds like the demo the press played is what we saw in the Gameplay Reveal). Off in the distance is a vibrant, colorful storm where Solas is performing his ritual. [source] Eventually we come upon Harding. [source] and Neve. Rook and co enter a crumbling castle, where ancient elf secrets pop up, "seemingly just for the lore nerds". [source] Then we teleport to Arlathan Forest, have a mini boss fight with a Pride Demon, and there is the climactic confrontation with Solas. After a closing sequence, at this point it is the end of the game's opening mission. [source] (Fel note/speculation: So the Gameplay Reveal showed the game's opening mission)

The action in the story's opening parts starts off quite quick from the sounds of things: the devs wanted to get the player right in to the story. because, “Especially with an RPG where they can be quite lore-heavy, a lot of exposition at the front and remembering proper nouns, it can be very overwhelming.” [source]

BioWare wanted to make the beginning of Dragon Age: The Veilguard feel like the finale of one of their other games [source]

Rook's Faction will be referenced in dialogue [source]

Minrathous is beautiful, with giant statues, floating palaces, orange lantern glow and magical runes which glow green neon. These act "like electricity" as occasional signs above pubs and stores [source]

The story has a lot of darkness tonally. These dark parts of the game contain the biggest spoilers [source]. However, the team really wanted to build in contrast between the dark and light moments in the game, as if everything is dark, nothing really feels dark [source]

Our hub (like the Normandy in ME or Skyhold in DA:I) is a place called The Lighthouse [source] (Fel note/speculation: I guess this screenshot shows the crew in The Lighthouse? ^^)

Each companion has a very complex backstory, their own problems, and deep motivations. These play out through well-fleshed out character arcs and missions that are unique to them but which are ultimately tied into the larger story [source]

We will make consequential decisions for each character, sometimes affecting who they are in heart-wrenching ways and other times joyously [source]

Decisions from previous DA games will be able to be carried over, it will just work a bit differently this time [source]. The game will not read our previous saves. For stuff pertaining to previous games/choices, players will not have to link their accounts [source]

Characters, companions, romance

Varric is a major character [source]

Every companion is romanceable [source]

BioWare tried to make each character's friendship just as meaningful, regardless of romance [source]

If you don't romance a character, they may end up romancing each other [source]

There will be some great cameos [source]. Some previous characters are woven into the game [source]

Companion sidequests/optional content relating to companions is highly curated when it involves their motivations and experiences [source]

We could permanently lose some companions depending on our choices [source]

Our choices can influence if characters get injured and what they think about us [source]

The bonds Rook forges with companions determine how party members grow and what abilities become available [source]

Each companion has a very complex backstory, their own problems, and deep motivations. These play out through well-fleshed out character arcs and missions that are unique to them but which are ultimately tied into the larger story [source]

We will make consequential decisions for each character, sometimes affecting who they are in heart-wrenching ways and other times joyously [source]

Gameplay, presentation, performance etc

Each class (warrior, rogue, mage) has 3 specializations. The ones for Rogue are duelist, saboteur and Veil ranger [source]. (Fel note/speculation: Veil ranger reminds me of Bellara. Maybe this is her 'spec' too?)

Duelist gameplay involves a sharp combination of dashes, parries, leaps, rapid slashes and combos [source]

Faction-related buffs include being able to hold an extra potion or do extra damage against certain enemies [source]

Individual strands of hair were rendered separately and react remarkably to in-game physics [source]

Playstyle settings include custom, distinct difficulty settings for options as granular as parry windows, meaning "players who might fancy that playstyle but typically struggle with the finer points of combat can give it a go" [source]

Combat mechanics is a mix of real-time action and pause and play. Pausing brings up a radial menu split into 3 sections: companions to the left and right, Rook's skills at the bottom, and a targeting system at the top which helps get in focus on certain enemies. [source]. In the pause system you can queue up your whole party's attacks [source]

Tapping or holding the shoulder button pauses the game, allowing us to stop the action and issue orders to companions [source]

There is a system of specific enemy resistances and weaknesses [source]. Weaknesses and resistances plays a big role in combat and abilities are designed to exploit these accordingly [source]. An example is that "one character might be able to plant a weakening debuff on an enemy, and another enemy might be able to detonate them" [source]

There is a vast skill tree of unlockable options [source]

You can set up specific companions with certain kits, e.g. to tackle specific enemy types, to being more of a support, or as flexible all-rounders [source]

Healing magic returns [source]

Abilities can change together with elaborate results, e.g. one companion using a gravity well attack that sucked enemies together, another using a slowing move to keep them in place, and Rook using a big AOE to catch them all at once [source]

A shortcut system lets you map a few abilities to a smaller pinned menu at the bottom of the screen [source]

There are class-specific resource systems. For example, Rogue has "momentum", which builds up as Rook lands consecutive hits [source]

Each class will always have a ranged option [source]

Rogue Rook can do a sort of 'hip fire' option with a bow, letting you pop off arrows from the waist [source]

Warriors can throw their shield at enemies, and can build an entire playstyle around that using the skill tree [source]

There is light platforming gameplay [source]

The game runs on the latest iteration of the Frostbite engine [source]

The game targets 60 fps

On consoles it will feature performance and quality modes so we can choose our preferred visual fidelity [source]

The game is mission based [source]. Some levels that we go to do open up, some with more exploration than others. "Alternate branching paths, mysteries, secrets, optional content you're going to find and solve." [source]

Everything is hand-touched, hand-crafted and highly curated [source]

Some sidequests and optional content is highly curated, especially when it involves the motivations and experiences of the companions. In others we may be investigating for example a missing family, with an entire open bog environment to search for clues and a way to solve the disappearance [source]

Gameplay, presentation, performance etc continued, after the above bullet list hit a character limit

There is sophisticated animation cancelling and branching. Gameplay is action-like, and the design centers around dodging, countering, and using risk-reward charge attacks designed to break enemy armor layers [source]

The dialogue wheel returns [source]. It gives truncated summaries of the dialogue options rather than the full line that the character is going to say [source]

The bonds Rook forges with companions determine how party members grow and what abilities become available [source]

For stuff pertaining to previous games/choices, players will not have to link their accounts [source]

We can play the game fully offline [source]

There are no microtransactions [source]

The game itself is not as cell-shaded in look as the first trailer looked [source]

[☕ found this post or blog interesting or useful? my ko-fi is here if you feel inclined. thank you 🙏]

[impyssadobsessions]

Here's a comic depicting a snippet of a story Idea I have. >w<

(Link to Reference Art I made of Danny) Danny comes across Clockwork's lair, see's some visions of a past he wasn't quite sure of whose, before being dropped down a hole where CW cryptically fills him in as to why he had summon him. Thus dropping Danny into this new world with only knowing he has to save a guy name Dante- and defeat Pariah again. He falls through a roof of a thrift store- fights some skeleton demons with the racks after learning something is weird with his powers as he cannot change into phantom and his body feels weird. His clothes get ripped and tatter thus him "borrowing" clothes and walking out to see the extent of what Pariah has already done.

Which causes him to run into a big bull demon and fights him one to one- while learning the new limitations on his powers/how they work in this world. Spoiled below more ideas that are very rough and not set in stone. That I copied and pasted from my word document- which was just hastily written down as to not forget.

Danny is summon for another favor for Clockwork- CW isnt in the tower but screens of timelines are playing around the room. Danny thinks some of them are cool- wondering when and where that is- until he see one of a woman running with a baby in her arms. Cut back to danny who falls through a hole in the ground and winds up falling into a thrift store. His form has changed and his powers don't really work how they were suppose to. Maybe instead following Pariah into the demon world- finding himself in same scenario. Maybe CW gives only cryptic word help dante. But dante supposedly still gone so meets nero instead. Nero over time realizes Danny might not be human- doesn't think ghost- but assume Danny might be Dante's son... for various reasoning. ---Maybe CW is split in two reason Danny was able to live on the other side. (because of legend of Pariah having been banished to in between because he was feared by demons- only for him to take over new world and being sealed there. Chronos was part of the reason he got banished. ) -Pariah Dark being big bad. But once Danny wins title of king the curse tries to bind him. Then Clockwork stabs him to the ground with his staff- essentially winning the title and being sealed away with Pariah. Danny is rescued by Dante, and he uses the staff to slow the closing of the portal. Everyone safe and rescued. Danny stands where the portal was and cries. Overwhelmed by information and also realizing he has no way back home.

--- Also thought of an idea for a sequel idea- where Danny is in a comatose state but it is revealed after a seemingly heartwarming scene of Dante and Danny watching the sunset peacefully as father and son. Then Nero arrives to pick up Danny. Dante reveals that they know where the guy who did this to danny is and how to get Danny back to normal. (Vergil having scouted ahead) Dante leaves to help clear out the problem leaving Nero with literal dead weight as Nero has to take Danny's lifeless body to the lair- Danny slowly regaining some motion as he gets closer to his-self. Nero at first saying Danny owes him big time- but as it goes on Nero like- hey don't pay it back all in one go- I still need at least one favor so I could spend a nice night with kyrie. (Because Danny uses his blood to help Nero fight back the ghosts- and then him phasing them through a collapsed ceiling while still in a coma like state) Very Nero centric taking care of Danny- and whose been taking the most care of Danny. So very much him just talking one sided to Danny but seriously hoping for the best. And to clock the guy who did this. Which my idea that it be actually Dan ;3 who split Danny apart.

[rockyteriyaki]

i wasn’t quite able to finish my other halloween fic in time for the deadline, so i dragged out a carcar snippet and wrote a little bit for a tumblr fic! 1.5k words, guardian angel au 🪽 @motorsport-halloween

The first place they steer him after a race is the guardian angels tent.

It’s small, made of slippy plastic tarping and held up by thin aluminum, cheap like everything in F3. Water slides off the top and pours down the sides in a clear curtain. Today, there are more guardians than usual: a dense cube of feathers packed together to avoid the worsening storm. Probably because everyone and their mother was sliding around the track just now. Perilously.

Oscar stands on his tiptoes from his spot under an awning, trying to profile the crowd before running out in the downpour. He’s seen his angel exactly one time before- when he’d gotten into a particularly nasty collision and had to retire from a race. He remembers dark wings, dark eyebrows, dark eyes. An accented voice not that much older than his own.

“That was stupid. Do not- like that, you shouldn’t. Be smarter.”

Oscar had just stood there, gaping. Hadn’t closed his mouth until his angel had sort of huffed and turned away, back to the tent. The sparkling rip in the atmosphere was starting to stitch itself up, by then, swirling plastic cones into it like a vacuum. Saved by the bell. It hadn’t been until after he’d left that Oscar realized what he’d really wanted to say was fuck off.

Now, Oscar watches the rest of the grid flock to the tent, skittering in under the rain and finding their angels. He watches them idly recount their race stories to various levels of enthusiasm, subject themselves to pat-downs and wellness checks and lectures as needed. There’s genuine affection in their touches, especially in those whose drivers lost control of their cars or locked up in the rain. Who maybe got a little bit closer to the edge. When he gets to F1, this part won’t be televised, but it’ll be more thorough and more often. Because he’ll be closer to the edge, every single race.

But Oscar was pretty damn close today and his angel isn’t here, so. Maybe not.

Halfway through the F2 season, Oscar decides he officially hates his angel.

Whenever he feels his tires start to slip, whenever he clips the barrier or botches a turn, the adrenaline that rises in his throat is partially because he thinks that maybe his angel will have felt it. That he’ll be waiting for him under the tent or in the cooldown room, this time, and his dark eyes will be filled with something other than cool indifference. Like, a shred of concern for Oscar’s life, maybe. But he’s not, and he never is, and Oscar kind of really hates him.

The next time he sees him is in a bland conference room with Mark, his legal squadron and the team principal of Alpine who’s name Oscar can never remember. His black hair catches the shitty fluorescent-looking light of his halo and Oscar almost walks right back out.

“What is this,” he whispers to Mark. It’s not a hiss. “Why is he here.”

“I have to be here. To make sure your life is not ruined,” his angel says, at full volume. Oscar dislikes him so much.

“You are so—“ Oscar starts and doesn’t finish, which is a tactic he uses when he’d like to say something rude but shouldn’t. “Wait.” He turns to Mark. “Is my life about to be ruined?”

Mark inhales, reaching for his manila folder. The Alpine people wince. His angel waggles his incredibly thick eyebrows.

Oscar doesn’t sign with Alpine. He gets a text from an unknown number that says “See you should listen to me yes?” and he thinks about doing something crazy like throwing his phone against the wall. Instead, he shoves it under his sweatshirt and lets it rest against his stomach. It goes up and down as he breathes.

The issue is that his angel doesn’t leave.

Apparently he has to stick around until the ink is dry on Oscar’s contract, now that he’s waded into this whole mess. He has a little phone-like thing, sleek and rectangular, that lights up every once in awhile with indecipherable notifications about the state of Oscar’s life, or whatever. Oscar is 99% he has it on whatever the all-seeing equivalent of “do not disturb” is. He’s the worst.

“What’s his name again?” Oscar asks, around a mouthful of eggs.

“Carlos,” Mark says.

“Carlos,” Oscar seethes.

“You’re gonna have to nut up, mate,” Mark says. He sounds tired. “It’s standard procedure.”

Oscar wants to ask if it’s standard procedure to be concussed and have the doctors at the track refuse to take you to A&E without guardian angel signoff, and for that signoff to never arrive because your angel can’t be fucked, but he doesn’t.

Carlos is never around unless it’s to steer Oscar away from people and look smug. After the seventieth awkward handshake with the shadow of Carlos looming over his shoulder like an overgrown, disapproving hawk, he pulls him into a corner.

“Can you just tell me what I’m meant to do?”

“What do you mean,” Carlos says. It would have sounded sarcastic, if he hadn’t physically flopped his head to the side as he said it. Something evil settles around Oscar’s heart.

“My fate. My destiny, God’s plan, whatever the fuck, I just—I can do it myself. Please.” It comes out a little bit more desperate than he intends, but still north of begging, so he chalks it up as a point.

“No, I cannot,” Carlos says. “This is my job. Sorry,” he adds, because Oscar has the heels of his hands pressed over his eyes.

“Okay, so what if I—I dunno, disobey you?”

“Then you are making a big mistake,” Carlos says, so solemnly. His wings twitch a little bit, rising and flexing through his shoulder blades. Oscar swallows.

“You can’t stop me.”

“I can. This is my job,” Carlos repeats. His wings flare even further. The tips of the darker feathers almost block out the light, closing Oscar into the corner.

“I’ll sign with Alpine,” Oscar challenges. He doesn’t really want to do that, but there’s some kind of rabbity panic jumping around in his chest and making him stupid. “I could. They want me.”

“They don’t.” Carlos’ eyes are blazing the same neon as his halo. He could be seeing all possible futures right now, for all Oscar knows, and yet he still sounds like a moody toddler, shooting down everything Oscar says.

“I’ll show you the contract, mate, they definitely do.” Oscar is no better than him, apparently.

Except maybe he is, because Carlos steps forward until they’re practically chest-to-chest. All Oscar can see in his periphery are reflections of halo-light and Carlos’ heaving chest, his aquiline nose. “You don’t even—“

Somewhere, an alarm starts going off.

Carlos says something in Spanish, short and sharp. His eyes are wide. He fishes his angel-phone-thing out of his jeans. It’s angry red, flashing and beeping and buzzing all at once. An instinctive panic rockets through Oscar, far away from the warm anticipatory one from a few seconds ago.

“Isn’t that,” Oscar says. Clears his throat. “Um, is that bad?”

“Shit,” Carlos says in English. He does something weird, after that: like his whole body flickering, disappearing for a few milliseconds and then popping back in. “Shit. Oscar. We just—you just made a mistake.”

His accent makes it sound more deliberate. Mees-tek. “What? No, I didn’t.”

You’re not supposed to, like, try to kill your angel, but if Carlos thinks that’s what just happened then he’s even more delusional that Oscar had thought. Actually, it had been sort of exactly the opposite. Carlos had been so close, it was like—Oscar was worried he might—forget himself, or something. Try to do something crazy. Like grab Carlos’ hair and shove his head down and feel his nose against his throat.

Carlos shows him his phone screen. The text, in some archaic angel language, unscrambles before Oscar’s eyes. IMMEDIATE INTERVENTION REQUIRED, it says, scrolling across the top. Then, in bolded lettering in the middle: This message is for CARLOS SAINZ regarding OSCAR PIASTRI. Oscar’s eyes skip around the paragraph, can’t quite take any of it in. They’re not going to let Carlos leave. The angel system—fate, destiny, whatever—registered a god-tier fuckup on Oscar’s part, and they won’t let Carlos leave until he fixes it.

“What did you do?” Carlos asks, his voice annoyingly even as his phone wails and shakes in his hand. “Oscar, what did you do? Did you really sign with Alpine? You take it back and I will be gone, I promise.”

Oscar wants to say it’s just as much Carlos’ fault as it is his, but he can’t quite get the words out around the sudden, vicious longing to have Carlos squared up against him again, ready to fight, so he can watch it all drain out of him. He wants to take him apart, enact his revenge, put him back together again better and more tolerable than he was before.

MISTAKE, Carlos’ angel-cell cries. MISTAKE.

[soleminisanction]

I got a bee in my bonnet and spent last night crunching these numbers to confirm a long-held suspicion of mine, and now I'm going to do something with them even if it's only interesting to me. So.

I went through and tallied up all of the fics AO3 currently (as of 3/27/24) has under the tags "Trans Tim Drake," "Nonbinary Tim Drake," "Genderfluid Tim Drake" and "Genderqueer Tim Drake," since I figured that cast a wide enough net without committing myself to reading every fic vaguely tagged Trans Character to figure out which character they were talking about.

I then did the same for Dick, Jason, Damian and Bruce and, after comparing those numbers against each other and against the total number of fics each character has under their general tag, followed up with Duke, Babs, Cass, Steph and Kate, and then Kon, Cassie, and Bart for good measure.

The results confirm the suspicions I was going into check and are really interesting, to me at least:

Despite having far fewer stories overall than Jason, Bruce or Dick, Tim has by far the most stories tagging him under the trans umbrella (653 out of 58,395) and is the only member of the Bats for whom at least one full percent of his stories fall under that category (1.12% to be exact.) He actually has more total trans stories than Jason and Damian combined (308 out of 71,120 and 255 out of 42,607, equaling 0.43% and 0.59%, respectively) and outstretches the 2nd place ranker, Dick, by over a hundred (who clocks in at 438 out of 79,057 -- 0.55%). Bruce amusingly has by far the most stories overall (90,305) but the fewest trans stories (185) for the lowest percentage among the boys (0.2%).

The only one who comes anywhere close to matching Tim percentage-wise is Bart, who has far fewer stories to his name but a ratio of 62 out of 5,717 for 1.08%. I was thinking maybe Young Justice might have a higher percentage than the Bats due to their strong queer fandom but that only really proved true for Bart, with both Cassie and Kon coming in at only 0.2% and 0.28% trans umbrella percentage respectively (actual count 6 out of 2,874 and 39 out of 13,746).

Cassie's numbers correspond with the fact that women just, do not get a lot of these stories, at all, even compared to the general lack of attention they're paid by fanfiction spheres in general. Steph and Kate both clocked in at falling 0.17% under the trans umbrella (29 out of 16,638 for Steph, 5 out of 2,897 for Kate); Cass got 0.13% (21 out of 15,769) and Babs only 0.07%, the lowest percentage out of anyone I calculated for (11 out of 15,785). Duke's showing was a respectable 0.55% (34 out of 6,166) which puts him about even with the rest of the boys.

All of which I just went through to confirm a gut instinct I've had for a while: even in light of the noticeable trend in fandom towards increased visibility for trans and other queer-gendered people over the last decade and a half or so, it's a notable Thing for the DC comics fandom to explore with Tim Drake in specific.

And that doesn't even take into account things like the over 200 "Tim Drake is Catlad | Stray" fics, which almost always have some element of queered gender or at least femme'd sexuality to them, far outstripping any of the other Robin boys' spins in that AU (those counts stand at, respectively: Damian - 11, Dick - 33, Jason - 79, Tim - 242). Or the 11 fics logged under the "Tim Drake is Batgirl" tag, a category that doesn't even exist for any of the other male Robins.

(What makes that last one extra hilarious to me that most people don't know one canonical version of Tim has been a member of the Batgirls.) Part of me wants to use that parenthetic detail as a segway to ramble about the various canon snippets I think probably contributed to this, from Tim being presented as "the pretty one" who most often gets the "looks like his mother" comments to the fact that he is the only male Robin who's ever cross-dressed for an undercover mission and even though it only happened once the Internet will never forget Caroline Hill.

But this post is long enough as it is and I don't really have a point beyond I think this is interesting and cool so I'm going to leave off here for now and put my numbers under a cut so people have the raw data to look at if they'd like to.

TL;DR - Based on the numbers, the internet believes Tim Drake is more likely to be trans than any other member of the Bat-family or Young Justice, and I think that has interesting implications about his character and fandom. It's neat.

Data Taken: 3/27/24

Tim Drake: 58,395 Trans Tim Drake: 513 Nonbinary Tim Drake: 46 Genderfluid Tim Drake: 89 Genderqueer Tim Drake: 5

Dick Grayson: 79,057 Trans Dick Grayson: 399 Nonbinary Dick Grayson: 15 Genderfluid Dick Grayson: 23 Genderqueer Dick Grayson: 1

Jason Todd: 71,120 Trans Jason Todd: 286 Nonbinary Jason Todd: 17 Genderqueer/Genderfluid Jason Todd: 5 (4 have both tags and are the only ones tagged Genderqueer Jason Todd)

Damian Wayne: 42,607 Trans Damian Wayne: 215  Nonbinary Damian Wayne: 37 Genderfluid Damian Wayne: 3 Genderqueer Damian Wayne: 0

Bruce Wayne: 90,305 Trans Bruce Wayne: 180 Nonbinary Bruce Wayne: 5 (2 also tagged Trans Bruce Wayne) Genderfluid Bruce Wayne: 1 Genderqueer Bruce Wayne: 1

-

Total Trans Umbrella Tim Drake: 653 Total Trans Umbrella Dick Grayson: 438 Total Trans Umbrella Jason Todd: 308 (313 if you count the GQ tag separately) Total Trans Umbrella Damian Wayne: 255 Total Trans Umbrella Bruce Wayne: 185 (187)

Percentage Trans Umbrella Tim Drake: 1.12% (1.11825) Percentage Trans Umbrella Dick Grayson: 0.55% (0.55403) Percentage Trans Umbrella Jason Todd: 0.43% (0.43307 or 0.44010) Percentage Trans Umbrella Damian Wayne: 0.59% (0.59849) Percentage Trans Umbrella Bruce Wayne: 0.2% (0.20466)

----

Duke Thomas: 6,166 Trans Duke Thomas: 20 Nonbinary Duke Thomas: 14 Genderfluid Duke Thomas: 0 Genderqueer Duke Thomas: 0

Barbara Gordon: 15,785 Trans Barbara Gordon: 11 Nonbinary Barbara Gordon: 0 Genderfluid Barbara Gordon: 0 Genderqueer Barbara Gordon: 0

Cassandra Cain: 15,769 Trans Cassandra Cain: 15 Nonbinary Cassandra Cain: 6 Genderfluid Cassandra Cain: 0 Genderqueer Cassandra Cain: 0

Stephanie Brown: 16,638 Trans Stephanie Brown: 27 Nonbinary Stephanie Brown: 2 Genderfluid Stephanie Brown: 0 Genderqueer Stephanie Brown: 0

Kate Kane (DCU): 2,897 Trans Kate Kane: 4 Nonbinary Kate Kane: 0 Genderfluid Kate Kane: 1 Genderqueer Kate Kane: 0

-

Total Trans Umbrella Duke Thomas: 34 Total Trans Umbrella Barbara Gordon: 11 Total Trans Umbrella Cassandra Cain: 21 Total Trans Umbrella Stephanie Brown: 29 Total Trans Umbrella Kate Kane: 5

Percentage Trans Umbrella Duke Thomas: 0.55% (0.55141) Percentage Trans Umbrella Barbara Gordon: 0.07% (0.06968) Percentage Trans Umbrella Cassandra Cain: 0.13% (0.13317) Percentage Trans Umbrella Stephanie Brown: 0.17% (0.17429) Percentage Trans Umbrella Kate Kane: 0.17% (0.17259)

----

Kon-El | Conner Kent: 13,746 Trans Kon-El | Conner Kent: 19 Nonbinary Kon-El | Conner Kent: 19 Genderfluid Kon-El | Conner Kent: 1 Genderqueer Kon-El | Conner Kent: 0

Bart Allen: 5,717 Trans Bart Allen: 40 Nonbinary Bart Allen: 20 Genderfluid Bart Allen: 1 Genderqueer Bart Allen: 1

Cassie Sandsmark: 2,874 Trans Cassie Sandsmark: 4 Nonbinary Cassie Sandsmark: 2 Genderfluid Cassie Sandsmark: 0 Genderqueer Cassie Sandsmark: 0

-

Total Trans Umbrella Kon-El: 39 Total Trans Umbrella Bart Allen: 62 Total Trans Umbrella Cassie Sandsmark: 6

Percentage Trans Umbrella Kon-El: 0.28% (0.28371)  Percentage Trans Umbrella Bart Allen: 1.08% (1.08448) Percentage Trans Umbrella Cassie Sandsmark: 0.2% (0.20876)

[whencyclopedia]

Cleopatra: The Woman Behind the Stories

"Cleopatra" by Alexandra Stewart is a beautifully illustrated children's book that introduces young readers to the real Cleopatra. It teaches readers about her exciting life as Egypt's last queen, full of glamorous parties and big battles. The book is based on cutting-edge historical and archaeological assessments of Cleopatra’s reign, making it a good resource for dispelling myths about the queen.

While Cleopatra is one of the most famous women in history, there are many myths and misconceptions about her life. This book tells the true story of Cleopatra’s life and explains popular misconceptions in a way that is understandable to young readers. It is incredibly well-researched, drawing from the research of Egyptologists like Joann Fletcher. The author’s attention to detail and commitment to accuracy make this book a good educational resource for classrooms.

Readers are introduced to Cleopatra’s world, beginning with the history of her family, the Ptolemaic dynasty, who came to Egypt from Greece. As part of the main story, it includes snippets of information about ancient Egyptian gods, life in Egypt, and Roman politics. Important historical figures like Alexander the Great, Julius Caesar, Mark Antony, and Augustus make appearances in the book. Readers interested in learning ancient history, especially Egypt and Rome, will appreciate this addition to their collection.

Even as a child, Cleopatra had to outsmart her opponents to survive and hold onto her rightful place as queen. As she grew up, she dedicated her life to protecting Egypt’s independence. Her reign was dominated by constant wars, plots, and disasters. However, it was also full of joy, love, and hope. Cleopatra’s love of study, her courage, and her cleverness make her a powerful role model for young readers.

Hannah Peck’s charming illustrations appeal to both adults and children. The double-page spreads are colorful, detailed, and historically accurate. Ancient cities, festive banquets, and epic battles are conveyed through sweeping paintings. Many illustrations appear to be based directly on real places and art from ancient Egypt. Simple timelines and maps help kids to understand where and when the story takes place.

Cleopatra is portrayed as she is depicted in surviving ancient art. These more historically accurate illustrations look very different from Cleopatra’s appearance in movies, which may surprise some readers. The book explains the confusion surrounding Cleopatra’s appearance in its opening so that readers are not confused. Throughout the book, she appears in various costumes, dressing like a Greek goddess, a Pharaoh, or an exiled fugitive.

There have been many books intended to debunk myths about Cleopatra, and this is one of the best recent offerings. Although it is intended for young readers, it might also interest adults who prefer shorter, more easily digestible books that can be consumed in a single sitting. Around 30 pages long, it covers almost every aspect of Cleopatra’s life, leaving readers with a surprisingly complete understanding. It is easy to understand without being overly simplified. A small glossary at the end of the book explains unfamiliar terms.

Parents should be aware that the book contains some difficult themes, including brief mentions of death and suicide, which may need to be explained to very young children. Its complexity and seriousness make it a better choice for older children. However, it should be noted that mature subject matter is handled sensitively and age-appropriately and is only included where necessary to describe major historical events.

Alexandra Stewart is an author and librarian who writes history books for children. She studied modern history at Oxford University before becoming a news reporter. Since retiring from journalism, she has written several illustrated history books including Everest and Jumbo: The Most Famous Elephant Who Ever Lived. Hannah Peck is an illustrator of fiction and nonfiction for children and adults.

Read More

⇒ Cleopatra: The Woman Behind the Stories

[phantomyre]

FF7 Rebirth Ultimania - Mini Vincent Bio

https://x.com/aitaikimochi/status/1778701268686651539

A small snippet of Vincent's biography has been translated from the very recent Rebirth Ultimania. While much of it isn't new per se, there is a small bit that I wanted to focus on as it is a small change from OG. 'Sleeps a lot because he wants to suppress the monsters within him' For anyone familiar with Vincent's who initial characterization in OG, it should make your brow raise. The whole reason why he chose to sleep in his coffin was to atone for his sins which is what Vincent has been memed for for many years. However, in Rebirth, we don't get any such hint of that within the main story. The only bit of regret we learn about is with his past with Sephiroth and not being able to kill him. However, at least according to the Ultimania, Vincent's past sins are not the reason for his slumber... but rather to suppress his monsters. This is new. While it was always eluded to, this isn't Vincent's original reasoning. It seems like Square is leaning very heavily into Vincent's monsters, aka the single glowing eye, how Barret calls him a freak (he says 'monster' in Japanese) upon immediate transformation, Galian Beast as a boss, Vincent becoming uncomfortable when Barret scoffs at the idea of monsters having feelings, etc. My guess is that SE is going to characterize Vincent having a lot of fear of himself and his lack of control over his demons (which again was hinted at in various compilations but casual fans would never have known this). And seeing as there seems to be a mysterious connection between Sephiroth and the whole theme of monsters, it could be that Vincent is also afraid of becoming what Sephiroth has already become-- a merciless killer. This would make sense as to why Vincent is so resistant to joining Cloud and Co, not only due to whatever happened between him and Sephiroth, but also fearing himself and how he believes he is a monster. I could see this also playing into Vincent keeping himself distant from the party in part 3; not only because he doesn't want to get close to anyone (so as to not get emotionally hurt), but he may be terrified of losing control of his monsters and harming those he cares about.

[katnissdoesnotfollowback]

WIP Wednesday ~ WIP File Game

Um hi there. *waves nervously* Soooo over the past two months, I've been tagged multiple times by different people to partake in various WIP Wednesday posts and WIP file games. Sadly, I haven't had as much time for fandom as I would have liked recently, and I've just let those tags sit there unanswered. Thank you for thinking of me @mega-aulover, @unnamednarrator, and @thesweetnessofspring.

I'm going to use this post to answer both types of tags, and the people I tag in turn, please choose which version you'd rather play, play both!, or play neither.

First... a snippet from chapter 40 of Spellbound:

“Peeta! Let me go!” There’s the metallic thunk of a heavy round. Hands yanking on my wrists. I stare at the body. His jaw blown off, silencing him forever. Eyes empty. Hollow. Gone. “Peeta?” That’s when the trembling starts. I blink and the shadows recede. His face gone, replaced with Haymitch’s skull gleaming oddly in the flashlight on the cave floor. The jawbone fallen at an odd angle.  Fingers dig into my wrists. Deep enough that it hurts. The pain in my wrists and my knee somehow grounds me. Pulls me away from that day in the sun baked streets and back into this one. “Peeta?” Katniss asks. I can barely make out her shape in the gloom, and I shake my head. Who dropped the flashlight? When did we wind up on our knees?  “I’m fine.”

And now for the more difficult part. Here's a list of my current WIP files. If it's listed as a story on AO3, I hope to finish it this year. If it's listed as not yet posted to AO3, then I'm hoping to start posting it/finish it this year. The third list is a bunch of random ideas that may never see the light of day, but I've included them for funsies.

Feel free to send an ask to receive a snippet if I have one, a summary, a long winded excuse for why it's still not done yet... I'm working tonight but I have tomorrow off and will answer asks then!

Stories on AO3:

Outside Chance

Outside Expectations

Outside the Lines

Spellbound

Where the Stars Crumble to Life

One Last Hope

Everything You Are

Ampersand (Series)

Fickle Games

No Reason

Holiday Havoc Ensues

Smutercising

Stories Not on AO3:

Bound to Get Burned

Caught in the Net of the World

The Courtship of Lambs

Crush My Bones with Bittersweet

Grief Catches Us All

Hand porn

In the Waiting Dark (the Red Moon Rises)

Kiss Me In the Dark

Making Dents in the Wall

Septimus

Sin Bin

Small Turn Ons

Spiral & Collission / Ellipses & Ignition

Tangled AU

Through the Eyes of My Love

To Know, Not to Be Known

Turning of the Seasons

You + Me

Random Files:

Anyways

Arrive Broken

The Art of Peeling Pearls

Autumn Delight

Awkward

Bed Head

Bend Me, Shake Me Any Way You Want Me

The Cold Side of the Bed

Dear Diary

Everlark on the Prairie

Fluffy Menace

Full Zeroes

Holiday Pet Sitters

Hypocrites

Kiss Me in the Dark

Kissing Clause

Last Dance

Long Have I Waited, My Darling

Love in the Library

Nude Dude Foods

On Lockdown

Peeta POV

Scrawled Upon My Skin

Shattered Into Ash

Seven Feathers

The Strong Arm of Justice

The Touch of Time

Under the Pink Sky

Yes, Chef

And Finally, for the Truly Brave (I mean it, don't do this if you have very clear lines of what you find acceptable in fanfiction), I will answer questions about my folder titled "What Is This Shit?!?!", where I put all of the weird, dark, morally questionable fic ideas that I'm certain about 95% of you all would absolutely hate. Actually some of them are not that bad, but others really are a dumpster fire. Send a number between 1 and 66 for a potentially unpleasant surprise, if you dare.

Now for the tags! I tag @mega-aulover @unnamednarrator, and @thesweetnessofspring because it's been over a week since each of you tagged me mwahahaha. Also tagging @shesasurvivor @louezem and @burkygirl (I've seen you lurking in my notes, don't think I didn't. Hope you've had a restful break from fandom and glad to see you around here again.)

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Unspoken Melody p.11

Hi guys, here's a new part of the story, if you've missed part 10 here it is :) If you want to read more of my stories, here's my masterlist.

Two drivers, one unforgettable concert, and a chance encounter with a pop sensation that leaves Oscar questioning everything he thought about music—and maybe even himself.

After returning home, the whirlwind of work fully consumed you. The album was finally done, and now came the part you had been dreading and anticipating in equal measure—promotion.

One afternoon, as you sat across from Erika in your team’s office, looking at the jam-packed schedule laid out in front of you, a thought crossed your mind.

“What if I went to another race?” you asked casually, tapping your pen against the table.

Erika looked up from her planner, raising an eyebrow. “You want to go to a race?”

You shrugged. “I mean… yeah. I went to Monaco, and it was fun. Plus, I think it’d be nice to take a break from all of this at some point.”

She hummed in thought, flipping a few pages in her planner. “Well, considering how packed your schedule is, it wouldn’t be easy… but if you’re serious about it, let me see what we can do.”

What followed was a montage of days filled with interviews, press junkets, and late-night rehearsals.

Flashes of you seated across from various hosts, answering questions about the album—what inspired it, how it differed from your previous work, and, of course, the inevitable questions about Mark.

Clips of you at glamorous events, posing for photos on red carpets, mingling with other artists, smiling for cameras, and shaking hands with industry professionals.

Snippets of you in the recording studio, reviewing final mixes, approving visual concepts, and making sure every detail was exactly how you envisioned it.

Days blurred together until, finally, Erika walked into your dressing room after a talk show appearance, a knowing smirk on her face.

“So, I have news,” she said, crossing her arms.

You raised an eyebrow. “Good news?”

She nodded. “Vegas.”

“Vegas?” you repeated, confused.

She handed you a printed itinerary. “The next F1 race is there, and schedule-wise, it’s the only one that fits before the album drops. PR-wise, it’s actually a solid move—big event, lots of coverage, and it keeps you in the spotlight without you having to force-feed the album to people.”

You scanned the paper, taking in the dates and logistics. The thought of being at the race, away from all the chaos of promo for a weekend, was more appealing than you cared to admit. And Oscar had been insistent about you coming to another race…

You looked up at Erika, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Let’s do it.”

Fast forward to the race weekend, and you were boarding a flight to Las Vegas, ready for a weekend that promised excitement, a much-needed escape, and maybe, just maybe, something more.

The moment you stepped off the plane and into the bustling energy of Las Vegas, you were expecting to be greeted by a driver holding a sign with your name on it. What you weren’t expecting was to see Oscar standing there, hands casually tucked into the pockets of his McLaren hoodie, watching the arrivals with an easy smile.

Your steps faltered for a second as your brain caught up with reality. “Oscar?”

His grin widened at your surprised tone. “Hey.”

“What are you doing here?” you asked, adjusting your bag on your shoulder as you approached him.

He shrugged, his expression effortlessly nonchalant, but there was something playful in his eyes. “Felt kind of responsible, you know? I was the one insisting you come, so I figured I’d make sure you got here okay.”

You raised an eyebrow. “So, you just happened to be here?”

He exhaled a small laugh, tilting his head. “Not exactly. I may have asked the person handling your arrival to let me know when you landed.”

Your heart did something inconvenient in your chest. You smiled, shaking your head. “That’s very…” you trailed off, searching for the right word.

“Thoughtful? Sweet? A little over the top?” he offered, smirking.

You laughed, rolling your eyes before stepping closer and wrapping your arms around him in a hug. His body tensed for just a second before he relaxed into it, his arms looping around you in return.

“Thank you,” you murmured against his shoulder.

“Anytime,” he replied, his voice softer than before.

The hug lingered for a moment longer than necessary, but neither of you seemed in a hurry to pull away. When you finally did, there was a brief beat of silence, an almost charged energy between you. You both masked it quickly with easy smiles, pretending that whatever was happening beneath the surface wasn’t there.

“Well,” you said, clearing your throat, “should we get going?”

Oscar nodded, stepping aside to gesture towards the exit. “Your chariot awaits.”

You rolled your eyes at his dramatics, but the warmth of his gesture stayed with you as you walked side by side toward the car, the buzz of Vegas around you, but the pull between you and Oscar louder than any neon sign.

As you walked toward the parking lot with Oscar by your side, you glanced around, half expecting a private car arranged by your team. But then, your eyes landed on a familiar papaya-colored McLaren parked a few rows away, unmistakably drawing attention from a small crowd of curious onlookers taking photos.

You bit back a grin and nudged Oscar playfully with your elbow. “So… I guess the ride wouldn’t happen to be the McLaren that stands out from the rest, right?”

Oscar immediately turned slightly pink, scratching the back of his neck. “Uh… yeah, about that,” he admitted, avoiding your amused gaze. “It was either this or waiting for Lando to lend me his rental, and I figured this was the better option.”

You let out a soft laugh. “Subtle as always, Piastri.”

He huffed, shaking his head before quickly moving ahead to open the passenger door for you. “Just get in before people start asking for autographs—yours, not mine.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, stepping into the car with an amused smile. “Are you blushing?”

“Absolutely not,” he muttered, shutting the door behind you before walking around to the driver’s side.

As he slid into the seat beside you and started the car, the low rumble of the engine filling the space, you glanced over at him with a smirk. “You totally are.”

Oscar exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “I’m never picking you up from the airport again.”

You grinned, leaning back in your seat as he pulled out of the parking lot. “Sure you won’t.”

And just like that, you were in Vegas, and the weekend had only just begun.

@justaf1girl

[greenleaf4stuff]

In Convenience - Chapter 6, part 1

Adar x Celebrimbor (silverscars) political marriage to marriage of love AU, post story snippet 6, part 1. After having met all the guests, the two husbands bicker (lovingly), and join the others for the main banquet. Gifts are exchanged and vows renewed.

(all previous parts of "Of Convenience" and "In Convenience")

This is the final chapter of "In Convenience", consisting of two parts, and it's pure fluff and sappiness, with some humor thrown in for good measure. Just feelgood vibes all around imo. As you all know, there is still a bit more to come after this. It still feels very significant that I have arrived at this point; this fic has been with me since January, and I never thought I'd get this far. Thank you, once again, to everyone who has read, liked, reblogged, commented on or messaged me about this fic. You have part in getting me this far. I hope you enjoy this chapter as well <3

Welcoming and talking to the various guests, dignitaries, heralds, lords and ladies seemed to take up most of the remaining morning, to the point that Celebrimbor was not quite certain that the words he spoke did, in fact, make any sense anymore.

His lips felt numb, both from speaking and politely smiling, and even the tea wasn’t doing much to bring any relief to his sore throat anymore. Gil-Galad, ever regal and put together, also looked a tad weary during the moments when the various groups of people would leave and enter the hall.

Only Adar, who wasn’t one for much talk and stood at Celebrimbor’s side like a sentinel, appeared as if he was merely a little desinterested at first glance – though he too showed subtle signs of fatigue if one looked at him more closely; he had gotten prone to rubbing his thumb over his wedding ring, for example, and occasionally shifted his stance when usually, he held himself still as a statue.

Finally, the last guests were being ushered out of the hall and towards the large banquet that had been prepared, and the three of them all heaved a large sigh and walked over to some nearby chairs. While Gil-Galad remained poised as he sat down in his, and Adar merely sunk into an almost haughty-looking sprawl, Celebrimbor downright collapsed into his seat.

He eyed the wine chalice with great longing, only to frown in betrayal when Gil-Galad grabbed it and pulled it out of his reach with a pitying look.

"The celebrations haven’t even properly started, Tyelpe. I cannot afford you to get drunk just yet," the king warned.

Celebrimbor stared him dead in the face, expression disbelieving. "You know as well as I do that I can drink plenty before it becomes noticeable. I’ve worked with dwarves – and you," he pointed out, and watched Ereinion’s eyebrow raise in turn, "I can take care of myself."

"Thank you for that little remark, I will be sure to bring it up again at an appropriate time," the High King replied, drily, then visibly softened. "The day ahead is a long one. Even I cannot afford to get drunk...yet."

And with that, he continued to push the wine chalice across the table, away from both Celebrimbor and himself. Celebrimbor looked at him with skepticism, but then deflated and grinned. "Fair, I suppose. I cannot wait for the day to be over; no offense to those who prepared all of this, it’s been a lot of work and the results are truly wonderful, but one cannot deny it’s mostly a feast for the citizens, the elves and the uruk, and less so for-" He broadly gestured at the group of them.

Adar hummed, and then reached over to grab the wine chalice to pour himself a drink. Celebrimbor and Gil-Galad stared at him disapprovingly. He merely stared right back at them as he drank. "Uruk have a higher tolerance than elves do. And it was, in fact, me who requested the wine to be here."

"I had hoped for some support from you, instead of you indulging where I cannot," the Lord of Eregion grouched, but it was said with a tired smirk, and accompanied by him doing his best to poke Adar in the arm.

The uruk merely caught his hand and squeezed it, gauntleted finger thumbing at Celebrimbor’s ring, though delicately so.

"I think I am doing plenty to give you emotional support," he replied, grinning, and then made a show of emptying his cup. While it made Celebrimbor laugh a little, Gil-Galad merely groaned and rolled his eyes as he poured himself another tea, and did the same for the smith.

"While doing the opposite to me, both of you," the High King replied, but also smiled. The shape of it, however, was making Celebrimbor worry.

He knew that one.

"Speaking of which, I had wished to talk to you about that incident in the gardens a few days ago-"

This time, it was Celebrimbor who groaned. He wasn’t even afforded the chance to hide his face in Adar’s shoulder, or his own hands, as that would risk undoing the careful work on his hair that Galadriel and his own servants had done earlier.

This day truly would take everything out of him, and somehow, Adar and Gil-Galad were managing to add onto it. He could not wait for the day to be over.

Stepping outside to join the banquet in his, Adar’s, as well as their friends’ and allies’ honor, Celebrimbor couldn’t help but marvel at how different his city looked. Not only had his people and the uruk prepared it by putting up a myriad of sun tarps – white and gold and green in color, like the city – and other means of protection over its various paths and alleys, to ensure everyone could enjoy this day; the streets had also been decorated abundantly.

And not just by the servants in Celebrimbor’s employ, no. It seemed like the citizens of Ost-In-Edhil and also the uruk had decided to do some decorating of their own as well.

Everywhere the elf looked, scraps of fabric, colorful ribbons and elaborate garlands had been tied around the branches of trees, around lampposts and in between buildings. People had collected wild flowers and grasses from outside Eregion and put them up in small bouquets, and it seemed some others had used chalk to draw beautiful shapes onto the stones of Eregion’s streets and structures.

The city, usually gleaming in white and gold and overgrown with greenery, was now a sea of color and shapes, floating in the soft breeze. As he looked closer, he could also see hand-made adornments of other kinds; the smiths had made metal baubles that reflected the light, clasps that helped to keep up the tarps, and metallic chimes that sung softly in the wind.

Carpenters had made their own wooden chimes as well, and erected intricately carved, beautiful archways.

There was plenty more to see, a brilliant and varied display of elven artistic skill and craftsmanship, but what drew Celebrimbor’s eye was how the uruk had contributed to the decorations: True to what he had seen and learned of them, their skills showed not in elf-like finery and delicacy, but in how they managed to take existing items and reused, recombined and and fused them into new things.

Their ornaments and trinkets consisted of repurposed scraps that most elves would not even consider to have much use or worth left on their own, but the uruk had managed to remake them to serve entirely new functions.

Old marbles, woven into yarn and hung from the wooden archways, beads made from discarded wood and carved with all manner of shapes, old chainmail recombined with seemingly random knick knacks which were now hanging from it, and metal parts from broken tools and weaponry combined into effigies, meant to re-enact the final battle against Sauron...as well as the married couple, from what Celebrimbor could tell.

It was an eclectic mix of crafts, ideas and artistic interpretations, and one which was utterly beautiful to behold. The Lord of Eregion could see various curious children flitting in between the different pieces, elven and uruk alike, pointing and staring wide-eyed in wonder.

As he looked over towards Adar, the other’s face was graced with a soft smile at the sights, which prompted Celebrimbor to grab his hand and squeeze it. Their gazes found one another and they shared a quick kiss, before they turned their attention back to the city, and began to walk to where main banquet would take place.

They had decided not to wholly retreat indoors – between the elves, uruk and the various guests, even Ost-In-Edhil’s buildings wouldn’t have been enough to hold all these people –, and instead to make use the weather and the protection of the tarps to hold the celebrations partly indoors, partly outdoors. They would likely last far into the night anyways, which meant eventually, the uruk too could move about more freely.

While the stroll over to the main festivities turned out to be a moment of respite, reaching the square with the main banquet tables quickly plunged both Adar and Celebrimbor into the loud bustle of the day once more; they were greated by loud cheers and clapping from both uruk and elves as they arrived, and the sounds of joy and elation continued to persist while they both walked to sit in the middle of the long, center table.

Even Gil-Galad had only been given a seat to the side of Celebrimbor, though he didn’t look particularly unhappy about the fact that he wouldn’t have to break up the two husbands due to seating arrangements.

Instead, he, Elrond and Galadriel sat to Celebrimbor’s side, while Adar had Glûg and other lieutenants at his. The other tables had been positioned at an angle to the main one, and were split in the middle, with guests from other kingdoms and areas sitting in between the tables of the elves and the uruk.

During the planning, there had been the idea of encouraging mixed seating arrangements, but both Adar and Celebrimbor had decided it would be better not to force their people to mingle. Friendship and familiarity had to develop and grow by themselves – trying to push for such a thing might accomplish the opposite of what they intended to bring about.

The elves and uruk had worked together a couple of times in the last few months; the guards in catching the wargs, the builders and smiths in the reconstruction of Celebrimbor’s forge, multiple different parties during the making and setting up of the sun tarps, among many other, smaller endeavours. The smith had a gut feeling that, given time and opportunity, those would not be the last joint ventures of such a kind.

Case in point, he could see Mirdania walk towards where she would sit among her fellow smiths, but then took the time to seek out Gurlak at one of the uruk tables and waved over to her as she passed. Gurlak grinned widely and returned the gesture.

It put a smile onto Celebrimbor’s face as well. Even if he was still very curious as to how, and when, the two smiths had met each other and begun to form a friendship.

Sadly, sitting at the banquet table didn’t actually mean Celebrimbor, Adar and everyone else would get to partake in nice, expertly cooked food and delicious drink now. Celebrimbor had theoretically been well aware of this and yet, he still managed to find himself disappointed when the usual enumeration of diplomatic and festive obligations had to be worked through before any food or drink could be had.

First came a long stretch of time during which the guests walked up to the table of the two husbands, voiced their official congratulations, maybe said a few words regarding the hopes they had for the future, and then gifted them with their wedding presents; despite the fact that both Adar and Celebrimbor had decided against having a second, official wedding ceremony, they would at least be required to renew their vows, so the traditional gift-giving had been included into the proceedings.

Gil-Galad had promised that both the speech and the symbolic joining of the two would be rather brief, however.

Which, in Celebrimbor’s experience, still meant a lot of talk and very little food. But at least they were speaking of hours, and not a full day.

He was rather touched by the gifts of the attendees, however – as was Adar, from what the smith could glean. King Oropher had brought saplings from Greenwood to be planted in Ost-In-Edhil’s surrounding forests, and which would hopefully also grow within Mordor’s borders, to strengthen the relationship between the realms.

To Celebrimbor’s surprise, Thranduil himself walked up to him and Adar as well; with a quirk on his lips, and holding two wreaths made out of holly and sage, daisies and buttercups, grasses and wild wheat, finely arranged to resemble circlets.

Unlike those that had been suggested to Celebrimbor by his friends, servants and assistants, which had been made from metals and gems, these were less bold and appealed more to the elf’s personal tastes. Adar, too, looked much more amendable when he beheld them. While Thranduil was not so forward to place them onto their heads himself, Celebrimbor knew that Gil-Galad would gladly do so in his stead later on, judging by his little smirk.

The dwarves had sent metals and brought a few particularly exquisite gemstones, which were proudly presented by Dísa, while Narvi and Durin stood back with approving smiles. Celebrimbor had a hunch that his own smiths had been rather eagerly communicating with Khazad-Dum without his knowledge, as the gems presented were either beautifully green emeralds or stunning blue-green aquamarine, which Dísa handed over with a knowing wink.

Turning the stones over in his hands, Celebrimbor knew his poor husband would have his hands full, trying to drag him out of the forge in the next few weeks. Going by Adar’s knowing, but rather fond look, he knew this as well, and likely didn’t mind all that much.

Arondir, too, had brought a gift. A surprising gesture, considering the circumstances, especially so since the people of Pelargir had been informed that they were not expected to bring any presents if they chose to attend the festivities. It would have been insensitive to make this a requirement, in Celebrimbor’s opinion.

To his even greater surprise, and in an unusual deviation from tradition and customs, Adar had prepared a gift as well. Everyone, it seemed, had held their breath when the elf and the uruk haltingly nodded to one another and exchanged small, clear glass bottles.

Both of which held seeds of alfirin, also known as uilos, or more commonly for the men – Simbelmynë. A flower that, as Celebrimbor had once learned from a healer, often grew on graves and around tombstones, but could also be used to in order to treat wounds.

The way both Adar and Arondir beheld the gifts, and how their eyes crossed with a look of recognition, hinted that there was something more to these seeds for both them. Adar had told Celebrimbor about how he’d met the soldier previously, when he and the uruk had taken over the Southlands, but there had been no mention of the flower seeds. He’d have to ask the uruk about it, after the festivities had ended.

Whatever significance alfirin held for the two of them, it seemed the exchange was one that was appreciated; Arondir looked pained for a moment, but then his face smoothed over and it seemed as if he was assessing Adar anew, faintly surprised, but positively so. He and Adar both held the bottles as if they had been given something precious, and finished their exchange with a curt, but respectful nod towards the other and a very simple, but resonant sentence:

"New life, in defiance of death."

Adar continued to study the bottle for a moment longer as Arondir returned to the men of Pelargir. It made Celebrimbor remember that these flowers were usually planted before a great battle by the elves of old.

The smith and his friends hadn’t done so before attacking Sauron.

Maybe Adar would want to go and rectify that. The elf would ask him, once they had some time to themselves. He thought that maybe, the ground around the burnt-down burial pyres in Adar’s camp might be a good place for the flowers to grow.

There were other gifts as well, even from their own people, too many to count and so precious in meaning that Celebrimbor’s heart felt full to the point of overflowing. Both Mordor and Ost-In-Edhil saw presents of materials they might need and food they might enjoy, pieces of artisan work and symbolic offerings that held cultural significance.

Finally, it was time for the husbands to rise from their seats and hold hands as Gil-Galad stood between them and began the process of having the two of them repeat, and thereby renew, their vows. While the day had been exhausting so far, and this was meant to be the highlight of the festivities, Celebrimbor could hardly focus on any of those things as the full significance of all the recent events, and the rapid changes they had introduced to his life, came to him in that very moment:

Here he stood, Celebrimbor Curufinion, last remaining heir of Fëanor and the Lord of Eregion – who had once thought that he would spend his life unbound and solitary. Who had never married, nor had any interest in siring children, though he cared deeply about his friends and Ost-In-Edhil’s citizens, and considered his bonds to those closest to him to be familial, both in strength and depth.

Who had long struggled with his family’s oftentimes destructive legacy, and needed centuries until he finally, ultimately came to accept it as part of himself and how people would perceive him, while also realizing it did not have to define who he was, could be, wished to be. Who had seen countless elven cities fall to Morgoth’s armies, and yet remained hopeful enough to found his own.

Now, he was married, to an uruk who had freed himself from his former masters and with whom he and the other elves had formed an alliance, defeated their greatest foe, and ushered in a time that would hopefully bring long-lasting peace and prosperity to not just their own people, but all of Middle-earth.

And all of this in the light of how both Adar and Celebrimbor had found acceptance, and companionship, and love, with one another.

Now, he was married. To one who was called 'father' by a thousand uruk, all of whom now considered Celebrimbor – and by extension, his friends and his people – as part of their family. One who did not care for his family’s history, but only Celebrimbor himself, and appreciated his skills as a smith neither because of his heritage nor in spite of it, but just by their own virtue, and by being a part of his husband.

Who, despite all the cities he must have seen fall and all the loss he had suffered, still wished to give his children a home, and would not just attempt to build them a city, but a whole realm.

How far they’d come, all of them. How hard they had fought, how much they had endured. How much things had changed.

As Gil-Galad spoke of heroism and bravery, the will to cooperate and withstand evil, of mending old hurts and looking into a bright future, Celebrimbor could only stand there and look at Adar, marvelling at how glad he was, how lucky, that they had fought and lived, that he was afforded the chance to know the other and share his life with him from now on.

The elf looked at the uruk before him, with his blue aquamarine eyes, his dark hair, slightly shorter but broader build, his scars, the soft way he looked back at Celebrimbor, as sunlight gave his hair its beautiful rust-shine and turned his skin half-golden, half-silver with its gentle rays, made his newly patched armor glitter, as it began to set over Eregion.

Celebrimbor was sure he looked quite besotted, all things considered, but didn’t care in the least. While his husband was more subdued in how he expressed himself, it was clear he, too, was having similar thoughts as the elf.

Perhaps that was the reason why, when Gil-Galad declared their vows renewed and humorously encouraged them to kiss, neither of them stopped at a chaste peck on the lips, but instead shared one of love and yes, passion.

Adar’s arm around his hip and shoulders, Celebrimbor’s hands on the uruk’s cheeks, the elf wasn’t sure whether the tears of happiness he felt on his cheeks were his own or Adar’s at first, until he realized it to be a mixture of both as they drew back – though not very far.

He was sure the elves were cheering and the uruk were roaring in response, but he heard neither as they both wiped tears of joy from each other’s faces and smiled brightly at one another, before they kissed once again.

[emblemxeno]

Honestly, the thing I hear so much of on Reddit FE is how much more "consistent" 3H is than Fates and how bad Fates's story is, and I'm like... when? Fates is infinitely more consistent in regards to its theming and consistency with how the characters' motivations clash with each other, while 3H feels inconsistent as hell! Fates wanted you to be curious enough to dig beyond a surface level and understand the whole picture! 3H didn't even expect people to play beyond their chosen route! Fates wants people to be willing to understand beyond their world and empathize with the other side, 3H wants to feed you a specific fantasy that it never challenges, subverts or breaks out of fear of incuring the wrath of people so emotionally immature they see any kind of portrayal as them not winning for the right inputs as a failure on the game's part than their ability to read into context.

This is something that, especially in hindsight, really bugs me with Odovakar. I'm done thinking about him for the most part, but one of his biggest capstones was that Fates told you one thing yet showed you another, like that was one of the biggest sins of the work. When... the dissonance was intentional in a way that actually interconnected between various snippets and details to construct a bigger picture, it never wasted a single line of dialogue to illustrates how fucked up the situation with the Nohrian royal family was! The siblings and their dead kin were forced into a death game and only four survived, with the good King Garon being warped from a reasonable figure into a twisted revenant with dementia who's not even a character so much Anankos impersonating as him! Everything in Fates's economy of details expects you to be paying attention and looking into things enough to get the full picture, and so many people are so bad at media literacy with games that they just cannot comprehend the story telling them something if it isn't spoonfed directly addressing the player! It's INFURIATING!

It's not a failure of Fates, it's a failure of people's willingness to use their imaginations and infer what's going on with the story and its world beyond what's being explicitly said using visual and detail clues for the full picture, this is what they literally teach in media literacy classes! And what do you think pisses me off the most? The storyline of two kingdoms full of good people being engaged in a pointless war where the Avatar has to side with one family of his or the other or risk everyone he loved dying, or a story that coddles and never challenges the notion the player has that they're always correct and justified in what they do even as we see blatant contradictions in the narrative just from subtext alone? 3H gives a comforting lie that's well explained, Fates gives an awful truth it expects you to get. And in a killing blow for any kind of comprehensive media analysis and what ruins my faith in the "hardcore" FE fandom, they choose the comforting lie because it's "executed" better... even when it really isn't, it just presents itself in a way that's more superficially appealing to people. They see the forced, unskippable scenes of your classmates talking about things where they really do not have any purpose in contributing to the scene other than the game shoving them into cutscenes and reminding you of their depths without having to do any interaction, then they see the mentions of pointless lore fluffings for things that don't matter, they soypog, and then they leave.

FE has always been about the humanity, love and emotions of the soldiers you control and learning to understand them better through social interaction and the camaraderie that overcomes hatred. It's always been about love, empathy and kickass swords. 3H is about so antithetical to the heart and soul of the series that I'd legitimately be less mad if it was its own series than trying to make FE into something it never was, but the hardcore fans want it to be, because I sincerely think they don't actually like this series, they just like the feeling of winning and being rewarded for the "correct" inputs as if FE isn't fundamentally a subjective experience in terms of gameplay and RNG and it being one of the most "use whoever" RPGs in existence. Unfortunately, those same fans are so belligerent and smug they basically control all forms of discussion in pretty much every dedicated FE fandom that isn't Tumblr, Mastodon or AO3. I've spent years of my life feeling isolated and shut out despite wanting to gush about this series to other people, only to be told I wasn't "admitting" Fates was somehow bad or that I had bad taste or whatever. It's insane how ass-backwards the fandom is, and 3H's cynical pandering to the group so terminally uncurious they refuse to actually see beyond their perspective and understand the world they play in being so dominant and toxic and centralizing is something I will never forgive that game for.

I don't think that it's where FE is destined to head. Intelligent Systems clearly gets the heart and soul of the franchise, and they have been at odds with the hardcore fandom in that respect almost ever since the start of Awakening. There's a reason why IntSys wasn't happy how popular 3H turned out to be, and that's because it's so against the core of their spirit ethos that I fell in love with. And if that ends up being the direction the series takes, I will never in posterity enjoy another FE ever again, especially when these hardcore fans represent so few among them compared to the majority of people who pick up and play these games.

Consistently awful maybe, OHHHHH GOTTEM

But being serious for a second, you're right. 3H at it's core is inconsistent, deliberately so at that. There one connecting theme of that game is "we have differing ideals" which is a fancy way of saying there isn't anything else.

Differing ideals is good for minor character subplots. It's the pathos behind the entire Camus/Tragic Loyal General archetype. But IMO it's not at all substantial when looked at with further scrutiny, because then you realize the game isn't saying anything. Your main character is a silent self insert whose main goal is supporting the actual main character in 3 of the 4 routes, all of them being dedicated to muddying any kind of moral, social, or logical coherence.

You're fighting Edelgard but she's not that bad! But also the other three factions are against her so we need a contrived excuse for why they aren't working together. And also we can't have Rhea be active in the plot anymore because that'd require quicker turn arounds on our mystery plotlines. And also we need to legitimize Edelgard's points on the church sometimes and never comment on the elephant in the room that she's invading two other nations because I guess that doesn't actually fucking matter.

Like, see where I'm heading? All of this stuff should be salient but it's treated as something to brush aside because there isn't a core to follow anywhere!

Fates had a core, mostly because Corrin was written with great intent and his character was crucial to the message of the game, that endless war and violence is foundationally nonsensical and destructive, and it should not be the norm.

There's an entire small country in Fates where it's so rock solid on anti-warring policy, that the two major countries respect it! Like, Izumo is a blip in Fates' overall narrative linearly speaking, but its autonomy is given more respect than any fucking major nation in Fodlan. The ELEMENTAL TRIBES have more respect given to them than Faerghus or Leicester.

3H's plot is essentially intricate character moments stuck together by extremely logically inconsistent and morally questionable chewing gum found in the gutter. And the character moments aren't even that much better than what was found in previous games!

And I agree, 3H's plot is kind of antithetical to FE as a whole. Which isn't to say that I'm scornful to anything that tries to be different, but it's the fact that 3H sacrifices cohesion and the basics of persuasive/captivating storytelling that irks me.

I'll never understand how people are so enthralled, because to me, characters having neat backstories backed up by well written prose does not make up for the glaring issues everywhere else. In fact, it only makes it seem worse than it might actually be.

[felassan]

Dragon Age: The Veilguard info compilation Post 4

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [another post]

Post is under a cut due to length.

There is a lot of information coming out right now about DA:TV from many different sources. This post is just an effort to compile as much as I can in one place, in case that helps anyone. Sources for where the information came from have been included. Where I am linking to a social media user’s post, the person is either a dev, a Dragon Age community council member or other person who has had a sneak peek at and played the game. nb, this post is more of a ‘info that came out in snippets from articles and social media posts’ collection rather than a ‘regurgitating the information on the official website or writing out what happened in the trailer/gameplay reveal’ post. The post is broken down into headings on various topics. A few points are repeated under multiple headings where relevant. Where I am speculating without a source, I have clearly demarcated this. if you notice any mistakes in this post, please tell me.

Character Creation

BioWare confirmed that even if you make your Rook a short king, the team has done work to ensure animations fit any character build [source]

"Dragon Age's character creator has seen a massive glow-up" [source]. "The volume of choices you get here are frankly insane. As Epler noted, “you could spend forever here,” and he’s not kidding." [source] The art and graphics teams spent a lot of time trying to make hair look amazing [source: the Discord]

In CC we can customise our "bulge size" [source]

Some more detail on the new lighting options to see how Rook looks like in CC when you make them: you can view them in "blazing forest sunshine versus the glare of an underground temple" [source]

"newly mobile, extra-hairy hair" [source]

Faction choice has statistical boons. For example, Shadow Dragon Rook deals extra damage to Venatori blood cultists [source]

Faction choice basically determines why Rook has been called to help in the fight against Solas [source]

All pre-determined character models in CC can be adjusted [source]

You can make a really tall dwarf if you want [source]

"Setting your previous world state is fully integrated into the character creator for Veilguard" [source: the Discord]

Inquisitor appearance will be re-created, there is no way to carry their appearance from DA:I into the game [source: the Discord]

Classes for Rook are not restricted in the sense that you can play any almost class, lineage and faction combination that you want. For example, a mage Rook can be a Crow [source: the Discord] (Fel note: it sounded like Rook cannot be a magic-wielding dwarf, even though the exception of Harding now exists) (Fel note: there is a mage Crow in one of the books)

Story and lore

Here is another article which refers to Rook as "the Rook" [source]

The story is set "9-10 years from DA:I and about 8 years from Trespasser" [source: the Discord]

They have been tracking Solas for "a while. Something else you’re gonna learn about…" [source]

The game does not use the Keep [source]

Shadow Dragon is the faction background with the most in-game reactivity (e.g. from other characters' dialogue) during the prologue section of the game, due to the fact that the prologue is in Minrathous and the Shadow Dragons are a Tevinter-based faction [source]

"I also saw a big moment after the gameplay trailer ends that I can't talk about" [source]

During the more narrative-heavy dialogue choices, "the game will also give a bit of context on what you're about to choose, but doesn't go as far as explaining the exact consequences or precisely what will happen thereafter" [source] "the game shows you how you’ll go about the choice, but it doesn’t tell you the consequence of that choice". [source]

"The game is bringing back Dragon Age 2s dialogue system, which was tone-based and resulted in its protagonist Hawke falling into one of three different personality states. You have three general tones in a conversation: kind, humorous, or aggressive, with slight variations depending on the situation" [source]

"Venatori blood cultists" [source]

"The whole game has the makings of another Suicide Mission [ME2], given that you are up against a god with the ability to collapse dimensions" [source]

"Choices and consequences". "Now, it seems you can see the effects of your choices like never before, and this time, they marry that choice with incredible visuals" [source]

In the bar when you're trying to get information in the opening, if you choose to fight it out and the barbrawl ensues, you then have to run from the pursuers in the bar [source]

A key concern of the developers when creating the environments was to make “a world worth saving" [source]

The prologue is quite linear but there are additional paths you can follow to find additional loot [source]

In the opening section of the game there is a dock which has been attacked and the soldiers that were there have been killed, "but rather than seeing this passively, we walked through the aftermath and had to interact with the scene to piece it all together" [source]

The tone of the gameplay video is a good indicator of the tone of the rest of the game [source]. On the tone: "dark fantasy" [source]. horror & gore is back along with DA's classic dark elements [source]

Tevinter Nights is a better tone indicator for the game than the original reveal/character trailer. Ghil Dirthalen: "Tevinter Nights has felt the most 'DAV' to me" [source]. The gameplay reveal video is the best indicator for the tone of the game (vs the character one) [source]. there is still messy dark shit in the game [source]

Tonally the game is closest to Tevinter Nights and DA:O [source]

Ghil Dirthalen: "[as] one of those unfortunate souls who has latched onto a media world so hard: This game is for me. For the hardcore DA lore nerds, I've been secretly screaming about things I saw for MONTHS now" [source]

The game is true to the DA stories we know and love [source]

Characters, companions, romance

You can choose to engage in companions' own storylines as you progress or ignore them entirely [source]

You will often have to make dialogue choices that will affect how your various companions treat you [source]

Neve is quick-witted [source], measured and elegant [source]

In the opening, you interact with the companions as you move through Minrathous. "your choices during these interactions will determine who goes on portions of the mission with you, along with how “pleased” they are with the answers." [source]

On Varric and Harding: "Instantly the two felt like they’d never been away and avoided the trap of being parodies or fanfiction versions of themselves" [source]

Solas' eyes were always purple hh [source] (yes!)

Gameplay, presentation, performance etc

Some enemies have additional shields that are weak to ranged attacks [source]

When asked about if the war table from DA:I returned, John Epler said "There is a table. Now, whether it works the same way as the table in the previous game..." [source]

Once you get passed a certain point in the game, it opens up dramatically, however it is not an openworld game and they wanted to make sure that all the content mattered and was a more structured, sculpted experience for the player. There is some exploration, some opportunities to get off the beaten path, and some spaces that are fairly wide [source]

The button to press to bring up the skill wheel is RB or R1 (depending on what controller you're using) [source]

"You'll also have access to two skills or spells for each of your two companions that you can command. For a more seamless, uninterrupted combat experience, you can also assign these skills to shortcuts (such as holding the left trigger and hitting the X button) to quickly use them" [source]

"The game is bringing back Dragon Age 2s dialogue system, which was tone-based and resulted in its protagonist Hawke falling into one of three different personality states. You have three general tones in a conversation: kind, humorous, or aggressive, with slight variations depending on the situation" [source]

"booting Fade demons into pits" [source]

"BioWare have revised Dragon Age's art direction to make character models a little more consistent with the series' lovely Tarot-inspired menu art. Flesh is ruddy to the point of painterly; facial features and bodily proportions are thicker and more striking, as though the characters had been cut from clay" [source]

The 3 specs for Warrior are Reaper (has lifesteal/stealing health from enemies, and other freaky powers, does big damage), Slayer (can wield the biggest blade, big swords, big damage) or Champion, which is tanky, shield-using and Paladin like [source] [source]

There are quick-recover prompts [source]

You can roll through puddles of incoming AOE [source]

There are ziplines between some levels levels [source] (Fel note: just like in As We Fly... )

There are also slidey hills to slide down between some sections [source]

There are still some Hinterland-type areas designed for exploration [source]

We can do some home base management to our home base [source] (Fel note: this refers to The Lighthouse, detail in a previous post)

Camera placement is quite zoomed out [source]

Where Rogues have 'momentum', Warriors have 'rage' and Mages 'mana'. When a warrior spends rage in the ability wheel it triggers more powerful attacks. this has been referred to as a build-and-spend mechanic. this system resource gates your use of more powerful skills and is built by getting stuck in [source]. Momentum for Rogues is built by landing hits without taking any [source]

There are big glowing environmental cues for picking up loot or replenishing health potions [source]

"Epler noted that The Veilguard will not be an open-world experience like Inquisition, and instead will have large spaces to explore with quests littered throughout. This allayed my early concerns that they would course correct too hard from the oft-maligned open areas of Inquisition" [source]

Melee and ranged attacks can be charged up [source]

It sounds like there is an option to have greater guidance on when enemies are attacking [source]

The community council gave a lot of notes on the game's art direction to BioWare (gave feedback to the devs) that they were told and shown were changed from the first reveal/character trailer, these made it into the gameplay trailer [source]

The community council asked about having an arachnophobia mode, though they can't guarantee this was implemented [source]

"You’re encouraged to explore and grind for stronger weapons and gear, so your stats and cosmetics improve the further you get into the game" (in the sense that you’ll be rewarded for hard work) [source, two]

Follower information such as cooldowns and health will be visible on the HUD [source: the Discord]

There is a "quick cast" option if you prefer not to use the wheel, should be a chorded action using a controller [source: the Discord]

On PC you can play with keyboard and mouse or controller [source: the Discord]

An accessibility option is the ability to make auto-targeting stronger or weaker depending on your preference [source: the Discord]

The game will have DLSS support at launch [source: the Discord]

Re: hard drives, the game can be played using an HDD, they would recommend an SSD though for the optimal experience [source: the Discord]

There are lots of different interface options you can play with, e.g. combat text size, opacity, when to display health bars [source: the Discord]

Other

The leak from last year or whenever it was (the one that leaked screenshots and a gif from the game) was mainly a lot of outdated stuff and didn't really represent even the early version some community council members had played [source, two]. It was not leaked by a member of the community council, but by a member of another focus group [source]

The community council were given the chance to play the game twice, once in Fall 2022 and a year later in 2023 [source]

There is no information as yet regarding when pre-orders will be open [source: the Discord]

BioWare are hoping to at the very least have the very "best of" the Discord dev Q&A featured on social media and potentially in a blog [source: the Discord]

[☕ found this post or blog interesting or useful? my ko-fi is here if you feel inclined. thank you 🙏]

[ranaissingle]

Whispers and Melodies (Pt. 2)

Part 1 Part 2

Summary: She has heard a deep melodic voice speaking to her from a faraway place for decades. Anything from snippets of a longer conversation to roars that shook the very earth she walked on.

Rating: T (For now)

Word Count:

A/N: This story is shaping up to be over 10 chapters so I am trying to queue up some chapters to post with some kind of regularity lol. I hope you enjoy this one! Also, I have created a tag list so comment below if you would like to be tagged in upcoming parts!

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Past (Sometime before Amaranths's Rule UTM)

Rhysand sat at his office in Velaris pouring over mountains of paperwork that he had allowed to pile up right before starfall. He’d spent the better part of 3 days working through the aftermath of the holiday, and he sat now at his desk, he wished he had some type of escape or distraction from the mountain of work that always seemed to follow him. 

A melodic breeze seemed to enter from the window as the trees and winds intermingled before filtering their way through the large windows. The breeze carried notes that came in quick succession and seemed to echo off of each other. The soft feminine voice almost caressed Rhysand's cheek and winded itself around him in a blanket of warmth. He hadn't realized how cold he was until that very moment. His back and arms slowly untensed themselves as he relaxed further into his chaise and as soon as Rhysand felt like he could finally go to sleep, the voice seemed to fade back out the window and only left Rhysand craving more. 

Page break and POV switch (Same time period)

Y/N sat out enjoying the weather amid the hot summer. She had laid out various fruits, bread, and spreads to snack on while she read and hummed away her evening basking in the sun. The wind carried a gentle breeze and various little creatures scurried their way across the grove. All at once, it seemed like the ambient noise around her had become muffled. As if someone had placed a pillow over her ears. Slowly, a voice from the outside seemed to filter through whatever was muffling her hearing. It was laughter. Booming laughter made some deep unknown emotion bubble up inside her. Something that made her heart ache most deliciously. A small smile crept upon her face as she looked out into the distance the first to find where the sound had been emitting from. Nothing but trees and willowing branches blew in the wind, not a soul in sight. The laughter slowly fizzled out as if the sound was creeping back into the forest from whence it came. The retreat left her feeling cold as if a winter breeze had made its way to her from the winter court. 

Rhysand slowly pulled open the door to the room he had been occupying and stepped outside the threshold of the door. As the hinges creaked, the woman’s chopping ceased as she placed her knife on the cutting board before wiping her hands on her apron and turning around. Rhysand strengthened his stance even as the muscles of his thighs burned with the strain. 

“Who are you and how did I get here.” Rhysand’s voice came out firmer than he had thought himself capable of. The woman narrowed her eyes at him and cocked her head to the side.  

“I found you passed out on the beach. You are quite lucky the tides did not pull you into the depths before.” 

Her lips quirked up at the idea as if she was thinking about that very outcome. Rhysand squared his shoulders and steeled himself further. He couldn't be sure that this woman did not have evil intentions. If there was anything he had learned in his 500 years of life, it was that he should never underestimate an opponent just because they were a female. 

“Why would you help me then? Is there something you want in return?” 

Rhysand was grateful enough for the help that she had provided that he was willing to give her something in return. The female rested all of her weight on one leg as she turned her eyes up to the roof and began to contemplate what she would want. She was likely going to ask for a pile of gold or a new cottage of some sort. She looked like she had run through a million possible answers to his question when all at once her eyes widened and her posture stiffened as she blurted out; 

“Waterdrake scales! Could you get me water Waterdrake scales? A lot of them?” 

POV Switch To Y/N

Why did his voice sound so familiar? She swore she’d heard it before but couldn't

Y/n’s hand tightened on the side of the counter that she had been gripping with all of the mother’s strength. What ingredient could possibly stabilize the potion she was working on? She had tried every single combination of Honey possible but it always reduced the potency by some amount. She needed it to be as potent as possible in order to ensure its effectiveness. Firedrake scales were known to increase the shelf life of a potion, but that wasn’t exactly what she needed. She needed something to make sure that the reaction between the crawfish shell and fennel root did not take place and that their effects were enacted on the patient independently of their effects on one another. Could dragon bone work? No, that would just react with the fennel root and make the whole mixture useless. But waterdrake scales? Yes, those could work; it would keep the potion cool enough to prevent reaction while also having a cooling effect on the body when administered which would help with the fevers that often accompany blood loss. Yes, this was perfect! Before she could get any sort of reign on her excitement. 

Y/n blurted out, “Water drake scales! Could you get me waterdrake scales? A lot of them?”

POV Switch to Rhysand 

This female had gone insane. Water Drake scales were the rarest type of scales. Asking for them was equivalent to asking for something more valuable than the cauldron itself. Never mind that he was sure Velaris did indeed have Warwe drake scales, what could this female possibly need water Drake scales for? Rhysand lets his lips quirk up on one side as he takes in the female. 

“What would a spritely female like you need with water drake scales and how are you so sure that I could be the one to provide them for you?” Rhysnad crossed his arms over his chest and stared her down. 

Y/n rolled her eyes while she looked him up and down. “You carry yourself in a manner that befits whatever rank you possess.” She takes a deep breath before continuing,”I have seen a great many males like you, they traipse around as if they own the land they walk on, they trample over the plants and never leave a place the same as when they found it. Your kind is the reason our world will never have any semblance of peace for more than the time it takes to heave a breath.” 

“Oh? You have come to this conclusion after knowing me for all of 10 minutes have you?” 

“Not quite I think. You seem to be less…? Just less I suppose. I can’t exactly put my finger on it but you do not suck the air out of a room the way your brethren tend to. I’ve come to conclusions about your brethren, not necessarily you, it seems.” 

Although Rhysand still did not look pleased, he had already decided to acquiesce to her demands as soon as she had spoken it. He was grateful, after all, for her help in his recovery.  But, he was not going to fetch the scales by himself. If she wanted to get her hands on those scales she would have to contribute to the journey. 

“Alright, if you want the scales you shall have them. However, I am not going on this journey for the impossible by myself. I know where to find them so we can get started whenever you are ready. 

She smiles slightly before speaking. “I think that our journey might have to be held off a couple of days at least.”

Rhysand took the bait. “What, not up for the challenge?”

“No, I’m up for the challenge. You, however, are not.” The smirk on her face was undeniable and Rhysand felt a laugh make its way up his throat. The female was right he was not up to any kind of journey where he would be forced to sleep on the cold hard earth and eat whatever gruel he could salvage. All at once he felt the exhaustion flood him as his body realized he would not be traveling anytime soon. 

She seemed to notice this and anticipated Rhysand’s legs giving out under him before he realized he was getting closer and closer to the polished wood of the floor. She skillfully wrapped her arms around his torso and slowly lowered him to the ground. 

“We need to get you to bed. I already made breakfast so I’ll bring some to you as soon as you’re tucked in. 

Rhysand chuckled, “I’m not a child, gods, you’re more demanding than my brothers.” She cocked her hips to the side before placing her hands on her hips as she stared him down. Rhysands smile never left his face as he raised his palms in defeat and raised himself to his knees before turning on his heel and entering the room he had previously come out of. As the door clicked shut behind him, Rhysand stood in the middle of the cozy room. He hadn’t smiled in 50 years. The muscles felt strangely tight from lack of use. He knew he had to get back to Velaris as soon as possible; his family was probably wondering where he was. But, despite his best efforts he couldn't bring himself to winnow home. It was quite peaceful in this little cottage by the sea. Rhysand eventually sat on the bed and leaned back on his arms as he stared out of the large window across from the bed. It seems Amaranths's reign managed to evade this section of the fae kingdoms. 

Y/N rapped on the door 3 times before opening the door and walking inside. Rhysand smelt a fragrant aroma of ripened fruits and something else warm and minty. She walked up to the small wooden table next to the bed and placed a tray on it. 

“I’ve made you a fruit salad, bread and herbs, and tea. I would make you something more hearty but, considering how malnourished you were upon your arrival, I feel it’s best to start you off on some simpler foods.” Rhysand looked up at her, “Thank you for the meal.” She tilted her head to the side slightly and smiled. “Could I check your temperature?” She raised her hand up towards his forehead but kept her hand from actually touching him. He took the time to look up at her from where he sat on the bed. He nodded his head and waited as she brought the back of her hand to his forehead and placed her hand on her forehead as well. 

“You’re temperature is slightly above what is normal..” The frown on her face deepened as the gears in her mind began formulating some combination of herbs and elixirs to lower the fever. Rhysand kept his gaze on her as she started counting on one hand and mumbling soft indescribable words. Her eyes flicked down to his and she said,“ I’ll have to give you some ginger and chamomile to help lower your fever. ” Her touch felt cool on his warm forehead when he swore he felt his temperature lower a fraction. She then slowly brought her hands down to his neck before looking at him to ask for permission once more. Again, he slowly nodded his head and she pressed one of her delicate fingers against his skin. She removed her finger quickly and kept her gaze on that section of her neck. “It appears as if you are also dehydrated.” 

Her voice trailed off as she continued moving his head slightly. Curiosity overwhelmed him so Rhysand asked, “ You could have done all these tests while I was asleep, could you not?”. She smiled slightly at him as she removed her hands from his cheek and neck and placed them back in her lap. “I don’t think you would have wanted that.” Her gaze settled on him in a way that made shivers run up his already sore spine. Rhysand answered with his own poor excuse of a smirk.

“Eat up, I will start preparing the provisions for our journey and bring you some more water”. She turned to the door and softly clicked it shut behind her. 

Y/N did not expect that being so close to the man would have made her heart beat so fast. The hair on her arms stood up as she attempted to take deep breaths to calm her racing heart. She needed to get started on the preparation as well as figure out the dilemma of how she was going to replicate the properties of water drake scales without having to put them in every single batch of her remedy.  

Rhysand relaxed back into the bed cradling him and felt the tension in his muscles trickle out and gather underneath him in a pool of warmth. They wouldn't be going on a journey, he was sure Majda had some water drake scales stocked up and he planned to winnow them into Velaris as soon as he was better. But she didn't need to know that yet. He quite liked the tranquility of the little cottage on the sea and intended to stay here as long as she would permit him to. Funnily enough, he didn't care to go back home.

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A/N: this had too many POV switches for my taste so I won't be doing that again lol I know it's been a while since I posted but I am trying to get back into the groove of things haha

TAGLIST: @nebarious